At Dewitt's End

by Doc Henderson

  “Got your merds wixed!” he says, as he gives her a friendly little wink.

  About the same time that Dewitt is hailing a taxi at National airport to head over to Jesse’s condominium, another jetliner lands at Dulles airport in the beautiful Virginia countryside outside of Washington. When it parks, Willie and T. P. deplane. They are trying their best to appear urbane: Each is dressed in a decent business suit and each has nicely slicked-back hair, though Willie’s head does sport a ponytail and T. P.’s suit is a little long in the leg, requiring him, as with his blue jeans, to turn up the hem.

  Once outside the terminal, Willie takes a carry-on bag from T. P. and removes two pairs of night vision goggles, with snorkeling breathing tubes attached in a jerry-rigged way.

  “I’m sure glad these got through them detectors,” Willie says. “Now we can throw away this snorkeling crap. Heh! Would have fooled ‘em, anyway!”

  “But, Willie,” intones T. P., “I was afraid they would ask me to demonstrate it. You know, like they do on the TV with them calculators. They make you show it really works.”

  Willie throws the two cheap snorkeling tubes into a trash can.

  “So?”

  “But I ain’t never been snorkels,” moans T. P.

  Willie looks at T. P. with disgust.

  “I told you,” he says. “ You just would breathe through it; to show it ain’t no bomb or nothin’.”

  “O. K., Willie. – But which end?”

  Willie takes a deep breath and wags a finger at T. P.

  “Never mind now! It didn’t happen. We got through. Now we gotta turn our attention to... ”

  Willie lowers his voice.

  “... kidnapping that Colonel Houston guy. I hope they got that van ready at Hearse, or whatever it’s called, like Mr. Nickels said they would. We got our work cut out.”

  Willie, with T. P. trailing and carrying a heavy knapsack, heads to the Hertz counter in the distance.

  On a beautiful Georgetown street, Dewitt slowly exits a taxi minivan, then wheels along a leafy sidewalk towards a lovely brownstone, which has been tastefully divided into apartments. He wheels up the handicap ramp and enters the building. With a key to the apartment, he lets himself in.

  “Jesse?! – G-man! – Saddle up. Let’s hit the town!”

  There is no answer.

  “Hey! Jes’, long time, no see. – Where are you, man?”

  There is only the distant rumble of traffic outside, but no Jesse to be found as Dewitt cruises from room to room. He enters the bedroom, finding an unmade bed, then heads to the kitchen, where there is a note on the table. The note looks hastily scribbled.

  “Sorry,” it reads, “had to go West. – Business. Know you cut down, but have a few on me! They’re cold in the fridge! Jesse. P. S. Sorry about the bed. Use it, though.”

  Dewitt lets out a disappointed “darn” but knows that his brother would not leave for a clandestine mission unless it was important. He opens the refrigerator door and takes out a beer. About to close the door, he shrugs.

  “What the hey,” he says, and pulls out an entire six-pack. Heading for the living room, Dewitt picks up the TV remote and points it at the distant television that soon springs to life. Dewitt begins to change channels, looking through the plethora of offerings before settling down to an evening of sports and drinking.

  Chapter Ten

  Back out West, a meeting is taking place between Governor Dill and Nickels inside the state capitol, right in the governor’s office, while the Gofers wait in the Gov’s secretary’s office. Nickels is attended by Running Fever and Mayor Erma Shaave, along with the town’s Elder spokesman and a couple of other tribal Elders, who are attired in traditional Indian dress. Maps are spread across the Governor’s desk. A thick legal document lies open at its signatory page.

  Nearby, one of the Governor’s stewards is putting together little plastic Champagne glasses, as two bottles of ‘bubbly’ await uncorking. On an overstuffed couch is a disheveled older white man wearing an ill-fitting suit. He is sleeping soundly.

  The town’s Elder spokesman speaks to the Governor.

  “So, in summary, some businessmen have assembled several thousand acres of that dry desert land below our village and are willing to exchange it for just the few hundred acres of our village and above. Right?”

