Shoot Not to Kill

by Daniel L Stephenson

  “We’re not here for a general witch hunt, but I’m not opposed to getting anything we can. Colin, need you to do some more work at the local paper. No warrant necessary, as it is public domain stuff we’re looking at, but I need every ad that has been run that is advertising new doctors back a couple years, and we’ll get that collated up. Get copies of the stories on the shootings, too, please. Finally, Michelle, I don’t want you wandering the halls of the hospital very much, so I’ll ask you to get the local talent to give you addresses for the attempted homicides, and have you drop by for chat. Badge should be all you need, but we have to be careful. I don’t believe I need remind you all that this is a fairly tight area. We’re working in a part of the country that has had fairly deep seated feelings about the government since Ruby Ridge. So, when you start to ask questions, you may not get a real warm fuzzy feeling from the answers. If your gut says get out, run, don’t walk. I have been assigned the investigation here and need to remind you that we’re working with someone who is very dangerous.”

  Michelle felt her neck hairs stand as she recalled Clinker’s last encounter with her neck.

  “OK, we need to get our ComSec up. Please pass your phones and communication links to me, the stuff you got in Seattle. Sam, can you go synchronize them, please?” Geech asked.

  “Sure,” Sam answered as he gathered the various radios, ties, jewelry items, and pocket radios together. “I’ll have them back in a few.”

  Sam departed with a bag full of gear and entered the red Suburban by the passenger door. Michelle noted that the windows seemed clear, but she could not see Sam’s outline well.

  Colin leaned back over the seat and smiled. “Geech, you were made for the bureau. I can’t believe you’re the same guy we fed in our apartment so many years ago. Now you are the boss, and we’re safe in your hands.”

  Geech smiled, “We had fun back then. Seems like the decisions we made back then were the wanderings along a cow path, and now when you turn around to muse, there’s a six-lane freeway doing eighty-five miles per hour headed your way, and you have to turn and run.”

  “That’s it,” Michelle laughed, “and you didn’t even mention kids. That really changes things.”

  “Yeah, I figure it would. My gal’s working at a law office and has been bumped up to executive assistant, and now she’s making what I make, and does not want kids. I’m mixed, but figure it is getting too late anyway. Picking up too many bad habits lately. Bought a sailboat, nice rig out of California, and been flying out there for the long weekends if you can believe that. I took my open water captain’s exams, too. So now I’m certified to terrorize the shipping lanes.”

  Sam came back over and opened the door, slipping in. “OK folks, we’re all on the same menu.”

  Phones were distributed. “If you scroll down the contact list there’s a place called ‘Home.’ That’s the city desk here, the room we have set up at the motel, and there is an agent there now. He will be one of three working the desk. I and Geech make the others. The next numbers are listed under the names we agreed on.”

  “Sam, these two are attached agents, need to tell them,” Geech interjected.

  “Oh, yeah. FBI Washington is listed as Grant Avenue Bar and Grill. The St. Louis agency is Archie’s, and Seattle is under Green Peace Palace. Finally, there’s a number for the local talent, listed as Sporty’s Bar. The radios are all standard bureau, same menu. All these radios will scramble their brains if you dial 313. Watch,” Sam said as he held his phone out. The screen looked normal, Sam entered 313, and the screen simply went blank. The phone would not turn on. “It will only reset in my computer interface. Any questions?”

  “Standard rules, official and limited personal calls,” Michelle asked.

  “No problems. Just use the rigs and not abuse them.”

  “OK. I would like to meet back at the office tomorrow afternoon. Michelle, you get the beat on the local talent and crime scenes. Colin, you’re headed for the newspaper. Sam, I’ll need to get you to the hospital for freezing their computer. Michelle, do we need to do anything to get the hospital secured? Will they cooperate?”

  “Geech, I think you need to drop a few hints that we’re looking at something big here, and if we do it quietly, it might be better than if they raise a yellow flag and get every reporter in the state on the steps. I do believe you could do well in establishing your intent on getting in and out with a collar.”

  “Works for me. Sam, we’ll go to the hospital, drop you off after I get the warrants out, and then we’ll get the link up from our office. See you soon. Call any time, but I do not need minutia; you guys know that drill,” Geech said as he slid the door open.

  “Tomorrow, then,” Colin called.

  “He’s sure a good manager,” Michelle said as they started out. “Can you drop me off at the police HQ? I’ll call you when I’m ready, or if I hear anything. This is a good night to drop in the local bars for a beer, I suppose. Did you bring your dancing shoes?” Michelle asked as she slid over to sit next to Colin.

  “Sure did. Dance just as good as I did when you met me.”

  The local police department was in a newer building. Several obvious security areas were designed into the entrance, without obvious obstruction now, but with easily defended barriers. Michelle was impressed at the design. The meaning of the offices she had to step through would not have been obvious unless she had been trained in security. She was seated at the desk of the assistant chief of the department.

  “Miss, what are you folks doing in my town?” the man asked as he leaned a boot on his desk, twitching a toothpick from side to side.

