the Dirty Dozen - Chapter 59

   "All right. Are we in agreement? It's time to feed the press dogs. Vultures have to eat too. Are we all ready with our preliminary statements?"

   "As ready as we're ever going to be. There's going to be some unhappy viewers out there."

   "There always are. All of us know, that there's no way to spin this, no way to even think about capping a lid on it. We lie now? We get torn apart in the press when the trial starts."

   "Telling the truth? Will be… painful."

   "It will be. Thing is? Starting to tell the truth? Is, in my experience, the painful part. Once you get started? The rest of the truth gets easier and easier. Are we ready?"

   "Yes."

   "Yeah."

   "Let's get ready to throw fresh meat at the vultures."

   Mike, the chief, the lead homicide investigator, and DC city IA and FBI IA… all walked up abreast of each other, and stopped at the edge of the police line, directly in front of the nearest news scene vans.

   "Quiet. Quiet! That's better. We're prepared to give our preliminary statements. This? Will happen in an orderly fashion, or, it won't happen at all. No pushing. No shoving. No yelling out and interrupting. Or? We might decide to quit. Quite frankly? You can all go home empty handed, doesn't matter one bit to any of us. You all want fed? Don't bite the hand that feeds you. Are we ready to begin? Are we all going to handle this in an orderly fashion? All right, let's begin… someone let me know when you begin rolling, would you? I don't operate news cameras for a living. I actually have a job…"

   "Um… we're rolling… pretty sure everyone else is, too. You're a go…"

   "Hello. As I'm sure everyone already knows by now? We are in Wrightsville, Pennsylvania. North central part of the state, and we are in a fairly remote location. Just outside of the tiny downtown of Wrightsville. Near the town line. Situated just outside the vast state game-lands, the largest game-lands in this state. I'm a senior agent at the federal bureau of investigation, and I was sent here to take charge of this situation. The federal government takes this situation very seriously."

   "Now, let me first introduce the men standing here with me. Directly to my right? This is the lead homicide investigator for the Pennsylvania State Police in this jurisdiction. To my far right? That's the local chief of police in this town. To my left? This is the city of Washington DC's police force, internal affairs. To his left? That's the FBI's own internal affairs."

   "There's no quick way to bring you up to speed on this tragedy. We have no choice except to start at the beginning. The very beginning. First up? You are going to hear from the DC internal affairs, describing an incident that happened a couple months prior, down in DC. IA, would you like to take over and give us the background issue?"

   "Thank you. It saddens me to inform the country and the public at large, that we have very serious issues in Washington DC. A long standing investigation, involving close cooperation between the federal bureau of investigation internal affairs, and internal affairs for the DC city force, was coming to a close. A grand jury was being convened. Charges were being drawn up. A number of arrests were going to occur. These arrests were, sadly, going to be the arrests of two FBI agents, and a large number of DC city force police. No one is happy with this situation, as you can imagine."

   "A couple of months prior to now, the unthinkable happened. A main witness for the prosecution, an adult female resident of DC? Was almost killed. This incident? Took place at her own apartment, in the wee hours of the night. By sheer luck, the woman and her guest managed to get up and get away. The guest, once seeing the woman to safety? Circled his way back to confront what he thought was an ordinary burglary attempt. A home invasion."

   "It was anything but a normal burglary or an ordinary home invasion. The… intruder held up a city DC force badge, and a gun. The intruder yelled 'police!', to stop the man confronting him. He then simultaneously fired his weapon, striking the man in the shoulder. The man kept his composure, and returned fire 14 times, killing the intruder. This man was legally allowed to carry a firearm anywhere in the United States, with a federal carry permit, due to the nature of the work he was performing."

   "The intruder, was later found to be in possession of a city force badge, but he was himself one of the aforementioned two FBI agents, about to be arrested and charged in this investigation coming to a close. The city badge was listed as lost or stolen. This was an attempt on the life of the prosecution's main witness."

   "Unable to guarantee the safety of their witness, the witness was instructed to flee the city, and to remain hidden. That was the introduction to this incident we are now still trying to get a handle on. I will return you back to the FBI."

   "Thank you. Moving right along. I think you can now guess where the witness relocated temporarily to, in an effort to hide until the trial started. Wrightsville, Pennsylvania. The witness stayed with close friends, in a remote cabin. Paying with cash for daily things, staying out of sight. The witness also stayed sometimes in a separate cabin, again with close friends. At this time, I would like to turn you over to the local police chief, who can fill you in on how this incident began. Chief?"

   "Thank you. The incident we are now investigating, occurred the night prior. Sometime after 1:00 am, and before first light. We are all standing in front of a bar on the edge of Wrightsville, and an old supply shed up on top of the hill behind the bar? Had been converted into a small cabin. The witness, after the bar closed? Was in that cabin. Just after daybreak, two witnesses came into town, and reported that something terrible had happened, and that the female was missing. Myself, and three off duty officers who volunteered to help me check things out, accompanied the two witnesses back here. We made a startling discovery. The woman was missing, and there were… a large number of obviously dead bodies near the cabin. There were obvious signs that a violent life and death struggle had taken place. Myself and my officers, located one survivor of the violent struggle, and took them into custody. At that time? I was forced to contact the State Police homicide division. Nobody was certain what we were dealing with, other than clearly it was multiple homicides. I'll turn you back to the FBI now, so that we can continue."

   "Thanks, chief. Now, at this point, I have to turn you over to the lead homicide investigator. He has a long and decorated career dealing with sadly just this sort of thing, and it was up to him to determine what happened here. Homicide?"

   "Thank you. As the lead homicide officer first on the scene? It was a very distressing incident. We quickly determined a number of things, and none of them were good. There were 13 bodies up in front of the cabin. The aforementioned individual picked up in a disabled vehicle? Had fled the scene. While completing routine preliminary investigation, two more survivors were subsequently located, and taken into custody."

   "Now, normally in a homicide investigation? Locating survivors is great news. You have witnesses. You can begin to get some kind of answers as to what happened. We got no answers. Only more puzzling questions. It was quickly determined, that all 13 of the bodies? Were in fact… off duty, out of state, police officers. From DC, city force. Also, it was distressing to learn, that they traveled in four different personal vehicles. All vehicles were recovered at or near the scene, and all contained large amounts of cocaine and heroin. Once I filed my preliminary report to my barracks? The FBI picked it up, and immediately flew up the FBI agent to take charge of this multi state, multi jurisdictional mess. Thank you."

   "All right, there you have it. That's the background from before, and a basic overview of what was found here. Other than securing the scene, and preserving evidence? The search was on for the missing woman. A surprise 911 call came into county 911 here, that reported a female caller, claimed to have been attacked by over a dozen police officers, who were trying to kill her. She claimed she fought back, and was now barricaded inside the bar she had keys to. That? Is the bar you see in the background."

   "Now, the woman, as you can imagine? Is in a profound state of shock, and fear. She has survived two attempts to assassinate her, by off duty police. She isn't making any threats. She isn't making any demands. She is armed, but, after all this time, we don't consider her any danger to anyone else, and simply more of a danger to herself at this point. We have initiated contact with her, and she will only speak to one person, that she trusts. That, is the only person she permits inside to speak with her, and to bring her anything."

