The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 03

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Arthur faces trial and punishment.
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Part 3 of the 15 part series

Updated 09/29/2022
Created 02/07/2012
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Chapter 3: Calling Home

Arthur really couldn't read the Danubian newspaper, but to pass the time before trial he started looking through the pictures. There were photographs of floods and fires as well as weather forecast graphics and comics like any other newspaper. But when Arthur found the front page it made him cringe, below the bold headline was a crime scene photo of the Tech-Center along with photographs of a policeman and the two suspects. The picture of Arthur had been taken after arrest, and Mr. Rumak's photo was obviously from before the gunfight. Arthur remembered the ambulance that left the crime scene; the policeman featured was probably the one that Rumak shot. There was nothing else he could understand from the article.

Arthur picked up a different section of the newspaper. In this one he found several pictures having to do with the courts. There were some photographs of police officers and judges as well as several of naked people wearing collars on their necks. In one group picture, fifteen people dressed in white were cheerfully holding some kind of metal objects above their heads.

Then Arthur turned to the last few pages of the section. There were capsules with what looked like names and descriptions of various criminals. Each item had a name at the top followed by age and a paragraph. Below each paragraph there were two photos. The picture on the left was a mug shot from the shoulders up. What Arthur found most peculiar about the mug shots were the anguished and distorted expressions of the subjects; in fact most of the pictured criminals even had tears running down their faces. The picture on the right, however, made clear why the criminal's faces were so torn up. It was a full-body view from behind, showing a mass of red and purple lines on the bottoms, thighs, and shoulders of the captives.

"The switch!" Arthur suddenly felt sick. "Ralkliv didn't mean switch, he meant Switch! Those police are going to use a switch on me! It's going to be my picture in the paper next week!"

No longer interested in the newspaper, Arthur stood up and started pacing. He briefly considered escape but the fourth floor of a police station isn't a great place to start. Arthur sat down and waited.

Spokesman Ralkliv returned about forty minutes later.

"Arthur, we have few minutes before you go to trial," Ralkliv spoke with an enthusiasm that made Arthur uneasy. "Is there something you want to know?"

Arthur picked up the newspaper and pointed to the pictures of the beaten criminals. "Is this what's going to happen to me?"

He nodded. "Yes definitely... right after you are sentenced at trial."

Arthur excused himself to run into Ralkliv's bathroom and vomit. When Arthur returned he wanted to know one last thing. Picking up the front page he pointed to the large photo of the police officer. "Who is this?"

The spokesman's demeanor got more somber. "His name is Officer Detynik Andreis. He was shot three times, still in hospital. Not improving. Two kids, wife. Good man."

Before Arthur could respond two court guards arrived to escort him to trial.

The courthouse itself was more modern looking than the Roman style buildings that were common in the US. There were no columns or ornate friezes at the front; instead the exterior was covered in steel and glass. The interior of the courthouse was just as sleek and modern, with a polished black ceramic floor and an abstract metal sculpture of some fierce winged creature hanging above the entrance. The media had set up on both sides of the lobby. Cameras flashed and TV cameras focused on Arthur as he passed through the open courtroom doors.

This was the largest courtroom Arthur had ever seen. If it weren't for the large wooden judge's bench and witness stands he would have mistaken the room for a theater or lecture hall. The seating was theater style with the floor sloping toward the front of the room. Five meters in front of the judge's bench was a raised platform that was about three meters wide and thirty centimeters high.

Arthur was lead down to the right side of the witness stand to an area reserved for court officials. As the guard unlocked Arthur's handcuffs Spokesman Ralkliv pointed to the square platform. "That is the platform where you stand during trial. Kneel when judge enters and when judge leaves, all other time keep stand with legs apart and hands behind head. Always look at judge. Listen to me; I will tell you when to go to platform. Remember: defendants do not salute judge. You kneel, head to floor."

Arthur could see that the courtroom was going to be filled to capacity; hundreds of spectators were already seated and the court's camera crews were getting ready for filming. After several minutes a court official opened the large wooden door at the back of the courtroom and a middle-aged woman in dark robes made her way to the bench. Danubians stood and saluted the judge. Arthur kneeled beside his spokesman. A few statements were read and then Arthur heard the judge speak his name.

