by Thomas Scott
But his Jamaican upbringing wouldn’t let him dwell on the actions of others, particularly ones who held no sway in his life. He’d told Virgil it was a beautiful day and it was. Why spoil it with thoughts of a heavy-handed borosie when there were more pleasant things to consider.
Like Huma Moon.
He’d not been so taken with an American woman for as long as he could remember. He’d had plenty of offers from other women ever since he started working for Virgil and Mason. He’d even followed through on a few of them, though they were nothing more than brief encounters. But Huma had captivated him from the moment she walked in. In many ways, it surprised him.
Delroy was so caught up with his thoughts of Huma and wondering when he might see her again that he forgot his promise to Virgil. He crushed out his cigarette and entered the bar, ready to set up for the day.
Robert kept a baseball bat in the kitchen, right next to the swinging door that gave way to the bar area. To the best of Delroy’s recollection, it’d never been used. One of the better parts of being partnered with a police officer was the simple fact that there were always a lot of cops in the bar. Arguments were rare. Fights were almost nonexistent.
The swinging door had a square window at eye level. Delroy made it all the way to the door before he remembered that Virgil wanted him to stay out of the bar until he’d resolved the situation with the federal officers. Did being in the kitchen violate that promise? Delroy thought not.
Then he looked through the window at the man who’d attacked him earlier. He was bent over in an awkward position, his arms extended on either side of the railing, his jacket pulled askew on his torso. He took something out of his pocket and turned his back to Virgil and the other men. Ten seconds later his wrists were free. When Delroy saw what was happening, he grabbed the bat and slipped through the door, only a few feet away from the man who’d pinned him against the wall outside, his forearm pressed tight across his throat.
Dobson was doing his best to be as quiet as possible. The guns were right behind him on the table. But the timing didn’t work in his favor. As he freed himself from the bar the other cops happened to turn and look his way. At the same exact moment, Delroy swung the bat, maybe a little harder than he intended.
Dobson screamed in pain and Delroy winced himself when he heard the bone let go. Then Virgil and the others were there and it was all over.
Miles collected the guns, looked at Virgil and tipped his head. He wanted a word. Virgil asked Delroy to take a seat and told him not to say anything. Delroy nodded, his eyes clear, his face calm.
“You realize that everyone in this room saw Delroy assault a federal agent.”
“I don’t see it that way, Ron,” Virgil said, even though technically, Miles was correct.
“The man’s got an extra elbow, Jonesy. How do you think this is going to play out?”
Virgil felt a bubble of anger inflate inside his chest. “I’ll tell you exactly how this is going to play out, Ron. We’re going to have a little talk with Dobson and explain his options to him.”
Rosencrantz and Ross had made their way over to where Virgil and Miles stood. Thorpe was standing between Delroy and Dobson. Dobson held his broken arm by the elbow—the natural one—and stared at his shoes. Virgil thought it looked as though he might vomit.
“And you think that’s going to make all of this go away?”
“Make what go away?” Ross said. “The man just saved our bacon.”
Miles looked at Ross. “Shut up. You’re the new kid in town and right now, I’m not interested in your version of events.”
“You should be,” Rosencrantz said. “Me and Ross had our backs turned. I didn’t actually see anything except the aftermath. How about you, Ross?”
Ross nodded at Rosencrantz, then squared off on Miles. “Same here. I might be the new guy on the squad but there’s no doubt in my mind that Delroy probably saved someone from getting shot. Dobson was two steps away from a table full of guns. You’d think the senior officer on the scene would have thought to secure them.” Then to show he wasn’t one to be pushed around by anyone, he put a finger in Ron’s face and added, “Boss or not, don’t ever tell me to shut up. If that doesn’t fit your management style, you can go fuck yourself.”
Ron’s neck and face turned a deep red, the cartilage in his jaw corded with tension. “Get your finger out of my face.” When Ross lowered his hand, Miles reached behind his jacket, pulled out a set of handcuffs and walked over toward Delroy. He leaned over and said, “I’ve never in my life had the kind of friends you have here. It’s probably my own fault.” Then he walked over to Dobson and cuffed his uninjured wrist to the bar railing. “You’re under arrest for aggravated assault, attempted assault, assault on a state police officer, interfering with an ongoing state investigation, attempted evasion, and anything else I can think of between now and the time the medics are done with you. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…”
Rosencrantz looked at Ross. “Jesus Christ, kid, that took some major balls.”
Ross looked at Virgil. “Miles should save his breath. That guy will be cut loose by lunch time. Besides, he probably thinks Miranda is Spanish for an STD.” He looked around the room then let his gaze settle on Rosencrantz. “Man oh man, I think I’m really going to like it here. You weren’t kidding, were you? This shit’s a gas.”
The medics came in and looked at Dobson’s arm. Virgil walked over and said, “How’s it look?”
“Broken,” the medic said, his voice flat, his face expressionless. He glanced at Dobson’s other wrist still shackled to the bar rail. “If this guy’s under arrest or being detained in any way, someone is going to have to ride in the back with him.”
