The Paranoid Thief Read Online Free

hesitation the man strapped his arms and legs
together in record time as if he were a rodeo bull in an old western video.
    “Suspect is down and in custody,” was the
unnecessary yell above his prone body.
    “Fan out and search the rooms,” someone
else shouted, which added to Randolph’s pounding head. The feet about him moved
away save one set, which moved one foot to apply weight to the center of his
back with the added coldness of a riffle barrel planted to the base of his
neck. A precaution which could damaged his spine or takes his life, which ever
the officer felt appropriate, should he try and resist. But as Randolph
marveled over why he was still alive rather than dead, he gave the armed
officer no reason to put him in a wheelchair or incinerate his head.
    “Lieutenant, have a look here,” someone
called from a closet across the room. His vision clearing, Randolph saw the
officer open up a wooden crate he’d never seen before and pull out a strip of
plastic explosive he knew with a certainty should not have been here. Randolph would
never incriminate himself so easily, nor endanger the lives of any local
residents so unnecessarily.
    He closed his eyes and moaned in despair. Mr. Stanton has set me up to take the fall
for something. Now the question remains, how bad is it? To this realization,
Randolph sighed. The court system likes
open and shut cases regardless if they are or not. I just hope I get a
competent lawyer who will do more than a look-see into where the equipment came
from.
    After an hour on the floor while the
trained men collected five or six items Randolph never acquired for the
Henderson job, the officers gathered around him and applied body restraints.
Four men then strapped him to a pole and hefted it up onto their shoulders to
carry him out; a standard procedure for any dangerous suspects to restrict any
chance of escape while transported through an unsecured area. Next came a short
trip to the city jail still suspended within the vehicle; another precaution
against any conceivable means of harm to the men present in the vehicle’s
cabin. Randolph then was carried out and placed in a holding cell where
processing could begin.
    After only a short time, Randolph was
forced into an enclosed booth with half of one side made up of a glass-steel mirror
plate, for observation. He was then instructed none too cordially to strip bare
before restraint rings were applied to wrists and ankles by a robotic arm. Next came the unpleasant white room, where the magnetic
rings were activated, a rather painful experience that resulted in his arms and
legs being snapped out like Leonardo Da Vinci’s
depiction of the human body. Here three different chemicals sprayed over
Randolph’s body, one to dissolve every strand of body hair, a second to clean
his skin of any objectionable germs and finally a third, to disinfect him of
any stubborn air borne illnesses or chemicals.   Next his arms and legs came together as if he were preparing for a high
dive, so a rotating cylinder from the roof could slowly descend to take X-rays
and videos of his outer and inner body structure. This unobtrusive technique by
the aid of computers could now make a complete rendering of his body to produce
his image in any position or outfit to better ID him in any disguise.
    After all this humiliation, Randolph
finally sat dressed in a bright red coverall, in a gray cell, five feet by five
feet, three hours after hitting the jail, as yet without a clue to the charges
against him. But this is normal, he
reminded his overactive imagination. Criminals
should already know why they’re here. However, being set up as a fall guy
by Mr. Stanton, Randolph was one of a small minority uncertain of his actual
crimes in a system built to process criminals in wholesale fashion.
    Given five days to sit on his butt and
wonder over the matter, while the charges were tallied and a sentence agreed
upon before the kangaroo-court would convene for the