   "Now. My job that I was sent here to do? Is to manage the situation. I am trying to do just that. Now? I'm going to turn you back over, to the lead homicide investigator, to explain where we are in this investigation into these events that transpired here. Homicide? If you would please…"

   "Thank you. It is the policy of the Pennsylvania State Police, to not release the name and address of violent crime victims. That also includes the witnesses. These people? Have been through enough already, we are not going to complicate their situation further. In the last 24 hours, we have been investigating thoroughly, sifting through every possible piece of evidence at our disposal, and we are coming to one inescapable conclusion. 16 DC city police officers, traveled up to Wrightsville Pennsylvania, and tried to assassinate the witness. As incredible as it may sound, the lone female witness? Fought back, and won. She killed 13 of her attackers, and disabled two more, and provided for police to apprehend the one that fled the scene. DC internal affairs, confirms that these individuals were already under investigation. Now? Back to the FBI, trying to sort through this mess."

   "Thank you. Now, the 2 FBI agents already about to be arrested? One is dead, and the other is in custody. A number of DC city officers, were rounded up as well, before this even occurred. These 13 dead DC officers up here in Pennsylvania, and the 3 survivors in custody? Represent almost all of the individuals under investigation by the DC internal affairs, who were not under arrest yet. I am aware of the rapidly deteriorating situation in Washington DC, and I would ask everybody involved down there? To please stand down, before this already bad situation gets a whole lot worse. Just about all the bad apples are either dead, or in custody as of now. Attacking the remaining DC police officers, their equipment and police stations? Is not going to accomplish anything. Except make things vastly worse. Please, try to help us, to not escalate this situation, to not add fuel to the fire."

   "Before we close? I would like to add. Based on all the evidence up until now, and it is a large volume of evidence, trust me… we are arriving at the conclusion, that the shooter responsible for this? Was actually the victim. The dead police officers from DC? Are not victims, they are the perpetrators. Now, we still have to process the physical evidence of the scene, and perform routine ballistics, which we can now get to, that the bodies have been removed. If the situation changes dramatically, after reviewing that information? We will apprise you of those changes. All indications, from both myself, the chief, and the Pennsylvania State Police Homicide unit? Are as I have just stated. If I had to guess, within the next 24 hours, we will have the rest of what we need, to finalize our preliminary conclusions into this matter."

   "In conclusion? There has been a lot of pure speculation, based on nothing, going around. Number one, until further notice? The woman barricaded inside that bar? Is nothing except a victim, of violent crime. The dead police officers? Are perpetrators. The FBI? Wants everyone to know, that we are being forthright, forthcoming with timely information, and the information is as accurate as we can get it and relay it to the public. Regardless of any other… incident in the past? That the FBI was ever involved in, concerning any kind of a standoff? The FBI is searching for a peaceable conclusion to this tragic case. The FBI is seeking to not escalate this situation, not take the quick and easy way out. There will be no force involved as things stand now, there will be no demands and timetables, of any kind. Now. In closing? I am going to hand you back over, to internal affairs, DC city force. He has something he wants to tell the public."

   "Thank you. Um, this is difficult to say, and no one really wants to hear it. It needs to be said, so, we're just going to get right into it. When police officers, anywhere, commit crimes? It serves nothing except to undermine the public's confidence, in all law enforcement. It makes it harder for legitimate officers, to do their jobs. The public, takes it out on all police. The police? Get frustrated with all civilians, and the problem goes round and round. The problem? Most frequently gets worse, not better."

   "Speaking for the City DC force, as head of Internal Affairs? Serious criminal conduct, by police officers, in the line of duty and off duty both… is a lot like child molestation. The victims want blood, and everybody else? Just really wants the situation to simply… go away. What this leads to, unfortunately, as the best and most painless option, usually, is for everyone involved to agree to sweep it under the rug."

   "This is a temporary solution, at best. Without punishment, or very little punishment… the police officers in question? Can become emboldened. And why not? Everyone will cover it up, and try to make it go away. Other honest police officers, become corrupted by money and power. Besides, what's the risk?"

   "Then, you have a situation like this one, behind me? To remind us all of why that's not anything but a feel good, temporary solution. It's no different than schools and churches, kicking the can down the road, hiding the child molestation going on. The public? Actually likes this, it keeps them confident in law enforcement. The police departments with the problems? Don't want embarrassed. The excuse has always been in the past, we can't afford for all the other good officers, to take heat for… and I love this phrase… a few bad apples. Honestly? Everyone but the victims loves this solution."

   "As we can now all see? All too plainly? This course of action, is putting us all on a trajectory straight to disaster. My own city DC force? Has been entrusted to handle it's own problems, internally, and you can see where that leads to. This… childish… few bad apples speech we all hear constantly? As an excuse to sweep everything under the rug, simply to avoid embarrassment and negative public opinion? Is a complete, unmitigated disaster. No one knows this far along down the path, who ever once thought, that telling victims of police crimes, to go to the police department doing it? Was a bright idea that was going to get us anywhere."

   "Now, I obviously can't speak for the other departments across the country, but, I can speak for internal affairs in DC. In Washington DC? If you think you are a victim, I am directing you to go to the FBI, and ask for internal affairs there. They? Can coordinate your complaint, and roll it into the ongoing investigation just now coming up soon. That? Is your best option. Do not take to the streets, because you are frustrated. Please, demonstrate peacefully all you want? But for the love of god, stand down on the streets of Washington DC. I am now? Going to turn you back over to FBI internal affairs. He is going to give the citizens of Washington DC, a number and a website and an email, that you can contact to have your voice heard. I can promise you, it will take a long time, but each and every complaint? Will be looked into. You have the FBI's word on it. Thank you…"

   "Okay, here is the information you need, to lodge a complaint in DC…"

   Mike wrapped up, by promising to release any further information, whichever way it jumped, directly to the media. No further information was available at this time, and conjecture was not helpful. He pointed out, that the quick response, actions and professional conduct of the small town force of Wrightsville, Pennsylvania, on both the chief's part, and his off duty officers… was exemplary in both securing the scene, and preserving all the evidence.

   He then went on to congratulate the Pennsylvania state police homicide unit, both lead and follow up investigators, for their expertise in dealing with such matters. He thanked both IA agents for working closely with each other, as coordination between different law enforcement branches, rarely occurs and usually not smoothly. He also thanked all the reassigned highway troopers, for working overtime preserving the scene, a difficult job at best, due to "wildlife". Mike failed to indict the press for being part of the wildlife problem, and both police and press alike, got the little in joke without being publicly embarrassed.

   All of them, turned and retreated to their MASH tent that had been set up, to get away from the lights and howling questions of the press. There were a number of fold up cots, and folding camping chairs, so they could all relax a little. It had been a long day.

   Mike decided…

   "Panic? Not a one of us, is allowed to go over and get BBQ off of the bikers. Perhaps, you and Rob there, would be so kind as to get us a giant plate of roasted pig? A plate of every sauce? For in here. I'm sick of cold pizza."

