CHAPTER 24 – WHAT THE CHIEF NOTICES
"I wouldn't want this to get back to anyone, especially those, uh, 'scientists' sleeping the day away – they are still asleep?" Stolemaker said to Emma, over late morning tea in Hippo's kitchen.
"Dennis and Janice? Like children worn out from nightmares. I doubt they'll wake before evening, left to their own devices."
"I don't know if I have too much time on my hands, or if I'm trying too hard to ignore my legs, but I'm finding myself fantasizing about how I'd conduct an interview with agent applicants, if interviews could be conducted according to what it would be useful to know, versus what the regulators think is allowable to ask. After what I've been through and learned since I took this job, my first question would be 'If your pet dog and a person you'd never met were in imminent danger and you could help only one, which would you help?' At a guess, that would winnow out 99 percent of the people it's hazardous to have running around keeping an eye out for national security. You'd be surprised how many people think it's stupid to help a human being over their dog. Honestly, I'd give allowances for having to swallow hard. I'm not asking that they not care about the dog, you know."
"I'll bet you manage to ask the question somehow, or something like it."
"I have to, don't I? I'm in charge of operations that no one really wants in the hands of moral midgets, but you'd die laughing at the contortions I have to go through to try to ascertain if someone has any concept of right and wrong, decency, courage, fortitude, loyalty, tolerance, reality, proportion, perspective, you name it. If I had my way, we'd just ask straight out if they care about other people simply because they're human beings. If they didn't, I'd kick them out the door and tell them not to waste my time until they've outgrown being a spoilt heedless brat."
"Go, boss. You tell 'em."
"That's just it. I don't dare. So I spend idle hours inventing new ways to ask permissible questions to make them actually informative."
"If it makes you feel better, if I read my history right there haven't been too many times when people with good sense were in charge of making regulations or imposing them. There always seems to be a gap between what's wanted, and what some clerk comes up with to make himself feel useful and powerful."
"Gee, that cheers me up."
Emma's eyes twinkled. "I know a man who invites potential employees to his house for dinner and to watch old movies. Anybody who doesn't understand why Cary Grant's character in Arsenic and Old Lace is properly horrified by his aunts' particular form of charity to strangers gets thanked for applying, and that's the end of it."
"That's the movie where the old ladies poison bachelors so they can't be lonely?"
"That's the one. It used to be funny, back in the day."
"It still is, if you can shut out what you know about people without a proper moral compass running loose these days."
"And making ethically rudderless movies, too."
"The pendulum is swinging back the other way, I think."
"I hope so."
Hippo walked in. "What's the weather looking like?" he asked.
Stolemaker maneuvered the curtain to one side. "Cloudy, but the moisture's staying up there at the moment." Movement caught his eye. He shifted his focus to the cow pasture, and frowned. "Westmoreland, I have a stupid question. Is there some odd local sport or custom that involves walking along inside cow herds, bent over, like you're trying to hide behind them as you go?"
"It sounds more like a Continental custom to me," Hippo quipped. He looked out the window.
"Call the police," Stolemaker said.
"The regular ones?" Hippo asked.
"We'll let them have first shot, anyway," Stolemaker said.
"More or less," Emma said, checking that her handgun was loaded.
-
When Charlotte at the 999 center relayed that Westmoreland saw people sneaking around behind cattle behind Loomis's place, Briggs dropped what he was doing and rolled.
To his relief, he didn't have to contend with any help when he got there. Westmoreland – seen peeking through the window over at his own home – was showing some sense, apparently, and letting the professionals deal with it. Sometimes he didn't. Had a habit of taking care of things himself usually, Westmoreland did. Or ignoring things he shouldn't. Didn't like to cooperate with law enforcement, in any case. Nor was Ian the postman in evidence. Running after a suspect had unleashed some primal force or something in the man. Being shot at hadn't been enough to counteract it, apparently. In any case, Ian had been on high lookout for more crimes to help avert or criminals to tackle (properly, this time); in sum, Ian seemed to be hoping for a chance to get the hero business down. It was a bother. And a worry.
As Briggs rounded the corner of Deerfield Cottage he saw early-teen-sized legs sticking out the dog door, working inward. The pants and boots were familiar.
"That's far enough, Noah," Briggs said, as he hauled him out.
"Run, Woody, run! It's the law," Noah cried.
Briggs handcuffed him. "Stay!" he ordered.
"Hey, I might be using a dog door, but I'm not a dog," Noah said. "You can't tell me to 'stay!' – not like that. I have my rights, you know."
"Shut up if you know what's good for you," Briggs said, turning to run after Woody.
Woody spared him the trouble. The boy came running, crying for help from the police. Behind him sauntered Emma, gun drawn.
Briggs only knew her as the official who'd rounded up the secret service fellow and driven off after the Loomis murder. Charlotte had been able to confirm Richard Hugh's bona fides, which put this woman on the side of law and order, but really, the gun was too much. "Excuse me, ma'am, but these are just garden-variety thieves. No need for the gun."
"You know them?"
"Yes, ma'am. Bit devilish no doubt, but we expect they'll grow out of it."
"Before or after doing hard time for attempted arson?" Emma asked. "At least I'm assuming that was accelerant of some sort in the jerry can you tried to hide in the hollyhocks?" she asked Woody.
"You can't prove I was carrying it. I wore gloves, see," Woody said, holding up his hands proudly.
Noah grinned, like he was sure they'd outsmarted the adults this time.
Emma drew Briggs aside. "From your reaction, I take it that this isn't what you'd expect from these two?"
He shook his head.
"Someone might have put them up to it, of course," Emma said, "Bored young men sometimes come cheap for crime, I've found."
"And these two always think they're bored," Briggs said. "That's their biggest problem, I'd say."
"They're not oversupplied with good role models, either, I take it?"
"No, ma'am. Crime's gone down since some of the local church men started mentoring neighbor boys, but so far these two have avoided good influences like the plague. And, sad to say, there's always someone around eager to pull half-lost youngsters all the way to the bad."
"It's been that way since the Garden of Eden, from what I understand. Don't let it make you give up on them."
Noah foolishly made a break for it. Briggs dashed off in pursuit. Emma glared Woody into obedient standing still.
Not Exactly Allies Page 24