MISC: Patrick Harrison and the Canadians: the Hockey Stick Thief

[Martin Phipps]

Office of NHL Commisioner, Pierre Trembley

  "Jacques!  What can I do for you?"
  Jacques Levesques wasn't happy.  "Where's my stick, Pierre?"
  "Your stick?"
  "My 'ockey stick!  I always play with the same stick.  Where is it?"
  "Je ne sais pas."
  "Come on, Pierre, who else would 'ave taken it?"
  "I would never take anything of yours, Jacques."
  "Then who?  Maybe your son, eh?"
  "My son?  Ce n'est pas possible!  'E doesn't even know 'is true 'eritage."
  "I want the stick back, Pierre, or in two weeks there'll be no new season."
  "What are you saying?"
  "I won't play without my stick, Pierre.  And if I don't play then my teammates don't play.  And if my teammates don't play then the entire league won't play."
  "You'll go to strike over a stick?"
  "Not just any stick!  My stick!  And I want it back!  You have fourteen days!"

The next day, in New York City.

  "Maria?  It's Pierre."
  "I know who you are, Pierre.  You're the father of my son, remember?"
  "Yes, I know.  That's why I'm here."
  "About bloody time."
  "You must understand, Maria.  I already had a wife.  She couldn't know about you and me.  Telling the world I had a son just wasn't possible."
  "You didn't have to stay with her."
  "Her father was league president."
  Maria just sighed.
  "So how is Patrique?"
  "Patrick."
  "How is he?"
  "He's fine."
  "Is he here?"
  "No, he's in school."

Manhattan High School.

  "Patrick?"
  "Yes, Mister Harper?"
  "Can I speak with you in private?"
  "Sure."
  Patrick followed Mister Harper to his office.
  "Is there a problem because..."
  "Where is it?"
  "Where is what?"
  "The stick!"
  "What are you talking about?"
  "Give it to me!  Give me the stick!"
  Just then Principal Sellars entered the room.
  "Unhand the boy, Harper, or you're fired!"
  "Principal Sellars!"
  "I should have known you were one of them!"
  "One of what?" Patrick asked.
  "A Canadian!  Working amongst us!"
  "I have a valid green card!  I have as much right as anybody to teach here!"
  "Anyway, it seems they've found you."
  "Found me?" Patrick asked.  "What are you talking about?"
  "Come with me, Patrick.  You need to go to the camp."

Camp Limbo

  "Why do they call it Camp Limbo?"
  "Because, Patrick, it is where young boys like you go to disappear."
  "Why?"
  "Because sports stars can't keep their pants on, that's why.  And then they produce children like you."
  "This is about my father?  Who is he?"
  "Your father is NHL commissioner Patrick Trembley."
  "No way!"
  "He met your mother when he was playing for the Islanders.  He couldn't tell the world about you because no one could know about him and your mother.  You see, he was already married."
  "So the other people here are all the sons and daughters of famous sports stars?"
  "I'm not at liberty to say.  Go ask them yourself."

  "Yeah, my father was a famous golfer."
  "Who?"
  "I'm not allowed to say.  Let's just say there was more to the scandal than even the press know."
  "Wow.  And you?"
  "My mother was a famous tennis player.  You know when she took time off because she was 'injured'.  That's when she had me."
  "Wow."

  "Patrick?"
  "Yes, Principal Sellars?"
  "I'm going to give you something.  It was your father's."
  "A hockey stick?"
  "Not just any hockey stick.  It's a steel reinforced hockey stick."
  "Is that legal?"
  "No, of course not.  You could kill someone with a stick like this!  But it also provides a player with one hell of a slapshot."
  "Why give it to me?"
  "Because you're in danger."
  "Danger?  From whom?"
  "From the LNH."
  "The Legion of Net.Heroes?"
  "No, from the League Nationale de Hockey.  They all want Jacques Levesques stick back and they think you stole it."
  "Why would anybody think I stole Jacques Levesques stick?"
  "Because when Pierre and Jacques were both playing in the NHL they were rivals.  Jacques accused Pierre of stealing his stick and when Pierre denied it they went after you."
  "But I didn't even know Pierre Trembley was my father!"
  "I know.  Look, Patrick, you stay here in the camp.  You'll be safe here.  Don't go running around the country killing people and stealing cars.  Just leave it up to me.  The fact that the entire league may go out on strike is none of your concern."

  "Jerome?  Alisha?"
  "Yes?"
  "I need you guys to help me?"
  "Sure.  What do you need?"
  "I need to find the hockey stick of Jacques Levesques.  Somebody stole it and they think it was me.  Do you have any idea who would have wanted to steal it?"
  "Hmm," Jerome said.  "Besides your father?"
  "Yeah.  Besides him."
  "Maybe Henri Lemieux," Alisha said.
  "Henri Lemieux?"
  "Yeah," Jerome said, "like Jacques Levesque and your father he was a great hockey player back in the day.  They were all rivals.  Maybe Henri Lemieux stole the stick to cause trouble."
  "Where does Henri Lemieux live?"
  "Beats me," Jerome said.
  "Last I heard he has played for the LA Kings," Alisha said, "so he probably settled in LA."
  "Right," Patrick said, "then I need to get across the country and talk to him."
  "I'm coming with you!" Jerome said.
  "Me too!" Alisha said.
  "It could be dangerous," Patrick warned.
  "It's okay," Jerome said.  "I've got this: my dad's favorite golf club."
  "And I've got my mother's tennis racket."
  "So you see we can defend ourselves."
  "Fine then.  Let's go!"

