the Dirty Dozen - Chapter 63

   The press was split. Half of the press broke camp to flit and dart off to another feeding frenzy somewhere. The other half? Stayed in camp here and waited for the story to resolve, so they could dutifully report it. They were close to concluded now, the press could sense it.

   No changes. No updates on shifting conditions. They had to sit and wait for the ending. If anyone had cared to analyze which had stayed, and which had left? It was obvious… the reporters that had taken the chance and lofted up wild suppositions and sensational guesses for stories? They had left. The crews that had reported facts as they were issued them? Stayed to get their exclusive coverage of the resolution.

   Those that had bet wild and missed, bluffing? Folded. Those that had reported the hand dealt fairly? Stayed for the promised final feeding time.

   The evidence techs were finishing up slowly, into the fading light. Panic was preparing for another "sleepover", another chance to talk sense and sensibility into the victim barricaded in. The wild stampeding horse Uncle Mike had jumped on? He was seen to be riding it and staying on past his required several seconds. The bucking bronco of a situation, failing to throw it's rider? Was settling down some.

   The wild, two state shit-storm tornado? Was running out of shit to fling around and was burning itself out, if slowly.

   Uncle Mike's official work phone beeped at him. It let him know by song choice, who was calling… "Old Man River". It was the old man at work. The assistant to the assistant director that had been assigned the task of finding someone capable of bringing the shit-storm into a destination everyone could sort of live with.

   "Mike."

   "It's your old man. How's the shit-storm going?"

   "Like any other. It's big, it's mean… it throws a lot of shit around. Once you get used to the smell? Near as I can figure, we're almost there. What's cooking down there?"

   "Eh. You can see the news. Mexican standoff in the streets. No one's actually died yet. It might pass. By the way… Mike?"

   "Yeah."

   "Called mainly to congratulate you. The assistant director? He's… about as happy as he can be about this. Everyone that matters? Is impressed. Everyone that doesn't matter? Jealous, that you pulled this off. Assistant director's exact words, off the record?"

   "Yes…"

   "You were the right man for this job."

   "You said, you called mainly to congratulate me… what was the other issue?"

   "Oh. You remember you asked for a promise, and we agreed?"

   "No armchair quarterbacking. You backing out because I actually told the governor of Pennsylvania, to go fuck himself, he's not in charge?"

   "No, Mike. The assistant director took the governor's call personally. No one knows exactly what went on? Everyone heard him yelling for a half an hour through a closed door. His secretary cleared the rest of the day for him. He kept his promise, he towed the line for you."

   "What's going on then. I can hear it in your voice. You're wondering how to say something. Just spit it out. I can take it."

   "We're not quarterbacking you. I want you to know that, Mike…"

   "Then what?"

   "We go back a long way, Mike. You always took advice. You want some now? It's not an order, it's just… advice. Friend to friend, not assistant director to his senior agent performing another miracle for him."

   "Advise me then."

   "Mike? We're watching your reports with great interest. We've noticed… you're holding back, from releasing something to the press."

   "Well? That's standard in any homicide investigation. Things get held back. What do you want released that I'm holding back on?"

   "No, no… we're… happy you're keeping it private. Lots of people are very happy with that. We… want to make sure you keep it private. Need to know."

   "Do I need a secure line?"

   "No. We're good. Do you think you can guess what you're holding back, that everyone wants to make sure you keep it held back?"

   "Everyone wants the poker game, kept behind closed doors?"

   "Smart boy. Winner winner, chicken dinner."

   "It doesn't decide the case."

   "No. That's what everyone agreed on. So… running the risk of you thinking we're quarterbacking this one thing, you, um… mind going with this one little request?"

   "This have anything to do, with my laptops shaking their fingers at me, earlier today?"

   "Interesting coincidence, I would say. The one thing? Doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the other thing, officially."

   "I hear you. Let me guess. Friendly, polite, interdepartmental cooperation, right?"

   "You always were a smart cookie, Mike."

   "I'm good. I'll play ball on it. Like I said, it doesn't affect the outcome."

   "Thanks, Mike. You know what happened, right?"

   "I accidentally ran across someone elses asset. It's fucking obvious."

   "Former asset, way I heard it. I was told, that was a piece of clean laundry, that, got out the washing machine before the dirty laundry got aired publicly."

   "Ah. Someone elses old shit-storm."

   "Mike? More than one laptop recorded the warning. I would never ask you if you had an asset in the game, you know that."

   "Nor could I tell you if I did. You know that."

   "Well, silent alarms went off in other buildings on that note. Hence this call."

   "Any further instructions. Or… advice."

   "Oh, no. Just… if, and that's a big word, if is… if you had an asset somewhere nearby? Make sure you're man knows, to, well… you get the drift."

   "If I had an asset? I would have already told him that. If I even did."

   "You're a good man, Mike. Everyone appreciates your… discretion."

   "No problem. You can call the department of defense back, and tell them you're man in the field? Won't kick the sand off their turd. I make you a happy old man, playing ball?"

