Senile Squad: Adventures of the Old Blues

by Chris LeGrow

  She stalked up to the maintenance building. Hands on her hips, she gazed around for the promised guide. “Come out, come out wherever you are,” she said to the night air. “Let’s get this super-secret meeting started.”

  “Right this way, Miss Brittany.” The voice floated from a dark corner.

  She almost laughed. Honestly…could it be any more clandestine? In the middle of Omaha? Recognizing the Blue from her previous sessions, Brittany followed his lead and almost bumped into his back. He’d stopped abruptly and peered around in an overly dramatic gesture. “Seriously?” she whispered.

  He glanced at her with a small smile and reached up to grab an old oil can. It didn’t move; it shifted as the Blue pulled it forward. A hoist spit out the same hissing sound as when mechanics lifted her car into the air and she got her tires rotated or oil changed. This time, though, the hoist wasn’t lifting a car. This thing moved up in a similar manner, but here the entire floor under it was taken directly up into the air. Brittany’s arms flew out to sustain her balance.

  “Quite the lift,” she said and watched as an elevator rose from the floor. “Wow, now that’s cool.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The doors opened and her attendant held a hand out indicating she should get in. “Ladies first.”

  Brittany entered the elevator and it along with the car hoist went down into the floor. The elevator went down about twenty-five feet. The hoist perfectly covered the floor, and it was back to a mechanic shop again.

  “Your chariot,” the Blue said.

  Brittany chuckled and slid into a waiting golf cart. “What?” she asked. “No seat belt?”

  “Nah,” the Blue said. “Not going that far or that fast.”

  “I thought most fatal accidents happened within twenty-five miles of home,” she said. “That’s what my dad always preached to me when I was growing up.”

  “That’s true,” he said, “but we’re professionals.”

  Brittany smiled as they made their way to the conference room. Once inside, she spotted the Sarge who acknowledged her with a one-fingered wave and slight dip of his head. Seated in the front beside him were the Chelini brothers, her father, Tiny, and ten others Blues.

  Silence thickened in the room and Brittany followed everyone’s line of sight. One monitor showed the unmistakable shadow of a person walking the halls. The outline was well known to them all.

  “Oh-oh,” the Sarge said. “Boss Nurse Betsy’s working the night shift.”

  Brittany blew air through her lips. Just great. Their odds of detection just increased ten-fold. One thing she didn’t want was a repeat of red light, green light. No way!

  “Who’s running foot pursuit tonight?” the Sarge asked.

  “Speedy Benjamin” came the reply from the back of the room.

  “Good,” the Sarge said with a smile. “This’ll be fun to watch.”

  The entire room shifted attention to the scene unfolding on the monitor. Boss Nurse Betsy had a routine too. On Friday nights, her rounds were perfunctory, getting her back to the nurses’ station quickly. The swish of her polyester-clad legs rubbing together echoed through the hushed hallways. She could hear an occasional yell, or even the sounds of “bang, bang watch out he’s got a big gun” from bedrooms as she walked by.

  The Ol’ Blues’ code for Nurse Betsy was Big Gun. Once that phrase hit the air, everybody knew who was around. She waddled past several doors and glanced in making sure all was well.

  A male voice split the silence sounding like an imitation of a siren. “Stop right there, punk; don’t move! He’s running! He’s running!”

  “Here we go,” she said, obviously familiar with the odd behavior. “Sleep runners on four.”

  Down the hall and directly opposite of the supply room, Speedy Benjamin bolted away. In his day, he had been a track star and could still run surprisingly fast.

  Nurse Betsy spotted him and cursed under her breath. She stopped by an intercom. “Speedy’s on the run again.”

  The alarm spread to the entire night staff instantaneously.

  The Sarge watched Speedy smile when he heard it. He tore off like a shot…in the opposite direction of the supply room entrance that led to the area where the conference room was located.

  Inside, bets were placed and the Blues watched the surveillance screens. “I’ll take five,” one said.

  “On who?”

  “Benny of course.”

  “Nah,” another said. “Betsy’ll get him…eventually.”

  The Blues watched as Boss Nurse gained her stride, which took a while because Officer “Speedy” Benjamin scooted down the hallway at an amazing speed. He could out-shuffle anyone at the precinct. That included nurses. He purposely didn’t wear any diapers when he ran. It made the nurses uncomfortable while grabbing him, and it usually got him a few more hallways before they would finally catch him.

  “There goes Speedy,” one Blue yelled and laughed.

  It took several minutes for Boss Nurse to get to full speed. Great on the straightaway, but she couldn’t corner worth crap.

  Speedy Benjamin slowed as he approached a T-intersection. Boss Nurse gained speed, stethoscope dangling back and forth from her pocket, arms pumping beside her wide girth. She got within five yards of her prey; he bolted to the left at the intersection. Boss Nurse flailed her arms as though it could help control the upcoming turn. It didn’t.

  Taking the turn, her rather large butt cheek banged against the wall. The overhead emergency exit sign crashed to the ground.

  Attendees inside the conference room convulsed with laughter.

  “Is this a party?” Brittany asked her companion.

  The Blue shook his head. “Just monitoring the security system; keeping the nursing staff away.”

  “Are they gambling?” she asked.

  “Never bet against Boss Nurse,” the Ol’ Blue said with a smile.

  Her gaze flew to the screen that held everyone’s attention including the Sarge’s and her father’s. A cheer went up.

  Brittany watched in fascination as an Ol’ Blue did the funniest quick step ever. Hot on his tail galloped the large head nurse. Much like the gingerbread man from the fable, more and more people fell in behind the head nurse. Younger student nurses took up the chase. Nametags fell off; clipboards clattered to the floor. The scenario played out like a real-life Keystone Cop episode. Brittany chuckled and shook her head, then froze.

  The runner was completely—and totally—butt naked in the back! Not like any COPS episode she’d ever seen!

  The race held every Ol’ Blue enraptured. They’d lean to the left each time the speedster turned left almost like they were on a roller coaster. Hands flew in the air. “Whoa,” rippled through the men.

  Even Brittany had to laugh when the students easily caught up with Boss Nurse Betsy but couldn’t get around her because the hallway was too narrow and she was too wide. The runner obviously knew he was on camera. His gestures and mugging showed his knowledge of every camera hidden throughout the facility. Every Blue knew where they were; the staff didn’t. Finally, the speedy Blue slowed. He’d taken them all as far away from the meeting as he could.

  Glancing directly up at a camera, he gave a wide grin and headed straight for the staff bathroom.

  “Oh no,” a Blue yelled out. “He isn’t going to—”

  Sure enough, Speedy Benjamin ran right into the bathroom/locker room of the female staffers. Boss Nurse Betsy, only three yards behind, called to the five other nurses over her shoulder. “He’s going for the locker room!”

  Benjamin charged through the door. “On the ground, punk, or I’ll split your skull like a melon.”

  One lone female student, fresh from the shower and wrapped in a towel, spotted him. “Wait,” she shrieked and tried to maintain her dignity by squeezing the towel that was wrapped around her with her arms to her side bent at the elbows. Her hands tried to stop the human foot pursuit freight train that was about to run her over. The Blues couldn’t
see inside the locker room, but they could see that Boss Nurse Betsy had somehow stopped her mammoth frame.

  Then Officer Benjamin had come to an abrupt stop inside the door and yelled, “I caught the punk,” then pointed at the student nurse. “Don’t even think about moving or I’ll—”

  Five student nurses thumped into the back side of Boss Nurse who had only been able to stop by grabbing onto the large door handle. Then like an accordion the students scrunched into her large derriere, all five student nurses, with dangling stethoscopes, rubber gloves, and whatever else they were carrying when the alarm was sounded, bounced off the boss’s large fanny, and flew back out the door and onto the hallway floor.

  Boss Nurse herself had rather miraculously stopped just inches from Speedy. Boss Nurse glared at Speedy Benjamin. “It’s a miracle I didn’t run you over.”

  It was a scene that would live forever in the secret recorded video of the Ol’ Blue Unit. The terrified student wrapped in a towel, Boss Nurse gasping for breath with her hands on her hips, and five student nurses tangled on the floor, like a twister game gone very bad.

  The Blues doubled over with laughter; several leaned on a friend to remain standing. The howling laughter got to Brittany too. She laughed so hard her eyes watered and her sides ached.

  “All right, all right,” the Sarge managed to get out between pangs of amusement. “Now that Speedy has cleared the way for this meeting, let’s get started.”

  Every Blue took a chair, the laughter died out, and the Sarge held everyone’s attention. Except one person.

  An unmistakably feminine chortle continued without hesitation. The room full of Blues gazed past the Sarge to the source of the merriment. Sarge’s gaze followed. Brittany stood, legs crossed, leaning against the wall. “S-sorry,” she managed to get out. “That was the funniest,” she gasped, “thing I ever saw.”

  The Sarge smiled at her. “And now I’d like to start the meeting.”

  Brittany stayed in her peculiar stance and waved at the Sarge with her free hand. “I can’t move; I’m gonna pee!”

  Her comment brought on another gale of laughter from the Blues. The howls grew louder when she shuffled her feet along the floor and scuttled over to the bathroom across the hall.

  “These videos definitely need to be at this year’s Christmas party,” one Blue hollered out.

  Brittany reentered the room to the obvious delight of everyone in the room, especially her father, Smitty. She pulled up a chair next to him.

  “You’re a great addition,” he whispered to her. “Maybe they’ll make you an honorary Ol’ Blue.”

  She smiled her thanks and turned her attention to the issue at hand.

  The Sarge looked around the room, waiting until he had everyone’s attention. “Okay, boys—er,” he paused and glanced at Brittany. “And you too.”

  She rolled her eyes at him but appreciated the inclusion.

  “We’re focusing on the surveillance at the apartment complex of Shanese, Clubba’s girlfriend. Everything’s been going really well there. The boys in the lab got us some terrific video and audio of those Sudanese soldiers of his. Turns out all the guys walking around are Clubba’s gang. Looks like he only trusts his very own soldiers for this particular operation.”

  The Sarge turned to Brittany. “We’re gonna need you to translate what these guys say and let us know what’s going on immediately. The boys in the lab have something for you but it won’t be ready until tomorrow. After this meeting I want you to go home and get some sleep. You’re gonna need it because we need you translating as soon as possible. According to our sources, Clubba gets out on Friday.”

  “Another sick day coming up.” Brittany said.

  Clubba leaned closer to Abrahim. “You’re sure about this, cousin?”

  Anxious to impress his relative—and hopefully soon his boss— Abrahim nodded. “Every night seven o’clock this Tiny walks around the perimeter of the grounds. A path leads around the back of the building and into a garden area. There’s nothing there. It would be a perfect place to—”

  “Silence, fool.” Clubba’s eyes widened and he held up his hand. “Keep your mouth shut.”

  Abrahim watched Clubba digest the information. Clubba’s fist punched his upper thigh and it alarmed Abrahim. This was to have been good news, not bad. “Cousin?” he asked quietly, hoping to redirect his attention to the matter at hand.

  “What?” he asked and blinked. “Oh, yes. Tell me about my soldiers who watch my woman at those apartments,” Clubba said with a smile.

  Abrahim breathed a sigh of relief and returned his relative’s casual smile. “You mean the walking corps. As you instructed only our soldiers are around the apartments. Her younger sister is with her and they both stay with an old woman. Possibly her grandmother. Every time she comes out of the apartment, one of the soldiers makes his presence known from across the street. She takes one look and runs back inside.”

  “Excellent! I love it when they know I’m coming and there’s nothing they can do about it.”

  Abrahim nodded. “I provided those small radios for the soldiers as they watch. That way if she is spotted, they can instantly let the others know where she is.”

  Clubba turned his full attention on Abrahim. “Good idea,” he said with an appreciative smile. “Instant communication is helpful for this operation. Now listen, cousin.” Clubba pointed at Abrahim. “I will be out on Friday—two days from now. I don’t want that stupid cockroach getting away. I want at least five soldiers around the apartment twenty-four hours a day.”

  “What’s your plan?” Abrahim asked. “Her first—or the cop?”

  “First I will visit Tiny,” he said and paused. “Then,” he said through gritted teeth, “I will finish my unfinished business with Shanese. The thought of bashing both of their faces in has made my time in here tolerable,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Most tolerable.”

  Abrahim made a mental note to never—ever—cross Clubba. He didn’t want a second of that cold fury directed at him.

  From a distance down a blind hallway, Earnest Yates watched Clubba talk with his young visitor. The only word he understood was Tiny. Earnest couldn’t help but smile. “A perfect pawn,” he whispered. “That stupid fool will go after Tiny as soon as he’s out of the joint.”

  More than pleased with himself, Earnest turned and headed to his cell. Clubba’s thirst for vengeance would serve him well.

  BRITTANY’S FINGERS FLEW OVER HER NOTEPAD, translating tape after tape of the Clubba-Abrahim conversations. Only occasionally did she need to go back and listen a second time and never a third. The language came back as though she’d just left Sudan and the people she’d grown to love. These two knuckleheads would’ve been taken to task in a village so fast they wouldn’t know what happened. As it was, they were free to choose however rotten they wanted to be.

  It became apparent to Brittany both men were posturing for each other, one currying favor, the other making his presence known and throwing his weight around. They reminded her of a couple of cats sitting outside a canary cage. She fidgeted in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. These two so enjoyed terrorizing the girl, her sister, and grandmother, it disgusted Brittany. No human being should have to put up with that. No one.

  “Hey, Brit,” Abinya called from behind her.

  “Yeah?”

  He proffered several communication devices in his hands and held up one. “At first we thought they’d use cell phones for communication like this.” He held one up. “Now they’re using a small handheld CB anybody can buy at an outfitter store.” He held another device up. “They’re much faster. But—” he put it back in his opposite hand, “once we saw them using those simple little CBs, it was easy to listen in and record their conversations,” he said, pride lacing his words. “How’d it turn out?”

  Brittany glanced up from her work and paused the recording. “It’s like being right there when they’re talkin
g. You guys outdid yourselves. I can hear them clear as church bells.”

  “Awesome,” he said with a quick wink. “Glad we could help.”

  She watched him trek out of her work area and leaned back in her chair for a quick breather. In a heartbeat, Abinya was back, standing next to her video screen with a geeky smile. Two more techs, Karew and Thane, hovered at the doorway. “Do they let you guys out much?” she asked the trio.

  The three exchanged a confused look. “Let us out where?”

  Obviously, sarcasm wasn’t on the technologically brilliant guys’ agenda. “You guys must be the cream of the crop from the Fortune 500 companies around here. The way the Blues brag you up, I thought maybe you could walk on water.”

  Brittany was right, the huge corporations that had originally hired these scientists picked them from the likes of MIT and other scientific organizations throughout the world.

  Karew, the short but brilliant audio/visual engineer from India. Abinya, a Nigerian computer/robotics specialist, came to Omaha to work for Ben Mitchell’s company and built all their special weapons. Thane, a freckle-faced, redheaded computer geek, did incredible things with the computer. He never graduated from college. After the first two years he was showing the professors how to use the computers in ways that they never dreamed.

  Each had been quickly snatched up by one of The Bureau’s companies and put on this special assignment.

  “Us?”

  “They’re all very impressed with your work here.”

  The compliment brought beaming smiles from the three men. “They brag about us?” Thane asked. “Really?”

  “I can’t count the times I’ve heard the Sarge say, ‘Those boys in the lab did it again.’ Trust me on this,” Brittany said. “Being a daughter of a cop, it’s high praise indeed.”