   "Not a problem, Mike. Rob? Shall we?"

   "Good plan."

   "Panic? When you get back? Is there the slightest chance, you could see about maybe getting us some… beer? I'm betting that you could probably pull this off, with your contacts inside that bar, eh?"

   "I… will see what I can do…"

   "Just see what you can do quietly, and out of the view of the press. This tent shields you from that side entrance, I'm pretty sure."

   "I… am not intimately involved in IA at the FBI? I… was not aware of that particular program. Care to enlighten me?"

   "Came up with the idea, oh, about 8 hours ago. I got decent Wifi coming out of the bar… my secure laptop? I got the computer department to whip up a couple of digital forms, and a website. Doesn't cost anything. Can you imagine the number of complaints it will bring in? New complaints against the DC force. People previously afraid to complain at the police buildings."

   "Hmm. Might take a few frustrated people off the streets, and onto a computer, before someone does something incredibly stupid, down in DC."

   "Not to mention? It feeds the investigation, and buries the dirty cops in all new complaints. Their lawyers won't know what to do, with all the new paperwork they get buried under."

   Mike chuckled.

   "And I thought I was the devious bastard. Aren't you afraid you're going to get your ass chewed out for that?"

   "Oh, I surely am. When I get back to the DC office? My ass is toast. But… as soon as everyone sees how many new complaints stack up? And buries the defense lawyers? Who will have to come up with serious negotiations to guilty pleas? I… will be publicly congratulated, I bet. I? Am going to be just like a politician's wife… get my ass kicked behind closed doors? Then, paraded around in public the next week, everyone told what a great asset I am to have on the team, how valuable I am. It's… well? I'm internal affairs… I'm used to rolling with the punches."

   Panic and Rob, both came back directly with huge plates of steaming hot pig, and said they had more than anyone could eat out there. The sauces? Sweet… mild… hot… and atomic. Panic dutifully laid them out in order, left to right, mildest to hottest. When Rob went up to get meat and sauce? No one noticed when he switched two of the plates…

   The first line trooper in on break from line duty? Ran around screaming when he accidentally loaded up meat with "mild" that turned out to be "atomic". Everyone thought it was hysterical, except for the trooper. He only started laughing later on down the road, when he got some milk gargled out of a gallon milk jug in a cooler, used for coffee creamer.

   Mike wondered aloud…

   "All we got left now? Get the woman out of the bar. Alive and unhurt. Not shot, not burned to death, which is previously the FBI's way of handling standoffs. I like to think of myself as setting precedent here. Now then… what does homicide think. Am I going to get caught lying to the public? Does anyone expect any surprises once ballistics and autopsy workers spend all night pulling pills from the perpetrators bodies, and analyzing them? Please, tell me I have a fucking career to go back to, huh?"

   "Eh. I got preliminary on that. Just like the early word on the prints is not quotable in court? But… early perfect matches are easy to spot. I told you, I got a text from the crime lab. They pulled a random projectile from each body, they're in an emergency session, by the way… rush job… anyways, every pill sampled? Under a 20x visually at a quick glance? Lands and grooves match up perfectly."

   "Anything else?"

   "Yes. We have two projectiles coming up so far. Both lead hollow-points. It's coming out to be very hard cast lead."

   Mike furrowed his brow…

   "Two different projectiles?"

   "Yes. One style looks to be 148 grain lead round nose hollow-pointed. The other style? Something very light, something like 95 grain lead round nose."

   "So… two shooters?"

   "No. Of course, that was the initial idea, but, once under the 20x? The lands and grooves of each are matching up, perfectly. That's a quick glance, like I said, quick look, at one sample pill from every body. There could be more styles emerge, but, until I hear different, that's where we are right now."

   "Why do you suppose two different styles? Weights?"

   "Ah. Shooter had to lay her hands on a lot of ammo. Obviously, there were two stacks of it. In case you're curious? Lands and grooves are polygonal rifling, which as we all already know, means…"

   "Hello, Glock."

   "Yeah. Panic already said she has a Glock, and… that bears that out too."

   "How hard is it to get the pills out of the dead cops?"

   "Not that hard. Step one, wash all the bodies. They got one tech, washing bodies like a car wash, way I heard. That's right after fingernail swabs, residue tests, all positive residue, by the way. Big surprise there, huh? They look like the girl in there on her residue video, took a bath in it."

   "Then what? You just go digging with forceps?"

   "No… you don't have to worry about too much x-rays on a dead patient, you know. They fire up a portable x-ray machine, on the highest possible setting, everyone stands in the next room… presses the trigger. Poof! Every lead pill stands out like crazy. You can see the entrance wounds, you just cut along the line indicated by the x-ray, and grab one. They'll do the rest all night and morning, but, one from each was enough to get me the initial confirmation. Smooth sailing, we don't look like idiots assuming anything, don't worry."

   Homicide's cell went off, an incoming text.

   "Hey, speak of the devil… uh… first couple blood analysis results are in, looks like. Another big surprise. Positive for cocaine, and heroin. Several? Couple of beers."

   "Uh oh… that's weird…"

   Mike wanted to know what…

   "Cause of death was determined to be… lead poisoning. Ha! Gotcha."

   "Asshole. This is my career you're joking about…"

   "Well if no one mixes up the atomic and the mild again? You'll probably live to see your retirement."

   "Okay. With the bodies out, we don't have any more worries about predators and scavengers… that's something…"

   "Well, just Bigfoot. He's still a problem…"

   "Funny."

   "The local hunters? Half of them swear by it. Apparently, there's weird bad smells in the woods, and people see trees shaking, that kinda shit. Really weird animal calls recorded too. One of the locals played one on the phone he had? Fucking sends chills down your spine, I gotta admit. Sounds like a hungry demon."

   "No Bigfoot prints?"

   "No. Everything else but… apparently the local Bigfoot population? Flies from location to location, don't you know that's how they do it."

   "What? No UFO sightings? Aliens?"

   "Not this part of Pennsylvaia. That? Is another part of Pennsylvania. About 90 minutes south of Pittsburgh. Remember the Roswell, New Mexico UFO crash stories? They basically have the same story. Mysterious crash, late 40s. Guards reported several small caskets brought in, and the stories were amazingly persistent."

   Mike asked, in between bites of roasted pig…

   "Panic? Isn't that your neck of the woods you grew up in?"

   "Yeah. Local history. He's describing just south of Uniontown, Pennsylvania. Something definitely crashed, but, no one knows what. Army came in. Stories ever since. Now, this is not to be confused with the famous incident, on the Monongahela river, about 15 miles from the town I grew up in, mind you."

   "What was that? Another UFO?"

   "No. In the early 50s, cold war period? There was definitely a large bomber went down, crash landed in the Monongahela river. Witnesses all over the place called in the crash coming in. Flaming wreckage, couldn't miss it. Problem. During a bad storm. River was high as fuck, no one could locate said wreckage."

   "So, it's still there?"

   "No. Lot's of stories about the crash… very few stories, about the army corp of engineers, doing exploratory dredging in a long term test program? Were said to have brought up something with cranes and several barges to support it… so… they obviously found it. Many years later."

