ZAP Agent Mathis

by C. R. Daems

  The FBI drove Lexi and me to and from school each day, which Timothy and I agreed was better than Denise. Soccer practice started the second week, much to my annoyance—my client running around on an open field would make her close to impossible to protect. Bill, the current agent on duty, and I walked the field looking for anything out of place. About a half-hour into the scrimmage, three motorcyclists pulled into the parking lot and sat watching the game.

  "Bill," I said into the mike I had begun wearing to keep in touch with him, "those three are trouble," I said as I walked onto the playing field in Lexi's direction.

  The men sat smoking on their bikes about fifty yards away.

  The coach gave me a disapproving look as I approached the action where Lexi was attempting to intercept a pass.

  Too damn many kids in the way, I lamented. Kids who weren't my responsibility ... my mind whirled in turmoil. Collateral damage had always seemed to refer to a bystander or two—not twenty children. But my responsibility was Lexi, not the twenty children she was playing with.

  I promised myself I would spend more time at target practice between assignments and more time meditating as I closed my eyes and sought a quiet place. I felt I didn't have much time, maybe only seconds. I willed myself to quiet my mind, struggling against the urge to hurry. At some point my consistent practice on and off assignments won and the panic left. Feeling at peace with the world, I opened my eyes, drew my Glock, and fired.

  Only the middle cyclist was looking in my direction. Two rounds hit him, one in the chest and one in the throat. He was thrown backward and tumbled to the ground. The biker to his left reached into his saddlebag as two bullets of my three hit him: one in the chest, one missed, and one in the helmet. The biker to the right was backing up his bike as two shots caught him in the chest.

  Subconsciously, I could hear the screams and see figures running helter-skelter, but my focus was on the three cyclists. The arm of the biker on the left moved, and I shot him twice in his head while continuing to walk toward them. The rightmost biker was suddenly up with a rifle rising toward me. I put three shots in his helmet. The biker's last act was a reflexive jerk that caused the automatic weapon to tear a trench ten yards in my direction before stopping.

  "Lexi!" I shouted. I saw a hand go up in the midst of several children. I grabbed her hand when I reached her and pulled her up. "I think practice is over for today," I said as I walked toward the Tahoe. Bill looked a bit dazed. "Lexi and I are going home. You may want to stay and preserve the crime scene."

  "They didn't do anything," Bill said weakly, looking wide-eyed at me. "Why did you shoot them?"

  "They made me nervous," I said, getting Lexi settled in the passenger's seat and jumping into the driver's side. "Lexi, can you give me directions home?"

  She nodded wide-eyed.

  By the time I reached the house, Timothy was standing outside. "What happened?" he asked.

  "Inside," I said. I didn't see any obvious trouble but had no way to know if the three back at the park had friends in town or staking out the house.

  "You have the Boise police and news outlets in a frenzy. They are claiming you shot three innocent bikers visiting the city."

  "How did they determine that?" I wondered. It seemed a bit early for them to know anything about the three.

  "Don't know. Bill has called the Boise office for backup and is trying unsuccessfully to keep the police from the crime scene. He doesn't know why you killed them. Care to share?" he asked as Denise entered the room and sirens could be heard wailing in the distance.

  "According to Bill, the local police have a warrant out for your arrest and they have a SWAT team with them." Timothy said while listening to his cell.

  I scanned the room and then pointed to the kitchen. "Lexi, Denise, go to the kitchen and stay behind the counter. If trouble starts, lie on the floor," I said.

  Timothy frowned and went to the front door and stood there with his FBI jacket and badge in plain sight.

  I backed into the living room so I could see the entrance and the kitchen. To damn many ways into the house, I mused as I waited.

  A few minutes later a police captain entered with Timothy and approached me. He was a middle-aged man, round craggy face and a stomach that extended well over his belt. "You will have to surrender your weapon and accompany me downtown," he said in an authoritative voice used to being obeyed.

  I removed my clip-on badge to flip open my ID.

  But he spoke before I could. "Girly, I don't care that you're some kind of special FBI. You shot three innocent young men and are going to be held accountable. We have laws in Idaho that apply to you high-and-mighty FBI." He smiled.

  I smiled back as I pressed my Glock against his throat and held the reverse side of my ID in front of his eyes. "And Idaho is in the United States of America and subject to its laws. Read it out loud so I know you can read."

  "I'll have you—" he began, until I pushed my Glock hard under his jaw.

  "ZAP agent Kathryn Mathis reports to the Director of Homeland Security," he read in a stilted tone, "and is immune from arrest and or detention under Senate bill S.999 and House bill H.R.999. There are no exceptions. Signed: Allen Wegner, Director of Homeland Security. Questions: 800-999-9999."

  "Very good. Now if you would, take your troops and go. You're upsetting the senator's family and the neighbors." I thought I'd throw him a bone to gnaw on while he was lying awake fantasizing about having me sentenced to a life term in an Idaho prison. "I'm not above the law, Captain. There will be an investigation of my actions, and I'm sure you will get to describe how out of control I am."

  "Damn right. People like you should never be given a badge. I'm going to make sure you are held accountable," he said as he made for the door.

