Chapter 23
The holy inquisition
An hour later Nom found himself answering his door with a very confused Tollen on the other side.
"You know man." Tollen said, as he handed a bottle of Tanqueray extra dry to Nom. "I get some crazy ideas at times."
"I'll say." said Nom.
"You seem to be a glutton for punishment. Always finding the best way to ensure that management grinds your nads into jelly at least every other week. Personally, I think you must be a masochist." Nom added with a chuckle.
"Sit down, sit down." Nom said pointing to the lazy boy. "I'll pour us some drinks." Nom went into the kitchen and pulled out the necessary items: ice, chilled tonic water, and rock glasses. Normally, he would have preferred to have the gin sit in the freezer until it ran like a thick oil, but the ice and tonic water would suffice in the meantime. He mixed the drinks, holding off of the usual lime. Putting the ingredients back in the freezer, he headed into the living room with the finished product.
Handing one glass to Tollen, he sat down in his reading chair facing his friend. Tollen had not yet taken a seat. He was admiring a pair of old maps hanging on the wall above the sofa.
"What's the smaller one?" Tollen asked.
"It's a rough map of Lithuania shortly before it united with Poland to form the Grand Dutchery. The map is hand drawn on parchment, it dates to the mid sixteenth century." Nom replied.
"How did you get your hands on something like that?"
"Family heirloom in a way. My grandfather was always getting gifts from politicians and grateful patients. I think that one came from a senator that I won't name. My grandfather treated a number of his relatives. The Senator and my grandfather were political allies.
Last Saturday, my grandfather decided to sell his house and move to a retirement community. He said that most of his knickknacks were up for grabs by the family. It will be hard on him and my aunt, but I think they are reaching the point where they need full time care again. Besides the old Manor once sold will fetch a nice price for my aunt's welfare trust.
It's a shame. I wanted my aunt to stay there for the remainder of her days, but after I blew up the plans for the family trusts my grandfather lost his will to stay. In a way it is a good thing, they need better, and more full time care then they are getting there. It will be a few months before the whole thing is processed. But he said he wanted the "clutter" cleared as soon as possible. I landed that one and a few others." Nom said the last into his drink.
Tollen lofted his glass in mock salute. "I'm impressed. What about that stogie?"
Nom gestured to the table top humidor on his desk. "Help yourself. The trimmer and lighter are in the desk drawer."
A few minutes later Tollen was puffing away contentedly.
"So, what did you come over here to see me about?" Nom asked. "Not that I mind your company, but it does seem a little strange for you to come over on such short notice."
"Well…" Tollen said, blowing out a mouth full. "I have been thinking strange things lately. Really strange things."
Nom shrugged. "Not sure where your headed. Philosophically we're both nihilistic militant atheists. We believe basically the same stuff and have similar pass times. Though you like watching professional sports, while I would rather watch paint dry. So, what would you be thinking that I would find so strange? Something, that you drove over an hour from your place to tell me in person?" Nom asked.
"Well I've noticed some strange coincidences. For starters you show up at DHS for the first time in more than a year. Somehow, despite not having applied for any aid, I checked; you landed an interview with your old supervisor and her supervisor. It's not like our office could have processed an application by you anyway. It would be a conflict of interest and immediately farmed out to Southfield or Madison Heights. Still, you managed to get both of those harpies in an interview room." Tollen took a taste of his drink, and let the cloud of smoke around him settle a bit.
"Perhaps, it wasn't a benefits interview, maybe they wanted to finally give me an exit interview?" Nom said, with a shrug.
Tollen laughed so riotously that he was choking before he managed to reply. "And hell froze over!" He finally spat out.
The pair laughed for a few moments. After the mirth had died down Tollen brought his question back to life.
"So, Nom... Why did you meet with the masters of hell?" He asked.
"They called me in to inquire about an old case. Apparently, one of my old clients has filed a discrimination suit after they were denied. I may not be a state employee now, but I was at the time, so I still have to play by the official rules." Nom replied.
"Why did you go in? I thought you would set the building on fire, before you ever set foot in it again." Tollen said.
"Simple. I didn't deny the client. I fought for her to get benefits. Mrs. Cobb denied her. But as you know those letters go out in the name of the eligibility specialist, not the manger that certified the case. I wanted to see what bull-shit Mrs. Cobb had concocted after all this time, for her to still be denying the case."
"What did she have?" Tollen asked.
"Bupkis. The client is a twenty-four-year-old, mother of three, black, and single." Nom said.
"So are ten to fifteen percent of the people who walk through our door every day. What was the problem?" Tollen asked.
