by G M Eppers
Slowly, Roxy’s head rose to look at me. “That’s my glarf. And you weren’t supposed to engage in combat. Plus, that’s my glarf!”
“We can untie it,” I assured her. “I’m sure it’ll be okay. Just get some handcuffs…” I trailed off, seeing Eyedeneaux walk back to the helicopter and reach inside one of the open doorways. I could see the pilot still sitting patiently in the cockpit, not the least bit concerned about what was going on here. Eyedeneaux came out with something silver that glinted in the sun and walked back to Gary. There we go, I thought. Eyedeneaux will cuff him and then we can rescue Roxy’s glarf, not to mention the excess yarn looped around Gary’s ankles. Then we pack him onto the helicopter and fly out of here. We could send someone for the bus later, or maybe carry it out in a sling the way they did cattle stranded on a mountain ledge.
But it wasn’t handcuffs at all. Eyedeneaux had produced a switchblade about twice the size of Sylvia’s. “No, wait!” I called when I realized it, but he ignored me. Swiftly, he cut the yarn connecting the tied glarf to the bundle around Gary’s ankles. Then he sliced through the bundle and through the glarf, cutting until clumps of red yarn dusted with snow were falling away from Gary, who began rubbing his wrists as he sat up straight, pulling more loose yarn from his ankles. “What are you doing? He’ll get away!”
“You going to run?” Eyedeneaux turned his head, and only his head, toward Gary, one hand on the revolver in his holster as Gary got to his feet.
Gary met the agent’s eyes. “No, sir.” Nearly everyone here except him had a gun now. And there was nowhere to run to. This was hardly a population center. He could run out onto the ice, but it would most likely crack underneath his weight, or he could run south through a frozen wasteland with the nearest sign of civilization about 50 miles away. It would have been a very stupid move. Nevertheless, I would have been more comfortable with Gary tied up and immobile.
Eyedeneaux approached me, with the blade still extended, his expression as dark as a midnight sky. This was my first up close look at the FBI agent. He had a square face that turned seamlessly into neck, and jet black eyes with irises set high so you could see the whites underneath. It made him both friendlier and scarier at the same time. I saw his jaw muscles work and a vein in his forehead popped up like a gopher trail. “I’ve been trying to get rid of you twats for a couple of hours now.” Behind him, Roxy was gathering the unidentifiable pieces of yarn in her hands and shaking her head, stuffing what she could into the muff hanging from her neck. “What did your monthly dispatch say?”
“Pardon me?”
“Your monthly dispatch. I know you’ve read it by now. What did it say about us?”
It galled me, but I said it. “That we were not to interfere.”
“What else? What is our mission?”
I couldn’t figure out what he was getting at, so I just answered his question, albeit reluctantly. “You’re running a sting on the Herd family.”
He pointed with the knife again. “That,” he said extra clearly, “is Arnold Nonegan. That,” he added, pointing the other way at the bus, “is Ross Nonegan. No one here is named Herd. Eyedeneaux continued, “Do you think we care about these two-bit, half-wit lowlifes? We’re the FBI. They stole a raccoon.” He pointed to Gary again with the blade of the knife. “We’re following him. He’s going to lead us to a very big fish and you are obstructing our operation.”
“All due respect,” I began. I’ve found that when confronting authority, they really like to hear about due respect. “What they stole is not just a raccoon. They stole Clara. Clara is the only creature on this entire planet that can eat Uber regularly and live. That makes her the most valuable animal that exists, including human beings, with the possible exception of Banana Harris. If the FBI isn’t interested in her, they should be.” With that, I discarded Eyedeneaux completely and approached Gary. To his credit, Gary didn’t flinch. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, but I felt no sympathy. “It’s over, Gary. I think you know that. Whatever the Herd family was promising you in exchange for Clara, it doesn’t matter now.” I saw him swallow thickly, but he said nothing.
Just then, Dr. Harris came out of the bus. “Okay, let’s move this conversation onto the bus, shall we? We need to get out of the cold and I want to let Clara run around. She’s been cooped up long enough.”
