GOTU - A Robin Marlette Novel

by Mike McNeff

  “He's asleep.”

  “Jackson and two of his guys are on the way to relieve you.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Robin looked over at John Lucheck, sound asleep in a chair.

  “He tried to stay awake,” shrugged Emmett, “but he just couldn't overcome his federal training.”

  “He'll be all right,” chuckled Robin.

  Emmett walked over to the small refrigerator in the room and took out two beers. He tossed one over to Robin. Emmett lifted his can as a toast and said, “To celebrate the start of a great case.” Robin lifted his can and took a swallow of the cold beer. He pulled out his .45 and laid it on the table. When he wore street clothes, as he did now, he carried his gun in a Bruce Nelson Summer Special holster worn inside his pants. Taking the gun out eased the pressure around his waist. Robin sat down in one chair and propped his feet up on another. He could feel the tension leaving his body.

  The two men sat at the table and discussed the general strategy of the new case. Emmett's report of Newman's debriefing impressed Robin. The several people he named were very powerful in politics and business. Newman acted as the bagman for the payoffs to these people. If they could get the additional evidence they needed to make this case airtight, it would be the best case yet.

  Although both men were relaxing, they were alert to sounds outside the room, listening for anything out of place. Once, somebody walked by the room and both men silently and swiftly moved into defensive positions. The footsteps stopped momentarily and then moved on. Robin and Emmett sat down again after visually clearing the outside through the windows and the peep hole in the door.

  About a half an hour later, they heard more footsteps. Emmett moved behind the wall that separated the bathroom from the main room. Robin stood against the door jam. Both officers had their weapons ready. The confidential knock sounded through the door.

  “Yo!” said Robin.

  “Yo ho, mate!” Robin looked through the peephole to see Ernie making ridiculous faces on the other side. Robin opened the door to let Ernie in, along with Rocky Barnett and Marv Allen of Ernie's squad. As they walked in, all three men's eyes were sizing up the environment of the motel room. Emmett came from behind the wall, to Rocky's and Marv's nods of approval. Rocky looked at John Lucheck, still fast asleep, and said, “fucking Feds.” He went over and kicked Lucheck on the bottom of his foot.

  “Wake up, Special Agent Lucheck, time to go home.” Rocky did not say “Special Agent” with the reverence which some federal officers are fond.

  Robin began to brief Ernie Jackson and his two men on the case to date. The men's flashing eyes and broad grins showed their obvious excitement. Good cops always want to get the big fish. Robin's faith in these men as good cops had paid off before. He could see it paying off again.

  Necessarily, Ernie Jackson's enthusiasm for the Guardians' new case came from a different perspective than the men of his squad. While assisting the Guardians on a short-term basis did not pose a problem, committing his squad to a long-term investigation did. It took the brass to approve a long-term commitment. Ernie wanted to be on this case, so he had to sell it to his brass. Even though he could see the Guardians latched on to one hell of a case, selling his brass on working with the Guardians would not be easy.

  In the past cases when Victor Thirty-Two squad worked with the Guardians, the results were always great. The cases were also laced with controversy, however, and very few high-ranking officers want controversy—especially when the case is initiated by another department. Everybody knew taking down the big fish meant inquiries from political figures. These suspects used the high-powered lawyers and the political connections to cause interference. Since some high-ranking police officers harbored the fragile dream of successfully running for political office after retirement, to them controversy floated like a fart in the car on the first date. So, Ernie had his work cut out for him. As he listened to Robin, he planned his approach to the Phoenix Police brass.

  Ernie's and Robin's squads began training together on a regular basis when the Phoenix PD gave Ernie's squad functions similar to Robin's. The men soon became a tight-knit group. Robin and Ernie became close personal friends and did family outings together. Soon the two squads were doing joint investigations with the FBI and U.S. Customs, with the Guardians and Victor Thirty-Two squad forming the core of the investigative team. By the intensity of the fire burning in Robin's eyes this day, Ernie knew the new case looked to be the largest joint investigation yet. When Robin and Emmett finished bringing the Phoenix officers up to date on the case, Rocky let out a low whistle.

