Authors: Diana Quippley
CHAPTER
FIVE
“Rogan
O’Kirkfall?” The sullen man in the blue uniform asked him again. “Is that even
your real name?”
Rogan remained
silent, staring blankly at the wall instead. His thick wrists were manacled
behind his back and he was made to sit on a small chair before the heavy set
gray haired man in what looked like a lawman’s uniform. Rogan was familiar with
his kind; he was one himself not too long ago, defending the fair meadowlands
and rivers of Kirk Falls. He was taken by surprise, as much as Vance and
O’Malley had been, when their place of operation was attacked by several men in
armor and strange weapons the night before. Rogan had taken down over half a
dozen of them, before they used devices that emitted lightning bolts to render
him senseless. He licked his lips; it had been a few hours since his arrest.
“Who are you, my
large friend?” The uniformed man in the small room went on. “I can find no
record of you anywhere - not in any records here in the States and neither in
any of Europe’s. If you’re really from Ireland, there has to be some record of
you somewhere.”
Rogan shuffled
around on the uncomfortable little chair, testing his wrists against the two
pairs of slender but strong manacles that these men called handcuffs which were
slapped on him when they had finally subdued him. He didn’t respond, staring
sullenly into space.
“Are you some kind
of trained mercenary… from some underground group of fighters for hire?” The
large lawman sighed. “The more you remain silent, the more difficult it’s going
to get for you.”
“Captain Foster.”
A melodious voice made Rogan glance over toward the door. “We’ve got the others
talking. They’ve spilled the beans on everything, including on this big one.”
“Come on in,
Julia.” Foster said, reaching out for the report she was holding out for him.
“I hope it’s more than what he’s said so far, which is absolutely nothing.”
The young woman in
the same uniform as the older man walked into the room, peering at Rogan with
large, hazel eyes. She was a beautiful woman, but then Rogan had seen many like
her. And yet, she seemed to draw his attention toward her. Her long dark hair
was tied back tightly into a swaying braid that reached her hips and her soft
round face was a bit flushed. She gave him a quick nervous smile and stood
beside the one she addressed as Foster.
“Hm, says here
from this O’Malley guy’s confession that this Rogan feller popped up in Billy
Dagote’s place, claiming to be suffering from amnesia.” Foster read with a
laugh. “Where have we heard all that before… amnesia, yeah right.”
“Well, he does
seem to have that confused look in his eyes.” Julia said apprehensively.
“So would anyone
after being tasered for a full ten minutes.” Foster grunted. “It took nine good
men and two fully charged tasers to get this lummox down.”
“He does look like
some kind of heroic warrior type guy.” The young woman whispered in awe. “Wow,
is he a big one? Didn’t think they made ‘em that big anymore.”
“Now don’t go all
moony on him, Officer Kincaid.” Foster growled, leafing through the reports.
“He’s a criminal and I’ve got to find out who he is before we present him with
the other racketeers to the District Attorney tomorrow.”
“How tall is he,
do you suppose?” Julia asked wonderingly.
“Stay focused,
young lady.” The captain sighed. “He’s about six ten or eleven.”
“Whoa! He’s a
whole foot over even you, boss.” She laughed.
“Don’t call me
boss, kiddo.” Foster chewed on a pencil. “And quit fawning over him or I’m
taking you off the case.”
“There’s something
about him, Captain.” She smiled at Rogan. “Something special… maybe the amnesia
thing is true… he’s not some lowly thug, I can see it in his eyes… he’s a man
of honor and righteousness.”
“When I need a
character analysis of an apprehended criminal, I’ll get the precinct shrink to
take a look at him, darlin’.“ Foster stood up and walked over to the huge
warrior knight. “Right now, I need to know who he is and where he’s from and
then get myself a cup of coffee and some sugared donuts.”
“I’ll get the
donuts for you, Captain, even my share,” Julia said, almost excitedly, “if you
just hear me out for a second.”
“What’s come over
you, Kincaid?” Foster looked at the young woman with a scowl on his plump face.