  Michelle studied the practiced insolence of the officer in front of her and decided she would not try to play with words.

  “I wish to speak to your boss. We are here for a very critical investigation, and I will not tolerate your inferences, differences, or your arrogance. Who’s your boss?”

  The officer smiled and dropped his foot from his desk. “If you want to talk to my boss, you’ll have to wait a week. He’s fishing and told me if I disturbed him, he’d put me on parking meters. I do not like the FBI. I do not like the way you come in and demand to be pampered. None of you has worked my field, none of you candy ass little college kids has had to be undercover for two years while your wife cried every night when you had to go out and piss in the same trough as the mother fuckers you’re fighting. None of you has any real dirt under your fingernails, and you waltz in here, and I’m supposed to crap my drawers for you. Lady, I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re onto who shot JFK. I’m simply asking what is coming down? What are you going to do to the decorum of my staff, and when are you going to be out of my face?”

  Michelle tried not to flush. The cursing was not offensive or necessarily directed at her. She felt she was blushing at the fact that there might have been some truth to what the officer was saying.

  “Look, I’m sorry, Michelle began. “I can get my boss here to work with you, if you want. I have been on a case for nearly fifteen years. This case has had more cold spots than hot, and the last time I was on the trail, the guy nearly killed me. My boss had a similar experience three years ago. I think, more to the point, I guess, the FBI thinks there is a criminal in a local hospital that is masquerading as a physician. He may or may not have ever been a physician, but we did at one time link him to one assault. Well, I guess the link was never proven, he went underground, and has resurfaced on several occasions. The last one was here, about a month ago. The connection to him is extremely tenuous, and I am not certain we have cornered him again. Armed, dangerous, and lethal are all catch phrases that stick to this man, and we’re going to try to bring him in.” Michelle pulled information from her satchel case.

  The assistant chief started to play with the phone while staring out the window, obviously bored.

  Michelle continued, “We have not made visual on him, he’s smart enough that we need to get him with one move. We need to move fast beca
use his initial case was made from associating him to shootings of middle-aged males in local bars for the purpose of being seen as a superior surgeon, saving their lives. I chatted with one of your staff and have learned that there appears to be several shootings that do not fit your local patterns, and these may well be my guy.”

  The assistant chief turned to Michelle and squinted for a second. He then shook his head, stood, and extended his hand. “Fogerty, ma’am. My name is Jim Fogerty. I truly apologize for my rudeness. And my entire resources are open to you. One of those guys that was shot was my wife’s younger brother!”

  Chapter 43

  Colin’s Turn

  Colin searched the newspapers, copying the stories of recent shootings that seemed to fit the pattern of Bishell’s former activity. After these visits, they met at the hotel to compare notes. They then decided to go to the bars that had been where the most recent and suspicious shootings had occurred. They were suspicious because there were not matching obituaries, and they were in the right area of Spokane.

  The first bar was a small, dark bar with several pool tables and an area for watching sports. The bartender happened to have been on the night of the shooting, three weeks prior, but could tell them nothing new or unusual. The second and third bars were variations on the same theme. One was nicer, and one was rougher. The bartenders were not only unfriendly but also uninformative.

  Michelle noticed another bar and asked if they could stop in for a meal, as it advertised an attached club. It seemed a nicer place, but had a clientele that seemed younger and more aggressive. They picked a seat in a booth and ordered their drinks.

  “It has been a long time since we’ve been out without the kids,” Colin said. “Seems like I’ve been nothing but busy with them.”

  “You have been. I’m a crummy mother, and you’re a great dad. I feel like such a failure,” Michelle commented.

  “That’s nonsense, Michelle. You always got up with them almost every night. I couldn’t do that. I’d be awake for the rest of the night if I did that, and you fall back in the bed and are out. You’ve always worked so hard, and I try to pick it up in the morning, but never say you’re a bad mother.”

  “OK, I appreciate what you are saying, Colin. I just feel guilty sometimes.”

  “Well stop. The kids are fine, they have a good time at my folk’s place, and my sister is able to help when the folks get too tired. I might even try to stop in and see your brother on the way home,” Colin said as their salads arrived.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Colin waved to the hostess. The dark-haired lady came over and asked what she could get for him.

  “May I get a glass of red wine?” he asked.

  “Sure, we have a house merlot tonight. Would you like a bottle for you and the Mrs.?”

  “A glass would be fine, thanks,” Colin answered.

  “You’ll have to run a ticket for the bar, too, that OK?” the hostess asked.

  “Fine, thanks,” Colin said as she turned away, headed for the hostess bar.

  A customer had positioned himself in the hostess bar area and she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and excused himself. Colin stopped chewing his food and stared at the customer that stepped back and away from the bar.

  Michelle noticed him stop and asked, “What’s the matter with your food?”

  Colin chewed and moved his food around and said from the corner of his mouth, “That guy up there next to the hostess looks like Bishell!”

  Michelle looked down at her plate and back at Colin. “Follow him with your conversation. I’ll look in a minute. Describe him to me.”