   "What was it?"

   "Big, multi engine bomber, never clear which model exactly. They tarp-ed it all. To give you an idea of the river current in a bad storm? This was several miles from the flaming wreckage. Rumor mill? Says it was an honest to god 'broken arrow', IE, lost nuclear bomb on a test flight. Obviously, never confirmed. Go figure."

   "Naturally. Anything else weird in your area?"

   "Hmm. Oh yeah, you'll love this one. You know the fucking Mormons?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Okay. The first Mormon. If you remember, this is the guy that claimed angels talked to him, and that he was given two magical stones. He named them something like Umma and Thurma, Ummin and Thurmin, some shit like that. One he would talk to, the other? He would hold up to his ear, to listen to. Answers only he could hear, you know. Anyways, that's history."

   "The fucks that got to do with southwestern Pennsylvania? That shit is out in the American southwest, desert area."

   "Well. Not far from the supposed UFO crash, outside of Uniontown? Long before that, this is all Indian area. They have long, twisting… snake mounds, they call them. Anyways, the same guy, that claimed to start the Mormon religion? Used to live in southwestern Pennsylvania, originally. That, is registered fact. Anyways, he supposedly was digging in some Indian mounds outside present day Uniontown? People from town swear as a young man, he found… get this… weird, gold colored, metal plates… with strange writing on them, and no one could decipher them."

   "So?"

   "Well, you're obviously not a Mormon. Older? He started the Mormon religion. Out in the American southwest, like you said… he supposedly talked on the magic stones telephone, and was given holy gospel, to write based on the strange gold or brass plates. That only he could translate and dictate the new word of god, to his followers. Those plates? Are just weird things he found in those burial mounds, as a kid."

   "The fuck were they originally?"

   "No one knows. The Indians had no written language when the mounds were built, so, it wasn't them back then. They had to have had some contact, with outsiders, and they saved the things. You have to remember, metal working? Was unknown to Indians back then. No casting of metal."

   "Weird."

   "Definitely. Historians can't really investigate it? Because the Mormons will pitch a holy fit, sorry for the pun, but there it is… they pitch a holy fit and won't let anyone… competent… try to take a crack at it. It would ruin the foundation of their strange religion. Because, I mean, obviously? Some wacko naming magical stones, using them like a telephone to talk to the almighty? That's highly believable… way more believable, than, say… a previously undiscovered example of prehistoric writing."

   "I wonder if there's any other examples of prehistoric writings…"

   "Around the world? Yes. Reading and writing is generally credited to about 7000 years ago, but… something was being used long before that. Writing, it seems, came and went… several times in prehistory, before it caught on, so to speak."

   "And, the fucking Mormons are squatting on something important. Typical. I mean, good for 'em though… they got everyone convinced that rich guys, it's perfectly okay to have as many wives as they can afford. Because magical stones told some guy so? Fine by me…"

   Someone else lofted the opinion…

   "So, you're saying as a native Pennsylvanian… that strange shit has a history of occurring here?"

   "It's uncanny, you have no idea. This crazy shit going on right now? Kinda par for the course, in the bigger scheme of things."

   "So… no sense wearing out the intrepid homicide investigation team. I figure they need sleep too… they can what? Start tomorrow morning? With the bodies carted out, the scene won't suffer from… ahem… wildlife quite so bad…"

   Everyone giggled at the little in joke played on camera.

   "Line troopers? Divide up into shifts, we only gotta watch for humans now, and the vultures don't have nearly the hard on for empty brass and lines in the grass, as for human bodies. Take turns getting sleep, in even shifts. I don't care how you guys divvy it up. If you have arguments, then I'll decide. Till then? Do what you want."

   "Which, brings us around to Panic. Didn't you say something, about the woman requesting you to spend a quiet night? Right now, things are going as good as we could have prayed for. If you're not scared of her, if you want to? Go on, see if you can talk some sense into her coming out. Maybe, go get your laptop? You got WiFi… shouldn't be too hard, to show her, that everyone is talking self defense. If she doesn't shoot either herself, or you? We'll take that as a good omen…"

   "I'll… take a bunch of roasted pig in… some of each sauce… not that anyone here, but Rob and me would know this, but… that girl in there? Has a weird ability to eat any hot spice she wants to, and can barely taste it."

   Mike him hawed…

   "Really? That's weird. I was gonna suggest not taking her in any of the atomic? Now, go ahead. Didn't want the poor thing to have a sore tummy, on top of having her fucking nerves all shot to hell. Speaking of which… do any of you homicide guys, have any kind of rule of thumb… on how long shock, trauma, that kind of things goes on for? What are we realistically looking at here…"

   "Mike? Everyone is different. Poor girl has already survived one assassination attempt. She gets over that… now this? Fuck… she all but made her will out, telling him to take care of the cat if anything happened… telling him where her couple bucks saved up being a waitress was at… I have no idea what being betrayed by all the authority figures, will do to a person. This? Is new territory for me. Wild ass guess? I'm hoping a couple days, maybe? She figures out we're not going to shoot her the instant she comes out, not going to burn the bar down on top of her head… just a guess."

   Mike mused…

   "Counseling?"

   "Oh. Definitely. Panic? You have all the data available on this. What was she like, after the first assassination attempt?"

   "Hmm. A little… out of it, for a few hours. You know, the numb period? Then… she came out of that part. She… was a little off for about a week, ten days. Then? Kinda just snapped out of it."

   "Sounds pretty tough to me. It's been what, a day already? Say, another day, easy? Maybe two. We just need the shock part to wear off. This… this is that numb thing. It's worse than the first time, I figure, because lightning struck twice… and the second time? 16 bolts of lightning crashed all around her."

   "There you go, Panic. Go, get your laptop… remember to show her the bee-yoo-tee-fool speeches we all made, let her see it's self defense… enjoy a nice quiet dinner. I honestly don't know what your personal technique on grief counseling is? She ain't killed anyone yet, keep it up, it must be working. I can't lie to you, Panic. We're all idiots if we go in there, until you give us the all clear."

   "Uh. I'll do my best…"

   Mike teased as Panic was walking out… Rob following him to drive the truck to camp and back…

   "Panic?"

   "Yeah…"

   "You ever give any thought to becoming a fucking Mormon?"

   "Not really. I can't hear stones talking to me, the almighty must not be that interested in communicating any gospel my way… why?"

   "Well, just saying… if you convert to Mormonism? You can probably cheat with another woman, in the same house, and get away with it. It would be religious in nature, it would be fine. I'm wondering how I could get my wife to go for the idea, now that I think about it… you could give it a try…"

   Panic smiled.

   "I don't think that's an option, Mike."

   "Why not? Freedom of religion in this country, or haven't you heard."

   "Not for me, I don't think so anyways. My girl?"

   "Yeah…"

   "She once told me, she would kill me, if I didn't break up with her first, before sampling any of the local cherry tarts."

   "Really…"

   "Yep. You know, when most women tell you, they'll kill you for cheating? You tend to take it as just a phrase. This one? Really not so sure now… you know?"

   Everyone chuckled

   "Panic? You wanna vest when you get back? Before you go in for the night?"

