Curds and Whey Box Set

by G M Eppers

  I looked up at the ceiling that was about to cave in. Andy, alerted by the silence, stood up, his eyes now open as he also examined the ceiling, which from this level showed no damage. I don’t know if he’d seen Billings’ hand signals, which were not hard to interpret, or if the creaking told him all he needed to know. He pushed off from the monitor like an Olympic sprinter and ran toward a corner doorway. I took off after him.

  Through the doorway, the wall actually did come to an angle. In the tiny room formed by the arc of the circle was a spiral staircase and Andy was already halfway up it. I followed. There was a landing at the second floor and a doorway marked “Cafeteria.” But he hadn’t stopped there. I followed him all the way to the top and he burst out through a doorway onto the roof of the Circular, which had a huge H centered on it in red paint. The setting sun struck me full in the face, blinding me for a moment. The cold air seeped instantly through my parka, past the remains of my hoodie and sweatshirt, still hanging open under the jacket. Automatically, my arms wrapped around myself against the cold. The Sikorsky was there, the blades spinning slowly as the pilot expertly applied its weight to the roof in a controlled manner. The wind generated by the blades tossed my hair into my face relentlessly. I alternated between hugging myself for warmth and clawing hair away from my face to see.

  The pilot saw Andy running toward him and allowed the five-ton helicopter to settle. Cracks appeared in the roof, radiating outward from the copter, but Andy paid no attention. “Andy, no!” I shouted at him. The wind threw my words away and he probably didn’t even hear them.

  I don’t know what he was expecting. The Sikorsky is not an open helicopter and the pilot was certainly not going to open the door and let him in. Andy was shouting “Lift off, you idiot! Get out of here!” as he pounded on the door. The pilot, unheard, was also yelling but not at Andy. He had one hand to his headphone mic holding it steady so he could hear properly. I think he was in communication with Eyedeneaux below. If he was informing the FBI agent about the presence of people on the roof, Eyedeneaux should be responding with orders to lift off and avoid collapsing the structure. But it didn’t look like that. The pilot made no move, letting the blades slow, letting the roof take the full weight of the Black Hawk.

  I stopped myself from pursuing Andy any further and stood at the edge of the roof where there was a lip about six inches high. “Andy, get back!” I yelled, knowing it was fruitless. “Andy!”

  It was a game of chicken gone bad. Frustrated, the pilot looked like he was about to pull up, but the roof gave way and both Andy and the Sikorsky sank from view with a shuddering, cracking, shattering, clattering noise. The copter crashed through the upper floor with the cafeteria and dorm and then through to the throne room beneath. My heart pounded. The center of the roof was gone, leaving me about a foot of space on which to stand. The hole extended very close to the access door, which had partially collapsed with it and was hanging by one hinge. Shaking, I edged back toward the door and squeezed through it onto the spiral staircase, which thankfully was undamaged, and trotted downward, the world spinning with each step, wondering what I would find at the bottom.

  Chapter Five

  I arrived back on the ground floor and stepped onto the felled door. “Mom!” yelled Billings, running over to me. He hugged me. “Thank goodness.” Inside the circular, which should now be called The Bumpy, the rest of the team, while brushing drywall dust from their clothing, was busy cuffing the disarmed guards. Rather than cuffing them individually, Sylvia was directing the team to cuff them to each other to make one long inescapable line of defeated guards. Several guards also lay on the floor near the debris pile, which included plumbing, beds, blankets, pillows, tables, chairs, the remains of a buffet style steam table, a double refrigerator, an oven and range, broken cabinetry, and an assortment of pots, pans, and other utensils, as well as pipes and wires from the space between floors. Roxy was moving from guard to guard reciting the Miranda rights. It would take authorities some time to sort out who was guilty of what exactly, but I suspected that most of them wouldn’t spend much time in jail. The guy we came for probably wouldn’t either. Not if he was under the Sikorsky, which sat relatively undamaged and largely out of place in the middle of the room.

  I accepted Billings’ hug, but didn’t hug back, looking behind him. “Andy. He was right next to the helicopter.”

