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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2448 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 9
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The shock at finding Tom’s apartment empty and showing obvious signs of a struggle left both Booker and Penhall with feelings of immense guilt and a sickening fear for their colleague’s safety.   They had spent so much time arguing and procrastinating instead of checking on Hanson’s welfare and the result was that the young officer was now missing. Neither man spoke on the way back to the Chapel; Penhall drove with a complete lack of abandon, desperate to relay the news to their Captain so they could start an official search for Tom whilst Booker sat in the passenger seat staring vacantly out of the window, his mind in turmoil.
Penhall turned the car at breakneck speed into his parking space and slammed on the brakes, only just preventing the vehicle from hitting the side of the old church. Jumping out of the car, he did not wait for Booker and he took the steps two at a time, his hulking frame surprisingly agile. Dennis climbed slowly from the vehicle, the pain in his heart almost too agonizing to bear. As he ascended the stairs, he could hear Fuller’s voice echoing loudly down at him. “Taken! What do you mean taken?! Are you telling me that the unknown man has kidnapped Hanson?!”
The walls muffled Penhall’s reply but by Fuller’s response, Dennis could tell that it was not what their Captain wanted to hear. “This is Booker’s fault! If he’d come to me the moment he knew about Hanson’s attack this never would have happened! Now where the hell is the son-of-a-bitch?”
Dennis walked into the room, well aware that all eyes were upon him. “Here Cap’n,” he muttered, his eyes unable to meet his superior’s hard stare.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself Booker,” Fuller seethed through clenched teeth. “Your total disregard of protocol has put an officer’s life at risk.”
“I know,” Booker murmured softly, tears of remorse filling his dark eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Seeing the total look of devastation on Booker’s face, Penhall stepped forward and attempted to shield the officer from another verbal attack. Although he was not fond of the arrogant young man, Penhall had a huge heart and he could see that Booker was close to breaking down. “What about the BMW?” he asked Fuller. “Can’t we trace the guy through its tags?”
All the anger seemed to flow from Fuller’s body and his shoulders slumped in a measure of defeat. “The car was rented with a stolen credit card,” he replied. “It’s a dead end.”
Unaware of the tension in the room, Sal ‘Blowfish’ Banducci, the Chapel’s maintenance engineer sauntered in carrying a small package. Seeing the strained look on Fuller’s face, he stopped smiling and looked to Penhall for guidance. “Hey fellas, what’s up?”
Doug managed a weak smile in return. “Nothing you can help with Sal,” he replied sadly. Spying the parcel, he nodded his head at the package. “What’s that?”
Sal shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me,” he answered. “It was left outside. It’s addressed to the officer in charge.”
Fuller stepped forward and took the brown-paper packet from Sal’s hand. Without a word, he walked into his office and closed the door. Booker and Penhall exchanged puzzled glances before sitting down at their desks. Moments later, a loud distressed cry echoed from the Captain’s office. Running across the room, both men crashed into the room and stopped dead in their tracks at the horrified expression on their superior’s face. “Coach what is it?” Penhall exclaimed, his blood running cold with fear.
Booker followed his Captain’s dismayed gaze to a small television sitting on a shelf. He let out a loud gasp of shock when he saw Hanson’s face on the screen. The camera panned back and Dennis choked back a sob and covered his mouth with his hand. Tom was strapped to a table and a middle-aged man was violently raping him.
When Penhall eyes finally found the TV screen he let out an angry roar and rushing forward he slammed his fist into the monitor. Sparks flew from the box and the screen went blank.
Hearing the disturbance, Harry and Judy rushed into the room and were shocked to see Fuller with tears streaming down his face. Booker stood with his face in his hands and Penhall was crouched on the floor, crying hysterically.
“What happened?” Judy asked in a frightened voice. “Oh my God, what’s going on?”
Fuller turned his tear stained face towards the startled officers. “Close the door,” he instructed in a shaky voice. “I want this discussion to remain confidential until further notice, is that understood?”
Ioki and Hoffs nodded their heads in bewilderment but Booker and Penhall remained too distraught to acknowledge their Captain’s request.
**
Neither Harry nor Judy could face watching the video and both left Fuller’s office pale faced and shaky. It took half an hour for Booker and Penhall to pull themselves together enough to talk about Tom’s abduction.   After a brief discussion, the three men decided to watch the offending tape in the privacy of Booker’s apartment.
Arriving at his home, Booker motioned silently for Fuller and Penhall to take a seat. Putting the tape in the VCR, he turned on the TV. His stomach lurched when he heard Tom’s terrified scream but he forced himself to watch the movie, hoping against hope that there would be some clue to Hanson’s whereabouts. When the tape turned to static, he rewound it and pressed play. In a flash, Penhall was on his feet and shoving Dennis forcefully to one side, he ejected the video. Shaking the tape furiously at Booker, he screamed into the startled officer’s face. “WATCHING IT ONCE ISN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU?! WHAT KIND OF A SICK PERVERT ARE YOU?”
Snatching the video from Doug’s hand, Booker held it up, his eyes blazing with anger. “Didn’t you see it?!” he yelled. “Tom was trying to tell us something you fucking idiot!”
Doug’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and he turned and faced Fuller who was uncharacteristically quiet. “Did you see anything Coach?” he asked in a low voice.
Fuller stood up and nodded towards Booker. “Put the tape in again, show me what you mean.”
The three men crowded around the television and when Tom’s mouth started to move, Booker jabbed at the screen excitedly. “THERE!” he yelled. “Did you see it? He’s saying the same thing over and over again.”
