“I, uh, I’ve been busy studying for, uh, class. You know.”
“You scholarship coordinator also said you haven’t been to class in as long. She says to tell you that you’ve missed two of your finals by the way. She took the liberty of revoking your scholarship last week.”
The man's eyes settled on the blue spiral notebook sitting on the upholstered chair. His back bent and his hand approached it, fingers spreading to grasp it by the coiled metal of the spine. Jonah surged forward where he sat.
"Don't touch that!"
The giant put out a hand that, while not exactly as large as a wall had the same effect. Jonah stopped just a centimeter from smacking right into it. The man wearing the badge paused for a moment, uncertain of exactly what Jonah was willing to do to prevent him from opening the ratty book on the ratty chair. He grasped it but did not immediately start leafing through it, instead he clutched it in both his gloved hand against the top of his legs as he went back to leaning against the dresser, sliding his phone over top of it.
“Would you like to guess why your wall exploded, Mr. McAllister?”
“I-I have no idea,” he said. Did they know?
The giant harrumphed, causing Jonah to jump nearly out of the seat.
“The fire crew who inspected the site are sending some samples away for analysis. You, uh, know the kind of analysis I mean. I don't really get it. Real CSI stuff, but I’m sure a smart guy like you does.” He paused. If he was gauging Jonah’s reactions his gauge would be nearly off the chart. “You know what I think they're gonna find?”
“N-no.”
“When we see a college kid, no job, no scholarship, with as much stuff in his apartment as you got, we immediately think one thing.”
“Drugs,” the giant croaked.
The smaller one gave a quick point towards the giant. "You would not believe the number of messed up kids who get into that sort of thing. 'Specially the chemistry majors. Must be the influence of TV. Smart kids, like you, just... not super savvy about the whole 'not getting caught' thing. You, uh, any good at chemistry, Mr. McAllister?"
"Wh-what—"
"Let's see." He lifted his phone from off the cover of the notebook and held it up to his face. "Huhn. Prerequisites: organic chemistry one, A-; organic chemistry two, A. Current courses: biochemistry one, C. What d'ya think of that, Ken? This kid missed his final and he's still rocking a C in biochemistry."
"They get degrees," the giant, Ken, croaked.
"And botany? Lotta shit gets made outta plants."
“I di-didn’t do anything.” Jonah's mind spun as the man drummed his fingers on the cover of the notebook. He had little idea of exactly what was going on, but found he could not take his eyes from the thin, blue, wrinkled cardboard, save for occasional sideways glances to ensure that the giant was leaning, with an uneasy calm against the wall. The muscles of his neck locked and his heart felt like it would pound its way out of his chest as the man flipped open the book and scowled at the sparse English and plentiful arcane linguistic notations on the first few pages.
"What the hell is this?" the man snorted. “Some kind of code for whatever you’re working on? We'll get our cryptographers to have a look at it.”
“Wh-what are they going to do with it?” Jonah stammered.
The man closed the book, walked over to the small foldable table in the corner and tossed the book on top of it. He sat and leaned back in a chair he pulled out, placing his hands behind his head. “I call this my ‘case closed’ lean. I only use it when I know I can go home early, grab a beer and watch the hockey game. When I know that there's gonna be one less Meth cook blowing shit up in the city.”
"N-n-n—"
Why couldn’t he get it out?
"N-no I-I-I—"
"We all know what you were doing in that apartment," the man leaned forward in the chair. "So it’d be in your best interest, hell, all our best interests if you just filled in the details. That way we can tell some of the lab guys to go home for the holidays. Some of your fellow science geeks can spend some time with their families. Judges can just get their rubber stamps out. They'll like that. Hell, judges likely still got student loan payments, right? I bet they wish they could do what you're doing. You might even be able to get out of any serious jail time.”
"Slap on the wrist." Jonah shot a glance at the giant as he spoke.
Jonah’s heart raced, he felt about ready to drown in sweat. The logical part of his brain, long holding dominance over the rest, told his mouth to say he wanted a lawyer and then to stay shut, but its grip over his body was slipping away. A dozen other warring factions fought for their right to speak. One wanted him to spit in the man’s face, one wanted to break down and cry, still others demanded more moderate solutions. In the end, all he could do was sit and stare at the notebook, lying in dubious calm on the table.
His breath became shallow and quick.
"Tell you what," the man leaned forward in the chair as if sensing there was a victory in the mannerisms of his quarry. "I got a few forms in the car. Maybe you can give us a break and just put a signature on something. Just so we can grease the wheels. Then this whole thing won't take so long. Maybe, just maybe you can get home for Christmas. That'd be nice, huhn? Have dinner with