  Billings, hauling a still groaning Gary over to the conga line of arrestees, glanced over his shoulder at the pile of rubble the Sikorsky was sitting on. “I don’t like his chances.” Sylvia cuffed Gary’s right hand to the guard on the end, leaving him his left hand free to hold his jaw. He wasn’t resisting. I found out later that Sylvia had saved his life by dragging him out of the way just before the roof collapsed. He would still have to face charges, but I was reasonably sure his sentence would be reduced when the judge considered his part in the Herd takedown.

  I looked up at the darkening sky, where a half-moon hung suspended among a network of stars. The cold air sank in like a billowing sheet and the room filled with little white puffs of expelled breaths.

  The CURDS team began stepping forward to move some of the rubble out of the way. The door of the Sikorsky opened and the pilot got out, waving at Eyedeneaux and Alaska to come help. He bent to move debris away from the side of the helicopter where Andy had been standing. I heard a sound. “Wheee!” someone was saying. I recognized the voice and carefully climbed the rubble. Strapped into the side stretcher with a plastic bubble over his head was Knobby. He was gripping the edges of the stretcher so tightly his knuckles were white.

  “Knobby? I told you to go back to the Mayo Clinic!”

  “I wanted to help!” He pleaded.

  “Was saying ‘wheee’ helpful?” I asked him.

  Billings had followed me, stepping gingerly over chunks of drywall and debris. “He refused to leave. We couldn’t leave him on the bus alone so we brought him along. How was the ride, Knobby?”

  “Great. Just great. Will this thing still fly?”

  Eyedeneaux, still looking for Andy, spoke up. “Absolutely. These Black Hawks are sturdy. Not a scratch,” he added, pounding on the fuselage. “The kids okay?” He leaned into the pilot’s open door, looking toward the rear of the helicopter. “You guys good?”

  The children were huddled toward the tail end of the chopper, strapped into the seats and hanging onto the straps at least as tightly as Knobby was holding the stretcher. I could barely see them through the dusty windows, but their heads were moving and no one was screaming or crying, not even the little ones.

  When Eyedeneaux backed himself out of the Black Hawk, I said, “I don’t understand. We didn’t get the confession. It looks like he was just running a legitimate cracker factory. Um, I’m not complaining, but why did you come so early?”

  Eyedeneaux gave me a satisfied look. “He didn’t confess to murder or theft, but he did confess to about a hundred and fifty counts of kidnapping. That will put him away for decades.” He grabbed a slab of drywall and tossed it aside. “If he’s still alive.”

  “Big if,” I said.

  With the guards all cuffed together, Alaska took custody of the group, leading them outside where other FBI agents waited. Sylvia, Butte, Billings, and Fergie joined Eyedeneaux, moving the rubble carefully, looking for Andy’s body. Butte said, “Someone should write a special obituary for this guy. Something like, ‘Herd kingpin slain by suddenly sinking Sikorsky.’”

  Just then, there was a groan from somewhere underneath. “Not slain!” he said. We followed the voice and moved over to remove debris from under the rear end of a skid. There was a hand sticking out. A hand wearing a skull ring on one finger. “Seriously wounded might work.” There was another cry of pain as something shifted.

  “Hold on,” Eyedeneaux said, not wanting us to cause more injury. “Let me do it.”

  Everyone backed off. It was a case of too many cooks spoiling the soup. Our weight on top of everything else was only making th
ings worse. Several minutes later, Andy Herd was exposed, lying uncomfortably in a bed of detritus. “Don’t move him. I’ll get EMS here.” He got on his radio to call it in, walking away for privacy.

  Andy spotted me. “Your name really Helena?” He was probably looking for conversation just to keep his mind off of his injuries.

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “I would have liked that. I don’t suppose…” I shook my head. “You got a nice butt. I’m a butt man, you know.”

  “You should probably save your strength,” I suggested.

  Roxy stumbled forward. “Andy Herd,” she said, “you have the right to remain really reticent. Anything you say shall be stated against you in a seriously sanctioned setting. You have the right to representation. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be assigned to you. Are you cognizant of the conditions I’ve communicated to you?”

