Finding 52 by Len Norman Read Free Book Online

already; why did Albert have to drive so fast? He had already skinned a couple of parked cars.
    When the crash finally ended the chase, four other vehicles had been damaged, but Albert had prevailed and the businessman was under arrest, they brought him into the station and began to book him. Or at least they tried. Captain Eberhart was sitting at the command desk. His role was the observer and he never missed a thing. He pretended to read the newspaper as the booking began. When Albert told his collar that he wanted to take his fingerprints, the businessman said, “Fuck you.”
    Albert said, “This is standard procedure, sir. We fingerprint everyone before they are taken to jail.”
    “Fuck you. I’m not playing your silly-ass games. I want a lawyer.”
    Quentin wanted to sock the guy, but instead he chimed in, “Sir, you may call your lawyer after the booking procedure.”
    “Kiss my ass. You won’t get my fingerprints and don’t even think about trying to take my picture.”
    Captain Eberhart lowered the newspaper and said, “Sir, the officers are only trying to do their jobs. Please cooperate with the booking procedure.”
    “Fuck you fat ass!”
    Captain Eberhart slowly lowered the newspaper to his desk. As he lowered the paper, his face began to turn red. Albert smiled, because he knew what was coming next. The captain slowly got up and took his glasses off. As he approached the businessman he said, “Very well, sir, if you won’t allow the officers to take your fingerprints, I’ll take your nose prints.” He grabbed the businessman’s head and smashed his nose on the ink blotter. When he lifted his head off the blotter, Quentin couldn’t help but notice the blood and what he thought might be nasal cartilage. The Captain wasn’t finished. He smashed the nose back down on the back of the booking card. This time Quentin was sure he saw two of the man’s teeth lying on the counter. “Hey captain,” Quentin said. “Does the Tooth Fairy ever visit the holding cells?”
    Captain Eberhart was too busy to answer, because he was holding the booking camera and pointing it at the semi-conscious businessman’s face as he took his picture. Albert was holding the back of his head and propping him up for the camera.
    “Officers, take this piece of shit and get him out of my sight. Please make sure he gets his phone call when you take him to the county lock up!”

The Smoker and Alien Influence
    1975
    C alvin Rolan was the smallest of the class of 1975. What he lacked in size he made up for in other ways. He was one vicious and brutally efficient cop and Riverside toublemakers soon sat up and took notice. The older officers would stand back and watch him for entertainment during bar fights and various other trouble calls. There were times when even Ivan called Calvin a cold-blooded little prick. Pound for pound and inch for inch, Calvin was trouble of the highest magnitude. The other cops loved him because he took no shit and brought in plenty of prisoners.
    Arrests were soon up and crime was down and the City Commissioners loved it and so did the good people of Riverside. The Chief and his minions hated Calvin’s guts almost as much as they hated Ivan.
    Calvin was a local product. He grew up in Riverside and went to its schools. After graduation, he went in the Army and was off to see the world. He never really saw anything other than boot camp and then an infantry assignment in Vietnam. Calvin learned a trick or two in his Nam assignment. His platoon sergeant assured him the Viet Cong were nothing more than a bunch of thoughtless commie bastards; at best, a bagful of dirty assholes was all they’d ever be. That was all Calvin needed to know. He enjoyed going solo for weeks on end. There were plenty of Viet Cong hiding in the bush. All of them vile douchebags that were hell-bent on shattering the American way of life, and Calvin gleefully hunted them.
    When he applied for the police department they were happy