“I’ll take it,” Miles said. He looked at Ross. “You and I might have to have a conversation sometime soon.”
Ross shrugged a single shoulder. “Right is right. How about we have it now? I’ve spent the last five years knocking down doors without knowing what’s on the other side. I’ve been shot at, stabbed three times, beat in the back with a lead pipe, had uncut coke thrown in my face, and bitten by more Pit Bulls than I can count. I’ve also had to park a few rounds into someone’s squash on different occasions from a hundred yards or more. One guy had a gun to someone else’s head. Another time some asshole was running down the street with a shotgun blasting away at anything that moved. What I’m trying to say here is this: I’ve seen the very worst of people. You want to chew me out for standing up for what’s right, bring it. I’m all ears. The man was going for the guns. It’ll be in my report. I don’t know what else you want.”
“I want you to show some respect. That’s what I want,” Miles said. He was hot.
Ross looked at Delroy for a moment, then back at Miles. “Looks like we want the same thing then. We’re all on the same team here, right?”
Miles and Virgil looked at each other without saying a word.
Becky hadn’t been kidding when she told Dobson the bar was wired to the gills. She got the whole thing on video. She pulled Miles and Virgil upstairs and pointed at the monitor. “It does look like he was going for the guns,” she said.
“And any lawyer could make a case that he had every right to,” Miles said. “It was his gun.”
“Federal officer or not, he was being lawfully detained,” Virgil said.
“Can’t anything be easy anymore?” Miles said. “You know, back in the day, when I was on the beat, you didn’t see this kind of shit. Everybody stayed between the lines. Now it’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad.”
Virgil thought Ron needed a friend. He threw his arm around his shoulder. “We’re the good guys, Ron. And it’s not because we have badges. Cut Ross a break, will you? I’ll talk to him about how he might dial it back a little. What do you say?”
Miles turned his body and released himself from Virgil’s grasp. “Don’t you dare. What he said was true. I should have made sure those gun
s were secure. I guess Rosencrantz was right.”
“About what?”
“That kid’s got a certain testicular fortitude. It’s just not very pleasant when it’s pointed your way.”
The medic jogged up the steps and popped his head in the door. We’re ready to roll.”
Miles turned to leave. Then he looked back and asked a question Virgil couldn’t answer. “You think Murt’s okay?”
33
The same morning Reif and his crew were feeling cramped. Reif was again telling everyone about the test bomb. They were all a little tired of hearing about it. He exaggerated the size of the blast and how close they’d been. Murton let him. The cramped feeling made them want to get out for a while. Maybe get something to eat. They tried to talk Murton and Gibson into joining them, all pals now that Murton had proved himself.
“No thanks,” Murton said. “We like to keep a low profile. The feds aren’t stupid. You know how they catch guys like you? They know you have to eat and that you probably like to drink. They’ve got more manpower than you can imagine. They’re going to interview every restaurant and bar employee in three states no matter how long it takes. The liquor stores too. Someone will remember your faces, or you’ll get caught on camera. It might take them two years to get through it all, but one day you’ll be sitting at a Denny’s somewhere and before you know what’s happening you’re being swarmed by guys wearing blue windbreakers with big bright yellow lettering on the back. I’ll let you imagine what the letters might be. We’ve got one day to go. My advice? Stay put. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen.”
Reif laughed at Murton’s speech. “Someone’s been watching too much TV. When this thing is over we’ll be so far gone they won’t even know where to start looking.”
Murton reached into his pocket and pulled out two twenties. “Have it your way then. Bring us back something from a drive-through. I don’t care what.”
Reif laughed and took the money. “You worry too much.”
After Reif, Chase, and Stone had gone, Murton asked Gibson about his father’s involvement. Gibson’s answer was simple and straightforward.
“If I’d have told you your father was working as a confidential informant for DHS, you’d have called it off on the spot. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Ralph Wheeler had made contact with a group of Russians while in prison. They offered him protection in exchange for favors once he was out. Ralph Wheeler had delivered on his promise, occasionally rerouting various shipments of goods on the rail line whenever the Russians asked. When they asked for a shipment of nuclear material from Radiology, Inc. to be rerouted, Ralph Wheeler knew he was in over his head. He contacted Homeland Security and told them everything in exchange for immunity. DHS agreed, and Gibson was put on point.
Murton was weighing his options. He could walk away right now and leave Gibson to clean up his own mess. But if everything he said was true, there was simply too much at stake. Plus, Gibson had compromised the governor by having him present when Decker was killed and disposed of. If Murton walked away, the governor might have some difficult questions to answer. “I’m telling you that it looks like my old man is a little more than a basic C.I. I’m also telling you it would have been nice to have a little warning he was going to be here the night we arrived. You’re losing your edge, Paul.”
“Look Murt, I had no idea he was going to be here. How could I? We’re working with limited resources.”
“And why is that?” Murton wanted to know. “You’ve got a group of people who are trying to put their hands on nuclear material to build a dirty bomb. You’d think we’d have a little more help. It looks to me like you’re trying a little too hard to make a name for yourself within the agency. I know you like it fast and loose, but this is over the top.”