  Andy smiled. “Hey, that was nice. I mean, yes. Yes, I get it. Thanks.” He blinked up at her, still groaning. “Boy, are you tall,” he said dreamily. I guess he was getting a little delirious. “And the red hair. Man, I could go for that. I’m a leg man, you know. Ow!”

  “Sorry,” Roxy said, lifting her high heel shoe off of Andy’s hand. “I’m all left feet today.”

  “Is that legal?” I asked. “Those Miranda rights?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Roxy replied. “But I’ll give him the official version later just to make sure. In the meantime, he’s not talking to anyone anyway.” She was right. Andy had turned his head and passed out. His breathing was shallow, but consistent.

  Within the next 30 minutes, more helicopters began to arrive, landing outside in the compound, which quickly resembled a helicopter showroom. Andy’s friend Henrietta arrived in the Hiller and was immediately taken into custody using cable ties, the FBI’s entire allotment of cuffs having been used up. She had jet black hair that was cut short, but with long bangs that tickled her eyelashes. A tattoo of some kind peeked out of the collar of her shirt, and a small gold stud in one nostril reflected the light from FBI lanterns. The FBI commandeered the Hiller as part of the rescue effort, though it held fewer than ten people.

  Before they escorted her to a chopper, she asked to speak with Andy. Alaska guided Henrietta by the elbow over to where EMTs were tending to Andy, now on a stretcher bound to a backboard and wearing a neck brace. He had regained consciousness and gotten rather belligerent. “You guys caused a lot of damage here! This is private property!” He was yelling. “I’ll sue! This is police brutality!” Evidently, the EMTs had given him enough pain killers to numb what had to be several broken bones, but not enough to make him complacent.

  “Andy! Andy, Baby!” screeched Henrietta as she stumbled over debris to get to the stretcher, her elbows flopping like chicken wings. “Are you okay? You’d better be okay! I’ll get them for this. They can’t do this to you.” She leaned toward the stretcher as if to kiss him, but she didn’t. She whispered into his ear. I couldn’t tell what she said. Alaska was right there holding her arm and when I gave her a questioning look she shook her head.

  “Henrietta, what are you talking about?” Andy asked irritably.

  “It was going to be a surprise. I’ve been practicing to be just like you, Baby. That’s why I was so late getting back sometimes. I mashed mailboxes, stabbed seniors with a scissors, and dented a dozen Dodge Darts.” She straightened up with pride. “I can do this, too, Baby. You’ll see.”

  “Henrietta?”

  “Yes, darling.” Her voice got all throaty and breathy.

  “Shut the hell up, you incredibly ignorant imbecile.”

  Henrietta shut up but only because she had no idea what to say. Finally, as Alaska led her away with a “come on, honey. I’ve got a special place for you,” she managed a “What? Hey!”

  Several more FBI choppers arrived including a slightly smaller Sikorsky, a Boeing Chinook transport, a Bell Venom and a Bell Cobra, and a couple of Airbuses. By that time, we’d notified the people in the separate buildings, who were able to climb out through the respective roofs, crossing to the partially demolished roof of the main building, and finding their way down via one of the spiral staircases to be reunited with their children. There was one building that hadn’t been identified on the monitors, the one where the camera was “broken,” according to Andy, and that one turned out to house more of Andy’s men, nearly all related in some way, joining the others with sympathetic looks and calling each other “bro,” “cuz,” and “unc.” They tried to fire on us, only to discover that their LAN rifles had been disabled. Defenseless and outnumbered, they surrendered. The room contained a small but active cheesemaking operation. A few nudges with a CURDS handgun had one of them singing like the proverbial canary once he realized the operation was destroyed.

  They’d been making Uber Feta, a very salty cheese which was added in small amounts to the crackers as a preservative and to produce the pleasurable salty flavor one would expect in a cracker. Using the dozens of finished boxes from the packing building, Roxy was able to determine that the Feta was not listed in the ingredients even as clean cheese. Roxy explained that even if all the other charges fell through, which was unlikely, they would also be heavily fined by the FDA for undisclosed ingredients on the nutrition label. The fact that the undisclosed ingredient was Uber made it a felony and anyone who was aware of that aspect of the operation would be charged as an accessory, which without a doubt included everyone found in building three. Processing these people would keep the FBI busy for months. With Henrietta secured, Alaska continued rounding up the Herd brothers, cousins and uncles. I remarked “That Henrietta is a piece of work, isn’t she? Amazing what people will do for love.”

