[JC Bannister 01.0] The Fixer, Season 1

by Rex Carpenter

  JC rolled to a stop just in time to see the bikes go over the edge. He guessed Duke had a vision of what it was supposed to look like. The bikes careening up the makeshift ramp, sailing majestically over the low metal railing of the elevated parking lot. Multiple camera angles in his mind. But it looked nothing like that. The two bikes had bumped into each other, slowing them down. JC’s had bounced back and was heading off to the right while Duke’s continued on straight. But their forward momentum had slowed them enough they were not sailing over the edge, merely going over. Smoke was pouring from the flares. Duke’s wadded up police uniform had already started to catch fire. Hopefully the flares would increase the chances of an explosion.

  It may have not been as majestic as what JC was used to seeing on TV, but it was good enough. Duke would have to put up with the ugly truth that real life rarely matched up to what the writers of fiction portrayed. JC popped up and was moving towards the edge of the building. Wanted to see the damage for himself. Duke was right behind him.

  “Hold on, boss, you don’t wanna…”

  His words were drowned out by an enormous roaring boom.

  Chapter 60

  Two Ways

  A fireball the size of a small hot-air balloon rose from the side of the building. Duke was already pulling JC back so he wasn’t close to the railing or, worse yet, looking over when it happened. If he had, it would have been second degree burns on his head and neck at a minimum.

  Both men were knocked down by the blast. Duke’s eyes were wide with amazement. JC’s eyes were narrowed with anger. They were up and moving in a few seconds.

  “What did you put in those side bags, Duke?” JC said as they started running towards the exit on the opposite side.

  “Nothing, man, I swear. There was a big propane tank down there. Didn’t know if they were going to hit it or not.” Duke laughed. “Looks like they did.”

  Duke reached the door to the stairs first. Wrenched it open and began bounding down the stairs three at a time. JC was just enough shorter than Duke that he could only do two at a time. He made up for it by jumping down the last four of each flight.

  They reached the bottom quickly. Stopped. Took a second to compose themselves, then opened the door. They were on the side of the building next to the school of dentistry. As they exited the parking structure, they saw nobody. Good for JC and Duke. No immediate witnesses to their exit meant no questions or overly interested people.

  The two began jogging away from the fire. Looking over their shoulders occasionally. Pretending to be average citizens afraid of the blast. Wisely running away from it. People were beginning to come out of buildings and classrooms, looking in the direction of the explosion. JC stopped Duke. Made him slow to a walk. Too many people now. Running away from an explosion would look out of place. Best to walk as quickly but as casually as they could.

  Car alarms were still sounding off from the parking structure. Occasionally another smaller explosion would go off. Gas tanks. Gas lines. Pressurized tires giving up the ghost. Didn’t matter at this point. What mattered was getting off of the UCLA campus and back to the relative safety of their team.

  “First cab we see?” Duke said.

  JC nodded. They were getting closer to the area of the federal roadblock. If luck was on their side then the law enforcement personnel would be looking for two guys in police uniforms. Searching and mistrusting those amongst their ranks. Not looking for two guys wearing board shorts and surf t-shirts. Although barefoot, JC figured it wouldn’t be too far out of the ordinary on the UCLA campus. Just a short drive from Santa Monica and the beach. If their luck held, they could find a cab, hop in and leave Kowalski and his team to once again sort through the debris.

  Their luck didn’t hold.

  “Hey! You two there. Hold up!”

  Duke started to turn around to see who was yelling. JC’s low guttural warning stopped him. Duke’s eyes snapped back forward along with his head. They were walking across a grassy expanse. A stone’s throw away from what looked like a major street. JC could see a bus stop. A Burger King. It looked like freedom.

  “Yeah, I think that’s them,” JC heard a man behind them say.

  “Check the mugshots on your cellphone,” another man said. The guy who yelled first.

  “Pick it up,” JC said to Duke. They started walking even faster. Fifty yards from the Burger King.

  “I can’t tell, Sergeant,” the second man said. Not the yeller.

  “Well, I ain’t gonna let them go and I ain’t runnin’ neither,” the sergeant said.