  “Right,” says Governor Dill. “Like I have said, they just want to flatten you, er, flatter you, uh... ” He laughs nervously. “Er, I mean, of course, they just want flatter land to, uh, build their buildings on.”

  Sweat pops out on the Gov’s forehead. Nickels whispers into the Governor’s ear.

  “Ahem,” the Governor continues, “and of course you have the right to their land because of the... ”

  Governor Dill drops his voice and his head in faux respect.

  “... sacred Indian burial ground.”

  He returns to his normal speech and points to the papers.

  “They can’t build on it. Their loss, your gain. It’s all in the, uh, papers here.”

  Erma Shaave seems thrilled.

  “And the state will move us at no cost! What will they think of next!”

  She looks around. Everyone on her team nods agreement. The Governor, Nickels and Running Fever try to look humble.

  “It’s all just desert,” intones Dill. “But now, you’ll have ten times as much desert!”

  The townspeople nod but furrow their foreheads, wondering about this “deal.” But then they shake their heads and clear those thoughts away: It’s too good to pass up, not too good to be true!

  Nickels goes over and shakes the disheveled man who sits up and tries to dignify himself in the presence of everyone.

  “Of course,” says Nickels, “you can’t do anything without a lawyer these days. Come on over, Counselor.”

  With a slight stagger, the awakened lawyer comes over to the group and waits. Governor Dill begins pontificating.

  “Okay, folks, let’s just sign these papers and the land deal will be done, unchangeable and unstoppable. Like a mighty glacier, or time itself. Like the little river running through your village, its waters pure and blu-”

  Nickels secretly kicks the Gov’s shin.

  “Ouch! Uh, well, let me let you sign and wine, then. I’ll just get on out of here, since I’m” (winking at Nickels) “not a part of this land deal, just helping out all the parties.”

  Now, the disheveled attorney hiccups. He takes out a fountain pen and waves it for effect. Then he motions for everyone to line up, which they do. The Governor and Running Fever leave the room as the others sign the document. Outside the Governor’s office, Running Fever signals a big thumbs up to the Gofers, who all smile and congratulate themselves, rubbing their hands together in glee and greed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Meanwhile, as Dewitt is relaxing at his apartment, Jesse boards a small, unmarked business jet at Andrews Air Force Base, just outside the nation’s capital. The jet taxis amid other parked planes, then takes the active runway and roars into the sunset, heading due west.

  Sitting behind the veteran flight crew are Jesse and his government compatriot, Carl. They share the corporate jet’s leather seats with a very distinguished older official and with “Traveler,” who, with sunglasses and a cropped mustache, looks and acts in the manner of a calculating deep covert agent, which, in fact, he is.

  Jesse speaks to the official in somewhat hushed tones.

  “Secretary Lewis, I want to remind you again of the need for the continuing secrecy of this whole program.”

  Jesse pauses. He looks at Carl, then at Traveler. He continues speaking to the official.

  “As it happens, we are just about through with a long term secret aerial mapping project in the northern region of the state out there.”

  Carl takes over.

  “You s
ee, Mr. Secretary, the terrain virtually matches the flat type of terrain of, well, uh, you know, certain places overseas, which we may need to, uh, ‘engage’ someday.”

  Carl looks to Traveler for guidance. Traveler just slightly shakes his head.

  “I understand,” says the Secretary. “It’s a need-to-know and I don’t need to know. Please continue.”

  Jesse clears his throat and resumes.

  “Anyway, as you may appreciate, our need to finish this project is paramount to national security and will be done. So, it’s time now to quell the thought of an Indian casino being built there.”

  Secretary Lewis nods but asks, “And the idea of big roads and big development coming there?”

  “A smokescreen,” Carl answers assuredly. “Just a necessary smokescreen.”

  Lewis looks a bit puzzled as he takes a couple of deep breathes and ponders. He looks at the three men.