“We’re not finished yet,” I told Gary as everyone except the helicopter pilot filed onto the bus. The pilot had his feet on the dashboard and appeared to be settling in for a nap. Butte and Billings carefully carried Knobby to the back bench where he could keep his legs extended. Roxy sat at the other end of the bench with the scraps of yarn in her lap. She stared at it for a moment, then picked up two pieces and tied them together with a determined look on her face.
Eyedeneaux, as he climbed on, tapped his blonde partner. “Deb,” was all he said. But she seemed to understand perfectly as she took the driver’s seat, closed the door, and cranked up the heat as if she’d been driving a bus for years. The crowd of people was still trying to find seats. The competition to sit near Ban and Clara was very tough, but polite. Since it was a short bus, no one was very far away from the guests of honor.
As soon as Deb closed the bus door, Ban opened the carrier door and Clara climbed Ban’s arm giddily, going right up to her face to grasp Ban’s cheeks in her little paws, then began climbing all over her looking for pockets. Ban’s smile simply made my day. Her eyes twinkled. For her, the mission was over as of now. She had Clara back. She probably didn’t care about what happened next. Part of me was right along with her. But another part wanted answers. “Ross, you did a fabulous job taking care of her,” she said, causing the Nonegan brother to beam with pride. “But I don’t understand why she hasn’t gone into withdrawal. She hasn’t had Uber in more than 30 hours.” She tilted her head as Clara climbed across her shoulders and jumped onto Ross, reaching into his pockets. She tossed a raisin onto the floor and then a peanut, digging deep and chittering at Ross. “What have you been feeding her?”
“Crispy Craboons!” Ross shouted, holding the double O sound again. “I ran out, Gary. She ate them all gone.”
Ban’s mouth hung open. “And she rejected a raisin and a peanut. But I thought…aren’t Crispy Craboons made with cream cheese?”
“Could we get back to the issue of Gary and the Herds?” Eyedeneaux said irritably. Everyone else had taken a seat, but Butte was standing with his arms crossed, watching Gary with disdain. He had something to say, but he knew he had to wait his turn.
Ban held up a hand, thinking hard. “No, wait. This is important.” On Ross’s head, Clara watched Ban’s every move. “If all she’s been eating is Crispy Craboons and she’s not in withdrawal, those crackers are Uber!”
“But cream cheese isn’t made with rennet, Ban,” Billings reminded her.
Her eyes were big and scared. “I know that. That’s what worries me. Where did you get the crackers, Ross?”
Gary answered instead. “The Herds.” Everyone turned toward him. “It’s their company. They gave me a whole bunch. For Clara, but Ross likes them, too.”
Ban jumped up from her seat and confronted Gary across the aisle. She grabbed one of his shoulders as he looked at her in bewilderment. “How long has he been eating them?”
“Couple of weeks. What’s the deal? The Herds said they were safe. There’s no rennet.”
“They’ve Uberized cream cheese! Gary, don’t you get it? Those crackers are Uber. There’s no doubt about it. You say there’s more?”
Gary shrugged. “There’s a whole closet full of them at the cabin. Are you saying Ross …?” Then he made the connection. His eyes misted and his voice cracked. “Ross ate Uber? He’s been poisoned? Oh, Christ!”
“Calm down, Gary,” said Ban. “If it’s only been a couple of weeks he’ll probably be okay. But you have to make sure he never eats any Uber again. He’s addicted to those crackers. Tomorrow or the next day he’ll go into withdrawal and he’ll beg an
d plead and cry for more crackers. And you can’t let him have any. You understand, Gary?”
Wiping tears from his cheeks, Gary nodded. I already saw a problem with her plan. By tomorrow or the next day, Gary would probably be nowhere near Ross. He’d be in a holding cell pending trial for kidnapping and theft and half a dozen other charges. I didn’t want to think about what would become of Ross.
With the revelation of the crackers being Uber, both Billings and Eyedeneaux had their phones out. Eyedeneaux connected first. “Eyedeneaux and Alaska here, we need a sweep at the Nonegan cabin at Upper Red Lake. Take the short wave and all of the Crispy Craboons. Yes, I said Crispy Craboons. They’re crackers. We get one box, for evidence, and under no circumstances are they to be opened or eaten. I want the rest delivered to CURDS at –“ he looked at Billings for a location.