   "No. Doesn't show trust, I don't think. You ever notice Rob's holding my gun? I go in wearing a gun, wearing a vest? It would show I don't trust her. Or? I'm just an idiot. Jury's still out on that count. Hopefully? I'll see you guys tomorrow morning. Mike? You other guys? Nice speeches, by the way. I read somewhere, that public speaking? Is a lot of people's worst fear, right up there with getting shot."

   Practically everyone laughed around the tent… the lead homicide investigator chuckled out…

   "Fuck that. I give camera speeches, and I been shot before. I'm more afraid of getting shot again…"

   Everyone laughed.

   Homicide wondered…

   "In all seriousness, Panic… IA mentioned how you got popped down in DC. How's the shoulder going?"

   "Ah, it's okay. I had full range of motion for a while now. Threw the pain pills away a while ago. I think I've cut myself shaving worse before, more of a bad scratch, than a real gunshot."

   "Well, you got lucky."

   "Yeah. Everyone keeps telling me that. You don't feel lucky when you get shot, you know? Real irony there, when you think about it."

   IA from city chimed in…

   "Well, IA's office is all… sentimental and shit about it, trust me. Sorry you had to pay for someone elses mistake."

   "No biggie. Thank god the DC cops are more interested in stealing drugs, than going to the range to practice? Or, I'd a been a goner. Ha, that girl in there, too, now I think about it. Still gets me, every time I think about it…"

   "What? Life passing before your eyes?"

   "No. We escaped, out that access panel. You know that, I'm sure you been to the scene, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well, we get out, I get her down and out safe, then I came back. I peeked thru the crack, by the hinges, you know, where the door meets the frame? Man, I got this guy dead to rights, I can see him in the doorway to the bathroom… I got him… I come around, I can see the gun… and that fucking badge, him yelling 'police'… it gummed me up, couldn't have been but a tenth of a second, but… in that split second? I figured, Christ, some cop just happened to be nearby, he chased the guy off, and here I am about to shoot the cop that helped out you know? Then? Wham! Feels like a cannonball, but, some of you know that, I guess… anyways, we all know I drilled the guy 14 times. You know the joke that keeps popping into my head?"

   "I'm afraid to ask…"

   "Well, you know the phrase… there's never a cop around when you need one? Fuck, here's one right when we needed him the most, you know? Then… Wham!"

   "I don't know if that's… funny? Or tragic… but, your shoulder's good now?"

   "Yeah, I'm fine. Pain? Temporary. Glory? Forever. Chicks? Dig scars. What are you gonna do, if you can't laugh about life's little tragedies. Rob here? He taught me to walk on my hands for a workout. I'm starting to get back up on my hands already. I'll be fine in no time…"

   "What? Are you a damn monkey now?"

   "I wish… never heard of a monkey getting shot by the cops… I figure, monkeys are smarter than I must be… see you guys… don't stay up too late, boys…"

   Mike cut back in as he started to follow Rob away again…

   "Yeah yeah… just remember to get us some beer before you go, okay? You're the only guy can go into the bar, remember?"

   "Oh, all right. Rob, you coming back here, or, I driving my car back?"

   "Shit. Free beer? Free roasted pig? I'm waiting here to see how you make out. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

   "All right… I'll get you guys beer, when I get back. Ten or fifteen minutes… tops. That way? I only gotta risk going in and out once… don't wanna press my luck and all. See ya."

   "Hurry back. Beer."

   "Yeah, yeah. Cops. Always wanting free shit… park anywhere they feel like it… Christ…"

   One of the state troopers chuckled.

   "Oh, fuck you. You ever see how those assholes park those damned news vans? Christ… assholes tried parking and blocking half the public road! Get outta here…"

   Rob drove Panic back to camp, and they saw nobody except for two guys on main road watch. Panic collected a few things with his laptop, and a small bit of Merry's stash, and Rob drove him back. Bitty Kitty was excited to see him, and he felt a little bad leaving him again, but the continuous feeder and water-er were both doing perfect for his needs. He had a way in and out of the cabin for himself as well.

   Rob drove them back to the command center MASH tent. Shielded from the prying eyes, Panic quickly had Merry shove out a case of bottled beer, which Panic promised to deliver and be right back in for the night, after getting the food platter they had made up.

   The topic of conversation, with all the cops in the MASH tent? This was the advanced version of the home game of how to get the wife or daughter out of the bathroom, when they locked themselves in. It was going sort of round robin, with short stories about how this game goes, and various tactics that worked or didn't work, usually to humorous effect.

   Panic said "enjoy, boys…" and was about to walk off towards the side door, for his sleepover. Mike made a sudden face and a cutting motion with his finger, across his throat. Everyone froze and shut up, suddenly realizing what they were making light of, right in front of the guy that was worried about his girl making it out of the bar.

   Most of the guys were either looking around at anything else but Panic, or, cussing under their breath. Mike stood up, and walked over to him… put his hands on his shoulders…

   "Look. Sorry about that. Listen, in all seriousness? This conversation started, and I'm being honest? Ask anyone… we have a woman who locked herself in somewhere, and someone mentioned how similar it is, to the home situation, when a woman locks herself in the bathroom."

   "There are similarities. You always know what the problem was, that caused the barricading in the bathroom to happen. Getting them out? Is never clear. What do they want? You never know what will work. Sorry we ended up making a few jokes, cops just tend to make jokes about everything. Helps us keep our sanity. But… if you can figure out what might help? Let us know. It… the conversation? Might seem in poor taste, but… it's a serious topic, in reality. Okay?"

   "Don't worry about it, guys. As long as the woman in the bathroom doesn't take a razor to herself? We can all laugh about this a few days later, okay? See you in the morning. Let us sleep in, if you have a heart. Fucking sleep, might be the best thing for her, right now. Just a guess… remember… she was up all last night, and it was a hell of a night… I'm hoping she gets some sleep tonight…"

   Mike called to him as he left…

   "Panic? Come out when you're ready. I don't care how long it takes. Take your time…"

   Panic disappeared into the side door, carrying a large platter of roasted pig meat, and a plate of every sauce from sweet through atomic. Everyone was quiet until he was gone.

   Rob quipped to break the uncomfortable silence…

   "Way to fire, guys. Glad we got the beer first…"

   Everyone grumbled.

   Mike made a sour face, then brightened slightly. He seemed apologetic…

   "Sit, Rob. If you want. No orders."

   "You can have beer… BBQ…"

   "I know."

   Mike nodded.

   "Rob? I meant what I said to your friend a moment ago. I… would ask you, I can't order you… I would, again ask…"

   "Ask away."

   "I would ask… that you… convey? Our collective apology. For that, little mistake I made. I feel bad. I wasn't thinking, and I should have been. Will you do that? I'd appreciate it. I think the boys would, too. Boys?"

   Everyone nodded, or waved, or grumbled something unintelligible that signified they all agreed.

   "Well? Were you guys really having a serious conversation on the topic of women locking themselves behind doors? Or, are we just covering up."

   "I see. Is… there a major difference?"

