Merry - Chapter 80

   Mike was very likable, and Panic found himself wondering about it. Was it just that he was a naturally charismatic guy. Maybe he had cultivated the charisma over time, working in offices and in and around office politics. He also reminded himself, that this was a man from the intelligence community. A man that would have long experience learning how to engineer things around him socially, to both get what he wanted and to keep at bay what he didn't want. He found himself wondering slightly about Merry. How much was she feeding Mike about him, and what made him tick? It was at that point, he pushed that thought from his mind. He shared a bond with her, they were both different in a fundamental way from everyone else around them, and they had found that in each other.

   Panic laughed to himself. This constant guessing and mild paranoia was what he hated about big offices and big businesses and any form of administration or governance of any shape or form. What was everyone's motive, what was their true purpose. Was your supposed friend really a friend? Or just someone who wanted something off of you.

   Of the few things a man can come to love about combat, if you can call it loving it even loosely? The simplicity of it, underneath it all. If they're wearing the other uniform? Enemy. They're wearing your uniform? Friend. They shoot at you? Enemy. They stand at your side against it? Friend. Back in the real world though, it was not so clearly defined. Your friend could be working against you, your enemy could be helping you. It all depended. Naturally, Panic was bright enough to play these games, but… he found them tedious, boring, and even physically tiring. The various idiots that seemed to enjoy and excel at these games? Aggravated him. They truly thought they were intelligent and clever. Panic found it to be about as intellectually stimulating a puzzle, as figuring out who stole the cookie, with only one small child in the household.

   Back when early men fought and hunted, the way they were evolved to live… things were surely more cut and dried. Panic figured they just had to be. You have to kill, to eat meat. You have to fight, to protect you and yours. The men that wore what you wore, and used the same words you did for things? Friends. The men that dressed differently, and used different words for things? Enemies. Under combat and survival? Men put these petty things aside and all pitch in. The idiot Olympics restart as soon as it's no longer life or death, feast or starve on the line.

   In Panic's experience? Men under combat and survival conditions dealt with each other differently than under normal circumstances. In a short time frame, the men go sort of tribal. All of a sudden? It's all us, and them. Insiders are family, outsiders are shunned, enemies are targets. Magically? The men turn down the volume knob on their sensitivity. The guy that chews with his mouth open? His nickname is "Cud". And Cud isn't sensitive about the cow jokes, he makes cow noises and laughs with you. He holds spoons up on his head and makes moo noises at feeding time, and everyone claps and cheers it.

   A man could even have a blank face, a somewhat blank personality, and cold logic replacing normal emotional responses. Once the tribe figures out it's not some kind of act? Whatever. We have a guy that acts like a cow at dinner, you know. We just can't decide where to go with your nickname. Guys are calling you Frosty, but, the other guys are calling you Sunshine. We can't decide.

   Under such a system? Mr. Blank might even decide he's found a home and a family, and pledge undying medieval loyalty to the group. From this day forward? Let no man attempt to put asunder, what the devil has brought together in unholy matrimony.

   Regular everyday life was bad enough for all of the modern me first crap, and somehow work was worse. Work and money, had clearly replaced hunting and fighting. You were supposed to all be on the same team, working towards the same common goal or goals, yet… it was also every man for himself, and everyone knew it. Your friend at work? Could sabotage you, to move himself up. Do a smart, motivated job? Your manager might never promote you, because he can't imagine doing without you. A lazy good for nothing neb-nose? Could easily get promoted to get rid of him if there was no other way to be rid of him. You don't move up if you do a great job, you do move up if you're useless. Do a sort of good job, but not too good a job, or else. Panic walked around all day shaking his head, why people were wondering how the Chinese were supposedly gaining ground against America in industry. Gee, he thought. Big fucking mystery there, huh?

   Maybe these were the people that dictatorships were always doing away with. As a child, Panic remembered older men that ran around. Loud voices that carried. His father would announce his great school marks, proud of his kid's young scholastic achievements. These men were always talking loud, and quick. A con man's cadence. Hey, little genius. Which weighs more, a pound of feathers, or a pound of lead? Oh, you're not as smart as you thought you were, huh? Woo hoo! And they would move on. Before you could answer them. Pointless. How was memorizing canned slick snot phrases, and repeating them fast, a sign of intelligence? It clearly wasn't. Older, the people that were just a useless neb-nose that seemed to get promoted at work? Somehow reminded him of these… idiots.

   Men would sabotage the entire project, to take credit at knowing just how to fix it, right before the deadline. Entire classes of men were created to simply watch everyone else work. They took credit for all the work everyone else did, and handed back blame when things went wrong. Real leadership, Panic knew, was the reverse. You gave all the workers credit for everything going good, and you accepted blame when things went wrong, for not seeing it and taking care of it.

   What was Mike really like. Was he what he seemed to be, or was it all an act. He trusted Merry in this regard. She had a high opinion of him, and she knew all the tricks. She clearly trusted him with her very life. Why was Mike so different from all the other higher ups around him at his job every day? Football. These men were recruited to be smart ball players, and officers of fraternities. Mike wasn't. He had worked his way through college, which meant no football scholarship. He went to the service, and ended up an intelligence officer. He was recruited to the FBI to run assets.

   He was an outsider, who was brought in. He saw things different. He worked different. He would think different as well. Words like loyalty and honesty, might not just be punchlines in speeches to him. Panic realized that when men like himself, and Rob and Skykid were out in the field being the players? Men like Mike were the coaches and assistant coaches. That was why he seemed to speak Panic's language, as it ended up. Hadn't Merry told him earlier, that he would like Uncle Mike? Even stated they sounded alike when they talked sometimes.

   In the end, with all of it taken together? He decided he trusted Mike transitively. He trusted Merry, Merry trusted him. Therefore until he could fathom otherwise, within reason… Mike could be trusted. Players always like some coaches, hate others, and most in between those extremes somewhere. Mike seemed like a good coach to him, and his player Merry was convinced too.

   All in all, things were not only on track, they were even better than ever before. Barring anything else happening, Speedy and himself were moving right along. Sure, two steps forwards, one step back. Yet it had been slow and steady progress. Once at the Hoover building though, they had run into the red tape parade. Instead of building on their ever quickening pace and momentum, they had run into governmental molasses.

   That was where things would be, if Panic hadn't have gotten side tracked on Merry, and gotten involved in the "Dirty Dozen case". But, while that had seemed to be a negative, it had turned out optimum. Without Merry careening into his life, Panic would now be still locked into the disintegration of having gone down the road too far, into the land of too little sleep for too long to crawl back out of the hole. Speedy had been barely able to manage him on that count.