  Bannister didn’t need to say anything to Duke. They both broke into a dead run. Arms and legs pumping. Thirty yards.

  “Stop!”

  No way are we stopping.

  “Stop or we’ll shoot!”

  Dammit. JC glanced over his shoulder. Saw two LAPD patrolmen stopped, guns drawn. I’m not dying today. Stopped running. Duke did, too. The Burger King was about fifteen yards away. Turned. Hands raised.

  “Officer? What’s going on?” Duke said.

  The officers approached cautiously. Guns still drawn. Fingers off the triggers.

  “Officer, we’re not going to run,” JC said, “so please put your guns away.”

  “On your knees!” The older one yelled. The Sergeant. JC and Duke didn’t move. “Now!” They knelt slowly. Hands still raised. They knew what was coming next. Interlaced their fingers on top of their heads. Crossed their feet and then sat on them. “That’s right, you know the drill,” the officer said.

  The younger man holstered his pistol. Pulled out his cellphone, searching for something. Found it and held up the phone to his sergeant.

  “Yup, it is them. Good eye, Osbourne.” JC looked at the speaker’s nametag. Sergeant Tresslar. Both overweight. Glanced at Duke. Saw the question in Duke’s eyes. Nodded his head. If they get the chance they’ll fight their way out. These guys? They ain’t takin’ us down. Not them.

  “Let’s lace ‘em up,” the sergeant said. “Take them over there to the Burger King and wait for backup. Call it in.”

  The younger officer put his cellphone away. Keyed the microphone on his shoulder. The sergeant holstered his service weapon. Slapped one handcuff on JC’s right hand.

  “Officer, officer, what’s the charge?” Duke started yelling. Trying to stand and cause a struggle, bring attention to himself. As soon as JC felt the sergeant loosen his grip on the handcuffs, he was moving, rolling to his left. Trying to get his feet under him. Gain some distance.

  The crack on his head from Tresslar’s night stick surprised him nearly as much as it hurt. Which was a lot. His vision blurred momentarily, but he was still able to see Duke writhing with the voltage from Osbourne’s Taser coursing through his body. JC tried to get up. Feet were under him but his head was too wobbly. Stumbled and fell forward, face up. Saw Tresslar standing above him. Arm cocked back, ready for another blow.

  JC raised his hands in front of himself. “No, no, no,” he said. Words slightly slurred as he struggled to keep his mind together after the blow.

  Tresslar stopped. Lowered the baton. “Roll over. Face in the grass.”

  JC did the best he could. Looked over to see Duke in the same position. Heard Tresslar slide his baton back into its ring on the officer’s duty belt. Felt the handcuffs encase his left hand. Cold, like they always seemed to be. Felt Tresslar squeeze both of them incredibly tight. Felt despair for the first time in a long time.

  Tresslar crouched down. Put a knee into JC’s back. Knelt down even further, close to his ear. “You gonna try and run again?”

  “No,” JC lied.

  “You gonna mess around on me? You and your buddy there?”

  “No,” JC lied again.

  “That’s what I thought.” Tresslar stood. Brought JC to his feet. “You know how an old fat man like myself stays on the force? Superior cunning and ruthlessness combined with the fact that I’m a mean SOB.”

  Duke was on his feet as well. The proce
ssion started to move towards the Burger King. JC hated the sight of it now. They crossed the street. Stood outside the brightly decorated franchise.

  “You hungry?” JC said to Duke.

  Duke looked at the ground. Nodded yes. Dejection covering his face.

  JC figured the man blamed himself. It was, after all, his plan to drive the motorcycles off the roof. But Duke was forgetting an important fact. JC was the boss. He set this whole thing in motion when he agreed to take the job. Therefore anything that happened down the line from that rested squarely on his shoulders. JC would dress him down later for his recklessness if he felt the need. But right now, what he needed more was Duke’s spirits raised. If they were going to make it out of this alive.

  Hard to explain all that to Duke right now. Especially while standing right next to two of LAPD’s finest. Still. There are always ways to say something without saying it.

  “Don’t worry, buddy,” JC said. “Tomorrow morning you’ll be sitting down to a big ol’ plate of pancakes.” Duke looked up. Smile starting at the left corner of his mouth. Same place it always did. “You hear me?”