Ten days later.

  "Hey, Patrick?"
  "Yeah, Jerome?"
  "We're the good guys, right?"
  "Yeah."
  "But we've killed six people and stolen two cars."
  "Yeah.  So?"
  "So did we really have to kill that woman and steal her car?"
  "I didn't like the way she looked at us.  And her hair was a mess."
  "What about those guys in the museum?"
  "Those were bad people."
  "How do we know that?"
  "Because they spoke with low pitch voices."
  "And the casino?  Why did we steal the car in the casino?"
  "Because _you_ spent all our money on hookers!"
  "What can I say?  Father like son."  
  "Look, Jerome, we need to get that stick back or there'll be a strike and that means no hockey this year."
  Jerome sighed.  "I just think that if we one day were to tell this sory to our grandkids what message would we be sending?  That the ends justify the means?  That it is okay to do bad things for a good reason?"
  Patrick nodded.  "Look at it this way, Jerome, if we don't succeed and there's no hockey this year then all those people we killed will have died for nothing."

Henri Lemieux's home, Los Angeles

  "You're Henri Lemieux?" Jerome asked.
  "Yes."
  "You look like a British rockstar."
  "What did you expect?  That I'd be wearing my old LA Kings uniform?  Now tell me what you want."
  "We're looking for the hockey stick that belongs to Jacques Levesque," Patrick told him.  "Where is it?"
  "In your hand." Henri told him.
  "What?" Alisha asked.
  "That's not possible," Patrick said.  "Principal Sellars said this was my father's stick."
  "Yes, I did say that, didn't I?" Sellars said as he entered the room.  Sellars and Lemieux had a good laugh.
  "You!  You're the hockey stick thief," Alisha said, stating the obvious.
  "But why?" Patrick asked.
  "He was working for me," Henri admitted.  "A metal stick is illegal.  I had Sellars steal the stick to discredit Levesques."
  "But I couldn't allow myself to get caught with the stick," Sellars explained.  "After you left they searched my home, my office, everywhere until they were satisfied that I didn't have it.  I gave it to you expecting you to get caught with it.  Thus suspicion would fall on you and only you."
  "Well now that we know whose stick this is we will go to Montreal and return it to him."
  "Not so fast, Patrique," Henri said. "I may be to old to play 'ockey but I can still hire goons to deal with brats like you!"
  Three goons blocked their way out.  Patrick, Jerome used their weapons to deal with them.

THWAP!  THWAT!  thud thud thud

  "Um, guys?" Alisha said.  "A little help here?"

THWAP!  THWAT!

  "You know, Alisha," Patrick said, "a tennis racket isn't much of a weapon."
  "Hey!  My guy was bigger!"
  "That's three more people we've killed, by the way," Jerome pointed out.
  "We have to get this stick back to Jacques Levesques before there's a strike."
  "Right.  And how do you plan to do that?  We've only got two days left."
  "Simple.  I'll call my dad and tell him we've got the stick and he can arrange for airfare for us to Montreal."

And so, later, in Montreal

  "Pierre?"
  "Yes, Jacques?"
  "I'm sorry I accused you and your son of stealing my stick."
  "That's alright, Jacques.  Your stick was stolen after all."
  "Yes and now I can see that justice is served!"
  "Wait!" Patrick said.  "If you go after Henri Lemieux and Principal Sellars then they will tell everybody about the fact that your stick is reinforced with metal!"
  "What?!" Pierre asked.
  "Thanks kid," Jacques said sarcastically.
  Pierre Trembley grabbed the stick and held it in his hands.  "It's true.  This is an illegal stick, Jacques!"
  "If I don't get to use the stick then there'll be no 'ockey this year!"
  "You play this year with a different stick and I won't file charges against you for 'aving used an illegal stick!"
  "Hmm.  Alright.  Deal."  Jacques shrugged his shoulders.  "I wanted my stick back mainly for sentimental reasons anyway."
  "So you're still going to play this year?" Patrick asked.
  "Yes," Jacques said.
  "So there won't be a strike?"
  "I believe I just said that."
  "Yay!" Patrick said.  "I'm a hero!"
  Jerome nodded.  "And if we don't get indicted for murder and theft we'll be okay."
  "Hmm," Patrick said.  "Hey, dad!"
  "Yes, son?" Pierre Trembley asked.
  "Is it okay if my friends and I all come to live with you here in Canada?"
  "Um..."
  "Dad, please."
  "Sure.  Why not?"
  "Yay!  See, Jerome, I told you everything would work out!"
  Jerome looked out to the audience.  "See kids, you too can murder and steal as long as you have rich, powerful parents to make it alright!  Have fun!"

                                    THE END