“We’ve got all our bases covered and I have full support of the agency. We shut down assholes like this all the time.”
“Then why are we here? Wait, don’t bother answering. I already know why. I used to be a fed, remember? You get your hooks into someone and squeeze them for all they’re worth.”
“That’s a little bit of a stretch, Murt. I wanted you on this operation for two reasons: Your knowledge of demolitions because they’re going to need an explosives expert, and because your old man is the wild card. You know him better than anyone.”
“I don’t know him at all. I haven’t seen him in roughly forty years.”
“Still better than anyone we’ve got.”
“That’s horse shit, and you know it, Paul,” Murton told him. “What’s the real reason I’m being pulled through the mud on this one?”
Gibson let out a heavy sigh. It was time to come clean, and he knew Murton wouldn’t like it. “I’m trying to protect your family, Murt.”
Murton barked out a laugh. “My family? My mom died when I was a kid. You think my old man is family to me? I don’t give two shits about him. He’s been dead to me for decades. So you know what that means? It means I don’t have any fam—”
Then, the change that occurred on Murton’s face was one that defined the rage he’d kept hidden for so many years. The blood drained away from his face until his skin was colorless and his lips curled back, showing his teeth. If he’d have seen himself in a mirror just then, he would have thought he was looking at his father forty years ago. “You’re talking about Jonesy and Small, aren’t you?”
Gibson nodded. “They’re in trouble, Murt, and they don’t even know it.”
34
After Miles left with Dobson, Virgil thought about what his father had said to him…that Murton had made a statement of some sort the day Cora and Gibson showed up at the bar. He turned to Becky. “Will you do something for me?”
“I think you meant to say ‘something else.’”
Virgil ignored her remark. “Would you pull up the tapes from a few weeks ago…the day Cora and Gibson were here?”
“Tapes? Sure. Let me dust off the VCR and get it set up.”
“Becky, this is important.”
“I know. I’m simply making a point. What was the date?”
Virgil didn’t know off the top of his head. Becky rolled her eyes at him and pulled up the calendar on her phone. “Okay, I’ve got it. Let me go through the computer logs and pull the file. What are we looking for?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I’m hoping I’ll know it when I see it.” He walked to the door. “Shout at me when you’ve got it. I have to finish up with Agent Thorpe.”
Thorpe, Ross, and Rosencrantz were seated at a table in the center of the bar area. Delroy was still sitting alone at the table near the kitchen entrance, the baseball bat propped up in the chair next to him.
Robert arrived to get the kitchen going, stuck his head through the door and said hello. Then, “What my bat doing out here, mon?”
Virgil handed the bat to Robert and told him he’d explain everything later.
Robert twirled the bat in his hand like a baton then looked at Delroy. “Yeah irie, mon?”
Delroy looked at Virgil, then at Robert. “Yeah, mon. Maybe touch and go there for a few minutes. No worries, though, right, Virgil?”
Virgil nodded, though he thought in one form or another, they’d not seen or heard the last from Agent Dobson. Delroy may have opened a door and let the wolf in. It’d be something they’d have to keep an eye on. But why worry someone whose innocence, decency, and goodwill toward others was their calling card? “It’ll all work out, Delroy, I’m sure.”
“Looks to me like it already has, mon.”
I hope you’re right, Virgil thought. He excused himself and joined Rosencrantz, Ross, and Thorpe. Virgil noticed that Thorpe’s weapon was back in his possession. He pulled out a chair, looked at Thorpe and said, “I’d like to take you up on your offer. How about we start over?”
“Works for me,” Thorpe said. He got right to it. “I’ve brought your men up to speed on the nuclear aspect of the situation. I think we need to put the rule book through the sh
redder on this one.”
“Sounds like we’re all on the same page then,” Virgil said. “You indicated that Gibson’s op had gone off the rails. I’d like to know more about that.”
Thorpe chuffed. “Great choice of words. I’ve been coordinating with Gibson for months on this one. The difficulty we faced from the start was we simply didn’t know who we were dealing with. The discovery of the bodies down in Jeffersonville changes all that. Now that we know who they are it’s a snake hunt.”
Virgil didn’t want to hear about snakes, even metaphorical ones. “But you don’t know where they are?”
Thorpe tipped his head, an admission of sorts. “Not exactly. After the riot at Sheridan—that was planned, by the way, even though it got a little out of hand—Gibson was supposed to report back with a location. We were going to put the whole thing under surveillance and take it from there. Wheeler was flown to Louisville and our agents on the plane confirmed that Gibson picked him up right on schedule. But where they went from there is anybody’s guess.”
Virgil shook his head. He was irritated with himself. He was certain that Gibson and Murton were at the address Murton had been watching for weeks. The problem was, he’d never told any of them—not even Becky—the actual location. Virgil saw the address exactly once when Murton showed him the picture of his father. But he was so focused on the photo, he paid no attention whatsoever to the address when it was right in front of him, on paper. If he had, they might have all the answers they needed to bring the entire operation down.
“How does the shipment get from Radiology to the train?” Ross wanted to know. “Is it trucked over or something?”