  “But, after the aerial project. I mean, that’s almost done, I thought I heard you say.”

  Jesse looks at Traveler. Traveler barely nods an okay.

  Jesse takes a deep breath and allows the official a little further into this mystery.

  “That’s just it,” he says. “It won’t be done. It will be only half done. You see, Mr. Lewis, the option exists, overseas, to ‘cover’ an area, like the one we photographed, with a flooded plain.”

  “Yes,” says Lewis. “Go on.”

  Carl raises an eyebrow. He continues.

  “And underneath that covered plain... ?”

  The Secretary begins a slow nod.

  “Let me guess,” he says. “Hidden missiles, tanks, certain concentrations in certain storage tanks.”

  “Right,” allows Jesse. “And unless we can detect that, well... ”

  “So, Mr. Secretary,” Carl continues, “a second round of ‘photography’ will be done, but using sonar, heat and microwave; stuff like that. Flying over the same area. And that will occur in about two years, after we dam up the little river and create a shallow reservoir behind the area we are going to be showing you. And that – the fact about the dam – hasn’t been breathed to anyone yet.”

  Secretary Lewis nods.

  “I see,” he says. “Well, thank you for the information. It’s interesting and something that I can tell my grandchildren about... ”

  The three others look at each other with concern.

  “... in about the year 2050!”

  Everyone relaxes. Jesse nods to Carl, who turns on a small infrared lamp as they all begin looking at a map together.

  Back in Georgetown, night has fallen. Willie slowly pulls the rented van into the driveway between Jesse’s brownstone and another nice Georgetown house. T. P. hops out and points to the house number on the front door.

  “This is it, Willie,” he whispers. “This is the Colonel’s house.”

  Willie maneuvers the van down the dark side alley and stops at the back of the building. He gets out and he and T. P. open the van’s rear doors, taking out a “burglar bag.” From it they remove a rope, a flashlight and the night vision goggles. Willie “pats” his topcoat, indicating he has a gun tucked away. With this, T. P. shivers and puts on a little pouting frown.

  The boys speak in whispers.

  “Now don’t worry, T. P. I ain’t never had to use no weapon. But I always carries one – just in case.”

  “Okay, Willie. – Hey, Willie, these gogglies work real good. I can see a trash can, a trash can, a trash-”

  “Okay! Okay! Quiet I tells you! Let’s get on in the building, before Mister Policeman finds us.”

  Willie and T. P. sneak up to the back door of the building. They pick the lock easily and enter a common building foyer. Using a flashlight, Willie and T. P. go up the stairs and find Jesse’s apartment. They pick the door lock and cautiously enter, turning off the flashlight and readjusting their night vision goggles. Creeping up to a closed door, they open it and rush in. It is the kitchen. They look at each other. Then T. P. figures he may as well open the refrigerator.

  With goggles on, the fridge light is blinding and both men blunder around, bumping into each other and almost upsetting some pots and pans hanging over the center butcher block.

  “Damn! Can’t see a thing!” whispers Willie, rather too loudly.

  He takes off his goggles, as does T. P. Now they can see. There are all kinds of delicious stuff in the refrigerator.

  T. P. whispers plaintively.

  “Willie, I’m hungry.”

  “Shut up and close the door!” Willie says.

  Closing the door makes everything dark again. The boys don their goggles again and head out to find the right room.

  Eventually they find and open Jesse’s bedroom door and creep in. There is just enough light with the door ajar to allow the use of the night goggles and they nod to each other as they spy Dewitt, in Jesse’s bed, sleeping soundly and lightly snoring.

  Willie and T. P. speak to each other in whispers.

  “Close the door.”

  “Okay, Willie.”

  Now it is totally dark.

  “Open the door.”

  “What?!”

  “Open the door!”

  “Why, Willie?”

  “Can you see anything?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Me neither. We have to have some light. Open the door.”

  Dewitt snores more loudly and rolls over.

  “I’m scared, Willie.”

  “Quiet, I tells you!”

