“Jason Alan Crest, nice to meet you.”Alexis took his hand and shook it, “Alexis Amora Anderson, nice to meet you, too.” “All A’s, huh?” Jason asked quirking his eyebrow at her.“Yeah, parents. What can you do?” Alexis said, giggling, again.””
“I added that to what dear Bernie, my lawyer, had said: The paperwork wasn’t right. Instead of viewing that with alarm, as evidence that they could keep me here forever, I began to look at it as more ammunition in my anti-Anderson salvo. He had committed hanky-panky with paperwork, and if something in the System is committed to paper, it becomes transubstantiated into a Sacred Relic. To violate any official and therefore consecrated paperwork was a Cardinal Sin, and it could well result in Anderson’s utter ruin. If I could prove it”
“I want to be a tugboat captain,' he says. But God made him a poet, and he must make the best of that.””
“Jesus fuck, Dexter,” she said. “You go trotting away with a pistol and Anderson turns up shot dead and…How does that get our kids back? Can you tell me that?” “Not while you’re talking, I can’t,” I said, and I could hear her teeth click shut”
“It was far too much to hope that the feds would investigate or prosecute him, of course, but they were aware that something was not quite right in Smallville”
“Kraunauer was waiting for me, standing next to the same young and serious agent who had brought us up. “I’m beginning to believe,” Kraunauer said, “that Detective Anderson may not like you.””
Lindsay Anderson was a notable author and filmmaker known for his adventurous and often satirical narratives. His works, such as 'Cruise in an Opium Clipper' and 'Among Typhoons And Pirate Craft,' ref...
“What about the signature?” Blanton asked. “It’s not even a good forgery,” I said. “It looks like a third grader’s handwriting. Tell me, Detective,” I said, facing Anderson, “as the only third grader here, do you always have trouble making your letters?” Kraunauer cleared his throat, whether from amusement or postnasal drip I couldn’t tell. “Agent Revis,” he said. “My client seems to think that’s not his signature.””
“It’s always wonderful to witness the emotional agility that some people with actual feelings can manage, and Vince had just performed a truly acrobatic feat, from concern for my life right to a petty problem he was having at work, all without losing a step. But beyond that, it was interesting in another way. Anderson? Hacking? “Vince, that’s not possible,” I said. “Anderson can barely work his phone.””
“I really don’t like to boast, but I have so much supporting testimony that I would be less than truthful if I did not admit that I am fiendishly clever. I take no credit for it; I was born this way. Something as basic as a message that Vince would understand and Anderson wouldn’t should have been absolute simplicity for me. I pondered it with confidence, certain that some bright and devious ploy would pop into my busy brain. It should have been the work of a few comfortable minutes.””
“I did not, however, arrive at any such destination for the next few days, no matter how much I put my cerebral racehorse through its paces. If I could only get hold of the forensic evidence from the assorted killings I was charged with, I knew I could assemble a compelling case for my innocence. A significant part of my job had been testifying in court, and hard experience had taught me how to make dry facts come to life for a judge and jury. It was usually fun, since it was in truth no more than dramatizing things a bit. Over the years I had become quite good at taking an array of somewhat gooey facts and teaching them to sing and dance in a courtroom. Of course, it was probable that Anderson had been sticking his huge and grimy fingers into the forensic evidence, too. But it was just as likely that he had missed something important”
“I stretch out on my bunk, but this time I do not nap. This time I have Things to ponder. And ponder I do. First and most interesting: Thanks to the captain, I now knew that Anderson was “up to something.” This was highly significant. I had known, of course, that he was cutting corners”
“I looked at Anderson. His face was full of anger, venom, dislike for me, and above all, impenetrable stupidity. It was possible that he actually thought I was guilty, or had talked himself into believing it. I didn’t think so. “If you say it enough times, you might actually believe it,” I say.””
“In short, it is Detective Anderson. He looks up and sees me through the glass, and he smiles. It is not a smile that encourages in me any of the finer feelings. It is instead a smile that says to me, quite clearly, it is time for all Hope to die. Hope obliges.””
“Or perhaps Anderson himself, overcome with shame, will perform a public mea culpa and set me free in person. Of””
“I do the math. On one side: Anderson, the entire police force, the media, and most likely the pope himself. On the other side, my innocence. This does not add up to a terribly encouraging bottom line.””
“If there really is a God, which is, at very best, extremely debatable, he has a terrible sense of humor. Because the detective in charge of deciphering the carnage is Detective Anderson, a man who has lived his life without making a friend of intelligence, wit, or competence. And””
“Media was a battle ground. So was the internet. People began walking openly with their weapons, whether it was a gun or a camera. Drones were always skimming overhead, filming the violence of the second civil war of the United States.””
“[speaking at age 61] In the morning I feel about 50; then, depending on how the day goes, I might get down to about 22. When I'm directing on stage I'm 43, and 32 when making a film because I feel less in control. Acting? Oh, then I'm 24. And when I'm on my own, I feel about 17 and think the world is all before me.””
“Possibly from the outside this looks determinedly individual. Nobody realises what a mess of loneliness and inadequacy I am inside.””