by Nova
“Sarge, where are the rest of the guys?” he said, searching around. Diesel was with us physically, but I wasn’t sure where the rest of him was.
“Sarge, we need a pickup. Those fuckers are somewhere around here. They always are when they set this shit off.”
The sense of urgency in his voice was palpable.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“Hey, buddy. I think your man there is losing it.” The Dipshit followed his comment with a malicious chuckle that ended with him crying in pain and pitching forward. A kick in the kidney hurts, especially when you’re wearing boots like mine.
Max was next to Diesel now. He was talking to him softly. I couldn’t hear what he was saying but I flashed back to when he had done the same thing for me when I was hurting really bad.
I knelt next to Dipshit and did my own version of a soothing whisper in his ear. “When I get you alone in about thirty minutes, I am going to hurt you so bad you are going to beg me to stop.” He didn’t say anything but I knew he was listening. “Then you are going to find out that I’m just getting started.”
I stood up. Max had his arm around Diesel. They had their backs to me. Dipshit was on his knees still, both arms on the ground, with his head hanging down. He was still moaning from my kidney shot. I stomped the hand closest to me and watched him go flat on the ground, shrieking. Max and Diesel didn’t even turn around.
Diesel seemed to be back from wherever he had gone. I could only guess where that might have been, but I bet it involved the sun and friends dying. He was embarrassed about it, I could tell. Max had him go through Dipshit’s car while we stood over him.
“Did you search him?”
“No, I thought I would just shoot him if he twitched wrong.”
“That’s not how we do it, Gardener. You got to search him.”
So I patted him down while he whined about how he needed medical help. The only thing I found on him was his wallet. I started going through it.
“Hey! Dipshit has a name. He also has a Zone pass.” It was an old pass, expired three months ago, and the photo was a few years old. “So, Casey. That is you, right?”
“Yes, Damn. You going to help me?”
“In a minute. Maybe.”
Diesel had found a Motorola walkie-talkie and a cell phone in the car. “Check it out.” He held them up for us to look at.
“Nice. Stomp the shit out of the cell and bring me the walkie.”
He brought the walkie-talkie to Max, who said, “Roll Casey over.”
I rolled him over. “Damn, Casey, you are going to have a couple of gorgeous black eyes.”
Max knelt down next to him. “Okay. When is your next check-in time?” Casey looked away. “Okay, Casey, I am going to ask you one more time. If you don’t answer, I am going to ask Officer Gardener to break all the fingers on your other hand.”
“Prick!”
I drew my foot back to prompt him, but Max shook his head no.
“Alright—at four o’clock if I have any problems.”
“And if you didn’t have problems?”
“I would just show up.”
“Thanks, Casey. I appreciate it. Okay, put him in the back of the truck. We’ll take him to the station and get him fixed up.”
Diesel grabbed his feet and I got the head.
“Remember what I said, Casey? We are not done caring and sharing yet, not by a long shot.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
We dropped him in the back of the truck. Max and Diesel had their shovels and a tamp bar in there, so he was a bit unhappy about that also.
“Jesus Christ! Wait until I tell my dad about this! He is going to have your balls.”
I climbed in the back with him and slapped the side of the truck cab to let Max know I was ready. “Really? Is it okay if I save the rest for your mother?”
“Fuck you. You’re a goddamn whack job.”
I didn’t say anything. I just smiled and stared at him until he turned his head.
When we got to the station, I stood him up, and we walked him in. We had two holding cells. One was filled with boxes of paper and who knows what from the previous administration; the other was guest-ready. We put him in there.
“Am I going to get a doctor? I want to make a phone call.”
“Yep, we’ll get right on it,” I told him. We left him mumbling to himself in the cell and went back to the main area of the station.
“Diesel, take the truck and see if you can get Donna to come by and take a look at him, will you?”
“No problem.” He didn’t hesitate, either. I think he was still bothered by losing it in the field.
We waited until the door had shut. Max put his boots up on the desk. “So, how do you want to do it, G? I think you have established a rapport with him—not that I would mind beating the snot out of him.”
“We might not have to, Max.”
“Do tell.”
“Well, let me tell you his backstory. I’m guessing on this but I bet I’m pretty close. He’s young, probably not more than nineteen. His dad is someone back in the Zone, probably military. He’s gay. Dad didn’t like it. He ran and ended up with whoever the hell he ended up with.”
“The wrong crowd?”
We both laughed. “Yeah. Those people. I think he has a lover in town. That shouldn’t be too hard to find out. There can’t be more than four gay people in this town.”
“Actually five, but two are a lesbian couple, so I think we can rule them out.”
“You got an idea who then?”
“Yeah. He’s in the militia. I doubt if he has any connection to what happened on the road. I’ll talk to him anyway as soon as Diesel gets back.”
“So we make Casey here an offer,” I said. “We tell him he can go home—that is, if Daddy will pick him up—but he has to tell us where his buddies are. We go wipe them out. Maybe Daddy shows his gratitude in a tangible way.”
“Sounds like a plan. You want to make the offer?”
