by Lereyn
"Gosh, it's dark out there," he reflected to himself. "And stormy too."
As he was typing the final few words on his report about some arrests he'd made earlier in the evening, the squad room door suddenly opened, and a man strode purposefully in. Now there's a man to set the ladies' hearts aflutter, the detective thought to himself as the man approached.
"Are you Detective Kling?" the man asked.
"I am. Do I know you? You look vaguely familiar." Det. Kling stood as he tried to place the man's familiar face.
"I don't think we've met. I'm Lieutenant Craig Garrison, U.S. Army. I understand you arrested some of my men tonight."
Det. Kling noted that the lieutenant appeared relaxed, perhaps even resigned, to the situation his men were in. "I arrested four men. They weren't in uniform, though; I wasn't aware they were military men." He motioned for the lieutenant to sit.
"They're quasi-military, detective. Special Operations. I need to have them released immediately." He paused for a moment, "So, what are the charges?"
Det. Kling studied the other man for a moment. There was something so familiar about him. Perhaps he just had one of a "those" faces. "There are a variety of charges, Lieutenant. He reviewed the report he had just completed. "We've got breaking and entering, safe cracking, grand theft auto, and the tall guy, well, he was arrested on general principle.
"General principle?" the lieutenant asked, not at all surprised at the variety of charges.
"Yeah, well, he was with the others, and he seemed so smooth, we figured he had to be up to something." The detective continued to scan his report. "They broke into offices of one of the television networks. One of the security guards saw them and made the call, but they got away before we got there. They weren't all that difficult to track, though."
"The 'auto theft'?" Garrison asked, still stony-faced.
"Yes," Kling replied. "Well, it wasn't exactly an 'auto', but that was the best I could come up with as a charge.
Not sure he really wanted to hear the answer, Garrison asked anyway, "So what DID they steal?"
"An airplane."
"What?"
"An airplane. They stole an airplane." Kling was relieved to see that at last the lieutenant seemed surprised at something his men had done. "Fortunately, they didn't have a chance to take off."
"But none of them can fly an airplane." Garrison thought he'd heard it all when it came to the escapades of his men, but, once again, they'd managed to surprise him.
"Apparently, they solved that problem by also 'stealing' a pilot."
Garrison stared at the detective for several moments while myriad images floated through his mind--not the least of which was what he would do with his men after he got them sprung. "Detective, would it be possible for me to speak with my men? I'm sure they'll have some explanation for all this." Actually, Garrison doubted that they had anything remotely resembling a reasonable explanation, but he didn't think he could take anymore surprises right now.
Det. Kling's immediate inclination was to leave the four men right where they were, but he hadn't been able to get any coherent reason out of them for what they'd done, so his own curiosity got the better of him. Maybe the lieutenant could make some sense of their plans. With a brief nod, he picked up the phone and called down to the desk sergeant. "Sergeant, bring those four clowns we just arrested up to my office. I may be able to shed some light on their actions."
As the detective replaced the receiver, Garrison turned to him with a spark in his eye, "Detective, those men are thieves, murderers, cat burglars, anything you like, but they aren't 'clowns'."
Making a mental note to add some information to his recently finished report, Kling looked up at the lieutenant, "Sorry, lieutenant. You know them better than I do." There was a long pause as each considered the situation, and then both turned as the door opened and four men were escorted in. "But they still look like clowns to me," Kling muttered to himself.
"WARDEN!" The gangly blond man who was first through the door stopped abruptly when he spied the lieutenant. Turning to the others who were stumbling to a stop behind him, he gestured happily to the lieutenant, "See, I told you guys the Warden'd come through for us."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the surly, dark-haired man gave the blond a push and proceeded into the room.
"Good evening, Lieutenant." The tallest of the men smiled serenely at Garrison. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here." Behind him another man silently entered the room, quickly scanning the area and moving to stand by the window.
"I was a bit surprised myself, Actor." Garrison looked sharply at each man. "What, exactly, were you four up to tonight?"
"We was framed." The blond man proclaimed as he sat in the chair by Det. Kling's desk and started inspecting a silver cigarette box.
"A mere misunderstanding, Lieutenant," the tall man Garrison had addressed as 'Actor' replied as he stepped behind the blond man and removed the cigarette box from his hands.
Det. Kling opened his mouth, but before he could utter a sound, Garrison snapped at his men. "How can seeing you in a building you shouldn't have been in--one which had a suspiciously open safe--and found on an airplane you had no business in with a pilot who didn't want to be there....how can THAT be construed as a 'misunderstanding'?"
