A Tommy Logan Story

by Darren D. Lee

  “Let her open it,” I said.

  Dad bent down and grabbed Shey, sitting on the couch next to Angel. Mom zoomed in on them. “Come on, Squirt, open it up!” said Dad. He was the one that gave her the nickname. It just stuck. Shey would always be his little squirt.

  We watched in silence mostly, the occasional laugh, through our bittersweet smiles. After an hour or so the video ended, and the screen turned blue. Shey looked over, wiping tears from her eyes, smiling. “Those are great memories, and even for just a few minutes, it felt like they were all here again.”

  “Thank you, Squirt,” I said. “That was a wonderful surprise.”

  “You know, one thing could make those memories better.”

  “And what might that be?” I asked.

  Shey leaned over, looking at Sara. “If Sara was there. She’s as much a part of this family as any of us.”

  Sara sniffled, smiling. Shey leaned across me and hugged Sara. I just wrapped my arms around them, happy that’s exactly where I was. A few moments later the lights flickered, followed by the power going out.

  “Crap!” shouted Shey. “The turkey won’t get done now!”

  Sara let out a sigh. “We tried, that’s what matters.”

  I pulled them both together and squeezed them. “Nah, the turkey doesn’t matter. What matters, is that it’s us right here, together for Christmas.”

  I’ll never forget that Christmas. As I’m sure they won’t either. It hasn’t even been a year since then, but it feels like it was so long ago. I wish I could hear Shey’s voice and feel Sara’s embrace right now.

  April 2nd, 2026

  We stopped at a gas station just outside DC. It was a cool spring morning, but it was still a bit stuffy in my black hoody. The skies were clear as day while the sound of interstate traffic beckoned in the background. I took a draw from my cigarette while I leaned against the station wall. Shey and Sara were inside getting snacks and doing whatever else they wanted. My hair was officially long and shaggy. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the change some… But I found it more aggravating and itchy than anything.

  “Quit that,” Sara playfully demanded.

  I turned my head to see Sara approaching. She didn’t really mind the smoking, but she didn’t exactly like it. “Gotta do something to stay calm,” I said. That was always my argument.

  “Yeah, okay,” she replied, crossing her arms with a little smirk.

  “Where’s Shey?”

  Sara giggled and shook her head. She looked past our little SUV to the interstate on-ramp. Big rigs dominated the traffic. The sound of them thundering along could drown out the soft-spoken sort. “Oh, she spotted a slushy machine.”

  I laughed for a moment while I remembered all those slushies I’d bought her in the past. Shey loved those things; it was a borderline obsession. “Let me guess, she couldn’t decide what flavor?”

  “She kept looking at them all, one by one.”

  “Strawberry. She always gets strawberry.”

  Sara grinned, keeping me at a slight distance to avoid the smoke. “Is that so? You’re psychic now?”

  “Five bucks says she gets strawberry.”

  “You’re on.”

  I took the last draw and tossed the butt on the ground. Sara and I both stood there, anxiously awaiting Shey. The suspense was insane for such a trivial situation. But, I guess we were having fun with it. A few moments later, the chime of the gas station door called out and Shey emerged. She had a huge thirty-two-ounce cup grasped tightly in her hand with the straw tucked safely between her lips. Shey stared at us while we stared at her. “What?” she asked, never removing the straw from her mouth.

  “What flavor?” I asked.

  “Come on, tell us!” pleaded Sara with a confident grin.

  Shey stared at us blankly. She had to be wondering why we cared what flavor slushy she had. “Strawberry…” She hesitantly said. “Why?”

  “You owe me five bucks.” Sara turned from me and began walking towards our vehicle. “Hey! Don’t be a sore loser.”

  Sara glanced back, huffing and puffing. “You don’t need money. You’re dead. Remember?”

  “Witty,” I replied.

  “What in the hell just happened?” asked Shey.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, chuckling. “Come on, not long now.”