  “Willie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What if I just turn on the light?”

  “Are you crazy!”

  “Oh.”

  T. P. tiptoes to the bedroom door and opens it. A little light comes in and now they can “see” again. They approach the bed, one on each side. Willie looks at Dewitt and then, taking out a small photograph, compares the subjects.

  “That’s him,” says Willie.

  They prepare to grab Dewitt.

  Willie nods and whispers, “One... Two... ”

  “... Buckle my shoe!” T. P. adds.

  And with that they accost Dewitt, who awakens and instinctively fights back. He is a bit intoxicated. He yells who is it and what’s going on. The boys bundle him in his blanket, and are about to get the best of him, when he reaches out and turns on a lamp. Now the room is flooded with light and the boys can’t see anything. They hold their heads and flail about. Dewitt sees these Indians with their weird goggles and yells out.

  “Holy Geronimo!”

  Willie and T. P. struggle to take off their goggles. When they succeed, they blink excessively as now there is too much light. Dewitt, half off the bed, struggles back on and manages to get T. P. in a headlock.

  “What’s going on?” he shouts.

  Though Dewitt has the better of T. P., T. P. yells out, “We’re kidnapping you! Better give up!”

  Dewitt keeps holding his own. He sees Willie still blinking. Dewitt smiles and raises an eyebrow. He grabs the lamp and turns it back off.

  “Hey! That’s not fair,” yells Willie. “T. P., turn on the overhead! – If that’s the game you’re playing, two can play at that!”

  “Don’t you mean, three, Willie?” suggests T. P.

  Willie just shakes his head.

  “Oh, T. P., bite it!” he shouts.

  T. P. turns on the overhead light. The two throw their night goggles onto the floor. Dewitt is pretty much out manned and very tired. The boys begin wrapping him up in the bed linen.

  “Give up! Give up, Colonel!” T. P orders.

  Dewitt furrows his brow and responds.

  “Colonel?!... Oh, no... You guys think?... Oh, Geez!”

  Dewitt shakes his head and gives up.

  “Okay,” he says. “Just wrap me up li
ke a ‘Whopper’ and get me on out of here. Put some mustard on me. I’m just your poor, helpless Colonel.”

  Shaking his head in more disbelief, Dewitt continues.

  “But I think you guys are in for a big surprise.”

  Willie responds.

  “We ain’t gonna hurt you if you do the cooperating.”

  They tie the blanket with the rope and begin carrying it, with Dewitt tucked inside.

  Dewitt calls out, “Will you grab my suitcase?”

  T. P. looks at Willie for guidance. Willie shrugs and T. P. picks up Dewitt’s suitcase, while still holding his “half” of Dewitt.

  “Can I call my lawyer?” Dewitt wonders.

  “Willie, can he call his-?”

  “Shut up, both of ya’s!” yells Willie.

  Dewitt figures he’s in for the ride.

  “Maybe I can make, like, bail or something, if I cooperate,” he jests.

  By now the convoy has exited the back of the building and is headed for the van.

  “Hey, T. P. – or Wigwam – or whatever your name is. Could you, like, get my wheelchair? Please.”

  T. P. looks to Willie with concern. He says, “Willie, he’s making a joke of my name. I hate that. It’s just T. P., like the initials. I hate it when they joke, Willie.”

  Dewitt considers these remarks and offers amends.

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” he says. “Really. I didn’t mean to upset you. But, you are kidnapping me, you know!”

  The boys place Dewitt, still tied in his blanket, into the back of the van and then hop in up front. They crank the van.

  Dewitt puts on a sing-song voice.

  “Oh, boys! Boys! Like I said, could you get my wheelchair, please? It’s upstairs.”

  Willie and T. P. look at each other.

  Willie says, “Mister Nick-, uh, I mean, I don’t remember The Man saying nothin’ about no wheelchair.”

  T. P. wonders, too.

  “Nor me, neither; or is it nor me either. Nor me. – I always get that one confused. I just never... ”