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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
- 7
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The motion of the car woke Tom from his chloroform-induced slumber. Disorientated and confused, he sat up and immediately cried out in agony as he hit the lid of the trunk. Grasping his head in his hands, he collapsed back onto the carpeted floor and moaned loudly. Within seconds, panic set in when he realized he wore handcuffs and he instantly forgot the searing pain in his head. Using his hands as best he could, he explored his surroundings. It took several moments before his befuddled mind comprehended where he was. An immediate feeling of claustrophobia overwhelmed him and he started to hyperventilate. As the feeling increased, so did his terror and he gasped for air whilst frantically trying to find the trunk release. Unable to find the release lever, he began to bang his fists against the lid. “HELP!” he screamed, his voice rising hysterically. “LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!”
As if on cue, the rocking motion ceased, signaling that the car was no longer moving. Tears of fear and exhaustion streamed from Tom’s dark eyes and he tried desperately to slow his breathing and get himself back in control. He needed to be alert and on his game if he was to have any chance of fighting his kidnapper and escaping. Although he had no memory of the assault, he quickly concluded that it was the man who had broken into his apartment and abducted him. His body began to shake at the thought of what he was about to face and he choked back a sob. If the man was his abductor then he knew he was in for a world of pain.
Several minutes passed before Hanson heard a soft click and the lid of the trunk slowly opened. The first thing he saw was the muzzle of a Berretta M9 pointing at him and he instinctively raised his hands. Once the trunk had fully opened, he saw the man staring coldly down at him. “Out,” his abductor instructed in a low voice and he waved the handgun menacingly in Tom’s face. “And don’t think about trying to escape or I’ll shoot you like a rabid dog.”
Still feeling dizzy and nauseous from the effects of the chloroform, Hanson managed to scramble from the trunk. He fell heavily to the cement floor and he let out a soft cry of pain. The cold steel muzzle of the gun pressed against the back of his head and he cried out again as his forehead was slammed against the concrete. “Keep your head down,” the man barked. Tom did as the man instructed but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a second man approach. Without warning, this man placed a hessian bag over his head, obstructing his view. He automatically began to struggle but he immediately stopped when the man pistol-whipped him on the back of the head. Vomit rose in his throat and he fought to swallow it down. With a yelp of pain, the man hauled him to his feet, where he wobbled unsteadily as his head began to spin and the rising feeling of nausea engulfed him. Before he could gain his balance, the two men dragged him across the concrete floor. He heard the screeching sound of a heavy metal door opening on rusty hinges before the men pushed him roughly to the ground. Too afraid to move, he knelt with his head bowed and waited. A moment later, someone removed his handcuffs and then the door slammed closed with a bang.
Hanson waited several minutes before removing the bag from his head. He gingerly touched the wound on the back of his head where the gun had connected and his fingers came away wet with blood. It took several minutes more for his eyes to begin to adjust to the darkness that surrounded him. When he felt ready, he slowly staggered to his feet and leaned against the wall as another wave of queasiness washed over him. Just when he thought he had the sickness under control, his stomach lurched and he doubled over and vomited violently. His body trembled as he continued to heave uncontrollably. Finally, the spasms eased and straightening up, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The smell of the vomit on the floor threatened to send him into another paroxysm of sickness and using the wall for support, he shuffled across the room. When he reached the corner of the wall, he kept his hand on the plaster and began to walk, counting his steps until he reached the next corner. He continued his journey until he had navigated the whole room. On the final wall, he stopped abruptly as his fingers connected with something cold. Fear gripped at his heart when he realized that he was touching a heavy chain. Moving forward, he discovered a second chain also attached to the wall. Running it through his fingers, he found a large manacle at the end and he once again started to panic. Letting go of the restraint, he nervously ran his fingers over his top lip. He now had no doubt in his mind that the man intended to keep him prisoner in the room and that in all likelihood, he would once again be the victim of rape.
Before he could let the panic take complete control of his mind, Tom slowly continued to walk around the room. When he came upon the fourth corner, he sat down on the hard concrete floor and mentally tried to calculate the size of the cell. Eventually, he concluded that the room was approximately twenty feet square. Squinting into the darkness, he noticed two dark shapes in the middle of the room and his heart started to pound in his chest. He slowly clambered to his feet and quickly gathering up his courage, he made his way forward. He sighed in relief when he realized that one of the forms was a table and the other a small bed. Moving over to the bed, he lay down and rested his aching head against the flat pillow. Closing his eyes, he started to sob at the hopelessness of the situation. He was trapped, a prisoner of a deranged lunatic and unless he could somehow disarm the man, he had no hope of escape.
**
Wednesday morning
No longer needing his fake excuse not to go into work, Booker arrived at the Chapel before the other officers. He needed time to get his thoughts in order before he approached Adam Fuller and imparted the information about Hanson. Sitting down at his desk, he leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. He had spent a restless night, tossing and turning in bed whilst Tom’s angry screams echoed in his head. He now realized that he had handled the situation badly. Once again, his bullheadedness had caused him to act impulsively instead of thinking things through. He should have waited before contacting Fuller instead of doing it within earshot of Hanson. It had been his intention to protect Tom but instead he had caused him more heartache and pain. Now Booker did not know how to proceed. He knew his Captain would demand an explanation for the cryptic phone call but he wondered if he should check on Hanson first, even though he was sure that his colleague would refuse to talk to him.