“The Mayo Clinic,” Billings provided, interrupting his own call for a just a moment. He proceeded to tell whoever he was talking with to expect a delivery of crackers.
”At the Mayo Clinic.” There was a brief pause as Eyedeneaux continued, “You heard me right. CURDS. Yes, I know what that means. Stop asking stupid questions and get on it.” He put one hand over the bottom of the phone. “Gary, anything else at the cabin from the Herds?”
Gary looked at the floor. After a moment, he mumbled something no one could understand.
Eyedeneaux did not have the patience. “Gary!” he shouted like a drill sergeant.
Gary flinched, but kept looking at the floor and he muttered something only slightly more coherent. Fergie, sitting nearby, reached out and slapped the side of Gary’s head, making his hair fly.
“All right! The damn DISH.”
“Dishes?”
“No, the DISH,” he repeated, very clear now. “The satellite dish on the freaking roof, and the TV in the bedroom.”
Eyedeneaux repeated the addition to the inventory into the phone. “What about that carrier? Is that from the Herds?” He asked, holding the phone away from his ear.
“Yes, sir,” said Gary in defeat.
Eyedeneaux pocketed the phone without turning it off, rose, and picked up the now empty carrier. The grated door swung open, narrowly missing Ross’s head. Ross ducked and smiled at his successful move. The FBI agent turned the carrier opening toward him and peered inside, then reached in and felt around. A moment later he withdrew his hand which was now holding a small black disc with thin wires extending from it. Without a word, he dropped it on the floor and stomped on it, twisting the ball of his foot over it like it was a lit cigarette butt. When he lifted his foot the thing was shattered into more than a dozen pieces. Gary looked at it in amazement, a look of betrayal on his face. Eyedeneaux kicked the pieces under the seat. “It was audio only, but if he was listening in he knows we have you.”
“He’ll kill me,” Gary said, still staring at the place where the bug had been stomped on.
Billings disconnected his phone, having arranged for the cracker delivery. Agent Eyedeneaux turned off his phone as well. “This does complicate things,” Eyedeneaux said. You think? I thought. “It’s clear they were surveilling you with that equipment. They know you were flushed out of the cabin and know you are in custody at this time. If they are afraid of what you might tell us, your life could be in danger. We have two options. We could put you in WitSec, get you and your brother a new identity. Save your sorry lives and forget about catching, charging, and prosecuting any members of the Herd family, at least for now. Or we could get you across this lake, risk your life to save hundreds more by removing a major criminal operation from American society, THEN put you in WitSec so you live to testify."
He didn’t have to explain it in any more detail to Gary. A deep seated fear set into Gary’s eyes and he seemed to shrink. If the Herds thought he’d flipped on them, they would be sending operatives. Not to rescue him, but to see to his demise. He slid into the seat next to his brother, who happily moved over with Clara still on his head. The raccoon was joy hopping from Ban to Ross and back again in an endless search for productive pockets. She would chitter in excitement on seeing Ban and hurry over to her, greeting her with hugs and grooming, then sniff the air, notice her new friend Ross and climb onto his head. Ross kept apologizing to her that there were no more crackers and offering her a peanut or raisin. After doing this a few times, Clara finally took the peanut and began to crack it open with her sharp teeth.
Before Gary could make a choice, Sylvia asked, “Gary, did you eat any of the crackers?”
“No. Allergic to shellfish. Why?” After Eyedeneaux’s comment, this question seemed especially inane. Gary was barely paying attention as he went over his options in his head.
She glanced at me, and at the rest of the crowd before continuing. “Do the Herds know that?”
Gary harrumphed. “Of course not. When the Herds give you something you say ‘thank you’ and take it. You don’t argue.”
Sylvia swallowed and said quietly, “They were trying to kill you, Gary.”
“No,” he said quickly. “They wouldn’t. They wanted me to get Clara.”
“And afterward? They couldn’t have you turning on them. They expected you and Ross to both eat those crackers long after you turned over Clara, get sick and die. That’s why they gave you so many.” A closet full. Those crackers had been in the bed of the pickup truck when they left the motel.