"She was facing gas and power cut off and, on paper, looked to be eligible for FAP. So per policy, I tacked on a FAP application, processed the eviction SER, and sent the case up for review. Mrs. Cobb took a look over the app and noticed that the client had a bump in income last month. She denied the SER, and a kid froze to death."
"What kind of bump?" Tollen asked.
"Mrs. Cobb's favorite, reimbursement for final expenses. Fuck she must have used that one a dozen times while I was under her. The client's mother died a few months before filing. Being a good kid, she scrounged and managed to pay for a base level cremation. When SSA and our burial people finally cut the funeral home its check, they reimbursed her. Being a human being, I realized that under policy this wasn't income, it was simply an asset reimbursement. It had to count as an asset, but not as income. Since she had already spent the money, it wasn't even an asset anymore." Nom said.
"So, what did Mrs. Cobb say? It sounds like you processed that one by the book." Tollen said.
"She looked over my case notes…" Nom took a swig of his gin. "She bounced the file. Then she added an addendum, that I was attempting to defraud the state to help the client. She apparently sent it to OIG. I was screwing the client and in return helping her on the SER and FAP."
Tollen guffawed. "You! What was in it for you? You don't go in for relationships. You're an aromantic!"
"Well, Mrs. Cobb convinced Mrs. Santiago, that since I didn't stiff the poor woman out of an SER, I must be stiffing her for real. She filed a formal counseling letter and everything. I just never saw it. Seems I quit before she could kick off that round of my torture." Nom said.
"What a bitch." Tollen said.
Nom nodded back. "True."
"Jesus, that woman has no understanding of what reality or decency is." Tollen said.
"So, before I left DHS, I assisted the client in making a case for herself. I didn't know about the discipline, but I was incensed about her kids being frozen. Policy says that she can see her case file anytime she wants. While I was out sick those last three days, I emailed Celsy, and had her send in an FOI request. She made it look like the client had sent me the request. Since I was out, and we were on the same management team, she was picking up the slack." Nom said.
"You didn't." Tollen said wide eyed.
"Yup. Three weeks later, the client got a nice fat envelope full of everything in her case file. A full Bridges print out, all the documents in the folder, and a full printout of case and page level comments. From what I understand she was shocked, especially since she hadn't even asked for the stuff." Nom said.
"So what happened?" Tollen asked.
"Well, since she was homeless, she didn't have the time to deal with it. But after she settled in to her new apartment last month, she finally took a gander through that file. Seems that Mrs. Cobb went so far as to make a few off-color comments."
"Like what?" Tollen asked.
"Oh, let's see, I think I have it memorized well enough. 'Despite, claiming in her application that she did not have any income, other than her employment for the last three months, a review of the case has shown that she received a reimbursement check from a funeral home in the amount of…' I don't recall the amount. She went on: 'The client appears to be attempting to defraud the government. It appears obvious that she has been giving sexual favors to her case worker in return for a positive case decision. Her case has been referred to claims recovery. Given the number of minority persons in that neighborhood applying for assistance, it is probable that there is an organized effort to steal from the state's emergency funds. I have begun a disciplinary investigation into the actions of the worker, for assisting his client in her efforts.'" Nom finished with an air quoted wave of the hand.
"Mrs. Cobb accused, the blacks of Pontiac, Michigan, of engaging in a race based organized conspiracy to defraud the state? She couldn't have been stupid enough to put that in writing." Tollen said.
"Oh, but someone using her username did. My favorite part is that I never had a chance to read those comments before I was called in to see Mrs. Cobb today. The bitch had the temerity to accuse me of hacking into her Bridges account and posting them in her name!" Nom laughed
"Didn't she know that every comment is signed with an IP address?" Tollen chortled.
"Apparently not. I got the thrill of pointing that one out, before I decided to leave." Nom said.
"Is that all you did?" Tollen asked
"What do you mean?" Nom asked his dread rising. Tollen could not be suggesting the truth, it was simply impossible that he could have guessed it.
"They're both dead." Tollen said.
"What!?" Nom said feigning surprise. "What do you mean they are dead? Dead politically? Professionally? What?"
"Oh I mean dead as in 'bereft of life they've gone to meet their maker, they have run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible.'" Tollen had a glowing look in his eye.
"So Sherlock, what happened?" Nom asked.
"I have a theory." Tollen said
"What is it?"
"You did it." Tollen said with a wicked grin.
"What?"
Tollen put his glass on the coffee table and leaned forward. "Hear me out." He said.
"Ok." Nom said. "I'll wait and see what sort of fiction you feel like weaving."