“Sure. If Diesel comes back before I come out, you might have him take Donna for a walk.”
Max grinned. He knew what I meant. Donna was a healer, not a pain-giver. She might get upset if I had to resort to physical attitude adjustment tactics.
I walked back into the holding area, past the sign that read Check Your Weapons Before Entering! I checked mine. It was still there.
Casey was huddled in the corner. He didn’t look at me.
“Hey, kid.”
“What?”
“I don’t care if you are gay.”
That got a reaction from him. “Who said I was gay?”
“No reason to get defensive. Like I said, I don’t care.”
“Fuck you.”
“How’s the hand?”
“It hurts. Hurts bad. My ribs and head do, too.”
“Well, we got a nurse coming.”
“I don’t need a nurse. I need a freaking hospital, thanks to you.”
“We don’t have a hospital. We don’t have a doctor. We don’t have pain meds.”
“You don’t have shit, do you? I want to make a phone call.”
“To your dad?”
Silence. Then, grudgingly, “Yeah.”
“Let me explain something to you. Just to make sure we’re on the same page and all.”
“I’m listening. Hey, can you at least get me some aspirin?”
“No. Not until you listen to me and pick a scenario. You do know what a scenario is, don’t you?”
He rolled his eyes. “An outline or synopsis. I’m not stupid.”
“First, I give you the backstory. You were seen killing those two old people.” He twitched at that and started to say something. He changed his mind and looked away from me. “The ones in the RV.” Just in case there were others. “Well, them people you killed?—Grandpa was a Marine Corps vet.”
That hit home. Interesting, I thought.
“Okay, now that I have your attention, let me present Scena
rio A. We have an eyewitness. We have a shell casing from Grandpa’s execution.”
I liked the part about the shell casing. Thanks to CSI, which was probably still running somewhere, everyone knew that any evidence found on the scene would identify anyone who was within fifteen feet of a crime.
“I didn’t shoot him!”
“Kid, I got your gun. I can walk outside and fire a round in the dirt. Then I pick up the brass. We got an eyewitness and a brass casing that I will say I picked up at the scene of the crime. Then, I get a pair of bolt cutters and I come in here, sit down all nice and cozy next to you, and start cutting off body parts until you confess.”
He was staring at me wide-eyed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Kid, in this town I can do whatever I want. If you have not figured that out yet, then I am wasting my time talking to you. Am I?”
“No-o-o-o!”
“Look at me, kid. Look me right in the eyes. Do you think you can tell when someone is lying to you?”
He nodded his head.
“Good. I don’t care if you are gay. Truth?”
He nodded yes.
“I don’t care who your dad might be. Truth?”
“Yes,” spoken very softly.
“I have no problem with cutting off your fingers, toes, and cock if I have to. Truth?”
He just swallowed.
“Truth?”
“Yes!”
I figured later that threatening to cut his dick off was what tipped him over. Hell, it gave me the willies.
“You have any other scenarios?” This was tentatively asked. He wasn’t sure yet how much wiggle room he had.
“Did you kill those people?”
He shook his head slowly, then the words started coming. “I’m just a spotter. I spot people I think might have something good. Then I follow them and call in. I give the description of the car and who’s in it. They did the rest. Honest!”
I shook my head. “You want Scenario B?”
“Yes!”
“Tell me about your dad. Who he is? How I get hold of him?” He was nodding his head with enthusiasm now. “Then you tell me all about your friends. I mean how many. What kind of weapons. Where they are living. Anything you can think of. You got it?”
He got it. He was liking this plan.
“So talk to me, kid. Oh, one more thing. If it isn’t like you say—or if any of my friends get hurt—then I am going to dig a hole in the ground, put you in it, and set you on fire. Truth?”
“Yes. Oh, my God. Truth.”
“Start talking.”
He did. One thing I noticed was that I could remember more than I could before. I don’t know if it was because I was no longer feeding my brain a constant stream of stimuli or it was the memory trick Max had taught me a million years ago. Probably both.
Casey’s short version was there were four men, two women, and a couple of pit bulls. Two of the guys were a couple. That was who had recruited him. I didn’t ask if the pit bulls were in a committed relationship.
They called themselves the Bunker Busters. I thought that was interesting. They took the name because they originally planned to prey on people in bunkers. They had done a couple, but lost two of their original people in the process, and decided to go for softer targets.
They used the women as decoys. They would wave down the mark and claim to have mechanical problems. Then the women would pull their weapons at the right moment and whistle up the men. They usually left two people at their safe house to keep an eye on things.
They had AR-15s, a Ruger Mini-14, and a shotgun. The women had handguns only. All the handguns were semiautomatics. Glock and Beretta was all he knew. Two of the men had armor.
“Are there any veterans?” I asked.
“Yeah. Glenda was an MP. She’s a real bitch, too. I think Jonesy was in the air force. My friends, Merle and Chad, told me they had been in the national guard. Darlene is just there for decoration. I don’t know about the other guy. I don’t think he likes me. He calls me Little Bitch, if he talks to me at all. Chad said that he really likes me, but I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, kid. I doubt it, too.”