There was utter silence. Eyedeneaux was stunned himself, probably kicking himself for not thinking of it. “The pirate may be right,” he said.
“I’m not a pirate!” shouted Sylvia.
Putting a hand on her shoulder, I calmed her down. “Take it easy, Sylvia. He’s just lightening the mood. It’s getting too darn dark in here.” I addressed the whole bus. “We have to stop the Herds,” I said. “If they can Uberize without rennet…”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” said Eyedeneaux without even a hint of apology. “But that’s your department. We weren’t following him regarding that. Gary, I think you can enlighten us here. Start talking.”
“Enlighten you about what? Isn’t all this bad enough? Do you guys still do protective custody? I want some of that. Me and Ross. You got us, and I’ll testify against them, but you gotta not let them kill me.” He was grasping Ross’s hand in his tightly.
“We don’t have a charge, unless you help us get a confession. Any kind of confession will do. Ask him where he got the money he gave you to use at the police auction.”
“Police auction?” Billings asked, a light bulb turning on in his brain. “So you were following the money. It was stolen? What did they buy?”
Eyedeneaux prompted Gary with a look. “That was a year ago. You mean the stupid helicopter?” Gary asked.
The agent put a finger to his nose. “You should know that paying cash for something like that is a red flag for us. If you can get him to tell you where he got the money, we can prosecute. We knew it was stolen money, Gary. We knew YOU didn’t steal it. AAA did.”
“AAA?” Sylvia asked. “The car service company?”
Still sitting at that driver’s seat, Deb explained, “AAA is Agents of Alliterative Andy. Inside abbreviation. Just for us. I’m sure you have stuff like that.”
We do. Our Chembassy in Benin, one of only three in Africa, is affectionately referred to as NinComPoop. But I didn’t say it. Instead, I just shook my head dismissively.
“He told me where he got the money. Selling Crispy Craboons,” said Gary dismissively.
“Then get him to confess to using Uber. Something. Anything. Extortion. Larceny. Murder. There must be something.”
“Murder? Oh, he wouldn’t…”
“He would and he has,” said Deb. “Or at least, he’s suspected of it in three counties.”
Gary stood up so fast he bumped his head on a support bar. “Andy wouldn’t kill anyone!” He sat down again, moving to Ross’s other side, closer to the wall of the bus, retreating and rubbing his temple and starting to cry a little again. I didn’t thin
k it was due to his head injury, though. “He’s running a cracker company, that’s all I know. We stole the raccoon for him, and that’s it.” His eyes were not focused on the interior of the bus. I saw panic in them. Sure, he was caught, but I got the feeling this was about more than any of us realized so far. And I wasn’t sure if Gary could tell us, even if he wanted to.
Clara settled down and curled up in Ban’s lap, finally tired. She scratched the animal behind the ears and along the back absent-mindedly.
Gary started to clam up, hiding behind Ross, trying like heck to flatten himself against the side of the bus, in severe denial. Well, it wasn’t about Clara’s value, or Gary would have been instructed to collect the ransom money. They wanted her for something else.
Gary leaned forward, holding his stomach. “Jesus, what did Harry get me into?” He rocked gently back and forth and for a few moments, it looked like Gary was the one who was mentally disturbed and not Ross.
Roxy was sitting on the back bench at Knobby’s feet, the pile of red yarn in her lap suddenly forgotten, ends of yarn sticking up like little red ears where she had been tying knots. Knobby was barely conscious after his painful ordeal, fighting sleep to hear what we were saying. Sylvia turned her head to the window, Butte and Billings seemed to be staring at nothing, Fergie was fingering his phone wondering who to call and what to say.
We could tell Gary either really didn’t know, or he just wasn’t going to tell us. “Whatever it is,” Ban said, “it’s probably something to do with those crackers.”
I could see this was getting to be very technical. “I wish Nitro was here,” I said. “He could figure this out.”
Billings still had his phone in his hand and simply pushed redial. “Consider it done,” he said, turning on the speakerphone.
“Hello? Billings, that you again?”
I hadn’t heard Nitro’s voice in so long I was surprised how good it sounded. I nodded at Billings to go ahead. He knew what to tell him. “Nitro, those crackers I told you about, I want you to analyze them.”
