by Gary Sapp
a downside to this, Tabitha. And I gave her my word.” Chris said. “I gave her my word, Tabitha.”
Blue stepped back from both of them, lowered her gun a half inch.
“Listen, Chris, I know you’re distraught after losing your brother the way that you did, especially after we were so close to reaching him in time before the Peacekeeper’s loyal to Quincy Morgan did. Damn, Chris, I can appreciate how you must be feeling…really I can.”
“Don’t be a fool, Tabitha.” Chris said in a hard voice and shook his bald head back and forth. “Xavier’s death had very little with why I’m doing this.”
“Bullshit,”
“Tabitha, I gave her my word. That has to mean something.”
“You shouldn’t talk to me about giving and keeping promises, Chris.” Blue had raised her firearm back to where it was previously. She took a step closer to Grace until she was nearly hidden behind her. Chris shadowed her until he had reestablished a clear shot again. “What about the oath you made to your country?”
Chris didn’t answer. Instead they rounded each other with their weapon trained on the other as they circled Grace Edwards. Chris did the dance with his partner as he sweated bullets. He could smell his own fear…but was it for the fear of being shot by Tabitha Blue—or was it because he was becoming more willing to shoot her with each passing minute. He felt his pulse racing in the wrist of his trigger hand.
He could hear the rustling of the leaves in the background and nearby as another heavy gust of wind passed.
He could hear someone fire a round off in the distance.
He dared not take his eyes off of Blue.
“I don’t want you to talk to me about the bureau. Maybe you need a reminder about what happened to me in the recent past, Tabitha.” Their dance paused as an imaginary record changed. “This bureau that you speak on and on about so proudly and blindly follow is a broken institution. How many of our fellow agents split and worked as double agents for Serena Tennyson and Pandora over the past few years. Hell, Tabitha, the director himself was leading that outfit over there. How many of our people abandoned their post with the ATF, CIA and other lettered agencies to aid a hate group plot the murder of people of color? How many do you think, Blue?”
“Alright, Chris, I won’t argue that point with you, I can’t. And I give you the same word that I promised myself when I found out about what Raymond Rice has been doing: I won’t rest until those who have betrayed us are brought in to justice.” And then the dance between the partners resumed. “But I want you to forget about all of those strangers for a minute and focus on the only thing that matters right now—what about us, Chris? What about me? Do you count me among the broken? Is our partnership broken? What about our friendship?”
“I don’t want to lose you as a partner or a friend, Tabitha.” Chris replied, but kept his gun raised just the same. “You are good cop. You’re a better person and you’re the most loyal person that I know. I just think that your loyalty is sometimes misguided.”
“You talk about loyalty,” Blue flashed her overbite as laughed bitterly. “You are so right, Chris. I am loyal almost to a fault. I’m loyal to the bureau. I’m loyal to you. But something has to give tonight. Someone has to give in tonight. But it won’t be me, Chris. Your lady friend here claimed that she was ready to die for her beliefs. One or both of us had damn well been prepared to do the same thing. Are you truly ready to make that call, Christopher? You better not be mistaken especially if you are prepared to pull that trigger and kill me where is stand right now.”
Chris pulled his hammer back.
“I don’t want to, Agent Blue, but I will.”
The dance ends at last as does the imaginary song.
There is only silence.
And then there is only more silence.
Until Chris hears voice calls out from somewhere behind them. Both he and Blue train their guns off of one another and he points his to the North while his partner aims to the South.
“Too bad we won’t ever know which one of you would give in. Both of you should put your guns down on the asphalt and kick them away from yourselves and I think that both of you should do it right now.”
Chris silently mouthed a curse. He hears nothing but the rustling of the leaves once again and thought that the sound had aided these people in approaching them without being heard. He gives a quick head count. It looked to be a dozen civilians, all white, armed mostly with shotguns and hunting rifles. The man who spoke appeared to be the oldest of his posse. He was bald man perhaps in his mid-60’s, wearing overalls that matched the other males in view.