  “Ol' Miguel is going to be one pissed off son of a bitch.”

  “You're right, Rock,” said Robin. “There is no doubt he'll be throwing shit into the game.”

  “Fuck Rodriguez,” growled Ernie. “We're all trained on how to handle assholes like him. It's the other targets that are going to make my brass real nervous about letting us get involved in this shindig.”

  “Aw, come on, Sarge,” said Marv angrily. “There's no way you can let those bastards keep us out of this case.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Ernie asked Marv with a pained voice.

  “Marv's right, ya ol' fart,” chided Robin. “You know you can pull it off. You always have before.”

  “Yeah, and that's why I've got gray hair and ulcers and you're no help either, asshole,” said Ernie, pointing an accusing finger at Robin.

  By now everybody in the room laughed at Ernie's perceived predicament. Ernie looked around and then hung his shaking head in frustrated resignation. This made everyone laugh louder. Robin laughed so hard tears were welling in his eyes. A forceful knock at the door connecting the adjoining room interrupted the laughter. Emmett jumped up and opened the door, revealing a haggard and bleary-eyed Newman standing in his underwear.

  “Am I going to get some sleep or are you guys just going to fuck with me?”

  “It's okay, buddy,” said Emmett, “You needed to be up to meet these guys anyway.”

  Emmett introduced Ernie, Rocky, and Marv to Newman, who acknowledged the introduction with a wave and a grunt.

  “Can you guys keep it down so I can get some sleep now?” Newman asked in a surly tone.

  “Yeah buddy, hit the rack,” replied Emmett.

  Newman turned and shuffled off toward his bed as Emmett closed the door gently behind him.

  “Hey, that's some asshole you're givin' us to babysit,” said Rocky.

  “Just remember he's on our side for now, Rock,” said Robin.

  “I know, I know,” Rocky replied, smiling at Robin as he stood up. He told Ernie he would be right back and walked out the door. Ernie then launched a soliloquy about how Robin and the Phoenix Police brass were giving him ulcers because he was always in the middle of their disputes. Robin just smiled as he stood up and got ready to leave with Emmett and John. Emmett opened the door just as Rocky returned with an innocuous Cordura case everyone knew contained a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun.

  “Rocky, I thought you and your Sig .45 could handle anything,” kidded Emmett.

  “We can handle any amount of assholes up to ten. After that we require only minimal assistance.”

  “Heeeey,” said Marv in a hurt voice.

  “Excuse me, Marv. I'm, of course, speaking for my associate also.”

  “So you and Marv can only handle ten assholes at once?” Robin asked innocently.

  “We are simply trying to be modest,” said Rocky with a sweeping bow.

  “Gentlemen, your modesty is overwhelming,” said Robin with a return bow.

  Everybody broke out in laughter again. Robin gave an informal salute and closed the door behind the leaving officers.

  “Do you think that's really necessary, Rocky?” asked Ernie, pointing to the MP5.

  Rocky looked at his sergeant with a serious look. “Maybe not today, Sarge, but as pissed off as Rodriguez is gonna be, it won't be long.”

  Ernie took a lon
g, deep breath and nodded.

  FIVE

  Robin fought to stay awake. The engine and the air conditioner droned hypnotically as he drove through sparse traffic on the freeway. He turned up the police radio so the incessant chatter would annoy him. It didn't work very well. Normally, Robin maintained awareness of his surroundings, but not at this moment.

  A constant replay of the recent events streamed through his mind, evoking a rainbow of emotion: the excitement and satisfaction of a good bust, the anticipation of the upcoming investigation, the disquiet of Rodriguez's possible revenge. The stream stopped and Robin's mind focused on Rodriguez. He wondered if Rodriguez knew about his brother yet. Robin mulled over his possible reactions and wondered how he would find out. Who would be the unlucky messenger? Robin didn't doubt Rodriguez could throw some serious shit into the game. “Well, Miguel,” Robin said aloud, “you better make it good, because we're going to take your ass down and take it down hard.” A grim smile formed on Robin's lips.