   His sleep problem had been fixed. He had picked up what he was now almost certain was a possibly perfect love interest. One that made him feel like a man ten years younger. Combined with the sleeping? Bliss. Then, Merry had led to Uncle Mike. The man they sometimes called The Magician, because his touch on a case was said to be almost magical. Now? Him and Speedy were poised to shift into high gear. To be secretly in charge of their case for all intents and purposes. All the vast resources of the FBI and all the agencies under them at their disposal? Were their resources.

   As Rob had taught him about battle, you can only plan so much. The rest? Keep your head, roll with the punches, deal with it. Sooner or later? You'll end up finding something, and it'll be better than ever. It'll lead to an improved strategy. Panic could barely wait to let Speedy in on the full Monty of where they were at.

   A gourmet lunch followed the gourmet breakfast. Gourmet sandwiches and clever side dishes. When the 100/200 yard impromptu bench-rest match came up, Panic begged off. Rob and Skykid smiled and went to press their advantage over the best competition and their burned fingers. Staying out of it was the best thing overall, since he had burned their fingers. If he competed and happened to win, he would never hear the end of it. Now? It was simply something that had happened at a campfire party, and not being in the match, well… it could hardly be blamed on him that he had ulterior motives.

   Mike was pretending to be getting to know Merry. He got to hear her back stories for the "first time" and be entertained and amused. Likely stories he helped her come up with in the first place, but still. In the social context he was into, he was getting familiar with his principal "star" witness. Rob was there to make jokes, and when it came out that Merry had been "debriefed" in a nice hotel for three days straight, well, Rob was Rob after all.

   "Let me get this straight. Three older cops, out of state and in a nice hotel. You guys all three got Merry alone, and debriefed her? And you all took turns debriefing her? Tired her out, debriefing her? Is that what they're calling it these days? Don't that beat all…"

   Rob had that magic alpha male magnetic personality, that he could constantly get away with things just like that. What would get most men slapped silly? Into fights? Oh, he was funny, he was a comedian, he was just "being Rob", after all. It always went over all right, everyone always took everything he said and did the best way possible. Even Merry was laughing and entertained by the mental image of the joke, and added her own made up funny details to her constant "debriefing" by three older cops in the nice hotel for three days straight. Why, they took turns working on her and wouldn't let her get any sleep hardly.

   Panic laughed along too. He knew he had gotten sexy pictures and videos to let him know she was thinking of him during their absence. While Panic was hardly looking forward to being separated from her for constant periods due to the eventual upcoming trial, he did look favorably on the constant stream of pictures and videos she would no doubt send him. She was fun loving about it, clever and inventive about most things in that realm. He had enjoyed his "taste test" which let her know to go for it when the time came.

   He enjoyed when they sat or stood apart for a time, how she would look his way and lock eyes with him. They were enough of an item for long enough a period of time to have wordless conversations now. A glance, a look, a facial expression or body pose could easily substitute for the words. They could talk outside the conversation, little in jokes and phrases only they knew and appreciated. Merry could be seemingly impressed with a story someone fed her, and secretly be sharing with Panic that it was the opposite, but politeness demanded it.

   Senior was a little worse for the wear when he was finally up and about. During the bench-rest match that cleared out some personnel in the camp to tend to that issue, Mike gravitated to sit with Speedy and Panic. Finally, Mike wanted to have Panic and Speedy go for a walk with him, and they could all zen him in on the case. When Senior started to tag along, Mike artfully explained that he had already heard a lot from Senior about the case and how it was going, but he now wanted the perspective of the two that had brought it to his agency.

   Mike placed his hand warmly on Senior's shoulder…

   "Hey. These two? Developed this thing. Panic here, discovered it, and got Speedy involved and then the two of them did all this on their own. I want to… hear it from their point of view. They're outsiders. Maybe they think differently from the standard way we do things. Now… don't go thinking you're not getting enough playing time on this one. You're still the senior agent. You still will be, I have no ideas on changing that horse. And? You ask anyone. I'm a team player. You get full, and I emphasize the full part… full credit for managing this thing over the finish line. The feather stays in your cap. Plus? You were up half the night. Enjoy some food, enjoy some coffee. I just wanna hear all the little stories that might not be in the reports. Let me call this… working entertainment. Go on… have fun with Junior there. Boys… shall we? Walk with me…"

   Speedy and Panic flanked Mike for their walk. When they were far enough away they were certain to have privacy, Mike started asking them how the case started. Panic described the start of it. How he had gotten Speedy involved. Panic was privileged to see Mike wink at him, out of the eye that was invisible to Speedy the way he was standing, and he was sure only he saw it. He did it twice, so whatever was coming? Panic knew to leave it in play.

   "Panic? I don't want you to think I'm being rude here. From the moment Speedy here gets involved? He's a seasoned homicide investigator. I've never had a chance to hear his side of things, without Senior beating my ear and getting between us. I don't mean this the way it might sound, but, you're a civilian. I wanna hear the state cop investigator side of things right now. Okay?"

   "Hey, sure. Go and make out with your badges on, see if I mind, boys."

   "Thanks. Speedy? You're on…"

   Uncle Mike positioned himself again, to let Panic see his wink. Panic understood. He was making Speedy feel special. He wanted him in a good mood, no, check that… a great mood. He was particularly interested in all of Speedy's guesses. Hunches. Intuitions. It took a long time. Speedy occasionally peeled Mike off to Panic, particularly for the gay bar experiences Panic had been alone on. Then, Mike would go right back to Speedy, and his view of everything.

   When Mike was finally done, he stopped and seemed to be calculating.

   "Speedy? What do you think the direction… no… the pace, yeah. What pace and direction… does your gut tell you we should take now. Go on. Give me your… wish list."

   "Mike? me… and Panic both? We've talked about this. We were finally over the hump we thought. Just when we felt like we should be picking up steam? Over the hump? Starting to pick up speed and momentum rolling down the far side? Boom. Constant meetings, constant red tape. Constant fucking budget meetings. One board meeting with brass after another. There's no end to it."

   "I know all this. I'm not asking how you feel about it now. What I'm asking? If you could magically be in charge, what would you do now. Ask anyone at the Hoover, Speedy. I'm more than a team player. I might be the coach now? I'm coming in late in the season. I want my star player's view. Come on. Go for it. What would you do, if you were in my shoes. Wow me."

   Speedy looked at Panic with eyes wild with excitement and amusement. Speedy rolled his eyes, and dove in with both feet…

   "Mike? This thing hinges on my witness. I got one. He's seen the guy. Yeah, yeah… minority identification confusion, I know that shit. But… George? Has an identifiable characteristic, that sets this minority asshole apart. He's missing a clean slice of his ear. How many of these fucking Gypsy's, roosted up down south in the Carolina's? How many are both a king, and, missing a piece of an ear. I ask you."