“You’ve been a straight up police officer all along. What’s getting your
panties in a bunch over this guy?”
“My panties are
fine, thank you, Captain Maurice Foster.” Julia wagged a finger at the older
man with a gleam in her eye. “And if you listen, I have this feeling, I can’t
really explain it, but Rogan here is special… he’s more than what he looks like
– I can see a light radiating from him, like a halo of goodness.”
“And I can see you
being taken away in a straight jacket, down a white walled corridor and into a
nicely padded cell, if you go on with this crazy act.” Foster put the file of
reports under his thick arm and picked up his empty coffee mug.
“Come on, Captain,
let me prove it to you.” Julia smiled sweetly and grabbed the keys to the cuffs
off the desk.
“Hey, what do you
think are you doing?” Roster jerked up. “Put those keys back on the desk.”
“Relax, Captain.”
Julia slipped behind Rogan in a flash and undid his handcuffs before Foster
could make a move. “Let’s give this man a chance to prove his innocence before
you throw the book at him.”
She stepped back
quickly as Rogan leapt to his feet. His towering frame loomed menacingly over
his young benefactor, green eyes glittering and lips pressed tight. Foster’s
hand went for his holster, but he realized he was cleaning his gun and it was
lying apart on his desk in his office down the corridor. If the big man wanted
to, he could bolt out of the station at anytime now with no one to stop him.
Instead he stood
like a brooding giant, glaring down at the cheery Julia Kincaid. The brunette
was smiling up at him and holding out her hand.
“Hello Rogan, the
fighting Irishman,” she said brightly. “I am Julianne Kincaid, a third
generation Scottish-American. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“You crazy broad.”
Foster whispered hoarsely. “You’re going to lose your badge for this, if you’re
still in one piece. I’ve seen this guy fight and he’s lethal.”
“He wouldn’t hit a
lady now, would he?” She stared right into the tall man’s green eyes, almost as
if she could peer into his tormented soul. “Would you, Rogan?”
“I never have,
Julianne Kincaid of the Scots.” His deep voice rumbled up from his chest. “And
I never will.”
“So you can talk?”
Foster picked up a baton and slowly stepped up beside Julia. “Mind telling us
where you’re from and I just might drop all charges … just might.”
“I am Rogan, from
Kirk Falls… in Ireland.” Rogan said with a nod. “I know not how I came to this
place and all I wish for is a way back home.”
“Yeah, but there’s
nothing on you by your name in the Irish records and databases.” Foster
scratched his chin. “How the hell are we going to send you there then?”
“I have the wealth
to make my journey.” Rogan narrowed his eyes. “Earned from my fights.”
“Well, not
anymore, that’s all illegal betting money, so you’ve got nothing.Nada.” Foster
shrugged his heavy shoulders.
“Must I fight
again to earn more?” Rogan looked dejected.
“Hell, no.” Foster
almost yelled. “You’re going to get ten years in the slammer, if you go around
fighting for money again.”
“Or, he can fight
for us to uphold the law, at a decent wage of course.” Julia was all smiles,
rocking on her heels like a giddy schoolgirl.
“Now you’re really
gone over to Looneyville, Kincaid.” The heavyset police captain growled. “You
want me to take this underground fighter into the Force?”
“Well, it’s either
with us or against us.” She shook her head. “We let him go, in the confused
condition he is, he’s going to wind up in another illegal fighting ring, once
he puts his skills on display.”
“Hm, you may have
a point there.” Foster scratched the front of his receding hairline.
“He’ll make a
great cop. I can see it.” Julia looked at Rogan with fondness. “He’s got that
look of eagles about him - a high flying crime fighting hero every city needs.”
“So you’re saying
he’s some kind of super man now?” Her superior officer laughed sarcastically.
“Yes, he is.” She
looked at her boss defiantly. “And if he isn’t an asset to the Force inside a
month, I’ll hand in my badge and gun myself.”