Blue didn’t look impressed. She shot him a warning glance and carefully flashed her shield with her free hand.
“Sir, listen to me carefully, this is a police manner. My partner and I would appreciate it if you instructed your people to point your weapons—or better yet, leave us as you found us all together.”
“Sorry,” He nodded more with his thin lips than with his bald head. “I don’t think we can do that.”
Blue tried again.
“Sir, I would ask you to take a second look at us. Do you see the stenciled letters on our jackets? Take another look at my badge. Chris flashed his for support. We are FBI Agents on official business. I’ll warn you only once that interference in a federal investigation is a felony punishable to very stiff penalties. I kid you not when I say that you are risking jail time here.” Blue told him.
The old man nodded in comprehension, but kept his own rifle high and tight in his grip.
“Under normal circumstances your threat might carry more than just a little weight with me, young lady. I’m a law abiding citizen. I always have been. I’m a proud tax payer. But I think that you will agree with me that the events that have transpired over the past few months, week, days and especially the last few hours fail to qualify as normal, even around here. And I’ll tell you one more thing: What I have seen tonight with my own eyes tells me that those jackets and shield of yours don’t mean diddly squat.”
Chris had to admit to being curious about what the old man meant by his last statement. He kept his weapon aimed at Blue but formally introduced himself, his partner and Grace Edwards to all of men wearing overalls asked him his name.
“Martin,” The man’s answer was quick and proud. Whether Martin was his first or last name Chris could not say. “And, Agent Prince, it would ruin both my night and yours if I had to blow your head off your shoulders after meeting your acquaintance, but I will. I don’t trust you. I can’t. I surely cannot after what I’ve seen tonight.”
“What have you seen, Mr. Martin?” Chris wanted to know now more than ever.
“We’ve seen men of color dressed in all manners of uniforms tonight: We’ve seen everything from paramedics to firemen to policemen in person and on TV beating and raping white women all over this city.”
“That’s impossible,” Grace put base in her tone that left no room for rebuttal. “And of course, Agent Prince and I can always depend on white folks like yourself to speak the truth in these matters—“
“You’d be wise to watch your tone, young lady.” Martin said in a measured tone, but kept his rifle’s barrel trained on Chris more now than before. “You don’t know me. You may not want to know me, but if you are implying that me and mine are racist, simply based on how I talk and how we’re dressed then you are way off base and out of line. All white folks don’t act alike. Assumption is a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, in the wrong mind.” He looked over the horizon and Chris thought he saw the man’s eyes mist just a little. “I was marching through these same streets with Dr. King before either one of you were born.”
“Why should I believe that?” Grace asked.
“You can believe whatever in the hell you want.” Martin’s tone was not kind. And then his voice suddenly softened. “All that I know is that he was a great man. And I know that he would not have approved of any of this.” And then Martin lowered his weapon a foot and only ha
d eyes for Special Agent Christopher Prince. “And I know that your father wouldn’t have approved this either. How did you and your brother let our world come to this?”
“You didn’t know my father.” Chris tried to mask the feelings of the truths that Serena Tennyson had told him from the others. He tried so fucking hard—“None of us knew him, Martin.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that, son.” Martin pushed the rifle higher, gripped the rifle with all of his might and his left eye disappeared as he peered through the scope. “Anyway, my eyesight ain’t what it used to be, but I can still tell you that FBI Agents don’t usually pull their side arms on one another. It looks as if I ain’t the only one who has trust issues.”
“No…” Blue said her voice was barely above a whisper as she lowered her eyes. “FBI agents don’t usually behave like this to one another.”
“Sir,” Chris said. “As far as I can tell, you are the one in control here. If you don’t mind, why don’t you share so information with me? I want to know more about these men wearing apparel as if they were official personnel of these various public servant organizations? Can you describe them to us? Was there anything memorable about them?”
Martin seemed to be searching his memory banks.
“They were the typical, hard looking types. They were wearing their hair—they were wearing their hair like your smooth talking