   "Like I said. You're a good man, Mike. Thanks for getting me a favor on my accounts receivable side. We can get our back scratched later on, if we need a favor. The assistant director said to thank you personally, but, off the record. These things happen."

   "If we're done with this…"

   "Done with what? Two old friends sharing advice, is all it was."

   "Yeah. On the lighter side of things, off the record, what was the governor screaming about?"

   "The rumor? Oh, he was calling around all the Pennsylvania state police barracks, trying to hand out budget candy, to get someone to… impose a strict timetable to bring this to a quick finish."

   "That slimy motherfucker. Trying to bribe a Waco replay. Now… where do you suppose he got that idea from?"

   "Another rumor? Was that he was promised candy if he got that done. Came outta DC, way I heard it."

   "You know me. I won't take out an innocent civilian, just to save some fat ass politician being embarrassed at a shit-stain in his own laundry pile."

   "We covered your ass, Mike. We promised. Everything looking good?"

   "So far. No news is good news."

   "Keep it up. Take your time. Get that girl out of there, alive and unhurt. She's going to be the next shit-storm to hit DC. Way I heard it? The half of the DC city force, that ain't in bed with the bullshit? Is getting ready to order champagne and hookers, to celebrate the good guys finally win one for a change."

   "You should see the city IA file on that… it's an interesting read. There's going to be a lot of diapers to change when she makes it back to DC."

   "You know how this city works, Mike. Every once in a while? You have to just grab the big handle, and flush it."

   "I can't wait until the day, I can just read about this shit in the news, and bitch about it over coffee and bait-fish. On a fishing boat."

   "Like I said, take your time, Mike. Looks like the hard part's over."

   "I will… but the game's about getting checkmate. Not just taking more pieces out… aw, man…"

   "What?"

   "Oh, nothing bad. I can just hear some kind of commotion is all it is. I gotta go see what's going on. You need anything else?"

   "No. Go back to riding your shit tornado. Thanks, Mike."

   "Over and out."

   Mike hung up, and started on finishing his now lukewarm coffee. He stretched, and looked up on the hill. The yelling didn't seem to be anything life threatening. Something minor, hopefully. He went walking idly up to see what it was now. Always something.

   On the slow walk up? He paused to pocket the work phone, and to get his burner phone out. He got Merry.

   "Hi Uncle Mikey."

   "Darling. I just had an interesting phone call."

   "How interesting?"

   "It was about… knowing what not to look into."

   "We good?"

   "We're fine. Everyone's happy. I just got the word down the wire, though. You know how something always gets held back, need to know, from the public?"

   "Yeah."

   "It's those cards. They never get mentioned. In public or private. Capiche?"

   "I'm sure this has nothing to do with the laptop warnings."

   "Smart girl. By the way? I guess silent alarms went off on more than our laptops. The assistant director got calls on it…"

   "And?"

   "And… I was suggested, to inform any assets I had in play? To make sure my man, knew not to run that again."

   Merry laughed.

   "Well. If I see any male assets of yours? I'll be sure to tell them."

   "Yeah, I thought you'd think that was hilarious. Don't worry, the assistant director is a good man. He's trustworthy. Also? Even if he wasn't trustworthy, he obviously figures any asset I have in this game? Is a man."

   "Working like a charm, Mike. Working like a charm… you almost done processing the scene?"

   "Getting there. Maybe, one more sleepover with your spook boyfriend? And we can get you out of there, honey."

   "Don't call him that. He's a good man."

   "Merry? Never mention the cards, on any report. And? Never, ever… run that background information again."

   "Okay. Am I grounded?"

   "No. If you were grounded, would you be allowed to have a boy over for a sleepover?"

   "Oh. You're funny, Mikey… remember, dear uncle… you have to come in here, to deal with me face to face. To end this…"

   "Yeah, yeah. We'll have a beer tomorrow morning, if I can swing it. Look, I gotta go…"

   "Problems?"

   "No, I don't think so. Sounds like the little kids are fighting up on the hill. Gotta go up and see what's going on. Maybe a reporter snuck in, I don't know yet. I gotta go."

   "Bye…"

   Mike hung up. Trudged up the hill, finishing his now almost cold coffee, seeing what the hell it was now.

   Mike stood off a bit, looking at the scene playing out in front of the cabin. Several of the homicide investigators were burying their face in their hands, and complaining to the techs. The techs? Were all laughing, and running around the nearly cleaned up scene, poking the homicide investigators playfully, like little kids teasing them.

   Brassy came out of the cabin, a big smile on her face. Practically skipped up to Mike, and stood there triumphantly. Simply beaming.

   Mike sipped his now cold coffee, and gave her his best wry grin and deadpan.

   "Do I even wanna know what's going on, Technician Brassy?"

   She smiled and giggled.

   "Just thinking about coming and getting you. You wanted to know anything weird we found."

   "More weird brass positions?"

   "No. One of the techs? Noticed a light switch. Flicked it on, figuring it was a porch light."

   "Was it?"

   "Yes and no."

   "Okay… what's the punch line?"