"What do you hate the most in the world?" Tollen asked.
"Beside a woman who acts as if I am her slave or who seeks to own me? I don't know, religion?" Nom answered honestly.
"You listed off the two top contenders, but left out the third of your triad." Tollen said.
"And what is the penultimate member of my 'Triad of Hate?'" Nom said with an eye roll.
"Conservatives. Anyone who is politically conservative. You despise them." Tollen said pointing at Nom.
"Fair enough, but what does that have to do with Mrs. Cobb and Santiago's demise? I can't say I'm sad, but I doubt anyone who knows them is. It's like being told small pox is eradicated. Yes, this means small pox died, but it was so evil that its good. Now come on man! Rather than this conspiracy crap, we should be celebrating!" Nom said.
Tollen shook his head. "I follow you on Facebook, and I think I've connected some funny dots."
Tollen held up the fingers on his left hand as he enumerated. "First, you post a rant about a trucker in Texas. Some schmuck who liked to defraud the IRS. You have the location settings turned on, so your Facebook post shows what truck stop you were at. Then low and behold, a Pigeon News headline, massive trucker accident at that same truck stop within minutes of your post. Dozens of people dead. All of them in ways that you wrote about in those fiction stories you write." Tollen said.
Nom waved his hand in rejection. "So a coincidence happened. Did Pigeon News say what caused the massacre?"
"Nope. It's a mystery, each one died a different, yet gruesome death. How many times have you ranted in general about 'morons' making your life difficult by 'being in the way'?" Tollen asked.
"A few times I guess." Nom allowed.
"Almost every day, Nom. Almost every day... Pigeon News said that the truck stop was packed, and the Texas Rangers were looking for one truck that left. Not out of suspicion, but just looking for a witness statement. They assumed that the driver was freaked out and left in a panic." Tollen said.
"Wouldn't you be freaked, if you saw something like that?" Nom asked.
"Sure, I would." Tollen replied. "But then, I'm not you. You always look at things with cold calculating logic."
"I'm not following you, Tollen." Nom said, his sense of dread starting to perk up.
"Well let's see," Tollen said, as he pulled out his phone. "When I look at your wall and see where you been, this is what I get..." He started to scroll through Nom's wall. "You've been posting quite a bit since you left DHS, love the pictures by the way. Ah, here we go." The first finger was held up again. "One, location stamp Southern Truck Centers of America near Dallas Texas. A rant by you, and…" Tollen switched over to the Pigeon News app. "Within an hour of your post, the Pigeon News head line…"
"Still not with you." Nom said.
"Just wait for it, you'll see…" A second finger was held up. "Two. Now, I look at your next post. You check in at a truck driving school, with a picture of a jack rabbit in the parking lot. Nice shot by the way. I love how you can get such a vivid image, even in that low lighting. Now I surf over to the Dallas Morning News. Article from the next morning: 'Truck Found Abandoned in Parking Lot of truck school. Two African Americans found dead nearby, with their car missing, foul play not suspected.' I scroll back over to your wall. I see that the post before the rant about truck driver at the truck stop, is about you being forced to pick back up your old co-driver in Dallas. You work, or worked, for the company that owns that school. It's even listed as your current employer on Facebook. Plus, there are pictures on your profile of you standing in-front of one of their trucks. Look at the number on that truck, and at the number on the truck shown in the Dallas Morning News. They are the same. Guess where the rabbit picture is tagged as having been taken? The truck school. So, I have you being at that trucking school, within the time frame that those people died." Tollen said.
Nom began to stiffen up. "Tollen are you accusing me of foul play here?" He asked
"Not at all." Tollen replied sitting back. "I'm just pointing out coincidences that puzzle me. Third." He said holding up a third finger. "Take the fact, that after the hurricane in Texas, you wrote another rant. This one, complaining about how the Reverend Joel Ater, refused to let hurricane victims shelter in his church. I look at your Facebook wall, and I see a picture of you flipping off that very church before a Sunday morning service. I check the date stamp on it. I flip over to Pigeon News, and find an article about the reverend Ater having a massive stroke that same day. A stroke that same morning as your bird picture. The local hospitals have been baffled. Hundreds of people, all of whom attend that church, are seeking medical treatment. Seems that their GI tracts aren't working, no matter how much they eat, they just defecate it out. They are starving to death one and all." Tollen said.
"Some sort of stomach bug." Nom suggested off handedly.
"That effected hundreds of people, days apart? From what possible source? The church web site, doesn't show any full church potluck or get together where mass contamination of a foodborne illness would be possible." Tollen said.
