Chapter XVII

here was that vague, sickly warm taste again.  He was sure it was in the water.  He knew it for sure the instant he began to sway.  He reached out for something with which to steady himself.  But he was going down, and he knew it.  But it was different this time.  He only went out enough to disable him physically, but not put him all the way out.

The smells of the little cell permeated his consciousness.  The stench of his own body waste had become more unbearable by the minute.  He longed to be out of here as soon as he possibly could.  He didn't care what it took, he wanted out.  He didn't care about National Security right now and he sure didn't care anything at all about Len and the FBI!  He cared about himself, Sharon and Melinda.

He felt guilty about Melinda and Sharon being in this mess with him.   But then, wasn't he just as much a victim as they?  He let his mind travel back over the succession of events since he'd bought the computer at Gilroy Hastings house.  What an unhappy turn of events had befallen him since that fateful day.

Soon he heard voices, then heard the latch on his cell click open, and heard the door hinges creak as it swung wide.  A light was shined into his face.  He felt his beard as he held his hand in front of his face in the attempt to shield his eyes.  The last time he had been out of the cell, he'd been the cause of another death, but had nearly throttled Dr. Kny-pel.  Had someone not cold-cocked him from behind, he'd have ended the situation already.

But it was not to be, and, one of Dr. Kny-pel's thugs had knocked him cold.  "Funny," he thought to himself.  "I hadn't seen anyone else there with the exception of Don Siegal . . ."

Then the realization hit him almost as hard as the barrel of the huge .45 that had knocked him out earlier.  It had been Siegal that had unmercifully rendered him unconscious with the barrel of that hogleg on his side.  "I'll remember that Mr. Siegal." he thought.

He looked up from the floor where he lay in his own excrement.  He looked Don Siegal right in the eye.  In that instantaneous contact, the message of "I'm gonna get you," was transferred and received.

Don just looked at William.  One of the thugs accompanying him this night reached into the cell enough to help William to his feet.  "You'll have to come with us Mr. Travis.  It's time for your trial.  It won't be long before it's all over.  Then, you can have all the rest you want."

The thug spoke respectfully to William, and William could barely believe his ears.  Physically, he had no strength, but mentally, he was mostly alert, but still kind of in a fog which he was fighting to clear.  He could still smell the stench of his cell, and wondered just how much a person could take of that kind of abuse.

It seemed odd to him that his mind went to the stories a man was telling of his experience in a Vietnam jungle prison.  For months on end, the prisoners suffered inhuman treatment, some of the worst tortures in history were meted out to the US servicemen.  Many didn't come back.  Those that did come back from that type of treatment were never the same, and were more or less worthless to society for the remainder of their lives.

William was led to a little room and stripped.  He was washed with a water hose in a manner befitting an animal, then given some more prison garb with which to dress himself.  At least he smelled better.  He was very hungry, and had little to drink with the exception of that drugged water.  His mind went to the girls, and he wondered after their safety and well being.

The kind thug came in, and helped him stand up from the chair into which he'd collapsed.  If we can make it through that doorway, we have a wheelchair waiting.  But first, we want you to stand right here in front of this window.  Please stand real still and concentrate.  The window was darkened so he could not see through it, but, did see a red light coming through it.

He fixed his gaze on that light automatically, and was instantly transported back to another time.  Dr. Kny-pel had perfected a laser that would do almost the same thing as Gilroy Hasting's computer would do, but just not at the depth.  William was fully hypnotized, but, not to the point needed by Dr. Kny-pel.  He stepped through the door into the room where William was standing, eyes transfixed on the little little window through which he'd just been rendered completely under hypnosis again.

"Put him in leg and wrist shackles, and make em short," growled Dr. Kny-pel.  "Another incident like we had today, and you'll all be history."  His voice was quite raspy and the bruises showing on his throat showed how close he'd came to being history himself!

When he was satisfied that William was indeed incapable of anything but a clumsy duck walk, he began giving orders.  "Take him in and sit him on the stand.  Haskell, get your suit on.  You've got to look like a lawyer.  Lester, get into the police uniform.  You can be the bailiff.  I want a stellar performance in there, understand?"

The others nodded their heads as they began dressing the parts.  "Bring the prisoner in as soon as you're ready.  And make it quick!" he finished.