   "The techs outside, were waiting to see if a porch light went on. Even though we can't see one. Light switch looked brand new, so…"

   "And?"

   "The techs outside? Went blind. Then? Just for fun? We went and got the homicide team, to show them our discovery."

   "That explains the homicide investigators, kneeling, and complaining, then… right?"

   "Yep!"

   "Any chance, on account of my rank, I can see this without going blind like everyone else?"

   "Sure. Just go stand inside the cabin door, and you'll see it…"

   Mike walked in the cabin a couple steps, and waited. Brassy yelled "hit it!"… and…

   Fucking daylight hit the outside and around the front of the cabin. Brighter than daylight, it seemed.

   Brassy beamed like a spotlight herself.

   "See? Everyone wondered, how one waitress even thought she was gonna take on 16 cops come to shoot her up here. Everyone outside? Goes blind… you can just walk out and push them over, they don't even see you coming. It was her secret weapon!"

   "I see. Now, shut the lights off, please. Why… didn't we know this before?"

   The lights went out, and Brassy took a flashlight to the outside of the door.

   "Look… see? It looks like reflective tape, if you didn't know what it was. I mean, shine the light on it, it sure looks like reflective safety tape, doesn't it?"

   "Yeah… it does…"

   "But, notice the thick plastic it's under?"

   "Yeah, now that you mention it. You don't notice how thick it is, until you look at the side, and see the caulking…"

   Brassy beamed.

   "Right. Notice all the marks on it? Pretty sure, that's bulletproof plastic. It's very expensive. Notice how it's mounted on those thick stainless steel legs? Holding the plastic panels away from the light panels?"

   Mike inspected it…

   "Yeah…"

   "We looked it up. As long as it has room to bend? It's bullet resistant. It bounces off unless you hit it directly straight on, the internet says. Any angle? It bounces light calibers off. It's not armor plating or real bulletproof glass, by any stretch… but to small calibers, on an angle? Pretty effective. You can throw rocks at it, and they bounce off. We've been having fun playing with it…"

   "Good work, Brassy. Now?"

   "Yes…"

   "You all walk the homicide team down, by the hand, so they don't fall and twist an ankle, please? Let's all take a break. You got much evidence to go through yet?"

   "Ah. Another hour or two. We're almost done. Just little stuff, you know, the usual. Getting bits of skullcap and brains off the ceiling in the cement cabin. For samples. Making sure the abstract impressionism on the walls? Was painted red at the right angle, in relation to where the bodies were laying."

   "Puzzle pieces all fitting together?"

   "Yeah."

   "All right. Break time. Walk the team down, please. Safety first."

   When they all got down to the command MASH tent, to take a break? Mike eyed Panic up, but gently.

   "What?"

   "Nothing…"

   "What's the look for then…"

   Mike smiled, to let him know it was nothing serious, just something amusing.

   "The scene crew? Just figured out how one, lone waitress? Got the drop on the hit team. It was pretty slick."

   "Hey. Like I said before… that's my girl."

   "Yes, so you keep saying. Speaking of which… are you getting ready for another sleepover? Trying to talk some sense into her? The scene is almost done. Probably, most likely, barring any more surprises… it'll be finished tonight, and early."

   "I'll see what I can do. She does seem to be calming down some."

   Mike nodded.

   "That's good. Maybe, tomorrow morning? Before you come out… see what she might think, about negotiating with me. Personally."

   "You… would risk going in there?"

   "She's not coming out, someone has to go in. You? Said leaving your gun and not taking a vest, shows her… trust? Well… maybe if you tell her, I have my vest and my gun off… she might believe you… and… you could escort me in there. See if I can talk her down…"

   Homicide all looked at each other.

   "Mike? Do you think that's the best idea?"

   "I honestly don't know. But… if she had demands? She would have made them by now. If she had threats? Once again, she would have made them before now. If she wanted hostages? Panic here, would have a gun to his head, and wouldn't be allowed back out. What's left? Someone in charge, to talk to. Every hour goes by quietly? I'm less and less afraid of her."

   "Mike? This is your rodeo. If you wanna try to sweet talk the bull out? That's your call."

   "I'm running out of options. Any of you guys ever negotiated with a barricaded person before?"

   "Not homicide's job. SWAT handles that… but, you waved SWAT off. We've been thinking, you might bring in someone to handle that."

   "I still might have to. I… just think… well, I feel like… I don't want to disrupt the quiet thing we got going on up until now. No threats. No timetables. No demands… I feel like, maybe I should return that favor. If that makes any sense."

   "Panic says she's a lot calmer now. I'm betting the shock is wearing off. Maybe she's getting a few hours sleep here and there. It… might be time."

   "Or? It might be your time, Mike. It's your call."

   "Fuck it. I'll try it tomorrow morning, if Panic gives me an all clear."

   A little while later? Rob went back to camp, and returned with a dinner platter for Panic to take in for Merry.

   All he said was…

   "Wish me luck, guys…"

   Everyone wished him the continued luck he had seen up until now.