  “Well, gray hair mostly, but full. Has a yellow faded windbreaker on and a shirt with some writing, but I can’t make it out. Seems dressed warmly for the night. Drink in his left hand, and a cigarette in his other hand,” Colin commented.

  “OK, you look down, and I’ll check for the hostess in a second. Where’s he going?”

  “He’s just standing there. Looking this way now,” Colin said as he moved his eyes to the hostess several feet down the bar, and then down to his plate.

  “I wish we had lab do an aging on his former picture. Stupid of me,” Michelle said. “He would be older by fourteen years, and was in his thirties, so we’re looking late forties.”

  “That checks, he’s moving down the bar. Looks pretty casually dressed.”

  “OK, do I call in Geech?” Michelle asked.

  “Yeah that could be a good idea. Better go out to the car, though. No privacy here.”

  “OK, back in a second.”

  Michelle looked at the bar and noted the entrance she and Colin had used was beyond the suspect. The man Colin had identified was walking slowly down the bar, faced away. Michelle could not tell if it was Bishell. The other exit was behind them, so she turned to that exit. Outside she walked to the car and called Geech.

  “Geech, we’re in a small bar, and Colin thinks he’s spotted Clinker,” Michelle said as she cupped the phone to her ear.

  “Really, what is the place called?” Geech asked.

  “It looks like it is called the Tame Duck. We’re inside at a table. He’s at the bar. If you come in the door near the big neon sign that looks like a duck, you’ll walk past him. I haven’t seen him well enough to put identification on him. Colin said he’s wearing a yellow windbreaker and old shirt with writing on it. I didn’t get that good of a look at him, and I’m almost afraid to go back in,” Michelle said as she got out of the car.

  “What street are you on?” Geech asked.

  “We’re on Fifth and Baldwin.”

  “We’re on the way, Michelle. I’ll be calling you on the bug, so keep it in your ear.”

  Michelle started back toward the door and entered, looking into her purse as if she had lost something. When she arrived at their table it was empty, a fresh glass of red wine shimmered on the table. Michelle sat and tried to find lipstick to use as a cover for her activities, and found it. She held it up and started to dab makeup on her face. She could see nothing of Colin or Clinker.

  Michelle idly noted the time, thinking of how long it would take Geech to arrive, when someone ran out of the back of the bar and yelled to the bar tender, “Get an ambulance, some dude has been shot in the shitter!”

  Michelle sat stunned for a second, then her training kicked in, and she stood, surveying the crowded bar. The survey was not for Clinker or Colin, specifically, but she had always been told to try and get a better grasp of an emergent situation, and not to step into the line of fire. Michelle was simply trying to determine if she was in the line of fire. Several people were making their way to the back of the bar. She joined them and looked specifically for Clinker as she pushed to the restroom. She saw neither Clinker nor Colin. A sudden fear gripped her as she pulled out her badge and gun and said, “FBI, make way. FBI, make way.” The crowd parted rapidly as she entered the men’s restroom. Several men were working on Colin.

  The moment seemed to spread into a thousand intervals per second, and each interval heralded another complete thought. Michelle’s first thought was that Clinker did not aim to kill. Her second thought was that he would be away from the bar immediately to change his coat and not be seen in the crowd. Then next complete thought would haunt her for years, but she thought that she had to get Colin’s identification secured. These all passed across her mind before she even thought to check that he was alive.

  “FBI, clear the way, clear out!” Michelle yelled. As she got to Colin, she noted someone had already started dressing his wound. “This is my partner,” Michelle said. “I need an ambulance here now.”

  “I called 911 already,” came a voice.

  “Colin, Colin, can you hear me?”

  Colin opened his eyes and looked at Michelle. He nodded his head and blinked his eyes.

  “Colin, you will not go to Clinker. I will get you out of here. You hold on,” Michelle said.

  Colin took a deep breath and Michelle could
hear air bubbling from somewhere. A voice behind her yelled, “Medic here. I’m EMT, let me in.”

  A young man came in and started expertly and rapidly examining Colin. From his pockets he pulled unlikely materials out and started asking for supplies. “I need a baggy, a big one. I need tape, I need an ace wrap. I need something to put on this chest, get me anything.”

  Michelle looked at the young man and said, “He’s FBI, and he’s my partner and husband. He cannot go to Tri-Memorial.”

  “Can’t help you, ma’am, I’m out of my territory. He’s got a lung blasted open here, and all I need is something to close it.”

  Materials were produced and the young medic had the occlusive dressing on in seconds. Colin looked to the young man and then to Michelle. Colin reached for Michelle and tried to talk. It was obvious he was very short of breath. Michelle leaned close as Colin whispered, “Get the fucker.”

  Michelle pulled Colin’s gun out of his holster and pulled his ID, as she said, “You rest. Ambulance is coming.”

  Just as she spoke, a loud voice declared that the ambulance crew was coming in. Michelle stepped back and watched. A portion of her was still making plans, and she had her phone to her ear before she knew what she had done. Geech answered.