   "We're all guys here. None of us would be here, if we didn't understand and more or less follow the guy's unofficial rule book. Pretty sure most guys sort of sense the guy's rule book, pick it up as they go through life. I'm that way. You? The boys here?"

   Everyone more or less agreed. Mike nodded. Indicated for him to go on…

   "My buddy in there? Known him a long time. For him? The rule book is… the official guy's rule book. He… has his rule book, and he follows it. He's modified it over time, he continues to do so. Probably always will. He has his rule book by now? To the point he rarely has to adjust it. He… has something that seems to cover just about any situation."

   "Okay."

   "Now, if it's just a casual thing? Some waiter he probably won't hardly ever see again? Some guy he doesn't have to deal with but temporary… he won't apply the full rule book. To him? He says that would be like… trying to discipline someone elses child. No point to it."

   "What if it's not casual?"

   "Well. How do you train a child? You tell them no, nicely. They act up? You try saying no firmly. Raise your voice. Let them know it's important. Now, if this keeps the child in line? Fine. If the child starts thinking no is some kind of joke? You have to explain to the child, you're not kidding. And? If that doesn't do it? I think we all know, you have to be prepared to follow through."

   DC city IA cut in…

   "Ah, I can vouch for what Rob's saying here. Remember, I dealt with him before. After the… incident with this girl, in DC? And before it. I know what he means. He… will start polite? He moves quickly up through levels of… whatever. He quickly finds what level of… whatever… is required to… you know. Solve it."

   Rob smiled. Picked at his food. Sipped his beer lightly enough it seemed like none had gone down.

   "Oh. You managed to piss him off. Quickly, it sounds like. You were on the… quick course he offers."

   Mike furrowed his brow.

   "There's a quick course? That implies… there's a longer, more in depth course."

   "Yeah. Depends on how much he figures he's gonna have to deal with you. A waiter? Probably gets a free pass. Waiter, he goes there every week? Could be the short course, could be the longer course. Whichever. It's a sliding scale. Depends on how much he has to deal with you. How often. How important it is. Depends on whether he thinks you're worth it. Or, if he likes you or not."

   Mike sipped his beer. Tipped the beer at Rob…

   "You. You're getting at something, I can tell. Where… did he get this whole… thing."

   Rob smiled and answered quietly and quickly.

   "Me. Known him a long time."

   "Okay. So, what are you getting at. This seems to be going somewhere."

   "It is. Do you want to just smooth the situation over. Socially? You guys farted, do you just wanna wave it out the tent door? Sorry for the fart. All will be well."

   "Or?"

   "Or, do you really mean it? If you just want it smoothed over, it's already smoothed over. He has really thick skin. I'll convey your thing. It'll be smoothed over a hair better. Whatever."

   "You're asking if we really mean we feel bad he heard us joking about a woman locking herself in the bathroom?"

   Rob smiled. Sipped another non sip.

   "Did I stutter?"

   Mike tilted his head.

   "You. Are very direct."

   "I am. I taught him to be direct. When I met him years ago? He had this… overly polite thing going on. He uses the vocabulary to dance around. Reminds me of how two teachers talk to each other, that fucking dance people do that read too many books. He… asked me, in seriousness. Would I give him my… he called it, what? Oh yeah… he wanted my… 'animal kingdom' style of directness."

   "So, you told him to be direct, when he had to. Gotcha."

   "Oh no. He wanted to know when to be direct. Then? how direct. He wanted examples. He wanted rules."

   "So, you gave him rules."

   Rob laughed. Easily. Drank a large swallow of his beer finally.

   "No. I didn't have any rules written down. Told him, I'd have to think about it. He… suddenly had me… analyzing what I did. When. How quick, how much. In the end? It was really weird… I ended up… fine tuning my own rule book, in the process of explaining it to him. I never had to think about it before. He… made me think. I didn't want to be a bad teacher. That? Would make a bad student. Which would reflect poorly on me as a teacher."

   "So, you're the teacher. You… you're the role model, then."

   Rob smiled. Easily. Friendly.

   "Hey. Nobody's perfect. The lord doesn't make perfect, except his son he sent us. Of course, we killed him, but… no one's perfect. But… a German farmboy? About as close as perfect gets. I think so, anyways."

   Mike smiled.

   "We pulled your jacket. Farm boy down south. Marines. Force Recon. Went to seminary of all things, later on. Your tax records, you train fighters. You have your own business, bricklayer."

   "Master mason, brick block tile. I lay out the job by the blueprints, I do the corners, everyone else fills in the walls. We do floors? I set the edges, everyone fills in the blanks. Yes, I'm a part time minister. I have a little flock. Yes, I take on fighters who want individual instruction."

   "I guess a German Marine, is a little bit better of a Marine, huh?"

   "Sure. Why not? Drink it in, boys."

   Mike chuckled.

   "Pity you don't have confidence. With some confidence? You'd go far in life…"

   Everyone laughed at his little joke.

   "I don't just teach. I learn. He taught me things. For instance? I used to make no distinction between cocky and confident. Cocky is just confident, with no good reason. He? Separates the two. I always said, fear and respect? Same thing. He? Separated them for me."

   "What else did you learn off of him?"

   "To get off of journeyman bricklayer, and get to full master? You have to pass the trigonometry and geometry course. I did. Seminary? Had to do some algebra and logic. I did it, of course. Slightly painful. Did it."

   "Him?"

   "Oh. Like he's breathing. I wanted to be better at some math, for my bricklaying. I wanted to not just read blueprints? I wanted to make them. I knew a little about electrical, house and car… he taught me some electronics. How the electricity really works. Why a coil in a car works, not just what it does… together? We're more then the sum of our parts."

   "Okay…"

   "Now, Mike? We're getting off track. Is it important, that you actually made a fart, joking about his woman in the situation she's in? Or… is this just a passing social thing."

   "Why?"

   "Because. I don't know why, but, he gave you a free pass once or twice when you first got here. I raised my eyebrows at him, he just gave me a little head shake and smiled. I know that, that's him telling me this guy gets a free pass."

   "Why would that be, do you think?"

   "Could be any number of things. For one? You have rank. He understands rank. Could be, his woman being in her situation, is important to him. He's willing to do anything he can, to help out. Could be he either likes you, or respects you. Could be he senses he'll have to deal with you more. I mean, after you get the girl out? Close this down? That's still his girl. Couple of you guys? Are going to be around her for that trial."

   "Which one do you think it is?"

   "I think it's a combination of them, if I had to guess. We talk about you, watching you handle this mess, I mean go figure, right? He liked the way you handled things, and how you wore you're command. You treat the men under you well. That goes a long way, with both of us, I might add."

   "Well. Coming from a German Marine? That means something. Thanks. Wanna know my secret?"

   "Always. I have workers… students…"

   "Most people? Have trouble dealing with superiors, in a rank situation. They typically don't have problems with people under them."

   "Normal. People like to issue orders, not take them. Natural."

   "Eh. I'm the opposite. I find higher rank? Easy to deal with. They tell you what they want? My job to give it to them, as best I can. Any way I can… now, people under me? Yeah, most people just issue orders. I don't. I want to hear what ideas people have. I want them in on the process of making the orders. I want to develop a relationship, beyond just 'do what I say'. People? Generally respond to that. It's my… formula."