  We traveled down the interstate amongst the thick traffic. Shey’s head bobbed to some pop garbage on the radio. Even Sara’s head had a bit of rhythmic nod. I sat in the back thinking about what I was going to say. Johnson was a man of strict discipline and routine. Finding him was going to be easy enough but somehow convincing him this was a good idea could prove challenging.

  The traffic was heavy in DC. It was near gridlock and getting through a stoplight was a ridiculous chore. “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Time to get a watch,” joked Shey.

  “Now you’re being witty, too?”

  “You’re having fun,” added Sara.

  “Yeah, it’s fun being picked on my niece and girlfriend. Tons of fun.”

  They both laughed. It was good to hear them laughing despite knowing what was going to happen soon. They were leaving and there was a good chance I wouldn’t come out of this alive. “Is anybody going to tell me what time it is?”

  “It’s half past ten,” answered Sara.

  “Shit. We have to hurry.”

  Shey glanced in her rearview before jerking the wheel to the right. “Sorry, had to merge.”

  “You were just trying to toss me across the back seat.”

  “Two birds with one stone,” spouted Shey.

  “It really is pick on me day.”

  Sara laughed while she looked into the back. “Must be. We should have this day more often.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So,” spoke up Shey. “How do you know this guy is going to help you?”

  “I don’t. Not for sure.”

  “Then why are we here? What if he’s in on this whole thing?”

  “He’s not,” I replied. Johnson was a by the book guy. He would hate the thought of the ASA being corrupt. He’d despise the thought that it could possibly go deeper. “Johnson is a good man. He does the right thing regardless of the situation.”

  Sara watched the pedestrians on the sidewalk. They seemed to have no care in the world. I guess Sara was jealous of that… I suppose we all were. “So, you’re going to hope that he thinks what you’re going to do is right?”

  I nodded to Sara as I seen Shey glance back in her rearview. “And what is it you’re going to do, Uncle Tommy? I know you want to kill them, but you could’ve done that already.”

  Shey was smart. She knew I was gearing up for something more than a little vigilante justice. I wanted my revenge, but I also needed to do the right thing. Killing Robins, Ratliff, and whoever else might just make things worse. I needed to take them all down – find proof that the ASA was corrupt even at its core… While I killed those bastards. “It doesn’t matter, Shey. What matters is that you and Sara are far away when I’m ready.”

  “You’re going to get yourself killed,” mumbled Sara.

  “You don’t have to be a martyr, Uncle Tommy.”

  I glanced out the window, realizing where we were. Luckily, I could use that to change the subject. “Turn right onto 12th Street.”

  Shey gave her signal and cut through traffic. Horns bellowed at us, she had cut it a little close. “How much farther?” asked Shey.

  “Almost there.” I watched the street for a few moments. “Here, turn right.” Shey did so and turned onto South Fern St. I pointed to an empty spot along the sidewalk. “Stop there.”

  Shey pulled off the road, shifting the vehicle into park. “How do you know he’ll be here?”

  I pointed across the street to a mom and pop café. “Only coffee he likes in this city. Comes here every day around eleven.”

  Sara slowly nodded her head. “Yeah, you military guys keep to your routines. I�
��ve learned that much from you.”

  “Well, what are we supposed to do while you play stalker?” asked Shey.

  “Leave. Go to the mall or something.”

  “When are we supposed to come back to get you?” asked Sara.

  “I’ll call.”

  “With what phone?” asked Shey.

  “Johnson’s.”

  “Whatever,” she replied.

  I opened the door and exited onto the sidewalk. Sara quickly rolled her window down and leaned her head out. I gave her a few kisses. “Be careful. Both of you.”