“You’ll do better
than that, Missy.” Foster took up her challenge. “You’re going to be his
mentor. I’ll take him on as a rookie on the job and you’re going to train this
fighting machine to be a New York City Police Officer.”
Rogan watched the
two law-enforcement officers bicker like father and daughter. They were so
unlike the others he had so far known in this dismal future he was lost in -
especially the young woman. She was so much like him, an upholder of justice
and the law. Maybe the future was not as bleak as he had begun to think it was
from his association with the darker side of its denizens. He had counted each
day since he found himself here; twenty three had already passed by. His
thoughts drifted to Alicia and what she must be doing alone without him. Would
she ever know where he was or if he could ever go back to her?
“Hey, Earth to Irishman.”
Julia’s bright voice brought him out of his brooding. “What do you say about
this? Would you like to serve on the other side of the law, the better one?”
“You do me great
honor with your faith in me, fair Julianne.” Rogan bowed slowly. “I accept your
offer most graciously.”
“Whoa! The guy’s
waxing all poetic like now.” Foster slapped his forehead. “And here I thought
he was some kind of dumb brute.”
“You do that every
time, Captain.” Julia snorted. “You’re always by the book.There are some things
you’re never going to find in a book.”
“Whatever you say,
Officer Kincaid.” Foster stepped up to the door with his coffee cup in hand.
“It’s your badge on the line.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
Julia waved at the man. “And I’ll be keeping mine firmly on while you hand
Rogan his own badge inside a month.”
“I am indebted to
your kindness.” Rogan abruptly said, making her jump.
“Oh, that? That’s
quite all right,” Julia suddenly felt herself blush; alone now in the little
interrogation room with the most handsome man she had seen in ages. “Just doing
a fellow highlander a favor.”
“All the more
reason for me to be grateful, milady.” He bowed slightly.
“Oh, gosh…” She
felt suddenly very uncomfortable. “Please, just call me Julia or Julie… I’m not
a milady at all.”
“As you wish,
Julia.” He smiled, his green eyes softening and making his rugged face even
more appealing.
She almost
swooned, struggling to keep her knees from knocking. “Oh, you must be hungry. Come
with me to the diner out back. I’ll get you something to eat.”
Rogan nodded and
followed her out, drawing surprised looks from the other men and women in
uniform. They stepped out into the morning sunshine and Rogan enjoyed the
warmth for the first time since he found himself in this predicament.
“Don’t worry about
the big guy. He’s been acquitted... unwitting accomplice and all that.”
Foster’s loud voice drifted out as Julia beckoned him to follow her into
another building.
“This is Wendy’s
Diner.” Julia gestured at him to take a seat inside a booth. “The best food
you’d have eaten outside your home. We eat here all the time.”
“This tavern is
quite clean.” Rogan replied, sitting down and marveling at the soft leather
seating.
“Yeah, I suppose
your old friends from the underground would only take you to seedy little
joints.” Julia said ruefully. “How did you get mixed up with them? Not that I’m
being judgmental without knowing anything about you at all?”
“O’Malley was
helpful to me in my time of need.” Rogan took a deep breath. “He was the only
one I could call friend when I needed one.”
“Yes, I understand
absolutely.” She blushed again. “And I’m sorry if I came across as…”
“No need for an
apology, fair Julia.” He beamed at her. “Your kindness to me now is more than I
can ever repay. This life that I see now here is a far better one than what
O’Malley presented.”
“Well, if you see
beyond the initial help he gave you, he was kind of using you to his
advantage.” She said cautiously, eyeing his reaction.
“Indeed he was,
yet I too was in need,” Rogan replied grimly and the suddenly smiled. “But let
bygones be so.”
“Yes, let’s… and
sorry again for rambling on,” She waved her hands to change the subject. “You
must be starving. What would you like to have? The onion and beef stew is to
die for here and so are the cinnamon rolls.”
“Then I shall have
what you’re having - perhaps three times as much.” Rogan laughed, his weariness
seemingly drifting off him.