[Lady Justice 13] - Lady Justice and the Assassin

by Robert Thornhill

  I had just poured my coffee when I heard the reporter exclaim, “Hey! Isn’t that the old cop that saved the president?”

  One of the officers nodded, and before I could escape, the reporter was on top of me with a recorder stuck in my face.

  “Officer! What’s it feel like to be a hero? Have you heard from the president since the incident? Were you ever in danger yourself?”

  The last thing I wanted was publicity. The only reason that I was involved at all was because fate had me standing closer to Henry Martin than any other officer.

  “I really don’t care to comment,” I said as graciously as possible.

  The reporter, however, was one of those guys that couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

  “But our readers want to know!” he protested.

  I tried to move away but he stepped in front of me, bumping my arm, which sent half the contents of my cup streaming down the front of my shirt and pants.

  “No comment!” I said more forcefully. “Now please move aside so that I can go to the restroom and clean up this mess.”

  “Sure! Sorry about that. I’ll just wait here until you come back out. Maybe we can try this again.”

  “Not a chance,” I muttered.

  Unfortunately, when I entered the restroom, I came face-to-face with Officer Dooley. We’re good friends, but Dooley never passes up an opportunity to put the screws to the old cop.

  He took one look at the wet stain on the front of my pants. “Whoa! Did someone forget their Depends this morning?”

  “Very funny! I have that creep reporter from the Star to thank for this.”

  “Yeah, he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Anything I can do to help?”

  I looked around and spotted a window that opened onto a fire escape.

  “Yeah, you can,” I replied. “Help me get this window open. After I’m out of here, go out and tell the reporter that I’ve changed my mind and I’ll give him the interview if he doesn’t mind hanging around for a while.”

  “I like it!” Dooley said, grinning. “I’m betting he’ll wait half a day if he thought he was going to get a story.”

  We pried the window open and I climbed out on the fire escape. The squad room was on the second floor on the backside of the building that faced an alley.

  When my feet touched the ground, I was just a few feet from a homeless guy that was curled up against the wall with a paper bag clutched in his hand. An old backpack was lying beside him.

  Naturally, the first thing he saw was my wet crotch. “Got me a package of Depends,” he said, tapping his backpack. “Sell ‘em to ya fer five bucks.”

  I tossed a five at the poor guy, knowing that it would probably buy him a couple of bottles of Thunderbird.

  As I trudged down the alley to my car, it was comforting to know that if I ever became incontinent, I would have options.

  Before I had left the apartment for my meeting with the Captain, Maggie and I had decided that we would go out for supper that evening.

  I have found, during my three years on the force that when I have been subjected to a near-death experience, one of the things that helps me cope is comfort food. The ordeal with the Cobras and the Skinheads certainly qualified, and my favorite source of comfort food is Mel’s Diner.

  It’s not Maggie’s favorite place because nothing that Mel serves is healthy, but it tastes like a little bit of heaven. Nevertheless, Maggie agreed to go since, once again, I had nearly bought the farm, and because it was actually my turn to choose. She had chosen our last meal out, The Melting Pot.

  She was dressed and ready to go when I walked in the door.

  “Well, there’s our local hero and TV star.”

  “Excuse me! What are you talking about?”

  “I guess you haven’t been watching the news,” she replied. “You’re on every station. Here let me show you.”

  She switched on the TV and even though the footage was jerky, I immediately recognized the scene of the president’s attempted assassination.

  “Here you come,” she said.

  After the first shot had been fired from the sniper, I had grabbed Henry and pulled him over the concrete barrier. Some enterprising citizen in the crowd had recorded everything from that moment forward on their cell phone.

  The reporter said, “The police have not released the identity of the officer that saved the president, but reliable sources have told us that he is a three year veteran and the oldest officer on the force.”

  At that moment, I had just received the ‘all clear’ from Mark, and Henry and I stood up. The cell phone camera had captured a full frontal view of my face.

  “Oh great!” I muttered. “That explains the reporter.”

  I told Maggie about the incident with the obnoxious reporter.

  “Are you sure you want to go out?” Maggie asked. “If someone recognizes you, we may not be able to eat in peace.”

  “But I’m starving,” I moaned, “and I need comforting.”

  Then I had an idea.

  I rummaged around in the closet and found a box of stuff that I had used on various undercover assignments.

  At the very bottom, I found what I was looking for, a black handlebar moustache and a pair of bushy eyebrows to match.

  The gooey stuff on the back seemed fresh enough, so I went into the bathroom mirror and stuck them on.

  When I returned to the living room, Maggie giggled. “Well, you’re not exactly Tom Selleck, but it might work.”

  Actually, I thought I looked more like Juan Valdez, the Columbian coffee guy, but they always picture him with a donkey so I figured I’d better not mention that to Maggie.

  As we were walking out of the building, we met the Professor. “Well, well. If it isn’t Juan Valdez.”

  I shook my head and put my finger to my lips.

  “Juan who?” Maggie asked.

  “Uhhh, never mind,” the Professor stuttered. “Looks like the TV star is going incognito.”