William was wheeled into the courtroom, such as it was . . . a few folding chairs and a makeshift banister.  But there was a table that looked like a judges bench there.  But William had no such yearnings to look into the face of anyone.  At this particular point in life, he was nothing more than a zombie.

There was a huge glass at the end of the room William was facing.  Although he didn't know it, Sharon and Melinda both were seated in there, both handcuffed to their chairs and gagged.  They had fared little better than William, and still wore the same prison jumpsuits they'd worn for the last five days.

The difference between their cells and Williams', was they had a toilet and a cot.  Williams had nothing but a hole in which a small can was set which had long overflowed.

They could see William, but he was unable to see them.  They'd realized after the second incident of having the snake put into the cells that it was a psychological trick on William, and ceased to scream no matter what the thugs did.

With his eye on Melinda, Dr. Kny-pel would not allow anyone to touch her nor Sharon.  Had Melinda known she was in his sights and that he had designs on her, she would have played him.  She was crafty enough to get away with it, and physically fit enough to take him down physically.  But he wasn't going to give her the chance until he had time to win her over.

The light was turned on in the room where they sat, and they were instantly visible.  William was so out of it, he didn't even see his beloved wife.  Within a couple of minutes, the light was extinguished, and the bailiff walked to the front of the room.  With a loud voice he said, "All rise.  Hear ye, hear ye.  The municipal court of the city of Las Vegas, Nevada is now in session.  The honorable Judge Caleb Kimble presiding."

At that, the judge walked in, his long robe flowing.  Within a couple of strides he reached the Judges desk, and with aires of that of a judge in all his prominence and importance, seated himself behind it then arranged his robe so it flowed perfectly over his lap and down his sides.  The bailiff then said "you may be seated."

Sharon was taken aback by the proceedings in front of her and just kept her eyes shut and prayed.

Melinda gave a little gasp as she realized the name she'd been given by her sister of the beau who was romancing her was none other than Caleb Kimble.  Finally, the connection was complete!  Her sister had been lied to, and was now dead.  A result of a relationship with the very man who sat in judgment of an innocent man.

"What a cruel twist of fate." she thought.  The only consolation she could muster was the thought that 'he'll get his one day . . .'

When the judge was ready, he rapped the anvil several times with his gavel and stated "bring in the prisoner."

In his cloudy mind, under hypnosis and the effect of he drug Souma, a powerful relaxant, William could barely stand.  With the shackles and wrist restraints, he could barely walk, and the thug, Ryan Haskell, who had been nice to William, now his 'lawyer,' was helping him toward the bench where the judge sat in all his egotistical glory.

The lawyer led William to the bench and stopped with six feet of it.  When he stopped, he looked at the bailiff and stated "we're ready sir."

Lester Marshall, the 'bailiff' responded with "very well" then turned to the judge who handed him the document.  Will stood still with the help of the lawyer and trying to concentrate on what was going on.

The bailiff was reading a list of charges for the prisoner.  The document from which he was reading had started "this court of the City of Las Vegas, Nevada, does hereby try and sentence the prisoner, William Travis for the murder of Greg Wheaton, Randy Gregory, Henry Thomas, Roy Planter, Damon Nix, Sgt Chris James, Connie Ellis, all murdered in cold blood.

This court is also sentencing the defendant in the unlawful procuring of and detaining of the Codes of the program of Death Vengeance, a very serious crime in a matter of National Security.  He is also charged with fraudulent and violent behavior in the manner in which he obtained these Codes of great concern of National Security, as well as his attack on the person of Judge Caleb Kimble."  When he finished, he turned and handed the document back to the judge.

The judge was talking.  "Mr. Travis."  A pause, then "Mr. Travis."

William sat there, like an unmovable object, not hearing, not seeing, barely even conscious.

The judge rapped the anvil with the gavel, and William jumped.  He kind of looked around, and acted as if he wanted to protest, but, finally, said nothing, and slumped back down.  The gavel sounded on the anvil again.  "Mr. Travis, do you want to save your wife and give up the Codes which you have wrongfully and unlawfully obtained and have so long retained?"

William jumped again, then at half volume stated, "I don't have them."

"Very well, you will be sentenced then."  He then rapped the anvil with the gavel and stated "there will be a short pause in these proceedings."

He got up and walked from behind the bench to where the shell of a man called William Travis was in a desperate fight for his sanity.  He leaned over closer to William, and lowly, into his ear, said "at the snap of my fingers, you'll awaken, and remember everything that was said in these proceedings," and snapped his fingers.