  Robin turned the corner onto his street. It worried him slightly that he did not really remember driving the last couple of miles. He parked his van, turned off the engine, and just sat there for a minute. Exhausted, he opened the door and slowly climbed out. As he started for his front door, a loud, young voice yelled “Dad!” from behind him. Robin turned around and saw his ten-year-old son Eddie rocketing towards him on a bike. When Eddie got close to his father, he slammed on his brakes and skidded to a halt with a giant grin. One look at Eddie positively proved his lineage. It made Robin intensely proud.

  “Hey Dad, remember you said we were going to play some baseball today?”

  “Yes, I remember, Eddie.”

  “Well, can Aaron and Bobby play too?”

  Robin felt pangs of guilt he'd felt far too many times before. “I can't play right now, son. I've been up all night and I need some sleep.”

  “Ahwww, Dad!”

  Robin could see tears building in his son's eyes. He put his arms around Eddie, who buried his face into his father's chest. “We were very busy last night. Let me get some sleep and if it's still light out when I wake up, we'll play some ball. It will be cooler then anyway.”

  Eddie looked up into Robin's eyes. “Okay, Dad.” He got back on his bike. “Did you catch any bad guys last night?”

  “We caught some big time bad guys last night.”

  “Radical, dude! Well I gotta go, Dad. Love you.”

  “Love you too, son,” said Robin as he watched his son rocket back up the street.

  Robin walked up his driveway to the door of his house, a modest single story home in the Ahwatukee neighborhood of South Phoenix. The home had a white stucco exterior and a double car garage with desert landscaping in the front yard. Robin hated desert landscaping, but it made the yard easy to maintain. At least a large palo verde tree provided shade. When he reached the door his wife, Karen, opened it from the inside.

  Robin's wife stood two inches shorter than him, with medium length auburn hair surrounding a creamy smooth face. Her deep green eyes projected an intensity accentuated by an expressive mouth with inviting lips. Robin perpetually believed those lips begged to be kissed, which he did. How I love this woman!

  “Hi, babe,” he said. She hugged him tight. “What's the matter, honey?” Robin asked.

  “What's the matter? You don't come home last night. I stay awake all night long worrying about you. Then you call me at seven in the morning and tell me you've been in another shootout and you ask me what the problem is.”

  “I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to scare you.”

  “Robin, this makes three shootings for your squad in five years. It makes five shootings for you since you've been a cop. How long do think you can keep this up before you get shot?”

  “I can keep it up as long as we do as well as we did last night. Everybody did what they were supposed to do and none of us got hurt.”

  “Damn it, Robin. I know your squad is good. The whole damn world knows it. But you have told me yourself that a lot of it is luck—and luck can run out.”

  “So what do you want? Should we quit and just let the assholes have a free run?”

  “Who is ‘we’? I'm talking about you. I'm not married to anybody else. You're a lawyer, for God's sake. You can be a prosecutor and fight the criminals that way. At least you won't have to get shot at.”

  “I've told you before. The cases are made in the street. If the cops do it right, the case is good. If the cops fuck it up, then the case is fucked up and there's nothing a prosecutor can do about it. That's why I'm a cop.”

  “You're a cop because you need the identity the badge gives you. There is something inside of you that needs the stupid, macho bullshit of being a cop.”

  Robin fought to control his temper. He and Karen had been over this ground many times before. He knew she spoke partly out of fear. He also knew she meant what she said. Whenever they got into these arguments, nobody won.

  “Karen, I don't want to argue with you. For now, being a cop is my job. I'm dead tired right now and need sleep. I'll end this conversation by just saying I love you.”

  Robin kissed Karen on the cheek, feeling the stiffness in her body. He squeezed her hand and headed for the bedroom. Karen had already closed the blinds, turned on the ceiling fan, and turned Robin's side of the bed down. He took off his gun, handcuffs, and extra magazines and put them up on his closet shelf. He took off his clothes and let them drop in a pile at his feet. It felt so good to get them off.