  “I suppose you saw it too,” I muttered.

  “Seems like most everyone has seen it. Rejoice, Walt. This is your fifteen minutes of fame.”

  “That’s about fifteen minutes too much,” I replied.

  “Ahhh, the irony,” he said with a sigh. “Someone has said that a celebrity is someone who spends the first half of their life trying to become famous, and the second half wearing dark glasses so that no one will recognize them. I certainly hope your little charade works for you.”

  When we walked into the diner, Mel looked up from the counter. “Evenin’, Maggie,” he said with a wink. “Who’s this handsome fella you’re with tonight?”

  “Juan somebody,” she said shrugging her shoulders.

  Mel laughed and handed Maggie a couple of menus. “Are you paying tonight or should I ask ‘Juan for the money’?”

  I never realized that Mel had a sense of humor.

  I normally don’t need the menu when I eat at Mel’s. I have several favorites. I had already decided on a big chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes. Mel covers everything with the most scrumptious gravy I have ever tasted.

  Nevertheless, I took a casual glance and noticed that there was a slip of paper clipped to the top. Mel does that when he has specials that are not on the regular menu.

  The note said that Mel was serving his ‘Smokin’ Hot Pulled Pork Chili’. Now I had a real problem. My mind had been set on the gravy, but Mel’s chili is a special treat. Instead of using ground beef, he smokes big pork butts and uses the hickory flavored pork. After a bitter struggle, I realized that I could get the gravy anytime, but the chili was a rare treat. The chili won. I would top it off with a big piece of lemon meringue pie.

  Mel set the steaming bowl of chili in front of me and the aroma of smoked hickory made my mouth water.

  It had been quite a while since I had this special dish and I had forgotten just how hot it actually was. I have to admit that I’m pretty much a light-weight when it comes to hot food. Tacos
with mild sauce make me break out in a sweat.

  I had consumed about half the bowl when the little trickles started running down the back of my neck. A few bites later, my forehead was wet.

  I dipped in my spoon to take another bite and was shocked to see what looked like a caterpillar doing the backstroke in my bowl.

  “Holy crap!” I exclaimed, showing the offensive creature to Maggie.

  She looked in the bowl, and then she looked at me and laughed so hard that she snorted little pieces of her salad out her nose.

  “What? What’s so funny about that?” I said, indignantly.

  She couldn’t stop laughing. She just pointed at my head. “It’s your eyebrow, goofy.”

  I felt, and sure enough, one of my bushy brows was gone. Then something else caught my eye. I felt my upper lip and discovered that my moustache was hanging half off.

  It was pretty evident that my disguise was no match for the heat in Mel’s chili.

  “Take that stuff off,” Maggie giggled. “You look absolutely silly.”

  I peeled off my half-moustache and remaining eyebrow and stuffed them in my pocket.

  I had just fished the errant eyebrow out of the chili bowl and was wiping it with a napkin, when I heard, “Hey! Isn’t that the old cop that saved the president?”

  “Yeah, that’s him!” somebody answered.

  Before I could even stuff the eyebrow in my pocket, our booth was surrounded.

  A guy thrust one of Mel’s napkins in my face. “Hey, man. How about an autograph?”

  Another woman plopped her baby in my lap and started snapping pictures with her cell phone.

  Thankfully, Mel came to my rescue. “Hey, let’s give the man a break. He’s had a tough week.”

  Mel is a big guy and he didn’t have to ask twice.

  As the crowd dispersed, I handed him a twenty. “Thanks for that. Keep the change.”

  He pushed the twenty back to me. “It’s on the house tonight. You’re my hero too.”

  As I walked back to the car, a thousand thoughts were running through my mind, but the thing that distressed me most was that I didn’t get my lemon meringue pie.

  The next morning, the Captain summoned me into his office.

  I was surprised to see Mark Davenport back in town.

  “Hi Walt. I thought we should get together so that I could catch you up on a few things.”

  I figured right away that Mark actually wanted something. Homeland Security didn’t normally keep me in the loop.

  “We’ve been working with Henry Martin trying to round up the remainder of the coalition that ordered the assassination attempt. He had told us about the Ozark Militia and how they trained him for a week at a camp near Roscoe about a two hour drive from here.”

  I knew Roscoe fairly well. Willie and I had spent some time there on another case.

  “The militia was led by a fellow named Terrance Cobb,” Mark continued. “Henry led us to the woods where they had their encampment, but they had pulled up stakes and moved on. The place looked like nobody had ever been there. They even spread dry leaves and branches over the spot where they had dug their latrine. We think they have probably moved farther south, maybe even into Arkansas. We’ve heard that there’s another militia hiding in the Boston Mountains. They may have joined forces.

  “Also, your timing was perfect. We were able to make contact with the agents that were protecting the vice president in California. They were able to get him away before any shots were fired. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to locate Henry’s counterpart out there.”

  This was all very interesting, but I didn’t see what it had to do with me. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Finally, it did.”

  “I have some good news for you,” Mark said. “I’ve been with the president and he was very impressed with your quick action the other day. He would like to fly you to Washington so that he can thank you personally.”