  “Got it, boss.”

  “Only place you’re gonna be eating tomorrow morning is at the county lockup,” Tresslar said. “And the last I heard, they don’t serve no pancakes down there.” Paused. Leered at Duke. “Leastways, not any of the kind you’d like.”

  Both Tresslar and Osbourne guffawed at the joke. Prison rape. Always funny.

  “You know a guy in county named Killian?” JC asked.

  Tresslar stopped laughing. Osbourne tried to, but couldn’t control it as well. Continued to chuckle.

  “Killian the Killer? Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Real piece ‘a work, that buck.” Shook his head. “Heard he’ll do whatever any bull tells him to.” Tresslar’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know Killian?”

  “I don’t,” JC said. Irritated. Trying to get under the sergeant’s skin. “He was supposed to beat the hell out of me this morning. What about a detective named Campbell over in the BHPD?”

  Tresslar smiled. “Campbell? Oh, yeah, sure. He’s good police.”

  JC smiled. Leaned forward. Right in Tresslar’s face. “He’s a piece of shit.”

  Tresslar punched JC in the gut, doubling him over. Spun him around. Bounced his face off the Burger King plate glass window. Slammed an elbow into his back, pinning him against the clean glass. JC felt Duke bounce against the window as well. Heard Tresslar’s baton slide from its ring.

  “You looking for an instant replay, son?” Tresslar said.

  JC heard the revving of an engine, then the squealing of tires. Saw the big black SUV slide into view, both with his peripheral vision and reflected in the plate glass window. Felt and saw Tresslar back up. Turn.

  “Officer!” JC heard someone say loudly. “A word?”

  He couldn’t clearly recognize the voice. Couldn’t clearly see who was standing next to the black vehicle. A dark suit was about all that he was able to see. Kowalski?

  “Watch these two, Osbourne,” Tresslar said as he backed away. Osbourne stepped back as well. Placed his hand on his gun.

  “Gentlemen, if you two try and pull some of that same crap again, I’ll shoot you both. Understand?” Osbourne said.

  JC and Duke both nodded. In truth, JC just wanted the officer to shut up so he could hear what was being said between Tresslar and the agent.

  “There’s only two ways that’s going to happen, G-Man,” Tresslar said.

  “Let me guess. One of them is ‘over your dead body’?” the agent said.

  “Well, look at that. Not nearly as stupid as you look.”

  “Listen, Officer Tresslar,” the agent said. “You have strict orders to turn over all suspects to the Secret Service for questioning. Now. There are two ways we can do this. One of them is where you play ball. Hand over the suspects. And I get to say nice things about the extremely helpful Mr. Tresslar to everyone within earshot.” Paused. “The other way is the one where you don’t cooperate. Make this more difficult for me. And I get to swear and curse the name of Officer Tresslar to anyone who will listen. Like Chief Beck. Or the Mayor. Or even the President, should he ask.”

  JC smiled a bit, despite his current predicament. If he ever wanted to be in law enforcement, he wanted to be a federal agent. Power has its perks.

  An arriving bus drowned out the rest of the conversation. The conclusion, however, was clear. Tresslar was at his back, unlocking his handcuffs less than a minute later.

  “Good luck, buddy,” Tresslar said. “Looks like you and your friend here are going to be dealing with federal pancakes now.”

  JC smiled. Looked at him. “That doesn’t even make any sense, dumbass.”

  JC was feeling his oats a bit. Figured he was flipping in the air like a fish, right from the frying pan into the fire. But for this brief moment, he was free.

  Tresslar slammed his heavy right fist into the side of JC’s face. JC staggered back a bit, hands raised for the attack. None came. Tresslar turned and walked away, Osbourne following. Duke reached out to steady him.

  “Let’s go, Bannister,” the agent said. “You too, Duke.”

  JC turned.

  Chapter 61

  Agent Oldham

  “Never thought I’d say this, but I couldn’t be happier to see you, Agent Oldham,” Duke said. Big grin on his face.

  “Get in the vehicle, you idiots,” Oldham said. “Before anyone starts asking more questions than we can answer.”