   "Keep going. I like it…"

   "Now isn't the time, to keep pulling back, playing the slow and careful game of looking at all the pictures again and again for weeks. Now? Time for the full court press! Go right to scanning the database for missing ears, and go from there, with the witness. Same time? We got artist renderings that are good… go right to both Carolina's state police. Find this fucker. Lay eyes on him, and back off. State police? Are all used to DNA, do not approach ID's. This motherfucker, goes out for a pack of smokes, a six pack of beer, gets a speeding ticket warning. Bang. We have him, and George can give the go ahead. I'm telling you, when the right state cop sees the artist rendering? The ear slice? The dark SUV suggestion? He's gonna be like… oh yeah, I see that guy every Saturday morning getting gas coming to work. That's him."

   "Okay. Then what…"

   "We blanket all state police bulletin boards, with our artist renderings. We work the phones, to every barracks in both Carolina's. Do not tell anyone about this manhunt. Do not approach the individual, report back. My witness IDs him? The smiley hunting season is coming. We get GPS on this guy and all his known associate's vehicle or vehicles in place. We get his cell phone, his internet, and we listen in. Every call. Every text. Every email."

   "I'm playing along. What will happen?"

   "If we're right, and I just know we are. We can watch, a magic trail when they hit the road. Some of their stops? Will coincide with mysterious drownings. We'll be able to watch, and track, and play clean up behind them… as they work their way up north. We can work the scenes to death, behind them, at our leisure. Then? They hit the University. They do it every other year, this is a year the University goes hot. If we don't get them there? We still got the whole city. They're good for a couple drownings, every year, around mainly the south side. Off chance one around the point, one around the north end of that last river there, kinda slim on that one though. The south side? Prime hunting grounds."

   Mike took it all in. Asked Panic if he now had anything to add, or, did he agree with Speedy. Panic just shoveled his hand, palm up, in the wake of Speedy's assessment. What he said.

   "This thing has grown. It's gotten bigger. There's more agents on the periphery of this thing than ever. So… more brass wants their name on the thing. Yeah, I was a part of that one. This generates the meetings. It's getting fucking expensive. I have to take that into consideration. I'd like to try to pinch this off this year, rather than document slowly and wait on next year. I'm starting to agree with you two. The brass? Can hold meetings and PR discussions till the fucking cows come home, they can just do it with these motherfuckers in a cage. Fucking laboratory analysis, we already know what the drug does. Again? Having our hands on these people, in a cage, the thing in the bag… we can piss around in the laboratory all we want. While drinking champagne."

   Speedy eyed Panic, who smiled and commented…

   "Hear ye, hear ye."

   Mike made a sour face.

   "Problem…"

   Speedy and Panic looked at each other, then back to Mike.

   "Who's got that gung-ho Carolina state policeman's number? The one at that early, informal meeting. He said, and I quote from the recording. He has a hard on for these bastards, they roost up every winter in his surrounding area, and all the barracks have to piss around trying to serve all the piss ant warrants they racked up north, tying them up, for cases that get credit in other states. I want that guy to coordinate and spread it out to the other surrounding barracks. He says, he's right in the middle of their… winter nesting grounds, and he's motivated. That's who I need. A guy with a grudge, that will walk around on his days off, scanning the gypsies around him, looking for that damned ear."

   Speedy said to get the number off Senior…

   "It was an informal meeting. He says he doesn't have it anymore. Me? I like that trooper's enthusiasm."

   Panic started him hawing.

   Speedy looked at him, and Mike looked at him.

   "I… uh… I might know how to… you know… get that."

   Mike shrugged at him…

   "Well…?"

   "I… kinda… might actually have it, but… there's the matter of how I got it, and… how much trouble I'm in for how I got it."

   Speedy wanted to know, if he had it, why didn't he release the artist renderings to the Carolina trooper already.

   "Because, Speedy. Did me no good. If Senior didn't authorize it? I'm in hot water for telling Carolina boy to go ahead with a DNA. Plus even now? There's the teensy matter of how I got the name and number… sorta…"

   Mike smiled, while Speedy facepalmed. Mike went on, smiling…

   "Do you, or do you not… have my name and number I want?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Okay. We're batting 500. How did you get it…"

   "Speedy?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Remember when Senior was, doing phone taps paperwork on some other case, out of our office area?"

   "He's done that more than once, Panic. Could you be just a cunt hair more specific?"

   "Oh yeah, I could. Um… remember the one time. He was laughing, how did his cellphone number get put on the list? Because one of the phone logs that came back in the stack, was all his calls and texts? He laughed and threw it in the garbage."

   "Okay. I do vaguely remember something to that effect…"

   "Right. I might have. And I mean I might have kinda sorta… maybe added his cell number to that list? Then, when it came back in the stack, and he threw it away? I might have gone back and gotten it out of the garbage can. Maybe, I said I left my cell in the office, and went back, right when we were all heading out to lunch. I mean, I might have even accidentally found the name and number, and saved it. Just couldn't use it."

   Speedy's mouth was hanging open.

   "Panic!"

   "I know… Mike?"

   "Fuck me running. Senior's stalling me by telling me he doesn't have the name and number. I wanted to call and talk to that guy, from the recording? Simply for background of what their winter nesting area is like, what their habits are. How the fuck can I use the number, and have a clean way I got it?"

   Speedy looked like he was about to cut a fit, and Panic smiled.

   "My backup plan? Was that the guy was in the motel we were at. We could go there, and sweet talk the motel. Records. I mean, we need our buddy's name and number, we're all state cops and FBI, he needs to sign some paperwork we forgot about and just found. I emphasize the sweet talk, not a subpoena."

   Speedy was literally biting his lip, and Mike was humming…

   "Hmm. If I want the name and number, and Senior claims he would like to give it to me, but he just doesn't any longer have it… the way is clear for me to go looking, without Senior being allowed to be mad at me. Right? I mean, simply because he claims he wishes he had it to give me what I want."

   Speedy quit biting his lip, and looked hopeful. Mike finally seemed to come to a decision.

   "That would work."

   "And… how much trouble would said individual be in, said individual being me. Allegedly."

   Mike grinned warmly.

   "Oh. Allegedly? That would be… a whole laundry list of federal shit to fall into and get stuck to your ass. Allegedly, I mean. In reality? You have the name and number, and I have an excuse how I got it legitimately. Fuck it."

   Speedy sighed and relaxed.