  “Not love. Not proper love anyway. Incest.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  As she hauled the guy in Homer Simpson shorts toward a waiting helicopter, she clarified, “Half sister. Her parents were second cousins, I think. The family tree is online. You should check it out. It’ll give you more nightmares than the original Exorcist.”

  I decided right there not to follow through on that. “What family will do for each other. Where you from, Alaska?”

  “Nope,” she said. “Oregon. Where you from, Montana?”

  “Illinois.” She looked at me. No doubt she’d dealt with having a state name her whole life. I only had it a couple of decades or so. But we bonded a bit, just a bit, on that one point. After that, Alaska went back to escorting the prisoners.

  One by one, the helicopters filled with people who would be taken to the nearest FBI field office in Minneapolis for statements and debriefing before being provided transportation back to their homes on The Angle. Billings and I had found blankets in the rubble and dusted them off, wrapping ourselves in them against the cold. I was talking to Gary, remarking on the change of fortune which now put him in handcuffs instead of me, when Alaska came to take him. She was guiding Gary over to the crowded Chinook with dozens of other people, including Andy Herd, who was strapped into a side stretcher. “Wait,” I told her.

  Alaska looked at me impatiently. “What is it, Ms. Montana?”

  “I want to take Gary back to the Mayo with us. His brother is there.”

  “This guy isn’t leaving my sight,” she said.

  “Then come with us. Please. They were very close. Listen,” I said, watching sadness creep into Gary’s eyes, “Ross is mentally challenged. Decisions have to be made. And they deserve to say goodbye.”

  “Please,” Gary said. “I won’t fight you. Please let me see my brother.”

  Eyedeneaux had heard the brief discussion. “I’ll take him, Deb.” Gary’s arm was transferred from Alaska to Eyedeneaux.

  Without releasing Gary’s arm, Eyedeneaux shouted into the Chinook, “We’re going in the Black Hawk. Business to take care of at the Mayo, then I’ll bring him to the field office in the morning.” The pilot gave him a thumb’s up and an OK sign. He started the engine and the multiple propellers began spinning. The
Chinook rose into the air, dipped in greeting, then leveled and shot quickly up and into the dark horizon.

  I followed Eyedeneaux and his charge back into the building where the Black Hawk waited. The children had been moved off into the Chinook to join their parents. Nearly all the civilians had fit into the large transport copter. Billings watched Eyedeneaux deposit Gary into the Black Hawk with the rest of the CURDS team as he helped other agents collect the LAN rifles. “You recognize those rifles, Billings?” I asked him.

  “Yep,” he said, turning one over in his hands. “Earlier version than what I trained on, though. Ours had laser sights. Wish our handguns had that.”

  “Laser sights are for long range. We don’t normally do long range.”

  “I know,” he shrugged. “But I like putting the little red dot on people. Sometimes that’s all you need. It’s weird. You can point a gun at someone, they don’t flinch. You put a little red dot on their chest and they crumble.”

  “You ask Miss Chiff for it, but leave me out of it,” I told him, grinning because I knew he’d never follow through. It was a ridiculous request to which she would never agree.

  He knew it, too. “Maybe I can strap a laser pointer on the barrel,” he teased. And in his spare time he can entertain the cats with it.

  “Uber all loaded?” I asked. The Uber Feta was our department, but the FBI agents were happy to help us pack it up and load it onto the Sikorsky helicopter. They were even going to take us directly back to the Mayo Clinic and have someone come to collect the short bus later. They didn’t specify whether they would have someone drive it back or use a harness to lift it by helicopter, if that was even possible. But Eyedeneaux told us not to worry about it so I took him at his word.

  Before Billings could answer my question, Sylvia peeked her head out the side of the copter. “You know we’ve been waiting on you two for about ten minutes. Getting sentimental or something?”