by Ted Peters
As she was finishing her short prayer, she noticed that Buck had joined her. He was seated silently next to her left leg, apparently looking in the mirror. But dogs don't recognize themselves in mirrors, she said to herself. Yet, Buck seemed to be content as her sidekick, duplicating her action. “Is there a wolf inside you, Buckie?” she asked the canine. Buck looked up. “I think we're a lot like each other,” she added. If dog's eyes could smile in acknowledgement, they did.
Back downstairs, she re-entered the hubbub of the yard. “Lift up your beers!” Leona shouted. “I’m just a sniveling damsel in distress. And all you big guys rescued me. I want to drink a toast to my protectors!”
Everyone was laughing as they toasted. “You don’t need any protection, Lee!” said Shmoo so the group could overhear. “Thanks for faking it so that we all could feel like knights in shining armor.” They raised their Bud cans and Sam Adams bottles to drink another toast.
As individuals passed through the living room to transport dinner items to and from the kitchen, they caught the evening television news with Bill Kurtis. “Our top story: a gunfight on an Evanston beach.” The TV watchers were transfixed as the camera panned the beach with the two abandoned Evanston Cleaners’ vans. An on-site reporter summarized: “Some witnesses report they saw a helicopter in the area, but they could not tell whether it was defending or shooting at the three killed. It was estimated that an additional eight people were engaged in the gun battle, possibly one woman. No one could identify the shooters leaving the scene, but they do report that three of them were African Americans wearing red tams.”
The reporter turned to David Ragland in his wrinkled brown suit and loose necktie with the wreckage visible over his shoulder. “We have no idea who these dead men are, who killed them, or why,” he told the interviewer in a voice registering puzzlement.
“What about the red tams?” asked the reporter. “Doesn’t that suggest the Woodlawn Stoners? Could this have been gang related?”
“I don’t know what Woodlawn Stoners would be doing on the north side,” said Ragland. “That’ll be part of our investigation.”
During the commercial break, Everett offered the first reaction, giving voice to displaced anxiety. “Boy, we sure know how to trash a beach, don’t we!” His comrades laughed.
As the news program shifted to matters of the global economy, the group dissipated. Scorp asked Leona for a moment to talk. “Pastor Lee, I killed one of those three men today. I never killed nobody before. Yeah, I’m a gangbanger and tough and all that, but I never done this. He’s dead. I did it.”
Leona looked him in the eye and communicated her understanding, and her patience. She waited.
“Is God gonna git me fer this?” A pregnant pause followed. Leona waited for this thought to be gouged into their shared consciousness before she began to speak.
“Listen to me, Scorp. First, you pulled me to safety so I wouldn’t die on the Cheltenham Metra platform. You’re not a killer by nature. Second, would it help if I mentioned the obvious? He was a dangerous man. If you had not shot him, I would probably be dead instead. You pulled the trigger to protect me. I’m alive because of what you did. You have saved my life twice. Isn’t there something right about what you did?”
“Yes, I know that. But it don’t help. That man never gonna drink a beer no more. I’m responsible.”
“Sometimes, Scorp, we have to choose between two not very good choices. Neither one permits us to be innocent. Would it help to know that I struggle with this as well? I find I just have to make a decision and sin boldly.”
About this time Shmoo walked into the conversation. “Are ya bothered about blowing that guy away, son?”
“Yeah. I ain’t done that never before.”
“The bastard needed the bullet he got. Somebody had ta git rid of that scum bag.”
“Shmoo!” interrupted Leona. “Scorp’s speaking from his heart. Taking a person’s life is about the worst thing any of us can do. Even if Scorp was justified, still, the man is dead. It’s tragic!” Leona put her hand on Scorp’s shoulder and touched her left cheek to his.
Shmoo waved his left hand dismissively, muttering, “Bah.”
As Leona turned around she faced two figures standing nearly motionless, staring at her. It was Hillar and Owl. Owl’s large penetrating eyes closed as she turned her head downward.