“So when is this nurse getting here? I hurt!”
“One more thing. Your dad have a personal cell?”
“Yeah. Supposedly only three people have the number, but I doubt that.” I looked at him.
He sighed. “I suppose you want it.”
“Yep.”
“It’s 202-456-1414.”
“One more thing. Daddy got a name and a title?”
He told me and then he grinned. The grin faded when he saw it made no impression on me.
“Alright. I’ll go see if the nurse is here.” I got up to go.
“Hey! You’re not going to hurt them, are you? I mean, for real. My friends—”
“Kid, they are all dead men walking now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I walked back out into the bullpen area. Donna was there. Everybody froze what they were doing and looked at me expectantly.
“He’s ready for you, Donna.”
She gathered up the bags she had brought with her and walked past me. As she passed she said, “Hey, Gardener.”
I laughed. “Hey, Donna.”
Max asked, “So what did he have to say?”
I ran down what Casey had told me. Max looked off in the distance for a minute, thinking it through.
“So who’s his daddy?”
“You are going to love this, Max. His daddy is Robert Case, the current National Security Adviser.”
“No shit?” We both started laughing. The laughter was tinged with an undercurrent of Oh, my God.
“How do you want to handle it, Max?”
“Well, hell, give Big Daddy a call. Don’t lie to him. He should have the resources to do this quickly. Arrange for a pickup ASAP. We got a couple of hours of daylight left. Meet him outside of Centerville, where Tommy picked us up. Then get back here. We got a house call to make.”
“Alright. You got any requests for the man in case it comes up?”
“Naw. Play it by ear. Do what you think is right. Hell, take my truck. We don’t want the little shit dying on us.”
“Okay. I’ll give ‘Bobby’ a call. Then I’m going to the diner to get something to eat. By then Donna should have Casey patched up and ready to travel. Let Night know what’s up.”
Max and I stood there and stared at each other for a handful of seconds. Then I shrugged and said, “Life’s a bitch,” and laughed.
He didn’t. “I can go with you—”
“No. I doubt if it’s going to be a big deal. I mean, what did we do wrong?”
Max thought that was funny. “Yeah, really. Just tell the kid to keep his hand in his pocket. If it will fit.”
I went into the other office, which had the working phone. I picked up the handset and got a dial tone, took a deep breath, and punched in the number.
It rang three times before the other end picked up.
“Hello.” Brusque. A deep voice. A command voice. The kind of voice that, just by the tone, you knew you were going to have to make a real effort to satisfy.
“Mr. Case?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Officer Gardener. I am with the police department here. We have your son in custody.”
Silence. Then, “What are the charges?”
“Murder. Assaulting a police officer. Littering. Probably about five or six more that I can’t think of off the top of my head.”
I could hear him inhale deeply and slowly let the air out. “What do you require from me?” It was a good connection, which was unusual nowadays.
“You want him back?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, what is your organization, and who the hell are you?”
I laughed. “If you are who your son says you are, you already know who I am, where I am calling from, and my favorite color. So let’s not fuck around, okay?”
Silence. Then, �
�Very well. How do you want to do this?”
“Your son was in an auto accident and sustained injuries. He is currently receiving medical care, but we do not have the facilities here to do more than the minimal patching.”
“How bad is he?”
Finally, I thought, a note of actual concern. Or was it just guilt? “Casey is all right. He has some cracked ribs, a broken hand. His forehead is messed up, and he probably has a broken nose. More than that I can’t say because—”
He cut me off, “Because you do not have the facilities.”
“Correct.”
“Fine. I will meet you—”
It was my turn to cut him off. “Good. I’ll give you directions.” I did. But the phone sounded dead. I wasn’t sure if he had cut me off, the line had dropped, or he had muted it so he could talk to someone on the other side. Then, “I’m back. Fine. We estimate we can be at the pickup spot in forty-five minutes.”
“Make it an hour and a half. I’m hungry and he is still getting his boo-boos kissed.”
“Fine.” This was hissed. Then the line went truly dead.
I had left the door open. When I turned around, Max was standing there shaking his head.
“Damn. I’m glad you turned me down on my offer of backup. I’m not really sure now that letting you have my truck was a good idea.”
“Lighten up, Max. We both know if he wants his pound of flesh, he is going to take it even if I spend a half hour groveling and kissing his ass.”
He laughed. “Yeah. You really polished his knob on that call. The kid will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
I went over to the diner. The selections were getting limited. Shelli was trying to fill in the holes by using local foods and minimizing the meat offerings. At least that was what she told me. I figured it was more of the Burner vegan crap. The only choice I found appetizing was a medium well-done goat burger. I didn’t even bother to ask what the goat had done to end up on the menu.
My waitress was the same girl as the day of the swearing-in ceremony. She was civil but a little distant. I shrugged it off.
I headed back to get the kid. Max was gone. Casey was out of the cage and sitting with Donna talking. He did not look as enthusiastic about going home as I thought he would. “You ready, kid?”