"You didn't close the safe?!" The surly man strode toward the blond. "Goniff, I told you to close the safe while I unlocked the door. How hard could that have been?"
"So I was distracted. There was this pretty picture frame on the desk that I knew my mum would love..."
Before the surly man could follow his inclination and shove Goniff--and his chair--backwards, the lieutenant stepped in. "Casino, that's enough. Not closing the safe is the least of your problems right now."
"We were going to put back the plane when we were finished with it, Warden." The man at the window spoke for the first time.
"And were you going to 'put back' the pilot, too, Chief?" Garrison asked, then immediately turned his attention to the blond man. "Don't even think about it, Goniff," he growled and removed a silver letter opener from the man's hands.
"Lieutenant," Det. Kling broke in, "perhaps we can start by getting their real names. All I could get for my report were: Actor, Goniff, Casino and Chief. Those are suspicious aliases if ever I heard any."
"Names?" Garrison looked puzzled. "Real names?" He thought for a moment. "Um, well, Chief, over there, " he pointed to the quiet man by the window, "his real name is 'Rainey'."
"Rainey", the detective made a note on his report. "Is that a first name or last name?"
Garrison glanced at Chief who was not at all happy to be the center of attention. "First name."
"OK. And what is his last name?" the detective asked, expectantly.
"I'm not sure, Detective," Garrison answered. "There have been great debates about that, and believe me you don't want to get embroiled in one of them."
"Hmmm," Det. Kling wisely responded. "And the others? What are their real names?"
Garrison thought for a moment. "Ah, well, Goniff there," he pointed to the blond man, "his name's 'Rodney'."
"Hey!" Goniff jumped to his feet embarrassed by the snickering from the others. "How did you know that?!"
"I read your dossier," Garrison told him.
"And did the dossier tell you his last name?" the detective asked, hopefully.
Garrison thought for a moment. "Apparently not."
"Hmmm," the detective responded. "What about the others?"
Garrison thought for several moments but could not come up with another real name. While this seemed odd even to him, he wasn't about to admit his lack of knowledge to the others. "Their real names aren't important, Detective." He stood tall and looked the detective in the eye. "Back at Headquarters there just known as 'Garrison's...."
"APES!!!!" The word reverberated off the walls as a man dashed into the room, slamming the door behind him.
"No," Garrison turned to correct the man. "Not 'apes', they're 'Gorillas'."
"What?" The new arrival stopped in his tracks, gasping for air. "No, technically they're 'apes' not 'gorillas'. I'm sure of that." He paused to catch his breath.
"Did he just call us 'apes'?" Casino took a step forward, already annoyed at the way the night was going and ready for a fight...any fight. Then he came to a sudden stop. "Do I know you?" he asked looking closely at the man.
"I don't think we've met. And I didn't call YOU 'apes', I called the creatures who are after me 'apes'. They've organized and now rule the world."
At that proclamation, the others all looked at each other, and Casino took a long step back from the man. "Detective," the man said, "my name is Alan Virdon. Believe me when I tell you that there are apes out there ...DANGEROUS apes!"
"Sir," Det. Kling said softly, "why don't you just have a seat over there, and I'll be with you shortly." Thinking that the fellow looked familiar, he decided that he'd take the first opportunity to check to see if anyone had been reported missing from the local mental health facility. Turning back to Garrison, he saw that he, too, was looking at Mr. Virdon as if trying to place him. "Now, Lieutenant, you said something about an explanation?"
With a nod, Garrison looked at the tallest of his men. "Actor, what, exactly, were you four doing? ...and this better be good."
With a smooth smile, Actor pulled up a chair and elegantly sat. "It's really very simple, Lieutenant. It came to our attention that the heads of a certain television network had misfiled a list of plotlines for some future television shows. Although we're not sure, precisely, what that means, we felt compelled to ensure that the information was put somewhere where it would be properly handled.
Garrison just sat looking blankly at the tall con man. Then, with a blink, he repeated, 'plotlines for future television shows'? You mean 'newsreels'?
"I don't think so, Lieutenant. In any event, it was important that this information be moved to the appropriate office, so we just liberated them from the safe in the offices of a Mr. Senssor, and we planned to take them to one of the studio offices out in California. I'm sure our reason for doing this will become clear to all of us at some point."
"That's why we needed the pilot, ya see, Warden," Goniff chimed in. "We had to get to California."
"Television?!" Alan jumped from his chair. "Are you people insane? The Apes are going to rule our world, and you're worried about television shows!? I'm telling you this world will become a Planet of the Apes if we don't do something now!"