  “We will,” said Sara. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I watched them pull away before I put my hood on. It was unlikely that anybody would recognize me, but I had to be sure. I darted across the street at the first chance. Entering the café, I was greeted by the voice of a waitress. “Sit anywhere you like, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  I nodded and walked to an empty table in the back corner. After looking around, I noticed Johnson hadn’t arrived yet. Even over the chatter of the patrons, the hustle and bustle of the kitchen staff, the sound of the wall clock ticking was heard clearly. Five past eleven and he wasn’t here yet. I couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t coming.

  “What can I get you?” asked the waitress.

  I jumped a little, startled. I was so focused on the ticking of the clock. You know? That tic toc into oblivion. Looking at the waitress who was puzzled by my jumpiness, I said, “I’m fine. Meeting someone.”

  “Alright, let me know if you need anything.”

  I nodded to her and returned my focus to the door. A few people came in and out, but none was Johnson. It was now ten past eleven. I tapped my fingers on the table surface, trying to be patient. It wasn’t working.

  “Your usual?” called out the waitress.

  I looked up to see a man wearing his dress blues. His graying hair contrast against his dark skin. It was Johnson. He nodded and took a seat a few booths down from me and opened up a newspaper that was laying on the table. I quietly stood up and approached his booth and quietly sat down. “Colonel Johnson, do you believe in ghosts?”

  Johnson slowly closed his paper and set it down. He stared at me, seemingly in awe. He looked closely, no doubt studying my scarred face, my beard, and shaggy hair even. “Pull your collar to the left.”

  I knew what he wanted. I had been wounded during that last mission in China. Took a round through my left shoulder. He wanted to see the scar. I took my hood off and stretched the collar over, allowing him to see what he needed.

  Johnson’s eyes stared into mine. A silence between us that was familiar even after a decade. The same silence before I’d leave on a mission for TacSIX. “Logan?”

  I nodded. “Good to see you, Johnson.”

  Johnson pulled out a ten dollar bill and laid it on the table. He then pulled his phone out, dialed someone and put it to his ear. “This is Colonel Johnson. Something urgent has come up, I’ll be late getting back.” He put the phone away and stood up. “I suspect what you have to say needs to be in private.”

  I nodded once more, then pulled the hood over my head. I followed Johnson out and approached his black government issued sedan. He got in the driver’s seat as I walked around to the passenger seat. We pulled onto the road, more silence between us. Johnson steered the car onto the interstate that ran past the Pentagon. “Logan. You’re alive.”

  “I am.”

  He glanced over, taking a deep breath. “I was at your funeral.”

  “I know. I saw. And thanks for offering Shey that job.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “Why are you allowing people to believe you’re dead?”

  “It was the only way I could protect Shey and Sara.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked once more.

  “It all started with my sister’s murder and my transfer home.” I told him what I knew. I told him everything from the botched investigation of my sister’s murder, the suspicious files in the ASA system, and finally my attempted murder. “So, you see? They tried to silence me once I started making too much noise. Things just weren’t right. My transfer from Grundy had to be a call to take me out.”

  “What evidence do you have?” Johnson took a deep breath. “I believe you. I know you too well to not. But something like this? It’s unheard of. There hasn’t been a case of corruption since the ASA was founded. It was believed that a singular agency with such harsh punishments would deter criminal activity and according to the statistics it has.”

  “None right now. That’s why I need your help.”

  “My help?” Johnson weaved through traffic in silence for a few moments. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  “Johnson, they murdered my sister. I don’t know why, but I’m going to find out. I’m going to find out how deep this goes with your help… Then we can bring it to light.”

  “And leave a body count in your wake?” Johnson sighed. “I know how you operate, Tommy. I’m not speaking to you as your old commander, intel officer, whatever else I was to you. I’m speaking to you as your friend. I know how heavy that last mission weighs on your conscious. You’ve labeled these agents as an enemy. They aren’t innocent in your eyes and you’ll kill them with no regret and no second thought. But what of the others? The innocents that will inevitably get caught up in this? And when they do, will you be able to shoulder that weight as well?”