Nom took a slow sip and pondered a possible explanation. "Terrorism?" Nom offered. "Radiation poisoning attacks fast growing cells, and GI tracks are usually the first thing hit."
"I thought of that." Tollen said. "Only in that case, they should have burn marks. Their hair should be falling out in clumps. Nothing reported. No radiation hot spot has been declared. And you just know, that the government under our current President, would love for there to be a terrorist attack. Best yet one with a dirty bomb or radiological weapon. If they could, they would have announced by now." Tollen said.
"Don't know what to tell you Tollen. I was there in Texas. I even attended the service that Ater wigged out at just for shits and giggles, yet I'm the picture of health." Nom said.
"Exactly." Tollen said with a smile. "You are the picture of health, and yet you were present at all these tragedies."
"Am I a terrorist?" Nom asked, with worried a chuckle.
"I don't know. I doubt it. Not your style. No, something else is happening." Tollen said.
"What's my style, Tollen?" Nom asked.
"You're a conniving, obsessive, low risk, tactician. Maximum impact with minimum damage to yourself. In all of these cases things that you hated were destroyed. Fourth." Four fingers rose. "Mrs. Cobb and Santiago tortured you for over a year. They call you in for another round, and they end up dead. No need to look for the rants here, I lived that mess with you. You killed them, somehow." Tollen said.
"No, I didn't, but I can't say I'm upset about it though. Why would you think they died of anything other than natural causes?" Nom replied.
"I was there when the EMTs tried to revive them. Their mouths had to be pried open as if they had been wired shut. Their guts had filled their lungs with crap. That isn't natural." Tollen said.
"It's not exactly something I could have done with a medical degree and a hospital full of equipment either." Nom said.
"There is something more. There is a new tinge to that dark cloud always hovering over you. And before you say its nerves, it's not. People dying never upset you before. It's not terror that has surrounded you, something darker is casting your dark cloud isn't it? You knew about all of these tragedies like a person who orchestrated them. It's only my connecting them to you that has you nervous now." Tollen said.
Nom was silent for a moment. He stood and helped himself to another cigar. One a week was usually his limit, but, at times of borderline panic like this, he found they helped him think more clearly. When he had trimmed the end, and lit it, he took a moment to freshen his glass. Courage and clarity in hand, he returned to his chair.
"You are connecting me to mass causality events, homicides, and disruption of a government facility. All in all, I would have to be worse than Bin Laden to pull off such a series of events." Nom said.
"Would you?" Tollen asked
"Come again?" Nom said with an annoyed tone.
"Remember that time last year? You gave me the lecture on why you hate the word coward." Tollen said, his eyes brightening.
"Not the specific event, but I recall a discussion on the subject." Nom said.
"It was right after those Muslim terrorists shot up Paris." Tollen reminded him.
"Ok, I think I remember." Nom said.
"You said, that you hated it, when people like that were called cowards…" Tollen primed.
Nom sighed. "A coward, is a person who doesn't have the stones to do what they believe is the right thing. It's a word describing a lack of action, not the nature of an actual action. Terrorists are literally the exact opposite. Rather than be morons and engage their far superior enemies on the open battle field, a prospect that would only result in their being annihilated, sans gains for their cause, terrorists intelligently use what resources they have, to inflict the maximum damage on their enemies.
"It is maddening to hear US leaders call men with skin the game cowards and not apply the same maxim to drone pilots. Those people are the ones we should be calling cowards. They sit safely in a flight simulator in the US. They enjoy air-conditioned comfort and go home to their families every night. Yet, while on duty, they remotely fly and control death machines that can kill by the score from half a world away. Not to say drones don't make sense. Why toss troops into every situation where force is needed? That would be unnecessarily risking lives and valuable resources.
"The wise move, is to intelligently use remote assets. Ones that do not waste friendly human assets. In reality terrorists do the same thing. They use what resources they have, with the least cost to their manpower, to inflict the most damage they can. If the drone pilot isn't a coward, then I must insist that the terrorist are not either. The terrorist may be evil, but since they did not run from action, they are, by definition, not cowards."
"Exactly." Tollen said. "It is twisted dark logic like that, that makes you the sole person I know who watched 9-11 on TV as it was happening, and still did not cry coward."
"What does any of this have to with deaths in Texas and the crap at the office today?" Nom asked with a frustrated sigh.
"Just this: You have made it very clear who your enemies are. What groups you feel are so dangerous, that, if you were able too, you would remove them from this earth. Evil, incompetent, sociopaths, preventing government from doing all the good it is able to. Religious fundamentalists, tax evaders, and people who invade your personal space. You have said for the four years I have known you, that you wished you could wipe out them all." Tollen said with a hand wave.