  "Why did you shoot those men?" Lexi asked quietly from just behind me.

  "Because I thought they were going to hurt you and the children around you," I said, at peace with my decision regardless of the outcome. Anyway, the event was history. It did no good to dwell on it, since it couldn't be changed.

  "But they hadn't done anything."

  "The alternative was to wait until they began shooting." I said.

  "I’m beginning to understand how ZAP agents are different from normal FBI," Timothy said as Denise neared. "Bill didn't fire because the three bikers hadn't taken any aggressive action. For the same reason, the Captain holds you responsible—they hadn't broken any laws and you gave them no warning. But you felt justified in killing them because they posed a possible danger. I now know for sure I wouldn't want that kind of responsibility." He shook his head and left the house.

  "Are you sorry you shot those men?" Lexi asked.

  "I don't like shooting anything, not helpless animals or people. But to protect the people I'm assigned to, sometimes it's necessary. I made a decision after weighing the risk to you. Other people will have to decide whether I was right or wrong. I did what I thought was right."

  "You lied," Denise said in a normal voice with a small smile touching her lips. "You said you weren't here to protect anyone except Lexi. Thank you. I couldn't stand for us to be responsible for those girls' lives."

  * * *

  "Kate," I said into the phone, knowing it was Liang. It was just after eight. Denise and Lexi were watching some sitcom, and I had just finished checking the windows and doors. I couldn't assume those three bikers had been alone.

  "The phone hasn't stopped ringing since you shot those bikers. I've got cauliflower ears by now. And of course the Committee wants a private briefing, so I need to understand your logic."

  "Lexi was at soccer practice and in the middle of a scrimmage when ..."

  "The fact that our protocol makes us responsible only for our clients made that an extremely difficult call but, in my opinion, a good call I doubt few other agents would have made. The FBI has identified all three as members of the South American gang of which one of the bereaved fathers is a senior member, and they all had automati
c weapons in their saddle bags. Unfortunately, I think than puts you and Lexi on an equal footing with the gang."

  "You may want to alert the Idaho State Police and the Captain of the Boise police and issue me an AK-47," I only half joked. It was beginning to appear that only the police and the FBI carried Glocks; everyone else carried automatic weapons.

  There was a knock at the door an hour later. When Denise rose to answer the door, I held up my hand.

  "Denise, the gangs may not be targeting you, but I'd rather you weren't collateral damage. Don’t answer the door unless you can see me and I can see the door. And don't block my line of sight," I said, moving so I could see the door and waving Lexi out of sight of the door, and then I nodded.

  "Mrs. Burns, I was checking the grounds and wanted to bring you and Kate up-to-date."

  "Come in, Timothy, Bill."

  "The three you shot were from that South American gang we were concerned about and they had automatic weapons. If they had attacked while those girls were practicing, it would have been ... a nightmare. I've posted an extra guard in case they might have friends in the area."

  "I thought you were a lunatic, Kate. Sorry," Bill said quietly, looking thoughtful. "I saw the potentially bad things that could have happened but also the consequences of shooting someone who not only wasn't shooting at anyone but had no weapons showing. I had originally thought it would be fantastic to have one of your get-out-of-jail-free cards. Now that I understand the responsibility that goes with it, you couldn't give me one for any salary," Bill said before following Timothy out the door.

  "I'm scared." Lexi leaned against me while holding my arm. "I don't want to die."

  "Being scared isn't a bad thing so long as you don't let it control your life. Being scared will keep you from doing foolish things that could get you hurt."

  "Do you get scared?" she asked, looking up at me with misty eyes.

  "Yes. Everyone with a working brain gets scared from time to time. It’s how you handle it that matters."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Do you face it or run from it. For example, if you were afraid of drowning, then you could try to avoid water—or you could learn to swim. If you learned to swim, then you might still not like water, but you would not have let it control your life."

  "But men are trying to kill me! I can't avoid it or learn to ... reduce the risk," her voice rose hysterically.

  Denise sat watching us but said nothing.

  "Do you have a rude gesture you give someone when they are teasing you?" I asked.

  She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting toward her mother. "Yes."

  "Every time you think of them hurting you, give them that gesture."

  "How will that help?"

  "It's you telling them you aren't going to let them run your life. That you're better than them and they can go to ... the ninth circle of Dante's Inferno," I said.

  Denise's worried look turned to a small smile.

  Lexi gave me a hard look. "What's that?"

  "Dante wrote a book where he ..." I spent the next hour discussing Dante's vision of Hell and Denise actually found a copy of the book in the family study. Lexi took the book to bed with her. I followed her to make sure the blinds had all been drawn.

  Denise met me on the stairs as I was coming down. "Thank you," I think that helped Lexi ... and me. I guess giving them the finger is the closest thing to learning how to swim." She laughed and continued upstairs to the bedrooms.

  After checking to make sure the alarm was set, I got my lounge chair positioned to watch the stairs and the front and back doors. I couldn't cover everything; there was the garage door to the house and multiple windows, so the security alarm would have to suffice.