   "Panic? Where the hell did you get an idea like that in the first place? What were you thinking. Even though it worked out. I mean, dial 1-800-COME-ON-NOW…"

   "Actually? You."

   "What ?!?!"

   Panic reminded him of the mysterious address added to the SWAT list. Speedy had to now tell Mike the amusing story, that was amusing in hindsight only. At the time? It was a career end-er itching to happen.

   "Panic? Remind me to strangle you, at some later time, date, and location."

   Panic gave his signature wry half grin.

   "Sure thing. I'll pencil that in, for… right after we pop the champagne cork on putting our hands on Elvis."

   Mike was confused…

   "Elvis?"

   Speedy and Panic filled him in on the perpetrator's in house nickname. He was a Gypsy king, he got called king, George thought his name was Mr. King… so, the hunt was for Elvis. They entertained themselves with Elvis impersonations and jokes, all the way back to Panic's little tiny cabin he shared with Merry. He had Senior's old phone log dump under a box, safe and sound. Mike rolled it up, and stuck it in his back pocket. They all walked back to camp, to be at their leisure, and see what their gourmet camp cook came up with for dinner.

   Mike realized on the walk back, that he missed something. He lagged back and got a quiet word with Panic. If he already had the number, what was he needing on the laptop. Panic admitted, that it was just to get the guys whole name, where he worked, and everything else. A phone number with a phone nickname, was very little. The rest of the information off of the hard drive? Much more useful. Plus, he added to that. He was curious maybe what else Senior knew about, and was holding back until his timing was right. Mike shook his head and smiled.

   Speedy and Panic initially sat with Mike, but Mike slowly drifted towards Senior, who was sitting and gabbing with mainly JG. The two IA guys were always a quiet pair never far apart from each other. Panic understood. Mike would downplay his walk and talk with Speedy and Panic, and re-establish his grooming and appreciation of Senior. So Senior didn't get butt hurt over not being included for once. Mike was more jovial than usual, and messed and joked with JG.

   Junior, naturally, was in his glory. He was included on the higher upper's personal working vacation. He was being included enough that he was listed as essential personnel to go with and be a part of the talks and reconnoitering on the case. He was getting paid like the big boys in the office on this little perk usually reserved for only senior agents and above, and of course what acolytes they requested and took along. His AV experience and expertise was going to play a major role in this case, win lose or draw. He could not be any happier, personally or professionally.

   Mike, playing coach, had the entire team both at his beck and call, and perhaps more importantly… happy and eager. Panic finally drifted to Merry, and Speedy followed over in time. Merry smiled, and wanted to know how things went.

   "Well? Did you boys all kiss and have fun? You're gonna make me jealous, you keep doing this and coming back with a smile on your face, hun. And hanging out with all these damn piglets, to boot. No offense, Speedy…"

   "No offense taken, from the little Indian girl whose name would be she-who-consorts-with-felons…"

   Merry and Panic laughed. The last night's campfire party had one point where they all played the Indian name game. Speedy smiled to let her know it was in fun, then added as almost an afterthought…

   "And technically? It's soon to be an ex-piglet, Poke… emphasis on the ex part."

   "Hmm. What will an ex piglet do with all his vast free time. Got big fun plans?"

   "Finish this damn case. Then? Everyone else knows… Speedy is taking a real, honest to goodness African Safari. Hunt of a lifetime. I'm gonna get weird shit mounted and shipped back, I'm gonna eat strange game meat, I'm gonna meet real… you know… guys with spears and shit. Gonna take pictures and videos, like a goddamn Japanese tourist, I'm gonna play gun writer, and get big articles on the RLB website. I'm gonna shoot shit I never knew existed. Shit might hunt me back and I got cool stories to tell."

   "Sounds great."

   "Of course it does, because it is. I've dreamed about this as a little kid, watching shit on Saturdays on the TV. You know, the guy in the Khaki's, always got an English accent, always got a train of local villagers carrying the big boxes behind him like a mule train. Then? Older? I talked about it a lot. Then? I planned for it, for years. Now? I'm getting ready to do the sum-bitch. Panic? What about you?"

   "I'm pretty much doing it. Right now… I plan on seeing the case through, and… more of this… for a job…"

   As he said it, he gently squeezed Merry's hand and smiled at her.

   "Honey. I appreciate the ultra sweetie mode you're in, but… you don't have to over do the sugary topping so thick."

   "No. Ask anyone. The RLB fest gun trips? They're my vacation every year. Ask these guys, how many times I joked around. When we're staying at some big range, that's big enough they have a full time greens-keeper, range-master, whatever you call the guy… that lives on the damn gun range, full time."

   "Really?"

   Everyone smiled and nodded, it seemed truthful.

   "Wake up. Maybe mow a little grass. Maybe move a little dirt around for a backstop. Go shooting before lunch. Eat lunch. Do a little reloading. Putter around some more. Some more shooting. Now…throw in a gun shop nearby? My gun shop? Christ… I mean, there's a job I'll wake up, complaining I just have to go play with guns all day, you know? Gee whiz. Gotta order some more machining equipment to work on gunsmith shit. Man, what a drag that'll be every day."

   Everyone laughed.

   "Throw a hot tomboy like you into the mix? Couple cats? Fuck it, daddy's retired in his early 40s. Stay up late any night I want on the computer… hell. I'll die a happy old man."

   Speedy wanted to know about Merry now.

   "Honestly? Being a waitress, in the city… not a lot of retirement planning goes on, you know? I wouldn't say I was the happiest person on earth, working 6 sometimes 7 days a week, 10 or 12 hours a day doing it, but… always figured some day, I'd get out of the city, do it 40 hours or less. Somewhere out of the city. Now? Looking like I can do it."

   Speedy continued.

   "Ah, I know my buddy Senior's big plan. Unless something's changed? Fishing boat. He wants something big enough to charter a couple guys out and they buy the bait, the fuel, and give him beer money on top of it… call it a job. I heard worse plans before. Mike? What about you."

   Mike sighed.

   "Wife wants to move to Florida, do the retired in Florida gig. Her Grandma did it, her mom and dad did it, got her little heart set on it. I guess whatever I do? It'll be in Florida, my guess. Golf's okay, not a passion though. Fishing boat is okay, again not a passion. Maybe, I don't know… get some kind of cheap shitty shop or store thing going, something for me to do. If it makes a profit? Fine… as long as it keeps the doors open, I guess that'll do. Wife wants Florida, I wanna keep the wife… hell, I'll figure something out."

   "JG?"

   "Fuck you old timers, I'm sitting here getting ideas. I ain't got my first gray hair yet."