Det. Kling put a new piece of paper his typewriter and prepared to write another report. He was sure glad that he could type using all his fingers; he'd known that high school typing class would come in handy some day. With an efficient flick of his wrist, he sent the typewriter carriage flying all the way to the right, and he was set to begin. "Please sit down, Mr. Virdon; I'll be with you in a moment. Now, Lieutenant, perhaps you could explain why plotlines for future television shows are of any concern to your men."
"I have no idea. Actor?" Garrison turned back to the con man for an explanation.
"I'm afraid I can't explain it, Lieutenant. It's like the haunting question: 'Who's peeking out from under the staircase, calling a name that's lighter than air? Who's reaching out to capture a rainbow? Everyone knows it's..."
"WENDY!" The door of the room burst open....again...and another man burst in. "Really, Detective, I'm must call my wife, Wendy, and let her know I've been delayed here in Manhattan. You don't know her; her imagination will concoct the most wild explanation if I don't explain why I'm late ...not that I have any idea how to explain this."
Det. Kling's fingers flew across the keys of the typewriter at a speed of at least five--maybe even six--words a minute. Finally, he paused and looked up. "Lieutenant, this is Jeff Conway, the pilot your men stole."
"Hey! We didn't precisely steal him." Casino stood and walked over to lean on the detective's desk. "He was heading for California anyway. We were just hitching a ride." With that he sauntered back to his chair and settled into it. And Det. Kling pondered the correct spelling for 'stole aways'.
"Think of it as 'commandeering' the plane, Lieutenant," Actor added helpfully.
Garrison refrained from running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Okay, let me see if I understand this: you felt the need to get a missing set of plotlines for future television shows to California. So you removed them from a safe here in Manhattan and were 'commandeering' a plane--AND a pilot. So, where are these plotlines now? Chief?
The quiet man standing by the window threw Garrison a direct look that revealed none of his thoughts. "I don't know, Warden. I ain't no tracker."
"Perhaps I can be of help," came an oddly familiar, but as yet unidentified, voice from the direction of the door.
All eyes to look at the man who had quietly entered the room. "My name is Paul Marshall. I've been called in to act as counsel for these four men. The evidence is stapled to the detective's report." He said, pointing at the recently completed report in Det. Kling's 'out' tray.
Silence screamed loudly around the room. Jeff Conway looked at Det. Kling who looked at Lt. Garrison. "I didn't call him," Garrison announced. "But, as long as he's here, I suppose we could use him. And he does look vaguely familiar."
"I don't think we've met," Paul said as he stepped forward. "Now, based on my information about the importance of the undertaking these men, um, undertook, I believe we can all agree that there were extenuating circumstances."
"We can?" Det. Kling asked. "And just how do you know anything about what these men were up to, anyway, Marshall. You just got here."
Paul thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Just a hole in the plot, I suppose. No one will ever notice."
The other men smiled and nodded, having no idea what the lawyer fellow was talking about. But, he was a lawyer, so he must know what's going on.
"Anyway," Paul continued, "I'll arrange to get a Writ of Habeas Corpus to allow these men to continue on with their task of returning the plotlines for future television shows to the appropriate offices in California.
"It's a 'mission', Marshall, not a 'task'." Casino scowled at the lawyer. "And I better not have heard you referring to us as corpses."
Paul held his briefcase like a shield in front of himself. "Yes, well, I'll contact a judge and make the arrangements."
"Just one minute, Marshall." Garrison approached the lawyer. "I'm not sure I like the idea of my men flying across the country on a mission that hasn't been approved by the brass. There's been no briefing, no maps; who's the contact there?"
"Forget all that, Lieutenant, there's no time." Jeff Conway stepped forward. "I don't have time for all this. I need to get back to Wendy; you have no idea the havoc she can wreak when left on her own too long."
"I want some answers first," Garrison retorted. "These men can't just fly all over the country willy-nilly."
"Ahhh, Warden," Goniff groaned.
"Warden?" Paul questioned. "He called you 'Warden'?"
"Merely a term of affection," Actor intoned suavely. "Think nothing of it."
"Well, whatever your misgivings, Lieutenant, I insist that we get this sorted out as quickly as possible so I can get home to my wife. You really have no idea what she can get into....nevermind. I'm a Captain, Garrison, and as I outrank you, I'm ordering that we get this show on the road immediately."
"You're an airline pilot, Conway. Unless we're 30,000 feet up, you don't outrank me," Garrison growled.
"Oh....yeah," Jeff mumbled. "Oh, well, doesn't matter. It's my plane, so when I leave it's going with me."
"I'll just make that call to the judge." As Paul picked up the phone, still another man burst through the door, and, slamming it shut, flung himself back against it as if to hold it closed against invaders. As if THAT were possible.