   "I like it."

   "Thanks. I mean, I use rank if I have to… but… I'd rather my men under me, and above me both? We're all on the same wavelength. It makes for a… coherent wave, coherent strategy, I guess."

   "So. You want me to convey… your sincere apology, for farting."

   "I do. I really do. That girl in there? There's no earthly reason why one tenth of this shit should have gone on. There's no excuse for what happened. Look, we're all law enforcement here. Those dead guys? There's no excuse for this shit. None whatsoever. The more I hear about her individual case, from IA? Both IA's? Christ… none of us? Really know what can be done, to make up for… well? For what our brothers did. All badges? We're supposed to share some kind of… common bond."

   "You sound like… some guy who found out some of his brothers are child molesters."

   Mike chuckled nervously.

   "Yeah. Look Rob… this isn't just a job I'm doing here. That's not just a crime victim in there. This… this is personal, to me. What about you guys? You all take this personal? How do we look the public in the eye, with a straight face, if we don't try to handle this shit?"

   Everyone raised their beer or cold can of refreshment or coffee. Somber faces all around.

   "See? Him in there… you… your buddies down at the… range you're all building, for the chief's friend… you guys must have showed her how to handle her Glock, right? What else would gun guys do, eh?"

   "Sure."

   "Well, thanks. You didn't even know, you were helping out so much. Sometimes, you're just doing your good deed for the day. Sometimes? The same good deed, that you didn't even realize? Really helped."

   "No problem."

   Mike smiled, then shifted gears.

   "All right. Do we need to all hug and sing songs? No? Well… let's all just try and relax. Try to pinch this shit off tomorrow or the next day. We gotta bring this thing in, so we can finish this game. IA? We gonna finish it this time?"

   "Here!"

   "Oh god, will someone change the radio station? I'm getting depressed, hearing the media all but creaming their pants, there might be blood in the streets, all over DC. They're chomping at the bit for it. Fucking media, it disgusts me."

   Some state policeman in from line duty, starting milling through the stations, seeing what everybody wanted more than hearing hopeful vultures waiting on more fresh meat. You could actually hear the excitement in their radio voices, how badly they wanted it to happen.

   Mike sagged in his chair. His beer in his hand, but idle. Shaking his head slowly.

   "Rob? You're a fucking minister?"

   "Not just a minister. We have lay ministers, that's a dedicated amateur. I went to college for it, a real college degree to lead the flock. So, I'm a professional minister. As the professional minister, part time? I advise my full time lay minister of the flock."

   "Where did we all go wrong. Where was the path we all passed up, that was the right way to go?"

   "Cops? Men? Who…"

   "Society. You see, when I was a little kid? Sure, the news on TV, the newspaper… yeah, it was all the bad things, all the problems, but… back then? They always had this thing they all did. They would have one little story, never failed."

   "What?"

   "I found out, they called it the human interest story. It was that one good story. The feel good story. How the firefighter got the cat down out the tree for the old lady. Good example. It was… out of place, among all the important and bad stories. They gave it a few seconds, a few lines of print."

   "Okay…"

   "I'm serious. Near the end of the news on TV? They always, about three quarters through it… they would shift to that story. There was camera footage, and a really quick interview, of the lady calling the fire station, the fire chief explaining they shouldn't answer this kind of call, but they did… and the old lady was crying holding her cat that was stuck up on a telephone pole or whatever. These guys? Said fuck it, disobeyed the rules, and it didn't cost anyone anything. They swung that ladder out, and got that cat down. Made the old lady happy."

   Rob leaned over, and put his hand on Mike's knee. Warmly.

   "Mike? People still do that. A lot of people? Still have a little bit of good in them. That's still there."

   "Yeah, I know. The problem? We don't report it anymore! Why don't we get to see that one little good story anymore? Huh? Would it kill us? Fifteen seconds, out of a whole hour of blood, bullshit, and advertisements… that's all I want back. And those… fucking vultures out there? They took it away, and they won't give it back. I hate 'em for that, I really do."

   Everyone got quiet.

   "When I was a kid. What did I do, I watched the news with my parents, before doing my homework and going to bed. That's what kids do. I was a kid, I do that. So… you're sitting there. In my little PJs… laying on my stomach… head in my hands…"

   "Huh. Mom would shake her finger at me, now honey, you know you're not supposed to sit that close to the TV, you move back some, you don't wanna ruin your eyes… cause that's what moms are supposed to do. And I'd watch the news. All that bullshit. I'm a little kid, I don't understand half of it… I'm a kid, for Christ's sake."

   "Mom? Watched me, watching. When something really bad was on the news, I would look back at her. She would smile. Explain that the world wasn't perfect. These people had to tell us what was wrong, that was the whole point of this. I'd just watch."

   "But then? There it was. They would cut to an interview, of those firefighters. There was a couple seconds of footage of them saving the old lady's cat, and a couple seconds interviewing them. They would cut back, say something cool, like… there you have it, folks. In Happenstance, Connecticut? Real life, everyday heroes… saved some sweet old lady's baby… back to you."

   "Then… I would turn my head around, look at my mom? I would smile. Point. See mom? Mom would smile back… say something like a mom should say… see honey? The world isn't perfect, but, there's a little bit of good in almost everyone. Never forget that. Once in a while? You have to put everything on hold, and just help the old lady get her cat back. That's the real heroes in that town, that day. When you're older? Do that once in a while. That's all it takes…"

   "That. That, made it all okay somehow. It was like… you know how Christmas is all about gifts and expensive drinks, and all the decorations? Mostly, anyways… but, you would open that card. I know, it's only fifteen seconds, but… the card, man. The sunset. The heartwarming little words inside. That… aw moment. Just like the little human interest story? Same thing. A little, tiny break from all the bullshit."

   "Mom would smile, and try to explain, that card was what was really important. Not the food, not the gifts, not the decorations. It was that little bit of human warmth, that's all it takes… and that's gone too. Now? You get an email. Some dancing fucking elf does a funny dance around your laptop… the person doesn't even go pick out that card anymore, they just click click, whatever they're told is the most popular this year, click here, automatic."

   "The gift? Same thing. Click on pay here, pick what's in the top ten for the demographic you're buying for."

   Everyone stayed quiet.

   "So? That's what I'm missing. I want my 15 seconds of the firemen saving the cat for the old lady. I just want my fucking real card again, I just want my 15 fucking seconds of aw, in between all the hour long of blood and bullshit that's real life. I don't know who they are, why they took these little tiny, but very important things away from us? That's who really needs drug out into the street, and shot in the face. And, that's what I think we let go, and had no idea what we had. That was all it took, I think. Now? We're fucked… I don't know there's any coming back to it."

   The chief, of the little town coughed. Did it again.

   "Chief?"

   "Mike? I did Chicago for ten. I put it in different words? I think it's the same feeling. I figured, when I moved up and had my own men under me? We could make a difference. By doing the right thing. City's too big, you can't. You can't be the only 20 guys on board, and everyone else is out for themselves. Ain't gonna do shit."