   "No ideas?"

   "Aw. Okay… little… PI thing. Private Investigator? I don't know, I read PI stories as a kid, saw old black and white movies, always had a private eye going around, solving the big case. This is subject to change, at a moment's notice. But remember guys… I'm still single. The hard-boiled PI? Always, and I mean always… has a little decrepit office he works out of, with some smoking hot middle aged secretary, with big boobs. No offense Merry…"

   "None taken, JG. I'm well aware by now, that men like ta ta's…"

   Everyone hooted and hollered a little bit, and the conversation went around to everyone's retirement and their plans or dreams for it. Eventually, the group drifted away to get everyone elses plans. Finally alone with Merry and Panic, Speedy gave him the look…

   "Okay Speedy. What… you got that I gotta pee look…"

   "I'm just curious, is all. I seem to remember you talking to me on the phone a little ways back, how we were gonna probably get new management on our case. How exactly did you know that, when even our own senior agent didn't have a clue? Hmm?"

   "Lucky guess."

   "Oh… right… and, I seem to remember you hinting that we would get moving on the case. Get out of running in circles, in first gear, is I think I remember how you put it? Again… what the fuck…"

   "You know how in the cartoons, the seer rubs the crystal ball, and says… ah… it's coming to me now. I see…"

   "Yeah…"

   "I rub Merry's ass cheeks, and… I can see my future in her ass…"

   Merry had a protracted series of light giggles, and Speedy tried to keep a straight face and finally lost the battle.

   "You could just say… fuck you, Speedy."

   "I guess it was all something that came out of hobnobbing around with IA."

   "Christ, what is it with you. Everything is the opposite for you. You get called to meet IA? You're not in any trouble, none of your buddy's are in trouble, next thing I know… you got all these… connections going. You and I both know, you should be in the federal pen pending a list of charges right now… instead? You all but get an at-a-boy for it… I can't believe this shit. Merry? What have you been feeding this guy."

   Merry smiled…

   "I'll never tell, but… he's allowed to brag, if he wants to…"

   "So, Speedy… now how we looking. Huh?"

   Speedy grinned and nodded. Kept nodding and stroking his chin…

   "Good. Real good. Great. Somewhere in there. And Panic?"

   "Yeah, Speedy…"

   "I know bullshit when I hear it. You're pegging the meter, on my bullshit detector. But you know something? If you can't tell me, that's fine. But… whatever you did? You did it. This? This can happen now…"

   "Speedy, remember flying kites, as a kid?"

   "Yeah."

   "Remember the ones with multiple strings? You get two strings, one in each hand, and each hand can make those motions…"

   "Yeah…"

   "I never did figure out what did what. I was just pulling, twisting, making gestures… seemed like once the kite was up high enough? Hard to do it wrong…"

   "Okay…"

   "Well, I don't know what the hell I'm doing, schmoozing around. I'm just finding strings, tugging, seeing what happens. But, the kite's up there now. If you remember? Once the damn kite is up there enough? It all of a sudden looks like you know what the hell you're doing, making gestures with the strings."

   Speedy chuckled.

   "Well, we just hold onto the strings now, I guess. Merry? You at all proud of him?"

   "Oh. I guess I should be. But honestly? I don't have the foggiest notion what your case even is, dear. I'm sleeping with mister need-to-know. I suppose eventually, I'll find out. You guys? All cops… and… investigators. You have cases… me? I was a waitress. Now, I'm a witness. I'm kinda just along for the ride, dear. Oh! If my waitresses could see me now, you know?"

   Speedy nodded along.

   "Yeah. It's not just a case, it's an adventure."

   "Adventure? You could call it that. All the… shooting, and attempted murdering. God almighty. You boys are all… cops and soldiers and everything. No offense, but… I hate cops, I'm scared of cops and I hate courtrooms. Not real sure I'm gonna like lawyers very much, to tell you the goddamn truth. I can't wait for… winter? I wanna get to come here in the winter. Quiet. Peaceful. No cars honking and skidding into each other, people yelling and motherfucking each other. Just wake up… go out and see snow and hear quiet."

   "Panic? Remember back, we were standing on our heads trying to get someone to take notice of our case? What did I say, I felt like a… vaudeville performer? Shaking my hat, just tap dancing my little heart out, hoping some big talent agent noticed me and my case. Now? Here we are. About to start closing on the deal. Tell me, that don't feel good. Makes it all worth it, don't it?"

   "Yeah. It does."

   He squeezed Merry's hand gently again.

   "What do I always say, Speedy? Right place, right time, doing the right thing. Success? Just starts happening all by itself. You get a little momentum? There you go. And… why can't we get Bluedot out here. Now the range is finished, you'd think he'd be here with bells on."

   Rob was passing by, and overheard…

   "Aw, website? He's on another pond contract. Not a huge one, but, big enough. He said he's looking forward to hunting season, popping out. That's his off season. Can't do much for ponds in winter, you know. I don't think he's into ice skating."

   "God, Bluedot's gonna love this place now. He'll be shooting skeet, then the long range… then skeet, then more long range. He won't know whether to shit or go blind."

   "George was talking about maybe a small pond, if you get some animals going and it's not just feeding the coyotes. George… pond… Bluedot…"

   "Good idea. I'll mention it to him when the time comes. Christ, Bluedot will be doing the pond one hour a day, seven hours of shooting…"

   They both laughed. Got cold cans of pop to drink.

   Rob came back past.

   "Couldn't help but overhearing a little bit ago, something about rubbing Merry's ass to see the future, like a crystal ball?"

   "Yes, Rob. When I look at Merry's ass cheeks? I can see the future."

   Merry looked around and down, not blushing, but smiling like a little girl.

   "You know, honey. Rubbing my ass is fun and all, but… there's more you can do with it, if you want me to have something to brag about, you know. The racquetball girls want updates on me, dear…"

   "You know, hun… when this craziness is all over… you should have at least one of your waitress friends up for a little vacation. You girls can do… whatever it is you girls wanna do… take her to go see Bobbi with an I, and he can pound both of your asses in the back room before you get your nails and hair done… eh?"

   "Oh God, I feel positively rotten, but… pretending I get the salon more than I do? Laying out sunning in summer… she can see me get the princess armed escort treatment… hmm. I feel rotten, but… yeah, it'd be fun for once."

   "Pencil that in for next summer then."

   Speedy was all smiles and fun now, with all that had transpired.

   "So… is our little Pochahantas going to bring one of her waitress friends up here next summer, just to brag a little?"

   "Yes and no. I'm not a bitch, and a bitch brags straight out. No. I? Plan on letting the guest do the bragging for me, when they get back. And… if she has the impression I get the salon and massage on the regular? Well…"

   Panic piped up.