"SLEESTAKS!" He gasped, "The Sleestaks are right on my heels!"
Everyone in the room paused...except Det. Kling who quickly put another piece of paper in his typewriter to continue with his report. "Okay, and your name, sir?" he asked.
"Marshall," the man replied still leaning against the door.
"Yes?" Paul asked, looking up from his phone call.
"You two know each other?" Det. Kling asked as the typewriter 'dinged' indicating the end of a line, and he sharply sent the carriage back to the right to advance to the next line.
"Well, he does look vaguely familiar," the man at the door said looking closely at Paul, "but I don't think we've ever met."
"You don't know him, Marshall?" Det. Kling looked at the lawyer.
"No," Paul replied.
"No," the man at the door echoed.
"So, your name is...?" Det. Kling looked at the man still leaning against the door.
"I told you; it's Marshall....Jack Marshall. But you can call me 'Uncle Jack', everyone does."
"Jack Marshall?" Det. Kling looked at the lawyer. "And you're Paul Marshall?"
The two men looked at each other then turned back to the detective. "No relation," they said in unison.
"Are you sure?" Jeff Conway asked. "Because there is a bit of a resemblance between the two of you."
The two men looked at each other again and shrugged. "I don't look any more like him than I look like you, Conway," Paul said. "Or the lieutenant, there."
"Back to...um...Uncle Jack, there," Det Kling said, wondering if he had enough paper in his desk to complete this report. "Who was it you said was chasing you? A Mr. Smokestack?"
"No, no, SLEESTAK," Uncle Jack said, "And they're not a 'who'; they're a 'what'. They're tall creatures bent on the destruction of man. They come from Another World, you know."
"Another World?" Once again the door opened, causing Uncle Jack to fly away from the door, nearly knocking over Garrison and three of his four Gorillas. "My name is Taylor Holloway, and I'm looking for Another World."
"Well, keep looking," Uncle Jack replied regaining his balance and stepping away from Casino who was still looking for someone to punch. "I promise you this is NOT the other world you want."
"Perhaps you want THAT man's 'other world'," Actor said helpfully, pointing to Alan. "He has apes in HIS world."
Alan jumped up, "That's right, Apes bent on the destruction of man ...um ...do I know you?" He looked closely at Taylor and Uncle Jack.
Uncle Jack, interested in what Alan had to say about his apes (who sounded suspiciously similar to his own Sleestaks) just shook his head while Taylor studied Alan for a moment. "Well, you do seem vaguely familiar, but I'm sure I've never been in Another World where there were apes bent on the destruction of man."
Det. Kling's fingers flew across the keys. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, and was starting to think that this was all a joke the other detectives were playing on 'the rookie'. Also he was wondering about the correct spelling for 'Sleestak'.
At that moment, Paul Marshall put down the phone. "Okay, Lieutenant, the judge has signed off on the writ. Your men can continue with their task...er...mission now."
"Capitol!" Actor exclaimed. "I'm sure what we're doing is a Loving tribute to future Generations....I just don't know exactly why."
Alan stood and shouted, "For Love of Life, if this world is Where the Heart Is, you must help me fight the apes!"
"Eh, talk to the man with the Sleestaks." Goniff winked at Alan and moved toward the door. "I think you two have a lot in common."
"All right, everyone who's coming with me, let's get to the airport," ordered Jeff Conway as he placed his pilot's hat on his head, making himself look very sharp and attractive. Casino picked up the piece of paper that had started all this conundrum and moved to the door to join Goniff, with Actor and Chief close on his heels.
"I'm coming with you," Paul Marshall said, picking up the report to which was stapled the paper that contained the plotlines of future television shows and putting it in his briefcase. "I need to get back to the firm, anyway, before Mom misses me."
"I'll be with you as soon as I find a stick," Garrison said looking around as if he'd find one in the squad room. "I may need to draw a map or a diagram in the dirt, or something."
"Will this do, Lieutenant?" Det. Kling held up a pencil.
"A bit unconventional, Detective, but I suppose it could work." Garrison accepted the pencil with a nod and headed to the door to join the others.
A moment later they were gone. Gone to save the world from mediocrity by ensuring that the plotlines for some future television shows made it into the right hands. So, Det. Bert Kling once again sat alone at his desk observing the dark and stormy night and finishing up a report. It had all been so strange, perhaps he'd actually dreamed it all, because, surely, there couldn't have been all those bizarre men in the squad room of the 87th Precinct. Kling removed the report from the typewriter and decided to rip it up. No sane person would ever believe he'd just spent the last hour with...
"Apes!"
"Sleestak!"
The end