   "I learned it, slowly. Took my vest at ten years. Came here. Chief was retiring. A year later? New chief, they picked me. I guess, cause of Chicago experience. Anyways… in a little town? It works. My boys didn't like me the first year, but, they got on board. Set the example. Stop and help. Give. Treat these people, like you treat your own kids, they don't know any better. You're the parents, be good parents."

   "Does it work? Do you get anywhere?"

   "Yeah. Oh, it's hard work. You're not winning any popularity contests, I'll tell you that much. Example. Everyone knows, don't you dare ever say you're off duty, it's not your problem. Small town, small problems? Fucking deal with it. On duty, off duty."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. Went the rounds with the mayor and the council on that DUI bullshit. We get, something like 5,000 bucks a year, if we implement the zero tolerance shit. Run roadblocks, yank people for no reason, and make em blow. I'm watching the training film, the mayor wants that 5,000 for the budget, you know? The film? They pull over the fucking priest. He had drank the chalice of wine, for Sunday services. It's this many ounces of wine, he weighs this much, you zap him."

   "Now, I ask you. Is that what any small town needs? I don't think so. I fought, and I fought. I went to other small towns, asked what they thought… citizens are complaining it's like running checkpoint charlie going to the grocery and back. Friday nights? The training film taught us how to pull any car over we saw, there's little tricks. I gave up a raise, that I was entitled to, in exchange for not taking that 5,000 bucks and torturing my town folk."

   "So, that was the answer."

   Chief laughed.

   "Oh, hell no. It's a system. Couple years later? Now, we're gonna lose state and federal money, you know, get punished, for not volunteering to help out with the problem. You know the speech… here comes the mayor, here comes the council. This time? I got nothing I can give up to cover it. It's going to happen."

   "So, what did you do?"

   "Fuck the system. This is our town. I went, and got a good old fashioned town meeting going. I explained what was going on. Put numbers on the chalkboard. We all came up with the idea, that if every member of the town? Agreed to buy one fucking pie, at this one price? Just once a year, mind you. Like… a candy sale to let the ski team go to the ski trip? It would more than cover the penalty."

   "It worked."

   "Sure did. The church and the volunteer fire department? Buy the cheap pies. Run the bake sale. Just about everybody buys a pie, the bars sell the pies, and go figure? The guys that drink beer buy more than one pie a year. We make out better, than the penalty would have cost. Goes right into the budget, we're better off that way."

   "You don't have problems?"

   "Sure do. But, everyone understands them. The rules don't change every two years. You weave around? We take you in for the night. We let you go in the morning. Simple as that. You do it too often? You get a disturbing the peace fine. Now… you get in a wreck? Ain't a one car wreck? Hey… like anywhere else."

   "No, you could never do this, in Chicago. You said yourself, you can barely do it here."

   "But, what do I get for it? Can't measure that. Someone sees something bad? They come and tell the first cop they see. None of this, parents teaching the kids to not talk to police officers. My teenagers? Think they're getting away with something, having a bonfire and a keg of beer. They're not shooting people. Everywhere? They want to bring city rules, to small towns. I wanna keep the city out. That shit up on that hill up there? That's… Chicago shit. That? Is about as foreign here? Like… a UFO landed, and little green men got out and started shooting each other with their little ray guns."

   "So, I'm barking up the wrong tree."

   "Mike? You're trying, but… I couldn't pull it off in Chicago, for Christ's sake. You? You're trying to be the FBI, and handle the whole country? You get points for trying, I swear. If you ever get tired of it? Just… go fishing. That's what I do. I think, if everyone cleared outta the fucking cities? Went back to small towns? Every small town had one of me there? Maybe, we could get somewhere, back to where we used to be. But… no one wants to stop it all. They call it progress. I call it fucking up, but, I'm considered an asshole half the time, so, what do I know."

   "Thanks, chief. At least… someone's… getting somewhere, I guess that's something."

   "Mike? I don't think it's about always doing everything perfect. It's like being a parent. You just try to do the right thing. I think, if people see you're trying, really trying… then… that's what really counts. They'll understand, they'll forgive your little mistakes. They'll concentrate on all the things you do right…"

   "You're probably right, chief. Thanks. Guys? If I fall asleep… wake me up if I miss something. We got a scene to grid and reports coming in. We gotta bring this stagecoach in, seems like we got the horses under some kind of control, maybe."

   Out of the small talk, as everyone tried to relax, take little naps… Mike addressed Rob…

   "Marine, right Rob?"

   "Yeah."

   "Were you a team player, or just along for the ride?"

   "Don't insult me now, we were doing fine. Semper fi, not Semper i…"

   Mike smiled, gave him a thumbs up.

   "There's a couple more around this tent. Few more up on the hill…"

   A few guys waved and smiled.

   "How in the hell did a Marine, end up being brothers with an Air Force guy?"

   "You wonder why?"

   "Sure."

   "I used to think that. Then one day? Started wondering why not…"

   "He's good, huh? Your buddy."

   "Yeah. He'll charge hell with a bucket of ice water. Did you ever hear the one about the firemen that won the firefighting prize?"

   Mike smiled.

   "No."

   "Okay, so, there's this big fire, and no one can put it out. They got all the town's fire departments coming in, no one knows what to do. The town puts up a big giant cash prize. For the department that can put this bad fire out, right? Man, there's more departments all rolling in, they all wanna win that prize. No luck. The prize money? Keeps getting bigger."

   "Okay…"

   "Along comes this tiny, rickety, old fashioned beat up fire truck. Aw, they ain't got none of the right equipment, everything's got tape on it, it's a joke. Everyone's laughing at these guys coming to try it…"

   "Yeah…"

   "Well, they don't stop, they just drive right into the middle of this huge fire. Man, these couple guys just hop out, right in the middle of the fire, and start fighting the fire from the inside of the fire. Man. Ain't no one ever seen any shit like this, you know? I mean, these guys are goners, they're done for, right?"

   "Sure."

   "Well, next thing you know… fire's out. These guys come out, everyone's shaking their hands, clapping them on the back. News reporters all wanna interview the heroes. They get the one fireman on camera. Ask him, wow, we never saw any technique like that, how did you learn to do that? You really wanted that big prize, and you earned it!"

   "Okay…"

   "Fireman looks at the camera, looks at all the firemen from all the big firehouses cheering them? Guy says… prize? Didn't know nothing about that. Just heard there was a fire somewhere. That goddamned old truck, we ain't got no brakes… guess we'll use the prize money to buy a new truck and some equipment! Cool! Thanks!"

   Everyone laughed, toasted him with whatever they were drinking…

   "Well? That's him in there. Next year, when this shit's all over? We'll all be around a campfire. Guys will be asking about that crazy shit in DC they heard about, what happened down there? He'll be like… oh, that… aw, some jack offs pulling some retarded shit… I handled it. No big deal… is there any beer left?"

   Mike seemed to just nod, and sit back. Lowered his ball cap he had on, to cover his eyes… and if he wasn't napping, he was taking a rest. Most of the other guys were doing the same. Rob ate as much roasted pig as he felt like, then found an empty cot and did the same. He never did finish more than half of his beer.