William instantly came alive, and looking down at his arms and legs, just looked up at the judge.  He was still unable to completely focus on anyone or anything didn't even recognize who was standing so near.  At that the fake judge walked back to his place behind the desk and sat down.  When he was satisified as to the correct flowing of his important robes around him, he looked picked up the gavel and rapped it against the anvil.

"Court is now back in session.  Mr. Haskell seat your prisoner.

The judge watched as William duck walked to his chair with the help of the lawyer.  Sharon and Melinda both had tears streaming down their faces.

The judge then instructed William to stand up and receive his sentence.  William tried to stand, but had to be helped to his feet by his lawyer.  Haskell, his 'lawyer,' finally got him on his feet by physically lifting him off his seat.  William sat back down heavily but Haskell urged him to stand again, and finally got him on his feet.

The judge was reading the contents of the document handed him by the bailiff once again since William had been taken out from under the trance.  He then stopped and looked right at William.  Do you understand these charges Mr. Travis?

"Yes your honor." came Williams response.

"Very well, you'll hang at sundown."

William collapsed heavily to the floor nearly taking the lawyer with him.  His head struck the sharp edge of the brace on the bottom of the chair and he was knocked unconscious.

When William's head struck the foot of the chair beside him, a gash was opened up and flowed heavily.  The judge, now furious and losing all his cool, leapt from behind the desk where he had just held his kangaroo court, and ran toward William lying there bleeding profusely.  He cursed, and in his anger, drew his gun, aimed it at Williams head, and squeezed the trigger.

Siegal was moving when he saw Kny-pel reach for the gun.  Just as the gun fired, Siegal kicked the gun where it missed Williams head by mere inches.  The gun was then brought to bear on Siegal, and Dr. Kny-pel paused just long enough to say in an almost animal voice, "I should have done this a month ago.  It was you and those fool deputies of yours that ruined this case from the beginning.  And now your going to pay.

He raised the gun, and the sound of a Glock .40 echoed in the room.  Dr. Kny-pel was was knocked back by the force of the heavy .40 caliber bullet tearing a hole in him the size of Texas.  But he wasn't out, just knocked down and torn up badly.  The blood was coming from several places in his body, but he brought the gun to bear this time on a federal officer.

The barrel of the Glock .40 blossomed again, and the top half of Caleb Kimble's head blew off as the bullet struck him right between the eyes.  The body was flung from the sitting position down on it's back so mightily, it looked as if a sledge hammer had hit him.  Len Mathers swore to himself because he had wanted to take Caleb Kimble alive.

A quick glance told Len that Caleb Kimble would never move again, and he glanced quickly around the room.  A couple of men he knew, and a couple he did not know.  He told everybody in the room to raise their hands, assume the position against the wall, that they were all under arrest.  He held them all at bay until they were each searched and relieved of their weapons.  Each was cuffed, shackled, and led out to a waiting van.

The body of the slain man was covered over, and ambulance attendants were working furiously over William.  Lane Wardlow had been the second one into the room, and saw the silhouette of the two girls behind the glass.  He lunged toward the door with gun drawn yelling for those in the room to raise their hands.  The woman guarding them had dropped her weapon, backed up against the wall and was standing quietly with hands in the air.

A man who had stepped out of the room for a few seconds, hearing the commotion busted into the door with gun in hand.  He started lifting it but Lanes .45 slammed into him with a two shot pattern the size of a half dollar.  The thug was dead in the moment it took for him to fall to the floor.

Sharon, upon release of her bonds, rushed to the side of William who was being wheeled out toward the waiting ambulance.  Just as she reached his side, her eyes rolled back up into her head, and she collapsed to the floor.

Melinda had stood up, called out to Len weakly, then collapsed as well.  Within minutes, a second ambulance came screaming up, and Melinda was loaded into it with Len Mathers in tow.  He had placed a couple of other FBI agents in command, and was headed to the hospital with Melinda.  Lane Wardlow was on the phone to William and Sharon's parents as he was driven to the hospital by Walter Bension.

William had beaten one Death Sentence, but, the one that weighed the heaviest on his soul, was still intact.  Now, if only he could get it's heavy burden lifted from him, he might be able to get on with his life.

But the battle for his soul would be much greater than the one for the codes.  And it would start sooner than he could have thought possible.  William, was a dead man walking . . .  The battle had already started.

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