Spokesman Ralkliv tapped him on the back. "Arthur get on the platform and stand in prisoner stance unless judge stands. Kneel if judge stands up. Always look at the judge!"

The judge ordered Arthur to take his position at the center of the platform. He felt icy cold even with the spotlights focused on him. The camera crew was filming, and the video was playing live on a large screen above the judge. Standing naked in a crowded courtroom seemed too strange and to be real; just in case it was all a horrible dream, Arthur bit his tongue and urged himself to wake up soon.

Then the trial began. The prosecution called a long series of witnesses, including some of the police who had been at the crime scene, and Inspector Marchik. There were surveillance videos, documents, and photographs submitted as evidence. The prosecutor asked Arthur to identify the disc that he had transferred the data to, and to confirm that he had been hired by Mr. Rumak to acquire the data. After about sixty minutes the prosecutor rested and the judge retired to chambers.

During break Spokesman Ralkliv enthusiastically told Arthur that he would present the defense's case next. It seemed that his spokesman loved to be in front of the cameras and this high profile case gave him the attention he craved. Although Spokesman Ralkliv would not be contesting any of the prosecutor's evidence he would try to reduce the length and severity of the sentence.

Spokesman Ralkliv presented Arthur's defense with great energy. With equal time spent presenting his arguments to the judge and giving dramatic oration for the television cameras, Ralkliv used his charisma to maximum effect. By the time it was over, Arthur wondered if this was a defense or a sermon. Spokesman Ralkliv had only mentioned Arthur's name once in the whole speech, and hadn't presented any evidence at all. But the time to worry about that was over. The judge looked to Arthur and a court official translated.

"Mr. Liggett, before the court gives its ruling, do you have anything to say?"

Arthur looked at his own image on the video screen: he stood naked on the platform, white as a ghost. It felt so unreal... his pulse thumped in his ears; the spotlights nearly blinded.

"Mr. Liggett!" The judge's eyes flashed anger: "Do you wish to speak before the sentence is read?"

"Um..." Arthur swallowed hard and took a breath. "No Your Honor."

"Very well, Arthur Liggett." The Judge leaned forward, leveling an icy stare. "This court is ready to pronounce the verdict."

"On the first charge of espionage this court finds you guilty."

"On the second charge of unlawful entry this court also finds you guilty."

"On the third charge of theft of property this court finds you guilty."

The judge then laid out the particular nature of the sentence.

"Arthur Liggett you will wear the criminal's collar for a period of thirty years. During this time unless directed by the Ministry of Justice you will remain within the Rika Chorna Collar Zone at all times."

"For the extent of the sentence you are hereby prohibited from covering any part of your body with clothing not sanctioned by the Ministry of Justice."

"Finally, for the duration of the sentence you will receive four formal judicial punishments per year, with the first to be administered immediately upon the conclusion of this trial. You are ordered to report to the Police Headquarters on the ninth day of August for your second punishment, and every three months thereafter until such time as you have completed your full sentence."

"Mr. Liggett, do you understand the crimes you have been convicted of and the details of the sentence?"

Time seemed to slow and Arthur's mouth went dry. The fast thumping of his own pulse in his ears eclipsed all sound.

"Mr. Liggett, you will answer the court! Do you understand the details of the sentence?"

"Yes... Yes Your Honor."

Spokesman Ralkliv told Arthur to come to the side of the Judge's bench; then a very scary looking machine was wheeled in.

"This is collar clamping machine," Ralkliv explained. "Stick neck in."

Arthur didn't like the sound of that at all, but reluctantly he followed the instructions of the technician who was operating the machine. When the jaws of the device clamped around Arthur's neck he braced himself for pain but all he felt was a quick vibration then the clamp was removed. He now had a cold metal collar around his neck. Arthur felt the collar's parallel groves and central band; there was also a loop that extended out one side of the collar, but he didn't want to imagine what its purpose was.