   "Merry? The boys noticed, there isn't a gun shop within more than a hundred miles from here. Where's the nearest tanning salon?"

   "Oh Christ, honey. Why?"

   "Eh. If I'm going to have a gun shop… and you've seen how I rewire electrical appliances… I could get you a shitted out tanning bed and redo it. A couple ballasts, a couple bulbs and bulb holders… more busy work than any real derring do, really. If you like yours in the winter… maybe I could do a few more, you could have a tiny tanning place."

   "Oh honey, my girlfriends would die with green skin. I'll check… I haven't seen one when we go for a drive, for a while when we're out and about. I know the damn things are expensive to buy new, and it costs an arm and a leg to have an electrician come in to work on the damn things. Are you sure it's cheap?"

   "Merry… it's just a big light fixture. You get an older style one? The ballasts are cheap as dirt, with everyone going over to LEDs. There's no LED tanning beds, so… it'll be like the stove. The bulbs are the only thing that'll cost a few bucks. I know back in my town? The girls all flock to whoever has the new style beds… but here? With no other tanning salon around? I think you'll be okay."

   "Are you trying to spoil me?"

   "Eh. I almost feel guilty. If I'm gonna have the gun shop, I can't begrudge you a couple tanning beds I refurbish. What's a month's rent to see if it works? Worst happens, we keep the best one for home for you, and sell the extras off. No biggie. Look, I'll get a beater to work on one this winter, for something to do in the cabin when it snows. If you like it, and there's none around here by next fall? We'll try it."

   "Well… if I have to."

   Then everyone laughed. Everyone was upbeat, everyone was happy. For various reasons across the board, it seemed everyone was in a great mood.

   Speedy wondered…

   "Panic? When all the dust settles. You gonna bring any buddies out, to brag like Merry?"

   "Hmm. I'm like her. I'm not gonna brag per se, but… I'll have fun showing a few buddies at home around. Come on, Speedy… this huge gun range? It puts the one we use at home to shame… right by the state game-lands? The fishing too? I got keys to the only bait shop? Then… I just casually ask them if they wanna hit the local gun store… watch them freak out when I have the keys to open it up? Christ… go fishing with the mayor and the chief? Good god, I'll be a fucking legend when they go home."

   Speedy grinned.

   "Feels good, don't it?"

   It was Panic's turn to sigh now. Deep, long and slow…

   "Yeah. It does."

   Speedy continued grinning, then went on.

   "Panic?"

   "Yeah…"

   "You do realize, Merry's gonna be sort of a… courtroom TV star for 15 minutes, right?"

   "Yeah, I guess. We gotta get that shit out of the way. We both want it done and gone."

   "Panic… you're going to be in the Dirty Dozen trial some too, you know. Your buddies are going to see you on TV. Then Merry. Then you two living here when they come out."

   Panic squirmed a little. He was used to playing things low key, blending into the scenery if he didn't have to do otherwise.

   "Yeah. I guess. I wish I could not be on TV, but… there a way out of that?"

   "Not really. It's going to be a media circus. No two ways about it."

   "Oh well…"

   "Panic?"

   "Now what, Speedy."

   "Your buddies. They're gonna know you and Merry were in shootouts with the Dirty Dozen. The boys should be… suitably… impressed."

   "Hadn't thought of that, either."

   Speedy kept grinning, drinking from his can of pop…

   "What now, Speedy…"

   "And… you'll just have to wear your little FBI ID… let your federal carry permit lay around so they notice it…"

   "Again Speedy. All shit I'm not aiming for."

   "Still… is it that bad? Come on, live a little. Your buddies, don't they just know you to be an out of work part time delivery driver?"

   "Yeah. I like it like that."

   "Not any more. God forbid, we pinch this case off, Panic. Me… you… Senior… JG… Mike… press conference time. Flashbulbs going off."

   "I… never wanted all that, Speedy. I ever tell you about my dad?"

   "Some."

   "He… did stuff. He… everyone in town knew stuff about him. In the house? I never heard any of that. He never bragged once. It was like no one was allowed to tell anyone in the house about his… tough guy fame. But, not just modest about it, Speedy. When I was older, and I started hearing all the stories? I had to corner him to get him to admit any of it. My dad that raised me? For a small town… he was a… kind of a legendary hard ass, but… the old school kind, Speedy. A quiet hard ass."

   "So? Play it off, and be a quiet hard ass then, if that's the way you wanna play it. Everyone will still know."

   "God, Speedy. I had a great grandfather, was a real, honest to god cowboy. In Montana. Had the nickel plated hog legs and everything. Big old handmade knife like guys had back then. My dad? Always told the story about him walking him for candy, and they would cut through this cow pasture. The bull was out once, and came at them. He always told the story how the old man just put him, a toddler, behind him. Wound his big old cowboy belt around his fist. That big, shiny buckle like a knuckle duster. Reared back, and stepped right into that bull's nose just as he was about to walk over them coming in. Said he stopped it cold, shaking it's head, blood flew everywhere. How the bull always gave them a wide berth after that. He could walk the field by himself, the bull was now scared of him, too."

   "Tough great grandpa. Old school…"

   "Yeah. That's where it gets funny. When dad was dying, and my two older brothers were talking out back on the patio, right before he died?"

   "Yeah…"

   "My oldest brother, says no, that was me, I was the little kid in that exact story. That dad did that…"

   "Wow."

   "Yeah. Near as I got figured… great grandpa did it for dad. Then? Dad did it for another bull, walking to the same candy store from grandma's house. Same field. For my oldest brother."

   "Wow again."

   "I mean, that's the shoes, my whole life, I figured I had to fill, you know? I was always, like, I can't knock a charging goddamn bull around, you know? How am I ever going to measure up."

   "What else was your dad… small town famous for?"

   "Oh. I got older, started going out? Guys were at the bar once, this is funny. A really big guy and a regular sized guy. They're not picking on me, just razzing me. No biggie. It came out in conversation what my last name was, and they asked my dad's name… I was telling the now funny family story about rolling out through the screen door with my dad the one time… they got all quiet, and freaked out. Apparently, my dad was the guy at the steel mill? That knocked all the big guys out that thought they were hot shit. They were tight about me after they found out that was my dad, and were impressed I rolled out the screen door with him. Apparently, my dad was still pulling this act, into his early 60s…"

   "Ouch."

   "Then, they're telling me about my dad was a ringer, that's why he was a legend in the… union at the mill and all that shit."

   "What kind of ringer?"