  * * *

  The sound of motorcycles woke me sometime after midnight. I stayed alert for an hour after they faded into the distance, just in case. When nothing happened, I returned to a light sleep. I rose and was moving the chair back to its original position when I heard movement upstairs and then made my way to Lexi's bedroom.

  "Hi, Kate. What's up?"

  "What's up there?" I said, pointing to the ceiling.

  "Nothing. Wires, insulation, and bugs I guess."

  "How can I get up there?"

  "There is a pull-down ladder at the end of the hallway."

  "Show me," I said and followed Lexi down the hallway.

  Toward the end, she stopped and pointed to a rope hanging some six inches from the ceiling. I jumped up, caught hold of it, and pulled. As I did, a three-foot wooden panel opened and a folded ladder expanded to the floor. I crawled up it enough to see into the space: exposed two-by-eights with insulation in between. When I came back down, Denise was standing next to Lexi watching.

  "Good morning, Denise. Do you think you could get someone to nail down rough flooring up there? Tell them you want to store some little-used things up there."

  "What are you thinking?" She asked hesitantly, frowning.

  "I'm thinking this house has too many entrances for me to guard," I said. My thoughts were on the motorcycles I’d heard the night before. If multiple attackers hit the house, I couldn't possibly protect Lexi.

  "We have two FBI agents guarding the house," Denise said.

  "Yes, and that's good. But what if they are drawn away?" I left off or killed. "When we tell people we can only protect one person, some believe us cruel. They can imagine all sorts of ways to protect whole families. But those examples include everyone sticking together or being in a room or place with only one entrance. The fact is that in places with multiple entrances and multiple attackers, I'd have a difficult time protecting one person." I stopped until Denise nodded.

  "I'd like to be around to attend my daughter's graduation from college, her marriage, and to see my grandchildren. I'll take care of it. I'll tell them my husband is sending home some junk from Washington." She went off into her bedroom and picked up the phone.

  "You’re worried about the bikers?" Lexi asked. "I heard some last night."

  "Probably not related to those at the park, but I've found it's better to plan for the worst and look foolish when it doesn't happen than to not be prepared if it does."

  "Are you scared? You can't hide like we can." Her eyes held mine.

  "I think of it as a high-stakes game where the winner is the one who can outsmart the other. If you can surprise your opponent, you usually win. If he surprises you, you usually lose."

  "At the park you surprised them by shooting first."

  "Correct. They might have won if they’d have ridden onto the field immediately from different directions."

  "And killed me." She paled.

  I took her shoulders in my hands and looked at her. "No. And killed me. If they try to kill you first, they know they won't live to spend the money they expect to collect from killing you. Like playing soccer, you don’t think about winning or losing while you're playing. You concentrate on the game and doing your best."

  "So, I mentally give the bad guys the finger and ignore them, knowing you'll win the game eventually."

  "Perfect," I said, giving her a hug. "I know you're scared, and you have a right to be. But don't let them ruin your life with fear."

  * * *

  The day-detail drove us to the school, where Lexi and I were directed to the principal's office. The soccer coach was already there when we arrived.

  "Miss Burns, Coach Danner is suspending you until this trouble is resolved. Your presence is putting other children at risk. In fact, your presence in the school is putting everyone here at risk," she said as if Lexi were the problem, not the thugs trying to kill her.

  I was sure they would have expelled her if her father hadn't been a senator, and someone was probably already in negotiations with him to get her private tutoring.

  "Given the government resources on this case," I said, "I believe the situation will be resolved quickly. And since it appears Miss Burns is one of your first-string players, couldn't you give her priv
ate lessons after the normal practice? I'm sure the senator would appreciate it, and if necessary, I'll pay for your time." Stupid, I chided myself. She already has too much exposure given their house, school, and shopping, and I'm creating more. But the alternative was to lock her up in a room with only one door. And would that guarantee her safety?

  Fortunately, Tanner interrupted my brooding.

  "I agree we shouldn't punish Miss Burns for the actions of foreign thugs. Maybe you can get rid of a few more. Private lessons are a good compromise." He gave a short laugh, which the principal didn't seem to appreciate.

  After we had worked out the details, Lexi went to her first class. At lunch, she was the most popular student in the school. About halfway through her next class, a civics class, the door opened and a local policeman stood in the doorway. He looked at me and then scanned the room. When his eyes came back to me, my Glock was pointing at his face.

  "Hands in front of you, then face down on the floor," I said.

  All heads turned in my direction, while several slipped out of their seats to huddle behind their desks.

  "I'm a Boise police officer. I was just checking to make sure everything is alright."

  "The bullet in this weapon doesn’t care. Any movement except to get down as I asked, and that vest you are wearing won't help."

  "The Chief sent me—"

  "Last chance," I said, beginning to tighten my trigger finger.

  He saw something in my posture or eyes, because he dropped to his knees and then lay flat with his arms extended.

  I knelt and wacked him in the temple with my Glock, which elicited gasps and screams. I then removed the standard police weapon from his holster and patted him down, finding a small revolver in his boot and another weapon with a silencer inside his belt in back. I hit the speed dial for the FBI agent guarding the front of the school.

  "Bradley. What's up?"

  "Is there another local policeman around?" I asked, sensing the one I had was not acting alone.