"Fine, I have the motivation, but how the frack could I have done any of this? Dirty bombs, conveniently causing natural deaths, massive truck accidents? It's a fantasy you are weaving." Nom shot back.
Tollen grew a bit wane. "I think…. I think that you have somehow acquired an ability. One that lets you inflict all the horrors you imagined. The darkest plots from those short stories that you used to write."
"Tollen, you have no idea what you are talking about." In his mind Nom pleaded with him to drop the subject. He did not want to have to eliminate one of the few friends he had in the world. He did not want to have to do anything to Tollen, but the man was connecting dots that Nom had thought were diffused. He did not fear being charged with a crime, but people had disappeared to CIA Black sites like Guantanamo Bay for less. If Tollen spread this, it could reach the wrong ears. Then he would be forced to act on a mass scale to avoid that fate. He wasn't ready for it.
If he changed Tollen, he would change one of the only people he had ever known who had willingly become a close friend and confidant. It would be like the concierge in Dallas that he had made love him for the night. She didn't have a choice in her actions. In reality Nom knew that the pleasure she had given him had been nothing more than a glorified form of masturbation. If he made a change to Tollen's mind, he too would no longer be a real friend. He would be a puppet of Nom's will. That was fine and dandy for conquests, but Tollen was a friend.
Shuddering, Nom took a peak into Tollen's mind. He could not make out the individual thoughts. The chaos of billions of neurons talking to each other, was too much for him to decode yet. He could feel an emotion in him though. What was it? Not fear, which was strange.
If Nom suspected another human being of being responsible for the horrors that Tollen had listed, he would have been terrified. The emotion wasn't fool hearted bravery either. No, it was simple curiosity. Tollen was intrigued by what he thought his friend had achieved. The specific thought pattern was lost to him, but the gist of it was clear as day.
Nom was beginning to look and see if he could break this obsession in Tollen's mind, when Tollen spoke: "Am I wrong Nom? Have you found some way to bend those you hate to your idea of justice?"
Nom took a breath and let the chips fall where they may. "Tollen, remember that discussion we had the day I quit DHS? The one about Don Quixote?"
"You said that the only difference between Don Quixote and me was that he was actually crazy when he charged the wind mills. I charge because I'm a sadomasochist that enjoys getting knocked on my ass." Tollen replied.
Nom nodded, choosing his words carefully. "You are asking me, if I have some sort of ability. One to rain down chaos, mayhem, and death. Since, I haven't issued a manifesto or ultimatum to the media, if I really could do this, I must want to keep a low profile. Why aren't you running for the hills if you believe this?"
"Well, that's an easy one." Tollen said visibly relaxing. "Oh, and I'll take your evasion as a yes. It's the fact that you have morals, which keeps me here." Tollen said.
"Come again, Tollen?"
"Everyone you have killed so far is someone who under your twisted moral code only got what they deserved." Tollen said.
"You fool; you don't know the half of it!" Nom groaned.
"So, you really are admitting it?" Tollen said with a grin that lit up his face.
Nom didn't say anything but sipped his gin.
"So, tell me about it!" Tollen said, bouncing in his seat like a little boy being offered a trip to Disney Land.
For a moment Nom studied Tollen's face. The man's lack of ability to best him in combat was a forgone conclusion. Nom could kill Tollen with no more than a wish. By the time he left, Nom could adjust his mind, ensuring that he would never share the news of this discovery. But, here in the meantime… Here in the meantime… Tollen was a reliable and trusted confidant. Counsel for deciding what his next move should be, might be helpful.
Nom's voice took on an icy hue. "Tollen, assuming for a moment that I can do what you say, you understand that its truth would mean that your very life is in my hands right now. Are you sure you want to trust your fait to my so called 'twisted morality'?"
"What have I got to lose?" Tollen asked. "Let's see, you hate conservatives. Well, like you, I'm a socialist. You hate religious people. I'm not a militant atheist, but I am an atheist. You hate people who are breeding unnecessarily. I had my kids ages ago. They are about your age, so I'm not exactly likely to commit that sin again, am I? I work to make the world a better place and in the same government office you did. I value education over street smarts. I'm not in your way. But most importantly, like you I believe in actual equality. I'm not telling you that simply because you were born male and not a minority that you are somehow bad and need to 'check your privilege'. Sounds like I have nothing about me to make me your enemy." Tollen finished with a sigh.
For an eternity they sat in silence. Only after three or for epochs rose and fell did Nom reach his conclusion.