   "Well, in the old days, they had strikes. With picket line violence. The cops were paid to come in and bust heads. The union got tired of it, and they went around to every union hall on strike. Who's the couple local hard asses you got to send us? We're gonna get them all together, and the next time the corrupt cops come to swing bully clubs? We're gonna be waiting on them… give them hell…"

   "Fuck…"

   "Dad wouldn't own up to it. Finally got him to admit it. Once. Alone out to dinner with him. You know what he said?"

   "What…"

   "Screw that puppy shit. What kind of a man would I be… if my own woman and children were scared of me."

   "Wow. This is where you got this… terminal low key thing you got."

   "Yeah."

   "Panic?"

   "Yeah, Speedy."

   "Your dad know about Redwater?"

   "Eh. I played it like dad would. When I came home. I operated a radio for the tough guys. You know the drill."

   "He didn't know?"

   "Well. That's what I told him. My brothers. Mom… my dad saw me in the pool, got me alone. Asked about the radio stories again, then told me he knew it was bullshit. He said I looked like the guys that had been to Korea, all the scars. He said we wouldn't tell mom."

   "Panic?"

   "Now what, Speedy…"

   "Your dad busted dirty cops heads on the picket line? You were in shootouts with the dirty DC crew. I ain't saying nothing about… that thing at the bar… whatever… what I'm saying is… those shoes? You filled them. Just like George replaced his grandpa, making black-powder and liquor? You've… become your dad, in a way. The shoes? They're filled. If you wanna play it off, like your dad did around the house? That's cool. But…"

   "I guess. I didn't set out to do this for that though, you know?"

   "I know, Panic. I know."

   "Aw…"

   "What?"

   Panic grinned.

   "No bull though. Apparently, it's a family tradition. Be nice to get the hat trick with one more bull, you know?"

   Speedy laughed.

   "I don't know if that's a bright idea, Panic."

   "Well. No bull. That'll keep me from getting a swelled up head, at least."

   Speedy chuckled and shook his head.

   "Well. At least we're coming into the home stretch on everything."

   "Yeah. Looks like it. Man… I just wish my dad could have lived and seen this, you know? Mom too. Success. I finally made good. You know, walk them around the range I manage, show them Merry, the gun shop, Merry's tanning salon… let them go see me have donuts with the chief and the mayor. You know, mom could brag a little to all her friends."

   Speedy got up to go get a snack, and patted his shoulder affectionately before he went.

   "I know. They say they can see us. I'm sure your dad's proud. Going… hey, look. That? That's my boy! Right there! Look, he did it again! Hot damn!"

   "My dad? Probably was there five minutes, started showing people how to shine up the pearly gates properly. I figure they got metal gates? They got some kind of steel mill or whatever, he's in there. Making sure shit's being run right. The dad that raised me? Half German. He was like Rob, really, to be honest about it. Ubermensch or whatever they call it. German superman. Rob's all tall, and filled out? Squish him down in height, from his 6'6" down to about 5'9". He gets wider. Me? You know I'm adopted. My mom that raised me? From her side of the family. All Irish. I'm 6'1", sure… but I'm not naturally thick, just normal sized. I have to exercise to keep a little muscle on me. Dad? Never touched a weight in his life."

   "He was physically strong? Or just strong willed."

   "Oh no. Here, put it this way. I remember being tiny, and just looking up at dad? Looked like a superhero to me. You know, that heroic muscle exploding in every direction. I got older, you don't notice the change. He was still muscular, but… it slowly dissipated after about 50. I'm talking with my brothers. I tell this, and I'm like… yeah, I realize I was a tiny toddler, looking up at him. I remember him more superhero looking, but, I was a kid…"

   "Now, my brothers? They're older. When I was a toddler before kindergarten? I remember one already married, the other getting out of high school. So, they're both like… oh, no… it wasn't because you were little. When dad was young? He literally looked like a drawing of a superhero. You're remembering right…"

   "We go and get into the family picture box, we all know which shelf it's on, the same closet our whole lives. Rip a handful of photos out… skip through… yeah. Dad at Deep Creek. Swim trunks, on the shore. Looks like a fucking Greek god. Seriously. Now… this guy? He said he was impressed with Great Grandpa. My dad the superhero? Is that way about this guy. Just saying."

   "The cowboy? With a real gunfighter's double rig in nickel back then? Was big like your dad, but tall?"

   "Descriptions? Until 50 or thereabouts, picture Robbie but thick, and muscular."

   "So you have, what… you're descended from a guy looked like a Viking Raider."

   "Just it. No. My dad that raised me? I share not one shred of DNA with this man, scientifically speaking. This all is through being around him. I'm trying to fill the shoes of superheroes, and I'm not from that line. When I was young? I thought I was a rabbit raised by wolves."

   "You're not a little guy."

   "No, but… there's plenty of bigger guys out there. I'm a beanpole when I was young though. Late bloomer on filling out. Look, dad's dead… I won't trample the man's grave by lying. I ain't kidding, I started out age 1 to age 18? The skinny, nervous, shy, bookworm. Picked on like crazy. I disappeared for the stint as a computer programmer in the Chair Force, then what. Say a 6 to 7 year tour with Redwater? I come back 28, 29. Totally different. My hometown? Constant fights till I left, starts right back up when I got out. Christ, something in the water in my town. Moved a couple towns up the river, I don't have to deal with it."

   "I can appreciate you grew up a shy bookworm, but… you left prey and came back a… predator."

   "See, that's what's funny. Ask Merry you don't believe me. I used to be a bookworm, who wanted to be a tough guy. I guess I became, I like to say, half a hard ass, anyways. But… I immediately want to go back to being a bookworm."

   Merry piped in.

   "No, that's accurate. Basic psychology. The things a man brags about, that normally doesn't brag? That's his main ego points. Panic will only brag about… computer stuff and composing, stuff like that. That's how I know that's the true him, the natural him… when you peel back the layers that life does to you."

   Panic pointed and feigned shake your head mild disgust, pointing at Merry… all for comedic effect.

   "18 months of psychology classes? She tells me all this shit left and right, and she's always right. This is what I gotta put up with."

   Merry giggled.

   "Honey, you're not that mysterious to me. Unique? Yes, very much. But mysterious? Not at all. And you're not the slightest bit scary to me, either. I hear all this talk about wanting to fill your dad's shoes, your great grandfather's shoes. How dangerous was your father to you and your mother?"

   "Not in the slightest. He was protective, and treated the family members, animals included? Like you handle newborn babies."

   "Right. You're imitating your father, probably your great grandpa too, because your dad sounds like he looked up to him. You're gonna now do exactly like he did. You said he wouldn't lay a finger, not ever, on your mom."