  I’m sure that he was hoping that I would be jumping up and down with glee, but my reaction was just the opposite.

  “Look, I appreciate the gesture very much, but I’m just not into all of this publicity stuff. My mug was on TV yesterday and I haven’t had a moment’s peace. If you don’t mind, just tell the president, ‘thanks’, but I’ll pass.”

  Mark and the Captain couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

  “Walt!” Mark exclaimed. “You can’t just blow off the President of the United States!”

  What I wanted to say was that as far as I knew this was still a free country and that I could blow off anybody I chose, but I didn’t.

  “I’m not a hero. I was just the guy standing at the wrong place at the right time. It could have been any man on the force. Frankly, I’m not real excited about giving the guy another photo op for the press.”

  “Ahhh, so this is a political statement!” Mark said.

  “Mark, let me remind you that you recruited me to work undercover with Ben Foster in the presidential campaign. I spent four months of my life campaigning with him against this guy and the other candidate. At first, I did it because it was my job, but the more time I spent with him, the more I came to believe in what Ben Foster stood for.

  “Think about this. You recruited me because I was Ben Foster’s double. That hasn’t changed. If I’m in Washington, glad-handing the president, some reporter is going to remember, and the whole nasty business surrounding Ben’s death will come up. I don’t think the president would want that.”

  Mark thought for a moment. “We didn’t think of that. You might be right. I’ll take care of it. Jesus, Walt. There are people in this country that would give anything for an audience with the president.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” I replied, “but there are also people that feel exactly the opposite, people like Brant Jaeger and this Terrance Copper.”

  “That brings us to the other reason that we asked you to come in this morning. As long as Jaeger is out there, not only the president, but Henry and his family are in danger. We have to do something to lure him out into the open.”

  “I suppose you have an idea about that,” I replied, suspecting that it involved me.

  “We do,” the Captain replied, “but after hearing how you feel about being in the limelight, you may not be interested.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “At this point, Jaeger has no idea where Henry and his family are staying,” the Captain said. “We want to give him the opportunity to find out. The press has been clamoring for us to make a statement about the assassination attempt and identify the shooter and the hero cop. We have held off, but now we see this as an opportunity to lure Jaeger into the open.”

  “Sounds like you’re saying that Henry and I are going to be the bait.”

  “We’ve made arrangements for a press conference that will be attended by virtually every TV station in town. One of the news anchors will conduct an interview with you and Henry --- that is, if you’re willing. There’s no way that Jaeger could miss it. He’ll know where you both are and if he does what we think he’ll do, he’ll follow you from the press conference to the safe house. When he tries to make a move, we’ll be waiting for him. What do you think?”

  “Like I said, I’m no hero and the last thing I want is media attention, but this is part of the job. I get it. I saw the hate in Jaeger’s eyes and if this will get the guy off of the street, then I guess that I’m in.”

  “We were hoping you would say that. It’s our best shot.”

  It was beginning to look like I was going to be a celebrity whether I wanted to or not.

  CHAPTER 19

  The plan was pretty straightforward.

  An attempted assassination of the President of the United States was front-page news all over the country and people were eager to know everything about the man that was a trigger’s pull away from changing the course of American history.

  The Captain had said that a proposed news conference would be attended by every TV stat
ion in town, but once word got out, reporters from every major newspaper across the country flocked into the city, and all the major networks sent teams to relay the broadcast to their viewers.

  There was no possible way that Brant Jaeger and the powerful interests that had bankrolled him could miss the event.

  Henry Martin had agreed to bare his soul and tell his story from the day he lost his job which started the downward spiral of his family, until the very moment when he tapped me on the shoulder and surrendered his Glock. He had been instructed to share every minute detail, especially naming names and pinpointing locations. The whole production was orchestrated to infuriate the ego-driven Neo-Nazi and draw him out into the open.

  Knowing the location of Henry’s broadcast, it was hoped that Jaeger and his skinhead minions would follow Henry after the news conference in an attempt to discover the safe house where his family was being sequestered.

  Even though I had tried to downplay my part in the whole affair, the public wanted to know more about the old cop that was standing under the light pole when history was being made. I would be at Henry’s side during the interview to add my two cents worth to the proceedings.

  After the interview, an armed escort would take Henry and me to a safe house where Marsha, Billie and the Bennett’s were supposed to be staying, only they actually wouldn’t be there. This safe house would be a decoy, right down to the department having a policewoman on site, pretending to be Marsha, to give Henry a hug when he walked in the door. If and when Jaeger attacked the house, Henry’s family would be miles away.

  Naturally, with any operation, there are a thousand things that could go wrong. We were counting on the fact that Jaeger would want to punish Henry by attacking his whole family. It was always a possibility that he could be laying in wait somewhere along our route with one of the grenade launchers that Henry had seen in Terrance Cobb’s arsenal.

  I had been on the receiving end of a grenade launcher twice in the past year and witnessed it’s destructive power, so if that was, indeed, part of Jaeger’s plan, we could kiss our tushies goodbye.