  Johnson was right. I did horrible things during that last mission. The only goal was to accomplish the mission – to end the war. I justified it by thinking that if some civilians died now, we’d save more on both sides later if the war stopped that night. My dreams said otherwise at times. The screams, the pain, and the blood that stained the walls as we pushed through each building on our way to the target. They all haunted me. “I’ll have to, James. The incomplete files, the dropped investigations? This has gone on for some time…” I paused, my thoughts dwelling on Ricky and the words about his son. “How many people have died because of their lack of action? How many have died at their hands? Worse, what if some were wrongfully convicted and we sent them to their death with smiles on our faces?”

  My words rang in my mind and heart. I was left struck by a realization. Maybe an absolute method wasn’t the best way to handle the justice system. I had believed in the A Safe America Act and the ASA my entire life. I believed it was necessary, that it helped the people, protected them. Now, I wasn’t so sure regardless of the corruption.

  “What about you?” asked Johnson.

  “What about me?”

  “You could come forward, tell your story to the military. Come with me back to the Pentagon. I’ll get the Secretary of Defense to listen to you one on one. He’ll undoubtedly launch his own investigation.”

  “That won’t work and you know it. The ASA is monitored from agency HQ here in DC. They operate outside every other entity. Everything will be destroyed or pushed on scapegoats before the investigation takes place.”

  Johnson reluctantly nodded. “I know… It was just a thought.” He continued driving in silence for a bit, staring out the windshield. “What’s your plan?” he asked.

  “You know I’m going to kill those responsible. That will happen.”

  “I know. But the hammer will come down after, even if you prove that the agency is corrupt.”

  “I’ll face the hammer. No problem there.”

  “How are you going to get evidence?”

  “I have a friend. An agent in Grundy. He’ll help. He isn’t the type to be involved in this sort of thing. But for him to help, I’ll need your help.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “First, I need an EYE.”

  “An EYE? What are you going to do with that?”

  An EYE was a piece of military tech used for espionage. It appeared to be no more than a USB flash drive. The EYE would completely copy everything on a computer system. Every file that computer had acces
s to, it would copy. Even a whole server of information if connected. The passwords and clearances would be copied as well. Plug it into another computer, and it would emulate what had been copied. “I’m going to have my friend use it on Robins’ computer. That’ll give me his dirty secrets.”

  “I can get you an EYE easy enough. I can manipulate the paperwork to where no one knows it’s missing. I have the feeling that isn’t all you need.”

  “I need a black book and a sat modem.” A black book was another piece of military tech. It appeared to be no more than a laptop, but it couldn’t be traced or cracked. A sat modem simply used a satellite uplink to connect to the web.

  “To read the EYE. Any other computer won’t recognize it. What’s the sat modem for?”

  “To send you the intel I gather if there is no other way.”

  “I can have those for you by the end of the day… What else?”

  “I need gear.”

  “That will be more difficult and will take time.”

  “I’m patient.”

  “What kind of gear?”

  “Standard TacSIX kit with a few extras.”

  “What extras?”

  “Thermal scope for my m-4 as well as a suppressor. CS grenades. NBC mask. Also, I need twice the ammunition as a standard kit.”

  “Quite a Christmas list, Logan.”

  I nodded. I knew it was a lot to ask, but if anybody could pull it off it would be Johnson. “A couple more things, these should be easy.”

  “What are they?”

  “Unmarked government tags for Virginia. I can’t have Shey driving me around during all this.”

  “Easy enough, the other?”

  “A black phone. Untraceable. So I can communicate with who I need to.”

  “I can have those by the end of the day as well.”

  I took a deep breath. Johnson was helping and after all that’s said and done, he’d help ease the pain of the hammer. If I lived, that is. “Alright, get off at the next exit.”

  Johnson nodded. We exited the interstate just south of DC. He pulled into a gas station. “I’ll be back here around six.”

  “Can I borrow your phone?” He reached it to me. I dialed Shey and waited for her to answer.