   "No no, that was a rule. You're not allowed to lay so much as a finger on women, children. Animals, old people… they all get a free pass, no matter what."

   "Trust me. I can see you're just like you describe your father. In the course of both consciously trying to imitate his every trait, and the natural growing up subconsciously trying to imitate your father's every trait… I can state that with probably 100% accuracy, that I feel safe and comfortable around you. You're protective, you don't manhandle the people around you. Speedy? I've hauled off and smacked him across the face before, I mean hard. I put my hip into it. He just looks at me. My wrist hurts, and it's like I swatted him with a piece of paper."

   "Okay. I'd buy that."

   Panic smiled.

   "Honey? Tell him the Irish phenotype thingy…"

   "Okay. You can look up characteristics for every race. It's scientific. If you interview thousands of Germans. And write down the statistically highest common denominators… well, there's one for every race. Now, it's not like every one of them checks off, but, most of the assumptions? Are going to have good odds for being correct assumptions. The numbers simply won't lie. I can't do the… statistical workups, like he can do from his college math classes, but… if they're in a book? I can assume that work was done correctly, right? I just need to know how to read the results. There's another race chart for raw abilities."

   "All this from 18 months in Psychology?"

   "Oh. Hell no. But, what would normally cost me a hundred dollar book to buy, to reference one chapter I need, is free and instant on the internet now. I looked up the Irish phenotype, you know what I found?"

   "What?"

   "This one, here… mister mister. He fits the list of Irish abilities phenotype chart like a book. But… he doesn't match up at all with the Irish behavior characteristics. I'm confused. So, I go looking to see which race phenotype does match up with all his behavior characteristics? It aligns up with the German characteristic list, like a shoreline on a map. He's statistically born an Irishman, but, he was raised by and displays all the characteristics of, a German. Makes him unique."

   "You're serious?"

   "Think about this now. He's adopted. He's genetically Irish, so, he displays the abilities chart of an Irishman. And he was raised, by his adopted German father. So he displays and conforms to, all the characteristics of a German chart. He joked he felt like a rabbit raised by wolves? He kinda was. I mean, most people are genetically like their father. He wasn't. He was born Irish cookie dough, but, he was cooked into a German cookie cutter shape."

   "Panic. You've been fucking dissected…"

   "Speedy? Watch this, that's nothing… it's worse. Honey? Tell him your mentor thing…"

   "Yeah. His father? Half German, half French. The German characteristics far outweighed the French characteristics, but, they're there. He describes his dad loving blackberry pies, and excited putting icing on cakes and worrying about desserts and TV snacks. He loses his mostly German, part French father? What does he replace this mentor with. On accident? Right. Rob's an all German tough boy like his dad, and Skykid is a French gourmet cook, real easy going. Is this a coincidence? I think not."

   Speedy just blinked at Merry…

   "Christ, Panic. She has your number."

   "I love hearing this shit. It's like she has my owner's manual."

   Speedy patted his shoulder, warmly, one more time before he walked off.

   "Your dad's proud of you, Panic. I'm sure of it."

   Speedy walked off. Merry patted his hand resting on the arm of his chair.

   "I'm sure your mom and dad are proud of you, honey. I'm proud of you, too. This will all be over before we know it. Just think, when we're older? We'll be telling stories to little kids, telling the honest to god's truth, too… and they'll think we're making it all up. It'll be a kick."

   "Hmm. I'm gonna pull a page from your book, hun."

   "What, dear?"

   "You, were just planning, what we're gonna do… when we're old. You're planning on us staying together."

   "Yeah, forest boy. I am."

   Later on, in the late afternoon before evening and it's goings on got underway… Mike was gabbing with Senior and JG. Mike idly brought up the information he wanted.

   "Oh, hey. Senior… had a stroke of luck."

   "Really? Good news. What was it?"

   "Remember I wanted to talk to that… Carolina trooper we talked about? You said you don't have the number anymore."

   "Yeah, sorry about that. If I knew we were going to need it…"

   "That's just it. I was gabbing with Panic and Speedy. When I mentioned it? Speedy says, well… guy was in the same motel we were in, ain't there records. I'm like, hell yeah there is. I got on the phone, got a junior in my office to look into it, drive out. Fucking A, didn't even need a subpoena. That junior agent? Sweet talked him right out of it. Talk about a stroke of luck, huh? Figured you'd be happy."

   "Oh, yeah. For sure. Good going…"

   Panic and Speedy were both fairly certain he was feigning his good cheer at Mike's "luck". That, single handed told Mike, Speedy and Panic all they needed to know about the "theory" that Senior was dragging this thing out to deliberately make it go slow and steady, and take two years instead of one year. Mike walked casually near, and winked on the sly at Panic and Speedy with a grin as he slowly motored past.

   "Panic? You sure tugged on the right string for once, you know that? This guy's a ball of fire. It's like he'll burn down the Carolina woods to flush this motherfucker out for us. I like him."

   "What about your buddy? You guys go back a ways…"

   "I still like him personally. I still like him professionally, too. I was homicide, he's interstate homicide. My homicide investigations crossed state lines? We were in the shit together, and he's good at his job. Just this case, right now? This new Mike guy, is like I said, he's on fire. Even if we get nowhere? We'll get there quick. I can feel it."

   "Yeah. We're good for today and tonight. Let's just sit back and enjoy it for a while."

   "Panic. You want a beer?"

   "No. I drank a little last night. I'm good for now. Maybe later. Go ahead. I bet Senior will join you…"

   "Aw hell. I'll wait some too. I'm psyched up, but… one good night's sleep and one day's good news doesn't erase it in 24 hours. By the end of this little vacation? I'll feel more like myself."

   "Speedy? Been there, done that, got the T shirt."

   Speedy wandered off to socialize a little. Merry and Panic decided that in a little bit, they would look for their chance to wander off and meet up nearby to enjoy a hand-rolled cigarette before popping back into the social world of the camp. Rob came back quite pleased with himself for having won the hastily declared bench-rest match and cleaned up the winnings. Good nature grousing about the blistered trigger fingers issued forth from the losers. When someone half jokingly blamed Panic for their loss, he shrugged.

   "Did I, or did I not… say, and I mean it had to be several times. Do not try this at home, kids."

   Just when the day didn't seem like it could get any better, JG wanted to show Panic the little demonstration he had brought with him. Panic asked if it would be rude to do it in a little bit, he was talking with Merry. JG thought that was a fine idea, and said to look him up a little later.

   In truth, Panic was extremely interested in the sample camera setup, but, a short bit of fun with Merry directly beforehand wasn't seeming like a bad plan either.