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The Secrets Pockets Can Tell
Part II
by David Lytle

FADE IN: A windowless office, bright white light glaring down from an overhead light. Two men sit across from each other, separated by a small table. One is thin, pale-skinned, and wears a uniform. The other, tall and menacing. The tall man shifts restlessly, clenching and unclenching his large hands.

OFFICER: It's very simple, Mr. James. I need to know what's in your pockets.

Mr. JAMES: What's in my pockets is my business. I don't know how you boys in Nova Scotia do business, but I'm a citizen of the USA and in the USA my pockets belong to me.

OFFICER: It's Newfoundland, not Nova Scotia, Mr. James. But then I can't expect someone who washes up on Canadian shores in a stolen boat in the dead of night to know their geography, can I?

MR. JAMES: Canada. I've never been here before, so pardon my manners, okay?

OFFICER: As for searching a suspect's pockets, I believe the preferred method of American law enforcement is to circle a large number of uniformed patrol officers around the suspect and then thrash the suspect with nightsticks until whatever the suspect has in his or her pockets takes on the texture of an over-tenderized flounder. Would you prefer we use the Rodney King approach?

MR. JAMES: Rodney King? Jesus Christ almighty!

OFFICER: There was a nameplate on the stolen boat registering it to a company called Oceans Future. Can you tell me anything about that, or should we just get right to the contents of your pockets?

MR. JAMES: I want a lawyer and I want to make a phone call. I am an American citizen. I showed you my passport.

OFFICER: You have entered Canada, illegally. You could be an international terrorist, for all we know. We are respecting your US citizenship for the time being, but only if you cooperate. By the way, we traced Oceans Future to Iceland. The boat was reported missing from Klettsvik Bay. That's where you came from, isn't it?

MR. JAMES: I wasn't the one who took the boat -- you understand that?

OFFICER: Who took the boat?

MR. JAMES: I never met them before, okay? I went to Klettsvik Bay to get a look at that killer whale; you know, the one in Free Willy. I promised my kids I'd get a picture of him. They've seen that movie so many times they recite the dialogue in their sleep. But when I got to where he was supposed to be, I couldn’t find him. Not even a gift shop. I'm standing on the pier next to this boat, looking for the whale and these two guys come running down the pier. They tell me to start the boat or they're going to shoot. Craziest thing that ever happened to me -- I was boat-jacked and I didn't even own the boat.

OFFICER: They thought you were the captain of the boat?

MR. JAMES: Yeah, that's what they thought. Maybe it was my gold earring.

OFFICER: Are you ready to be searched, Mr. James? I think you've said enough to warrant charges of violating the international maritime code, not to mention Icelandic criminal law.

MR. JAMES: What if I testify against them? There's stuff they did that you don't know anything about.

OFFICER: We know about Keiko.

MR. JAMES: You know about the whale?

OFFICER: What do you take us for? There's a decapitation in a Reykjavik nightclub (see "The Sound of One Hair Falling"), followed by the theft of a large boat accompanied by the disappearance of the world's most beloved killer whale. Then you wash up on the shores of Newfoundland and refuse to let us go through your pockets. A child could connect these dots.

MR. JAMES: But ...

OFFICER: But I should call you Dr. James, not Mr. James -- shouldn't I? We've got your fingerprints from Interpol. You're not an innocent American tourist. You've got a Ph.D. in physics and your last known occupation was installing laser light effects for the Big Hair hip-hop Icelandic tour. I'm becoming impatient, Dr. James. A woman was decapitated at a Reykjavik nightclub. The cut was so clean and hot that not a drop of blood hit the floor -- sounds like special laser effects gone horribly awry.

DR. JAMES: It wasn't special effects that killed the woman -- okay? Look, we were using high-powered lasers, but I followed every safety standard there is. I had interlocks, scan-fail cards, beam masks -- you name it. I did some audience scanning with the beams, yes, but the exposure levels were all by the book. It was that dammed kid, Zach Bernstein. I told him not to do it, but I couldn't restrain him. He rigged up a pair of laser-scissors to get hair samples from the crowd. That's their gig, you know -- they'd put bits of people's hair into a machine and people would groove to the sound of their hair set to a dance beat. Something went wrong with that laser hair cutter. I warned him.

OFFICER: You can testify to that in court, Dr. James. I still want to see what's in your pockets and I'm getting impatient. We have age-old Canadian techniques to speed up the conversation. Have you ever been face to face with an angry badger, Dr. James?

DR. JAMES: When am I going to see somebody from the embassy?

