"Courtesy"

I left the car lot and headed for the police station were my prisoner was being held. I had some ideas as to who was behind the slave trade, however proving it would be the difficult part. He was not only strong, he was very politically if not monetarily powerful. He brought enslavement and pain, and stopping him would be next to impossible. The only thing I was required to do was just gather enough information to embarrass him in the political arena. The United Nations and the other super powers would stop him, if they wanted to ...

"Watch where the hell you're driving, bitch!"

WHAT!?! I must have been daydreaming, I looked around for the rude voice. He was next to me, driving a convertible Miata, white, it looked kind of nice.

"Could you repeat that please."

"You crazy bitch, why don't you steal a car you can drive next time."

I smiled, pulled my Glock out and aimed it at him. "If I were the bitch you called me your arse would have been spattered against the inside of your car door by now." I tried to sound pissed off. He looked worried and sped off, the light was still red when he zoomed and swerved across the intersection, missing a few cars in the process. Some people. He, like many others, was a strong indication of the fall of the America Republic. When rudeness is more prominent than courtesy it becomes obvious that a place, on the whole, is on a downward spiral to hell. I've been all over the world, and found a wide range of courtesies. I'm not preaching, I hate people who preach soapboxism - Vadnez likes to preach, however, this is something I strongly believe in. In rich countries, the people are just plain rude and/or nasty, if not arrogant. Unfortunately, I fall in the category also. Maybe, one day, when I retire, If I'm not silenced by a bullet, I might move to a third world country. Maybe I'll even join the Peace Corps. I have a degree in biology and computer science, I'm sure I could be used for something, somewhere.

I parked the car across the street from the police station. The neighborhood looked run down and trashy. Something you would expect in a seedier area of town, but in front of the police station it looked rather humorous. The police don't have enough time cracking the bullwhip on crime, it's funny to think they would have enough time cleaning the front of their building. I walked across the street. A cop who had been outside came over to me.

"Excuse me, Miss, may I see your driver's license."

"Why sure Officer, is there something wrong?" I said.

"Just let me see your driver's license." He said in a more stern voice.

I frowned, flashed my ID at him and continued walking.

"Wait a minute. I didn't tell you to go."

I looked back at him, "You never asked me to stay."

"Oh, a wise ass." He placed his hand on the butt of his gun.

It was a standard .38 with a pearl handle. I thought, 'who did he know to be walking around with a slightly non-regulation pistol.'

"Get against the wall!" He snapped.

"What?"

"I said, 'get against the wall' . . ." He pushed me, " . . .and spread your legs!"

I did. He started feeling on me. His hand slipped too high up between my legs to be an accident.

"If you would chec . . ."

"SHUT UP!"

He reached around me and grabbed my purse. He opened it, "Do you have a permit for this weapon?" and took out my wallet.

"U'mmmm."

I placed my hands down and said, "Is that all you can say, U'mmmm." I paused, took a deep breath, and exploded with, "You IDIOT!! Who the hell do you think you are?!" His name tag said 'St. John'.

"A police officer who was doing his job, you arrogant little . . ." his voice trailed off. I looked over my shoulder and saw the duty Sergeant at the door way.

"St. John, what is going on?"

He pointed at me.

The duty Sergeant eyed me closely, "Who are you?"

I snatched my wallet and purse from St. John and flashed my identification badge at him. "United Nations Agent Bechard."

His eyes widened, "Oh, so you're the one." He scratched his head. "The Captain said we might be seeing some INTERPOL Agent . . ."

I shook my head, "No, not INTERPOL, ELITE. INTERPOL is completely different."

He looked bewildered. "How's that?"

I looked around. I felt strange talking out in the open about my business, "How about we go inside, then we can talk."

He smiled and said, "Okay, I understand." We walked toward the entrance. "St. John, get the door."

St. John looked at me, then half ran-half trotted passed.

I said, "Thank you." and smiled.