Fate intervened when Adam Fuller entered the room. Seeing Dennis sitting at his desk, the senior officer narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got some explaining to do Booker,” he snapped irritably. “Get in my office now!”
Sighing heavily, Dennis dropped his feet to the floor and pushing back his chair, he stood up and followed his Captain. Fuller closed his office door and motioned for Booker to take a seat. “I left you several messages last night,” the middle-aged man growled. “When I contact you I expect a reply, is that understood?”
“Yes Coach,” Booker muttered sulkily. “But there was a reason—”
“I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK WHAT YOUR REASONS ARE!” Fuller exploded, his hands slamming down on his desk in anger. “WHEN I LEAVE YOU A MESSAGE YOU’D BETTER CALL ME BACK OR I’LL HAVE YOUR BALLS FOR BREAKFAST!”
“Okay,” Dennis replied sullenly. “I get it. But Cap’n, there really was a reason I didn’t call back… I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing by contacting you. Hanson and I had a fight and—”
"Jesus Booker!” Adam exclaimed loudly. “These childish fights between you and Hanson have to stop! I’m sick and tired of the whining and—”
“NO!” Booker yelled as he jumped to his feet in frustration. “You don’t fucking understand! This isn’t about me! Tom was raped! He was fucking RAPED!”
Fuller’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you sure?” he whispered. “Booker, this is a very serious allegation.”
Dennis paced around the room in agitation. “Of course I’m sure,” he shot back angrily. “Do you honestly think I’d make something like this up?”
“No,” Adam muttered and he rubbed at his face with his hands. “Jesus.”
Hearing the pain in his Captain’s voice, Booker immediately calmed down. Sitting back in his chair, he leaned forward. “It was the man in the black BMW,” he revealed in a soft voice. “I guessed something had happened and I confronted Hanson about it but he denied it. Eventually he broke down when I went to see him. I was concerned about his mental state, he had his gun and…” Dennis’ voice drifted off and he stared at the floor as the memory of Tom’s distressed face filled his mind.
Fuller’s voice brought him back to the present. “Do you think Hanson was suicidal?”
Booker lifted his head and ran his fingers nervously through his hair. “I don’t know. He may have been holding the gun for protection but I couldn’t take the chance. I stayed with him Monday night and yesterday I took him to the hospital. When we came home he took a shower and stupidly I rang you and he overheard our conversation. He went crazy and attacked me before telling me to leave.”
Dennis' eyes filled with pain and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I shouldn’t have left him, what if he’s hurt himself?”
Fuller’s expression softened at the distress on the young officer’s face. “I’m sure he’s okay Booker, Hanson’s tough,” he murmured, unable to offer any more words of comfort. “But I think we need to speak to Penhall and then pay a visit to Tom, just to be on the safe side.”
Standing up, Booker gave his superior an imploring gaze. “He will be okay, won’t he Coach?” he asked in a soft voice.
“I’m sure he will,” Fuller replied, but deep in his heart, he did not feel so certain.
**
Fuller took Doug into his office and quietly explained what had happened to Tom. Penhall’s reaction was to punch his fist into the plastered wall and his knuckles split open with the force of the impact. Refusing medical attention, Doug stormed out of his Captain’s office and strode purposely over to Booker’s desk. Looking up, Dennis started to speak but Penhall grasped hold of the front of his t-shirt and forcefully pulled him out of his chair before slamming him violently against the filing cabinet. “YOU STUPID SON-OF-A-BITCH!” he yelled. “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?”
Booker grabbed hold of Penhall’s wrists and yanked them away. “Don’t you lay your fucking hands on me!” he spat. “If you really were Hanson’s friend you would have noticed that something was wrong.”
Doug threw back his arm and punched Dennis in the face with all the strength he could muster. Booker slid to the floor and slumped against the cabinet, his vision blurring from the impact of the attack. Seeing the commotion, Fuller ran from his office and restrained Penhall before he could swing again. “Penhall STOP!” he commanded. “This isn’t helping Hanson.”
Using his desk for support, Booker slowly pulled himself to his feet. Holding his jaw in his hand, he gave Doug a filthy look. “Touch me again and you’ll know pain like you’ve never known before,” he threatened in a menacing voice.
Penhall glared back fearlessly. “Yeah? You and whose army?” he muttered, before adding, “You little prick.”
“Fuck you!” Booker shouted. “At least I tried to help Hanson, all you cared about was going out drinking!”
Before Doug could reply, Fuller moved between the two angry men and held out his arms. “ENOUGH!” he yelled. “If you two can’t work together then I’ll send Ioki and Hoffs to check on Hanson.”
Taking a deep, calming breath, Penhall reined in his temper. He was Tom’s best friend and he wanted to be the one to speak to him and reassure him that everything would be all right. Unclenching his balled up fists, he extended his hand towards Booker. “Sorry,” he muttered, unable to meet his fellow officer’s angry glare. “You know me, always the hothead.”
Dennis hesitated for a moment before shaking Doug’s hand. “Yeah well, I guess I can be pretty hotheaded too,” he replied in a low voice.
Satisfied that his two officers were no longer in danger of attacking each other, Fuller laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “Go and see Tom,” he instructed quietly. “Take as long as you need and when you think he’s ready, bring him here to see me.”
The two men nodded their heads silently and left the building.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Ask Me No Questions and I'll Tell You No Lies