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CHAPTER 13


Before I talk about my time in England, I’ll finish my story about the lawsuit. While I was away, it got so bad the judge overseeing the suit threatened to pass an injunction against any action by MCB, shut them down entirely until they could be thoroughly vetted. Now that did get into national security issues, and I’m sure somebody at MCB started contemplating the pros and cons of murdering federal judges. Luckily someone at Department of Justice got the MCB to see reason and settle. That was shortly after Franks was deposed and, being Franks, answered all the questions posed to him frankly. Lots of silences, lots of muttered “Classified” until it was explained in very small words that in this deposition there was no such thing. Then he talked. Frankly.

And the judge hit the roof and DOJ very quietly went into panic mode.

“We are not going to pay Mr. Gardenier a hundred million dollars.”

The attorney representing MCB was not from MCB. They didn’t have anyone trained to negotiate a settlement involving violation of constitutional rights. Chris Welch was a standard DOJ attorney who was read in. The sort that usually handled excessive-force and violation-of-constitutional-rights suits.

I had just flown back to the US, and was in a DC conference room sitting across from Myers, who was looking furious. Good. Beat me half to death, will you? I’ll beat you to death with lawyers. Everybody knows that’s worse. Even though Campbell had been the senior agent calling the shots, and the only reason Myers had been there at all was because he was Franks’ current gopher, secretary, and caddy, they had left the junior agent to answer for the MCB during our negotiation.

“The exact number from our calculations is one hundred million, one hundred fifty-six thousand, four hundred twenty-eight dollars,” Koltts said. It was me and my attorney on one side of the table, Myers and his on the other. “That would cover his loss of income from Monster Hunting as well as pain and emotional suffering penalties, and deprivation of rights penalties based upon projected income, as well as his extensive medical bills from the torture.”

“Which is, clearly, out of the question,” Welch said. “Just off the top, the wage calculation is based upon an eighty-five-year life span and retirement at sixty-five. Actuarially, Mr. Gardenier’s maximum life span is closer to forty-five. The pain and emotional suffering penalties are based upon avoiding Monster Hunting which is in and of itself filled with pain and emotional suffering.”

Got me there, I thought.

“The pain and emotional suffering in this case is based upon deliberate torture by members of federal law enforcement in violation of his Fifth Amendment rights,” Koltts said evenly, “as duly attested and sworn by Agent Franks—no first name, no middle initial—but who did give a very accurate, indeed blow-by-blow, testimony as to the nature of his actions at the behest of Special Agent Campbell who was in turn directed to do so by the director of the Monster Control Bureau, Director Harold Wagner. The fact that no one even tried to lie about any of the things that were done sort of says it all, don’t you think?”

“I object to the repeated use of the term ‘torture,’” Welch replied. “Hostile interrogation is the correct term.”

“Torture: The action or practice of inflicting severe pain on someone as a punishment or to force them to do or say something,” Koltts recited the dictionary definition. “In the case of my client, it is reasonable to describe the actions of your agents as both.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Myers was supposed to sit there quietly, but he was getting really angry. “We’re trying to save lives! We protect the whole God-damned world!”

“What is there to protect, Agent, if this is what you consider perfectly acceptable?”

“You think this is bad?” Myers snarled. “Do you have any clue what would happen with a breakthrough of the Great Old Ones? Or the Fey get back in control?”

“I’ve heard those arguments repeatedly, Agent. Would you like to explain the part where protecting the world from those issues required my client be taken to a dim basement and beaten to the point he required extensive surgery? Please, Agent. Inform all of us what exactly you were going to find out from my client that would prevent a breakthrough of the Great Old Ones! Prevent the Final Battle! That would permit you to absolutely ensure that the Fey, who lost power to humans in prehistory, will not resume hunting us as animals! Please, Agent, present your logic! I would personally love to hear it!”

I held up a hand. “Dwayne. Franks said it. You heard it. I told you I had no involvement in the Dark Masters’ operation. If I had, I would have told you because, well, I was really tired of being beaten. You weren’t listening. On a not exactly digressing note, if you’re torturing someone for information, not listening is probably the stupidest thing you could possibly do! Campbell got frustrated at being in charge of out-of-control New Orleans and losing a friend and took it out on me. That’s all that happened, Dwayne. You all, serially, got frustrated and angry at stuff I had nothing to do with and found someone to hurt. And you can blame me. You can blame God. You can blame your boss.

“But mostly, Dwayne, you can blame yourself. You can blame normal human emotions and too much power and too much frustration. The reason I didn’t include Franks in this was that he only does what he’s told. He doesn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment as you do. You beat me to close to death because you were frustrated and you felt like you could. And you know it. And you sort of hate yourself for it. And you might even have already learned your lesson.

“But the MCB hasn’t learned the lesson,” I finished, looking at the DOJ attorney. “Are you familiar with the Stanford Studies, Mr. Welch?”

“Yes. I am. I’m surprised you are.” The attorney didn’t look happy.

“Are MCB agents taught about the Stanford Studies, Agent Myers?” I asked.

“The exact nature of our training is—”

“No,” Welch said. “I checked. They are not.”