  Duke jumped in the front seat while JC got in the back. Standard issue Chevy Tahoe federal vehicle. Comfortable but not too much. Spacious. Smelled a bit like feet and stale coffee. All the same, JC thought, all over the world.

  Oldham turned the vehicle left, parallel to the university. Said nothing. JC could glimpse the Federal Building rising up above the lower level parking structures, health clubs, cafes and restaurants off to the left. Oldham drove without a word. Turned right on to Veteran Drive. Away from the Federal Building. The SUV was quiet long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable. JC, sitting in the back seat, had no desire to start the conversation. The person who talks first is weakest. Then again, Oldham was outnumbered. JC and Duke may have been outgunned, but it’s uncommon for a driver to choose to crash their vehicle to gain an advantage in a fight taking place inside said vehicle. Especially a government vehicle.

  “How’d you find us?” Duke said.

  “Followed the path of greatest destruction,” Oldham said.

  Funny. Real funny, JC thought.

  “I see you took my advice,” he said instead. Trying to gain the upper hand.

  “What’s that?” Oldham said. Curt.

  “I see you took my advice,” JC repeated. “Got out to L.A. fast as you could.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” Oldham said. “I love my country. I love my job. I’d die to protect the agency. It sickens me, the muck we’ve been dragged through the past several years. If there’s anything I can do to prevent another scandal from decimating our ranks?” Paused. “That’s why I’m here. Not because of your BS advice.”

  At this point, Oldham was nearly yelling. JC tried to conceal his smile but he couldn’t. If he’s legit? Best play I could have made.

  “Something funny, Bannister?” Oldham yelled.

  “No, Special Agent Oldham. Nothing is. You remind me of a younger version of myself. Just wondering if you’d like to come work for us.”

  Oldham stopped at a red light. Stared at JC in the rear-view mirror. Surprise. Indignation.

  The light turned green. Oldham didn’t move. Cars started honking.

  “Never. I work for the US government. I may bend the law at times, when I absolutely have to, but I never break it.”

  He took off, turning right. All power and exhaust. JC saw the traffic signs. They were on Sunset now. Going even further away from the Federal Building. Good for Bannister and Duke. Back towards the garage where their team should be about now. Goo
d as well. But JC was unsure where Oldham was taking them. He hoped the agent was interested in bending the laws in their favor right now. Regardless, time was running out.

  “Listen, Oldham,” he said, “I’m sorry for what happened back at the library in Arlington. Believe it or not, we’re on the same side in this thing, just trying to catch the senator’s killer.”

  “How do I know it’s not you and this mook sitting next to me?”

  Duke turned to JC. Mouthed “Mook?” JC ignored him.

  “If you thought that you would have turned left back there and taken us to the Federal Building. Or to the closest PD.” JC paused. Waiting for Oldham to speak. Waited a beat more. “Why don’t you tell us what’s bothering you about this whole thing?” Silence. JC didn’t have the time. Needed this sorted before they got to wherever they were going. “Okay. Let’s try this. Kowalski didn’t report the guns we took as stolen, did he?”

  Oldham nodded. JC understood that to mean agreement.

  “Sorry about that, by the way,” Duke said to Oldham. The agent didn’t respond. Duke didn’t look away. Oldham gave in. Looked at his passenger. Nodded his head once.

  “So Kowalski didn’t report the guns or the SUV as stolen,” JC said. “Highly irregular, I’m guessing.” Oldham nodded again. Responding faster. “Then,” JC continued, “he had all the agents under his command at the library that night reassigned. I’m guessing to slightly less plum assignments?”

  Bannister paused again. Giving Oldham the opportunity to jump into the narrative. He bit.

  “That’s the odd thing. Two days after you guys took our equipment we were all rotated out to other positions. Some to desk duty. I got sent to the range. Not a big deal for me. I enjoy it. Enjoy helping the full-time instructors. But to have an entire team replaced with fresh faces? Especially when guarding someone as high profile as Senator Marcus?” Oldham shook his head. “Not quite a red flag, but not best practices. Which Kowalski always did. Always did what was best for the job, for the assignment, you know?”