Penhall wiped at his mouth with his hand. “Shit,” he muttered as he stared at the TV. “You’re right.”
Booker rewound the tape back to where Tom started speaking. The men leaned forward and stared at Tom’s lips, desperately trying to decipher the silent words. They replayed the tape repeatedly but none of them could make any sense of Tom’s message.
Doug turned away and taking a seat on the couch, he buried his head in his hands. “I can’t watch it again,” he murmured in a voice tinged with pain. “I can’t bear the thought that he’s out there somewhere being rap—” A loud sob cut off his sentence and his shoulders shook as he burst into a flood of tears. Fuller stood motionless, unable to offer comfort to his young charge. Without thinking, Booker sat down and pulled Penhall into a tight embrace. “Shh,” he soothed softly, finding empathy for Doug that he did not know he possessed. “We’ll find him. I promise you, we’ll find him.”
Gently pulling away from Booker’s comforting hug, Penhall wiped at his tear stained face and gave a watery smile. “Then we’d better rewind the tape,” he replied quietly.
**
Four hours passed and the three police officers sat staring mutely at the television screen. They now had a list of potential words, all written down in Penhall’s untidy scrawl. Running a hand over his tired eyes, Fuller stood up and ejected the video. “That’s it fellas, we can’t waste anymore time. I’m handing the tape over to the forensics lab and hopefully they can interpret what Hanson is saying.”
Penhall nodded wearily but Booker’s bright, almost manic eyes flashed impatiently. “I want to keep trying Coach,” he replied in a rush of words. “Can you get them to make a copy?”
Fuller hesitated for a moment before nodding his agreement. “Get some sleep Booker,” he instructed, as he and Penhall headed for the door. “You’ll be no help to anyone if you can’t think straight.”
Booker managed a small smile. When he was alone, he sat down and stared vacantly at the blank TV screen, desperately trying to visualize the words that Tom’s lips had formed.
**
A courier delivered a copy of the tape to Booker’s apartment first thing the following morning. Ripping open the packaging, Dennis placed the video in his VCR and pressed play. Not wanting to watch the whole rape, he forwarded the tape to the point where Hanson started mouthing his message and sitting on the floor, just inches away from the TV screen, he stared at Tom’s face, concentrating intently on his mouth. He scribbled down a few words and rewound the tape, starting the whole procedure again. Time after time, he repeated the act and slowly he began to see a pattern. The first three words definitely had two syllables but the fourth only had one. Booker began to mimic the movement of Tom’s lips, trying various vocal sounds in the process. After several hours, he was confident that the first word was the name Edward. It was not much but for Booker it was a huge breakthrough and a large grin spread across his face.
He considered phoning Fuller but he quickly pushed the idea out of his mind. He needed more information than just one name. Instead, he took a short break and guzzled down a cup of sweet black coffee before taking his place once again in front of the TV.
**
Tom’s eyes flickered open and he moaned in pain. He lay naked on the floor, shackled to the wall by a long chain that fastened to a large manacle around his neck. Sunlight filtered through a tiny air vent that was situated high on the wall, allowing him to see his prison for the first time. Apart from the bed and table, the only other items in the room were several cardboard boxes stacked neatly under the far end of the table and a bucket placed a few feet away from where he lay.
Groaning softly, he slowly maneuvered himself to a sitting position. Every inch of his body screamed in pain and he began a slow exploration of his injuries. He ran his fingers lightly over the wounds on his face and he shuddered with revulsion when he remembered the man biting into his tender flesh. Next, he ran his hand carefully down his right side. He winced in pain as his fingers probed the bruising over his kidney.  The man had punched him repeatedly whilst raping him, as though blaming Tom for the vile act he was committing. Lastly, he reached around and gently explored his anus. He could feel dried blood and semen coating his entrance and looking down at his legs, he saw that traces of the pinky-white fluid covered his thighs.
His stomach lurched and scrabbling forward, he vomited watery bile into the bucket. Tears of pain and humiliation coursed down his cheeks and he started to sob. He was a prisoner, trapped with no hope of escaping the depraved sexual assaults that his captor was inflicting upon him.
Wiping his mouth with his hand, he staggered to his feet. A wave of nausea blurred his vision and he leaned against the plastered wall until it passed. When his head cleared, he relieved his bladder into the bucket, refusing to look down as his urine mixed with the foul watery liquid he had thrown up just minutes before. Feeling slightly better, he decided he needed to take control of his situation. His fingers explored the metal ring around his throat but he could find no way to release the manacle from his neck. Sighing in frustration, he picked up the heavy chain and held it in his hand. He slowly ran the links through his fingers, carefully searching for any weaknesses or breaks. When his investigation found nothing, he once again felt the hopelessness of his circumstances. About to sit back down, he once again spied the neat stack of boxes under the table. Moving slowly forward, he prayed that the chain would be long enough to reach the bench. He felt a tight pressure around his neck just inches before he reached the table. Lying down on the cold concrete floor, he stretched out his arms and his fingers brushed the side of one of the boxes. Grinning manically, he gently maneuvered the carton with his fingertips, easing it slowly towards him. With a quiet exclamation of triumph, he grasped hold of the box and pulled it into his arms. Struggling to a sitting position, he unfolded the flapped lid and pulled out a video. Frowning in puzzlement, he looked into the carton and saw that it contain more videos, all enclosed in their cases. Turning the tape over in his hand, he gasped in surprise when he saw the picture on the cover and suddenly everything clicked into place.
A slow smile spread over his face; he knew where he was being held captive. Now all he had to do was get a message to the outside world and he would be free.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies