by Thomas Scott
Dobson expected him to try and pull away. Instead, Virgil stepped forward, let a natural bend form in his own elbow, then rotated his arm in and down, all while rotating his hand in the opposite direction. The leverage he’d created caused Dobson to lose his grip and Virgil now had a firm grasp of Dobson’s wrist. When Dobson tried to pull away, Virgil stepped into the momentum, spun him around and twisted his arm behind his back. He bent him over the bar, then looked at Thorpe. “I don’t like to get railroaded in my own bar. Are we going to have a problem here, or are you going to let me talk to my bartender?”
Becky was upstairs in the office, checking on the password crack for the thumb drive. Then she thought about Lawless and the logs he was monitoring at Radiology. That gave her an idea. She pulled up a directory of files she kept on a hidden partition of her hard drive and rooted around for a few minutes until she found exactly what she wanted. She copied a bit of code, sent it to Lawless via email along with instructions on how to use it. She was waiting for his reply when she happened to turn in her chair and glance down at the bar through the window. She saw Delroy behind the bar, along with Virgil and two other men she didn’t recognize on the other side. When one of the men reached out and grabbed Virgil’s wrist, she forgot all about the thumb drive and the email she’d sent Lawless. But she did remember something she and Murton had discussed a few months ago when Decker was on the loose.
When Thorpe didn’t answer, Virgil reached inside Dobson’s jacket and pulled his weapon free. He kept it pointed down and away from Thorpe, but it didn’t matter. Thorpe took his weapon out and pointed it at Virgil.
“We’re federal agents. Drop that weapon and release Agent Dobson immediately.” Thorpe was so focused on Virgil and Dobson he made a mental mistake and let his situational awareness slip.
“And we’re state agents with the Major Crimes Unit,” Becky said. She’d positioned herself at a perfect angle behind Thorpe, with Virgil out of her line of fire. When Thorpe refused to look her way, Becky pumped the action on the shotgun. The sound was unmistakable; a metallic reverberation that carried a sense of weight and power…the first two parts of an unfinished three-part crescendo. “Put your weapon on the bar and slide it to the end. Do it now.”
Thorpe hesitated for a beat, then let his shoulders slump. He set his gun on the bar and slid it to the end.
“Atta boy,” Becky said. “Now, take out your handcuffs and shackle both hands around the bar rail.”
Thorpe looked at Virgil. “How about we start over?”
“Your boy here made the play, not me,” Virgil said. “I’d do what the lady says if I were you. She’s a force of nature even without the firepower.”
Thirty seconds later both men were cuffed to the brass rail that fronted the bar.
“You’re making a colossal mistake,” Dobson said.
“It wouldn’t be the first time. Probably won’t be the last either if this is the best the federal government has to offer. Take a seat. We still might be able to work this out, but right now, I need to speak with my bar manager.” He turned around and nodded to Becky. “Keep these two company for a few, will you?”
“My pleasure,” Becky said. Then, “A force of nature, huh?”
Virgil looked around the bar. “Where’s Delroy?”
“I’m down here, mon,” Delroy said. He’d dropped to the floor behind the bar. “It safe to come out now, me?”
Becky had the shotgun leveled at the two federal agents. She laughed out loud at Delroy’s statement and when she did, Virgil suddenly realized how much he missed Murton.
30
Virgil still held Agent Dobson’s weapon. He collected Agent Thorpe’s gun and set both weapons on the table next to Becky. Then he and Delroy walked outside and sat down on the employee picnic table.
After a beat: “What wrong with people these days, mon?”
Virgil didn’t have an answer to his friend’s question. “Tell me what happened, Delroy.”
“They were on me as soon as I got out of my car. Da one with the antenna in his ear never said a word. Da one with the spots back me up against the wall with his arm across my throat. Said if I didn’t tell him where Murton and dat Gibson fellow at, they deport me back to Jamaica. I say: Go ahead and try. I’m an American now, just like you. Jamaican too. I got dual citizenship, mon. I’m at home no matter where you try to send me. It probably didn’t help that I smiled when I tell him dat.”
“He put his hands on you? You didn’t do anything to provoke him?”
Delroy was flapping his arms. Virgil had never seen him so agitated. “No, mon, no. Right away had me up against the wall. Then he pushed me through the kitchen door. You know Delroy don’t move that fast.”
“I’m going back inside,” Virgil said. “I don’t want you in there right now, understand?” He stood and moved to go back in the bar.
“What you do, you?”
Virgil turned. “Delroy, give me your word. You’ll stay out of the bar.”
“Yeah, mon. It’s a beautiful day, no? Let’s not ruin it over some red stripe who don’t know the meaning of respect.”
“That’s not up to me,” Virgil said. He took out his phone and punched in a quick text as he walked back into the bar.
When he got back inside, Virgil discovered three weapons on the table next to Becky. He looked at her and let a question form on his face.
“Guess who had an ankle piece?” she said. “Looks like a throw-down, too. Maybe not, but the serial numbers are filed away.”
“Becks, you shouldn’t have tried to take it away. It’s too dangerous.”
Becky batted her eyelashes at Virgil, then tipped her head at Dobson. “You think? Take a closer look at Spot. He might be peeing red for a few days.”
Virgil looked at Dobson. His body was bent at an awkward angle as he tried to massage the area around his left kidney.
“You’ll be in federal lock-up before the end of the day, princess,” Dobson said. “I personally guarantee it. In fact, I know a couple of bull-dykes who’ll give you a guided tour of places the guards won’t go without full riot gear.”
“Bring it, sunshine,” Becky said. “You think this is our first encounter with assholes like you? Take a look around. This place is wired ten ways from Sunday. The outside too. We’ve got the whole thing on high definition video, all backed up to the cloud and delivered to computers here, at my house, and to the operations center at the MCU. Oh, I almost forgot. Right here to my phone, too.” She held up her phone and wiggled it back and forth. The video of Delroy pinned against the wall by Dobson was playing on a loop. “Hey look, Facebook is asking me if I want to share an update.” She looked at Virgil. “What do you say, Boss? A little social justice goes a long way these days. Federal cops pinning an innocent black man against the wall of his own business establishment? I’ll bet it makes the evening news.”
No matter the seriousness of the situation, Virgil simply couldn’t help himself. He smiled.
Then Miles, Rosencrantz, and Ross walked through the door. Thorpe looked at the three men, then at Virgil. “Really, I was serious a few minutes ago. How about we start over?” He looked at Dobson. “My first interaction with this asshole was about an hour ago when he picked me up at the airport.”
Virgil caught Ron’s attention. Given the situation it wasn’t extremely difficult. They moved to the front of the bar, out of earshot of the others.
“I appreciate you getting here so fast, Ron.”
Miles sucked in a cheek and gave Virgil a look. “Let’s come to an understanding. You and I have known each other a long time, Jonesy. I’ve always considered you a fine cop and a good friend.”
“Me too, Ron.”
“But we have two very different styles, don’t we?”
Virgil nodded. “I guess we do.”
“How about we decide to let them compliment each other instead of working against each other? Because that’s what I’m trying to do right now. When one of my team memb
ers sends a text that says ‘get to the bar - 911,’ I drop everything and come.”
Virgil put his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “I appreciate it, Ron.” Then he took his hand away and chose his words with care. “The tension between us has been my fault. I’m going to let that go. The hard part for me isn’t that you have my old job, it’s that Murt and I are operating on a different level. It wasn’t my idea. It was Mac’s. I know you know that.”
Miles nodded, then squinted and Virgil caught it. “What?”
“You had Becky do an end run on the subpoena for Doyle’s account information.”
“That’s not entirely accurate, Ron. We were waiting on you to push the paper through.”
“And I did. But that sort of thing takes time. I got my ass handed to me by one of Apple’s lawyers, by the way.”
“How’d they know what we were doing?”
Miles ran a finger inside his shirt color and tugged. “How the hell should I know? They’ve probably got a team of interns who do nothing but keep an eye out for that sort of thing.”
They were sliding backwards, the exact opposite of what Virgil wanted. “You’re right. I’m sorry. We should have waited before we did anything. I thought it would come back on me, not you.”
Miles shrugged. “Anyway…” He tipped his head to the other end of the bar. “Mind telling me why Becky has what looks like two feds cuffed to the bar with a shotgun pointed their way?”
“The short answer is aggravated assault on Delroy, and battery on me.”
Ron turned and looked at the men cuffed to the bar. “Both of them? Without cause?”
Virgil shook his head. “No cause whatsoever. The one holding his kidney tried to brace Delroy outside. Had him pinned against the wall. When they got inside, the same one—Dobson’s his name, by the way—tried to restrain me.”
“It doesn’t seem to be going their way.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Then: “Listen, don’t ever mess with Becky. She’s sort of like a mini-Murt or something.”
Virgil outlined the rest of it for Ron, then they walked back and joined the others. Rosencrantz asked Becky to put the shotgun away. She stuck her tongue out at him, then walked the gun back up to the office.
“Who’s that?” Ross asked. He was interested.
“Nobody you’d ever want to mess with, kid,” Rosencrantz said.
“Still, she’s pretty hot.”
“You know who Murton Wheeler is, right?”
“Yeah, of course. Haven’t met him yet, though. We both worked the op at Decker’s trailer a few months back, but never had the chance to talk.”
“You will. That’s his girlfriend.”
“Gotcha,” Ross said, his disappointment almost evident. “So. Now what?”
“Four things: Sit down, be quiet, watch, and learn. You’re about to get a first-hand glimpse of how things get done at the MCU. It’s a gas.”
31
Virgil removed the cuffs from Thorpe’s wrists and led him to a booth at the other end of the bar, away from Dobson. Miles, Rosencrantz, and Ross joined them.
“Hey, if you’re having some sort of management meeting, I’d like to attend,” Dobson yelled over his shoulder.
Ross stood from the seat he’d just taken and said, “Don’t start without me.” He walked back over to Dobson, leaned in close and whispered in his ear. The look on Dobson’s face as Ross spoke was not unlike that of a submariner watching the crush panels collapse one by one inside his ship as it exceeded its maximum depth rating. When he returned to the booth Miles asked him what he’d said.
“I told him what I did prior to joining the MCU. I may have also let it slip that I once hit the X-ring from fifteen hundred meters with a five-mile-per-hour quartering crosswind. The message was you never see the one that gets you.”
Rosencrantz turned in his seat and looked at Ross. “Jesus, kid. Think he got the point?”
“I doubt it, but a guy’s gotta try. I think he might have some dry rot in the foundation of his cerebral architecture.” When Rosencrantz didn’t respond, he added, “Hey, no disrespect. I’m sitting, I’ll be quiet, I’m watching, and learning. I am a quick study though.”
Rosencrantz looked away. He didn’t want Ross to see his smile.
Virgil looked at Thorpe. “What’s going on here, Agent Thorpe? Why come in here like Butch and Sundance and put my manager up against the wall?”
Thorpe visibly swallowed. “I was telling you the truth earlier. My first encounter with that idiot was when he picked me up at the airport. You should have heard him on the drive over here. He wouldn’t shut up about immigrants. I had no idea he was going to brace your manager. To tell you the truth, I don’t think he did either. Turn his kind loose on the streets and they see targets of opportunity at every turn. With the political climate we’ve got these days it’s open season for guys like him.”
“You didn’t try to intercede,” Virgil said.
Thorpe had his elbows on the table. He turned his palms up. “It was a fluid situation. It was also over almost as soon as it started.”
Virgil wasn’t having it. “Bullshit. I watched my bar manager get shoved through the door. I almost immediately identified myself as a police officer. That didn’t stop him from trying to restrain me, and it didn’t stop you from pointing your weapon in my direction either.” Virgil was getting wound up.
“How about we all admit the whole thing could have been handled better,” Miles said.
“That certainly works for me,” Thorpe said. Then to Virgil: “I’m sorry, okay? Really. But tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing if our situations were reversed. Someone has your partner face down on the bar holding his weapon and yours doesn’t come out?”
Virgil let it go…partly because Thorpe was right. “Okay, okay, whatever. Why are you here? More specifically, why is a DHS field agent out of Portland looking for one of their own?”
“Not just Gibson. We’re looking for Wheeler too.”
“Still doesn’t answer my question.”
“It’s classified,” Thorpe said. But when he saw the look on Virgil’s face he changed his mind about the nature of the classification system. “The truth is, we’ve lost contact with Gibson. The entire operation has spun out of control. This was supposed to be a simple sting operation. We handle these things every day. That’s not an exaggeration.”
“C’mon, Thorpe,” Virgil said. “We can start telling each other the truth, or we can end this conversation right now. You want us to believe that hijacked nuclear material by home-grown terrorists is an everyday occurrence for DHS? Peddle that crap to someone else.”
Thorpe’s mouth formed a thin line, the corners of his eyes crinkling tight. “You know about the nuclear aspect of the operation?”
“Of course we know,” Miles said. “This is the MCU.”
Rosencrantz and Ross looked at each other, their expressions identical. Thorpe caught it. “Maybe everyone isn’t quite up to speed. Which one of you is Rosencrantz?”
“I am.”
“You caught the double down in Jeffersonville…at the quarry?”
“What about it?”
“They were two of a five man crew. We know who they are, but not who’s running the crew, or how and why two of them ended up on the buffet table for the local wildlife population.”
“I can give you the how,” Rosencrantz said. “They were both shot to death. One with a high-powered rifle, the other up close and personal.”
“Any other valuable information?”
“Is that a genuine question?” Rosencrantz asked. “Or are you being facetious? Because your tone suggests—”
Thorpe interrupted him. “No, no. I’m asking a genuine question. I need all the information I can get.”
Rosencrantz bit into his lower lip and gave Thorpe a hard look. Eventually he said, “That’s about all we have as of now. The shooter or shooters picked up their brass. The M.E. said one was shot with a high powered rifle, the ot
her with a handgun, up close and personal. There were footprints and tire marks, but they won’t tell us anything because the crime scene techs say there are too many. All different kinds of vehicles. The quarry seems to attract kids who go there for sex. The local sheriff says it’s a hotspot for dopers and degenerates of all kinds. Don’t ask me why.”
“How did you connect them to the rest of the crew?” Miles asked.
“One of the quarry victims…Fischer, was involved in a gun heist in Northern California. We got a hit on his DNA. Good old fashion detective work gave us the rest of the crew, all the way up the ladder. Their leader is a guy named Armon Reif. He’s got dual citizenship…here and Canada. That’s why dipshit over there is involved.” He jerked his thumb at Dobson. When he did, the other men naturally turned their heads that way. It was just in time to see Delroy push through the kitchen door and smash Dobson’s forearm with a baseball bat.
The bat cracked Dobson’s arm and he screamed in pain. The other men rushed out of the booth and over to the bar. Virgil saw that one of the cuffs had been unlocked, the key lying on the floor at Dobson’s feet.
“He was trying to get away,” Delroy said.
Dobson’s arm was clearly broken. It looked as if he had two elbows. Virgil turned to Ross. “Get an ambulance started.”
Ross nodded and made the call. Miles took the bat from Delroy, then led him to a table and sat him down. When Miles turned and looked at Virgil, his expression was flat, the intent in his eyes clear.
And Virgil thought, Oh Delroy, what have you done?
32
While Virgil went inside the bar to confront the two agents, Delroy lit a cigarette and sat on the employee picnic table and wondered at the complexities of human desire. The federal agent had attacked him for no other reason than he felt he could. What kind of person did that? One who had no respect for his fellow man, that’s who. He was probably rotten to the core.