OFFICER: They may be small creatures, but they're extremely unpleasant. We have one that we intercepted from an unlicensed animal importer. There's a distinct possibility of rabies. Perhaps you need a little quality time with Mr. Badger -- just the two of you in a small closet. Once you see a badger foaming at the mouth, you'll talk -- I guarantee it.

DR. JAMES: You people are insane! Look, you want more? Fine. Take this. It’s all I’ve got.

OFFICER: A compact disc? I was expecting something else. Why would I be interested in this?

DR. JAMES: It's what they used to get Keiko. We were barely out of Klettsvik Bay when Keiko starts following us. Zach's partner, Boxie -- DJ Boxcar BoomBoom -- starts throwing handfuls of dead fish to the whale. They had buckets of herring all over the place. It didn't take long for Zach to figure it out. The boat we stole belonged to the Keiko research team. He searched the ship’s on-board computer logs and found they had been tracking schools of herring. That's what gets Keiko's mojo going. Even I knew that much from my kids -- did I tell you I've got a wife and family and two little kids who love Keiko? I would never do a thing to hurt that whale.

OFFICER: I'll consider that while we prep the badger.

DR. JAMES: Okay, okay. The problem was that we didn't have enough fuel to make it to the U.S., let alone Canada. But what we did have was a happy whale that loves herring. Boxie found this huge harness in the back of the boat -- the vets strap the harness on Keiko when they need to stabilize him for medical tests. I've seen them do it on the Discovery Channel. That whale will do anything for frozen herring.

OFFICER: I’m still not following you, Dr. James.

DR. JAMES: You're the one who's supposed to be good at connecting the damn dots -- do I have to spell it out for you? It's all about herring. When Zach searched the boat's hard drive, he found sonar recording of herring, but the quality was too poor to do anything with. Funny thing is, some of the ambient noise on our last trance album sounds a lot like a school of herring, so Zach whipped up a quick sample, amped up the herring noise to the max, and burned that disc.

OFFICER: How did he mix a herring tape onboard a research vessel?

DR. JAMES: It’s a disc, not a tape. And we each brought a few of items with us when we split the club in Reykjavik. Just the essentials, you know, like a couple of soundboards, a 16-track mixer and a portable laser projector. That stuff’s not cheap.

OFFICER: What's this have to do with the disappearance of Keiko?

DR. JAMES: After Boxie got Keiko in the harness and leashed him to the front of the boat; I went to work with the laser projector. I modulated the laser beam with the direct audio input from Zach's herring mix, then focused the beam about 50 feet in front of the boat, right on the surface of the water. It was a little tricky fine-tuning the modulation, but once I hit the right frequency, Keiko practically jumped out of the water. He shifted into high gear chasing a school of herring that wasn’t even there, all the while towing the boat behind him. When we were close enough to Canada to make it with the fuel on-board, we unlatched the harness and set Keiko loose. I focused the laser back toward Iceland long enough for him to get a good fix on his old neighborhood. He'll be okay. That whale can motor.

OFFICER: I never understood this whole Kieko business. For God's sake, he's a killer whale. Besides, I'm only concerned with what else is in your pockets. I've got a copy of the nightclub's surveillance tape. I want the samples you took.

DR. JAMES: I'm just holding the samples, it's not like I took the samples. Some people at the club let Zach take samples of their hair, then he'd seal the samples in these airtight plastic pouches until they were ready to use. He stuffed some in my pockets when we were leaving the club after the incident with the woman's head. Zach said he needed all the hair samples he could get. I'll give them to you if you let me call the embassy.

OFFICER: Here is my cell phone, Dr. James. Now give me the samples.

DR JAMES: Seven samples. That’s all I have. Take them all. Look, my pockets are empty now so you can have your damn badger search me if you want. Don’t forget that I cooperated with you, completely. Now I'm going to call the embassy and get a lawyer.

OFFICER: Seven samples, eh? The surviellieance tape at the club led us to believe you only had three. What a nice bonus to have four more. The hair samples will be entered into evidence in the homicide investigation. If they match the hair on the dead girl in the Reykjavik nightclub, you will need a lawyer. In the meantime, there's a flight back to Iceland first thing in the morning. We'll reserve a seat for you, Dr. James. As for the US embassy, don't bother to call. My phone’s been dead all afternoon.

DR. JAMES: So that's it? You empty my pockets, strip me of my rights, and then throw me on a plane to Iceland?

OFFICER: Yes, that's about the size of it, Dr. James. You should have tried your luck with the badger.