“I was about to say classified,” Myers snapped.

“This suit isn’t just about you, Dwayne. Quit taking everything personal. It’s about the MCB and how it works and why it really needs serious oversight and better training in due process.”

“What are the Stanford Studies?” Koltts asked.

“Well, there are a bunch—it’s Stanford after all—but in this case, the ones that are important are the studies of human power dynamics. Attorney Welch?”

“Are you planning on including these in the suit?” Welch asked.

“Do I say yes, no?” I asked Koltts.

“Are they germane?”

“Extremely.”

“Then definitely,” Koltts said. “Why?”

“A psychologist at Stanford randomly selected groups of sixty students. Twenty were made guards, randomly, and forty were made prisoners. The guards were then given more or less unrestrained power over the prisoners. The premise was that the more intelligent and thoughtful a group, the more they would tend to use reason and persuasion versus force as a power dynamic. The primary study was about rehabilitation versus incarceration. Now, keep in mind, we’re talking Stanford students. Highly intelligent. Very liberal. Very open-minded. What would you guess the results were?”

“They used reason and persuasion?” Koltts said.

“Attorney Welch? Would you care to tell my counsel, not to mention Agent Myers, the results?”

“They went flat nuts,” Welch said.

“Nice way to sugarcoat it.”

“I’ve dealt with numerous excessive-force complaints in my time at DOJ. That’s my specialty. Both defending excessive-force suits and investigating them. So, I am extremely familiar with the Stanford Studies. To expand on they went flat nuts: given unrestrained power over the prisoner group, the guards turned into animals in short order. They became extremely and excessively sadistic within days or weeks. They beat and tortured the prisoners. Played games with them. Did everything within their power to make their lives a living hell.”

“We don’t do that!” Myers snapped.

“Care to look at my hospital report?”

“We do what we have to do!”

I stopped and growled and shook my head. I’d tried so hard to control my temper but it was getting out of hand. “Because you’re all pissed off at Earl, you beat me, you pissant son of a bitch!” I shouted.

“You cannot speak to me that way,” Myers ground out.

“Or what? You’ll beat me to death? I’m back in shape, there’s no Franks to protect you and I’m no longer in handcuffs. Bring it.”

“And I think we need to all calm down,” Attorney Welch said calmly. “Agent Myers, you especially need to understand that these proceedings are not an absolute power dynamic. Nor, Mr. Gardenier, are they on your side. These are negotiations.”

I was suddenly very tired. “Then let’s negotiate.”

None of this changed a thing. MCB continued to use the First Reason to promote power-mad ogres like Myers to higher and higher positions. I could see the day when they’d convince the committee that Hunting should only be done by proper officials. And then there’d really be no one to watch the watchmen. And not long after that, folks, MCB would start to forget their First Reason and it would become more and more about the power alone.

I’ve seen it in the current administration. They like the power of the MCB. It’s nicely unconstrained from the Constitution they abhor. They can use the threat of Outworld Entities for any sort of evil. And I’ve yet to see—several times promoted since my beatdown—nowadays Supervisory Special Agent Dwayne Myers realize how dangerous that is.

Which is why, yeah, I’m deeply involved in politics and will stay that way to the day I die.

“Here’s my negotiation. All my legal bills, plus all my medical bills, plus lots of dollars in cash, definitely two commas but doesn’t have to be a hundred million. But the rest of that one hundred million: suspended judgment, any further similar incident and it kicks in automatically. Any investigation that does not have strong probable cause and it kicks in automatically. Any arrest for any reason that does not have strong probable cause and it kicks in automatically. You’d better be able to prove in a court of law that I’m guilty of something before you so much as open my mail—and, yes, I’ve noticed you’ve been opening all my mail—or it kicks in automatically.”

“That’s never going to fly,” Dwayne sneered.

“Any federal agency which is influenced by MCB to deny me normal and proper procedures and it kicks in automatically. That means, by the way, I want all my licenses back, like, immediately or quicker. And you had better drop any investigation into my doings unless you’ve got something better than a bad spell casting. Absent something along those lines with a really light trigger and a strong kick, extremely broad and very serious penalties, hurts so bad it’s noticed at the highest levels, see you in court.”

Myers just threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

“Mr. Welch, you want to explain to the agent why you don’t want to go to court? Especially when my attorney puts Franks up on the witness stand and he’s sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? We all know he won’t do anything else once he opens that clam called a mouth. Now, I’m tired and pissed at the fucking country I’ve nearly given my life for several times. So let’s get this over with.”

To make a long story short: they settled.

I got four million dollars and change. My attorneys got about six.

When the brief on the settlement was presented to His Honor that the US Government would be on the hook for seventy million dollars if the MCB didn’t get off my ass and stay off it, he looked at the US Attorney, scratched out the “70” and scribbled in “100.” Then signed it with a flourish.

I never mentioned it, but I’d met the federal judge overseeing the case before. At a dinner party. During Mardi Gras. Last year. When I came flying through the party chasing a vampire right before I had to battle killer mantis shrimp.

I think he probably should have recused himself but it wasn’t like we were even properly introduced.

And I was back in the Monster Hunting business.



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