  As he climbed into bed, he heard Karen crying in the kitchen. He started to get up to go to her, but then thought better of it. He didn't want the fight to start again. Robin lay back in the bed. Wearily, his mind started to float

  “Rob, honey, it's all right. You're having a nightmare.” Robin's mind struggled for consciousness as Karen's voice filtered through the terror gripping him. He breathed fast, his right hand closed tightly.

  “Robin, wake up. You're having a nightmare.” Robin looked around him and realized he was in his bed, Karen shaking him. He put his hand on her arm to stop her. His body relaxed and he lay back down.

  “What were you dreaming about?”

  “These guys were coming at me, shooting. I tried to shoot back, but my gun jammed”

  Karen put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Robin, I love you. I'm sorry about the fight.”

  Robin pulled her to him. “It's all right, honey. I know it isn't easy for you.”

  “I'm proud of what you do, Rob. It just scares me. I don't want to lose you. I need you.”

  “I love you more than anything, Karen and I need you a helluva lot more than you need me.”

  Karen raised her head and smiled at Robin. “Are you hungry?”

  “What time is it?”

  “Six o'clock. You've been asleep a little over four hours.”

  “I'd better get up or I'll never get to sleep tonight.”

  “Oh, by the way, there's three little baseball players waiting for you out front.”

  “The kid never gives up, does he?”

  “Of course not. He takes after his father.”

  “Well, I promised him, so I better get with it.” Robin gave Karen long, deep kiss. “I love you, Karen.”

  “I love you to, Robin.”

  Robin got up and put on a pair of shorts and his “Staff” tee shirt from the DEA Command School. Despite the battles Robin fought with DEA, they still asked him to do a presentation on how to supervise narcotics officers. Robin felt a sort of satisfaction from the fact that DEA still thought enough of his abilities to ask him to teach other agencies about narcotics enforcement.

  Robin went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. As he dried off, he looked at this face in the mirror. His forty-two years were beginning to show in the form of gray flecks in his black hair and crow's feet at the corners of eyes. Speckles of white colored the dark stubble around his strong jaw. He gave his hair a quick once-over with a brush. Karen often said
she wished he had more vanity. He wanted to believe she was kidding.

  He walked into the kitchen where Karen had set out rice, baked chicken, and a beer for him. Robin quickly ate the meal. Afterward, he leaned back in his chair, holding his satisfied stomach. “That was good.”

  “How many times have I told you that you eat too fast?” chided Karen.

  “You'd get this way too if you had only a thirty-minute meal period.”

  “Robin, you only had thirty-minute meal periods when you were on patrol, and you haven't been on patrol for five years.”

  “Old habits are hard to break.”

  “I know. I've been trying to break one for twenty-two years.”

  “That wouldn't be the one that's twenty-two years and four kids old, would it?”

  “What if it is?”

  Robin took Karen into his arms. “I hear it's an impossible habit to break.”

  “Right now I think that depends on how happy you make a certain ten-year-old.”

  “Right! Well, I guess I'll be off on that mission then.”

  Robin kissed Karen and went back to the bedroom and got his baseball glove. He walked to the front door and opened it to see a very serious marble game in progress. Eddie looked up and saw his Dad.

  “Anybody here interested in a little baseball?” asked Robin.

  Three little boys immediately scrambled to pick up marbles and gather up baseball gear. Robin chuckled to himself as Eddie grinned so widely his face threatened to break. The group started to leave when Robin's seventeen-year-old son, Casey, drove up.

  “Hey,” Robin yelled to Casey. “You want to help me give these heathens some baseball practice?” Casey gave the typical teenage dubious look back to Robin.

  “Look, I promise to make it a state secret if you do or I'll get it certified ‘cool’ by the current favorite rock group of the day.”

  “Dad, you're such a dork,” Casey laughed, and shook his head. He reached back into his '73 Volkswagen Bug and retrieved his baseball glove. Upon realizing both his father and his big brother were going to play baseball, Eddie's grin grew even more. The group gathered up and headed for the elementary school baseball field. Somehow, Robin and Casey ended up carrying all the gear.