While Arthur was getting his collar put on, the courtroom was readied for the punishment phase of the trial. With the slight buzz of electric motors and the hiss of hydraulic pistons the square platform slid down to floor level. Then the metal panels on top the platform opened and folded to the sides. A sturdy steel framed table rose up from the floor. Finally the platform's metal floor panels closed tight around the base. Rika Chornans, as they proudly proclaim, are much more modern than their western counterparts in Danube City.

The mechanical elegance of the device was lost on Arthur though. In a few minutes he would be strapped down to that table and beaten. He looked to his Spokesman.

"Arthur," Ralkliv said. "You must kneel in front of police officer and kiss shoes."

Arthur's eyes went wide: "What?"

Ralkliv looked as if begging forgiveness of the judge and then he stepped close to his client and whispered: "Arthur if you don't want to be executed do what I say, you must kneel before the officer and kiss the toe of each shoe."

Arthur closed his eyes briefly and somehow found the strength to approach the policewoman. With the whole courtroom watching he got down on hands and knees, stretched forward and put his lips to the toe of her left shoe and then her right. There was a tap on his left shoulder then. Now she had custody.

The policewoman and her partner looked far too eager for Arthur's comfort. They rapidly fastened him down securely to the table. Arthur's feet were firmly fixed to the floor. The wide strap crossing his lower back pulled his stomach tight against the cold metal platform. His arms were stretched forward, pulled tight and strapped down. The more he tried to move the worse it felt; other than his head, feet and hands he could barely move an inch in any direction.

Bright spotlights were focused on him from four different angles. A cameraman adjusted the tripod of the TV camera and then concentrated on getting a close up. A video projection screen showed the scene in real time. Arthur glanced at his image; had he ever looked so pale?

Officer Stashak had Criminal # 88588 strapped down, bent over with his legs apart, completely helpless and vulnerable. Now she would make him pay for what he had done. Her partner was struggling for his life in the hospital. Officer Andreis and his family suffered because of this American spy and his partner. Even though his charismatic spokesman had gotten him out of the death sentence he deserved, she would do her best to punish him. She turned to her supervisor; he was there to make sure she didn't lose control during this emotional situation. He nodded and she drew the leather wrapped switch from a loop on her belt and stepped behind Criminal # 88588.

The room got quiet then, no one even whispered. The angry policewoman stood behind him off to his left side. The front several rows of witnesses wore blue: the police. Then Arthur felt it, a tap against the upper curve on the left side of his bottom; then she drew back, there was a whistle as the switch whipped down, and then the audible impact as the switch snapped against bare skin. Arthur's mouth opened, his fists tightened and he involuntarily took a quick breath and groaned. The pain climbed in intensity for several seconds, a burning line of pain. Then just as the pain started to subside, there was another tap below the first one.

Officer Stashak watched Criminal # 88588 carefully. She didn't want anger to make her lose control... she would focus and be cold and calculating. She swung again and struck just below the first. Flesh bounced from the impact as the supple switch flexed around the contours of his buttock. Criminal # 88588 flinched and closed his eyes tight, trying to deal with mounting pain. Stashak rapidly hit three more times across the criminal's left side. His back stiffened and he pulled hard against the restraints. Officer Stashak smiled and cruelly admired her work. She felt the hot swelling flesh, dragging fingertips across the five parallel ridges.

Arthur tried hard to stay silent; he was desperate to keep at least some dignity. The cruel Danubians that witnessed his torture laughed at him. Arthur hated them. He focused on defying them. He willed himself to remain still and quiet as the officer struck five more times.

Criminal # 88588 was quietly defying her but Stashak knew he had 40 more hard strokes of her switch to endure. It was inevitable that he would break, but she wanted it sooner rather than later. She tapped and then struck full force five more times working her way down the back of his left thigh. Criminal # 88588 shook from the pain, when he finally did breathe it came in a desperate gasp for air. Stashak decided to switch sides, laying down several backhand strikes across the right half of his bottom. She smiled at her partner as Criminal number 88588 cried out. Everyone in the courtroom heard it.

From that point on every time the switch landed he cried out loudly to the amusement of the police in attendance. At one point Spokesman Ralkliv had Officer Stashak redirect the blows of her switch to his client's thighs and then his shoulders, but he could do nothing about the severity of the policewoman's blows or the agonizingly slow pace of the punishment.

Spokesman Ralkliv raised his hand after he counted the fiftieth stroke. The officers released the straps that held down his client and then they dragged his beaten body to be presented to the Judge. The Judge certified the punishment, and then the spokesman turned to his client. "Arthur kneel and kiss the officer's shoes."

Sweat and tears dripped onto the floor as Arthur leaned forward to kiss each of the policewoman's polished black shoes.

"Arthur," Ralkliv said. "You must thank her for punishing you."

All resistance was gone from Arthur; he would have agreed to just about anything at that point. On his hands and knees Arthur looked the smug Officer Stashak in the face and thanked her for the beating. She tapped his shoulder, saluted the judge and left with her partner.

After regaining custody Spokesman Ralkliv took his client through the remaining indignities of the post punishment photography and the walk past the media. He stopped in the lobby and made a brief statement to the reporters before he and Criminal #88588 traveled back to his office.

Ralkliv walked slowly matching the pace of his newest client; he felt uneasy about this American. A foreigner would be given some leeway but he needed to adapt quickly and get used to a great many changes. Firstly, a criminal, especially a foreign criminal, must understand what it means to be a collared criminal. Ralkliv thought it was best to get started early.

"Criminal # 88588, there is something we must discuss."

"Criminal # 88588 do you hear me?" Ralkliv raised his voice. "Arthur!"

The criminal flinched, stopped, and blinked his red swollen eyes rapidly, staring confused.

Ralkliv's tone softened. "That is your name now. You are no longer Arthur Liggett; criminals are referred to by serial number. Criminal # 88588, do you understand me?"

The criminal barely nodded.

"Do not nod, you will say 'yes sir' or 'yes spokesman'. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." Arthur's mouth was so dry his words came in a hoarse rasp.

"Very good, now let's move along so we can get you back to my office; there you can rest." As Ralkliv led his new client along toward the trolley stop he thought of something else that was bothering him.

"Criminal number 88588, I understand this is all very painful and terrifying but next time you can't be using that kind of bad language during the punishment; it is not allowed." Ralkliv sighed at his client's blank stare and said more to himself: "I just hope they don't translate it for television."

Ralkliv frowned; his client's mind seemed to have drifted off. "In fact, you shouldn't use such language at all. Is that clear? Criminal number 88588, do you understand me?"

Ralkliv grasped his client's upper arm to hopefully gain his attention. "Criminal number 88588, do you hear me?"

Arthur's eyes swam; nothing seemed real but the pain. "Yes sir." Arthur's voice was just a broken whisper between quick breaths. Completely defeated, Arthur would have agreed to just about anything. Shuffling along, burning agony with every step, he felt everyone on the street staring at his naked body. The collar, cold and heavy against his skin, was the starkest proof that to these people he was no longer a human being but an animal. With his freedom lost and thoroughly humiliated in ways he never imagined Arthur followed the tall and energetic man, the lawyer named Ralkliv.

---------

Arthur had been on the recovery table for over an hour before the pain receded enough to think clearly. Just over two days ago he had left the US looking to cash in on a terrific opportunity. Arthur thought about the thirty-year sentence. He'd be fifty-three when they let him leave. What would it be like going back home in thirty years, would anyone be waiting?

His father had died six years earlier from cancer, and Arthur had not been very close to his mother since. It had hardly been two months after her husband was placed in the grave that she started dating her boss from work. Now that they were married she didn't call much anymore, and that was fine with Arthur since all she wanted to talk about was her new family. He doubted his mother would want to mention her criminal son to her new friends anyway.

Arthur's kid sister Theresa, or Tee as everyone called her was just entering college. They shared the same weird sense of humor and rarely talked about anything serious. What really used to drive their parents nuts was their practical jokes. He got her in so much trouble but she always wanted in on his plans regardless.

Arthur couldn't help but grin when he thought of how good their last hoax was. For three nights in a row they had sneaked over to the city park with a spool of fishing line, a strobe light, a weather balloon, and a tank of helium. After getting the balloon inflated and the strobe light inside there floated a strange flashing orb five hundred feet above the town.

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