“Owl’s got something to say to you, Pastor Lee,” said Hillar.
Owl couldn’t speak. A tear rolled down her left cheek.
“Owl,” said the pastor, “are you thinking that you almost got me killed today? Are you thinking that for a little bit of spending money you put somebody’s life at risk? Are you thinking that I could be dead right now?”
Owl’s slumped head shook up and down in a small but clear arc.
“If I had been killed....”
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” said Owl interrupting the interrogation. She was cryng. “I didn’t know....”
“It’s okay,” said the pastor softly, wrapping both her arms around the sobbing teenager. They held a mutual embrace. Owl could feel forgiveness pass from Leona’s heart to her own.
Leona pulled back her head while holding on to Owl. “I want you to go home right now, Owl. I want you to know that you’re always welcome here, at the church, in my house. But right now, we’ve got an emergency to deal with. I don’t want you involved any further. Tomorrow, Owl, come help us with the children at Saturday Morning Club. Tomorrow we’ll see each other. Okay?”
Owl nodded affirmatively. Then, after a brief look at Hillar, Owl turned and walked out.
Graham had been standing near enough to witness the tender interchanges. What a remarkable woman this is.
After a hasty clean-up, the shepherd thought it was time to reassemble her flock. “Everyone in the dining room. It’s okay to bring your drink.”
In a few minutes, all were seated around the table. Buck and Midnight were standing by in case something might drop floorward.
“Listen carefully,” Leona said, raising her voice and emphatically demanding their attention. “Let me see if I can put this together in a way that makes sense. None of you know the background to what’s happening that Graham and I do. I’m not going to—I can’t!—fill you in on everything. All you need to know is this: the three kidnappers we fought today are part of a larger group. These guys most likely have had special forces training. They are deadly! Understand? Deadly!”
Silence engulfed the room. Leona scanned each face, each one in rapt attention.
She spoke softly. “The bad guys are planning an act of terrorism. As far as I can tell, we might be the only hope for preventing a disaster. We can't ask a secret service agency to take over, because it may have been compromised by a mole. That leaves us. We’ve got no time to waste. Let me ask: who here is willing to throw in with Graham and me to try to stop it?”
Hillar was the first to put his hand up. Leona only glared. “I want volunteers,” she said. Graham raised his hand with a smirk on his face. “You’re stuck with me, Graham. You've got no choice.”
Scorp, Everett, and Quint whispered to one another. “We’re in,” announced Scorp.
“I’ll not want to miss the excitement,” said Shmoo. “It’s been a few years since I got my sidearm hot. I kinda liked it today. But we’re paying our rent-a-cops by the hour. Combat pay might be a little steep.”
“What about it, Hammer and Wade?” asked Leona. “You’ll get paid for today. But Graham can’t put you under contract for what we’re going to do tomorrow.”
Hammer spoke. “This is out of our league. We’re used to safety patrol. We watch kids cross the street or CEOs walking through picket lines. We ain’t seen nuth’n like this gun battle today.” Hammer looked at Wade.
Wade queried with a furrowed brow. “Terrorism, you say?”
“Yes, international terrorism right here in Chicago. That’s what we’re up against.”
“Well,” Wade continued, “this
could be important. I don’t think we should chicken out, Hammer.”
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” said Leona. “Now, listen as I try to draw the strategic picture.” She paused to think. “We can only guess what they’re planning. We don’t know. We’ve got to make an educated guess and we’ve got to get it right the first time. No second chances.”
Leona ceased speaking for a moment. Midnight now sat on the table, sheltered in the arms of Scorp. Buck still sat on the floor, his nose nuzzling Hillar’s lap. All watched.
The table buzzed until Leona signaled for everyone’s attention. “We’ve got to ask about four things: time, place, motive, and means. We’ve got the time: eight o’clock tomorrow evening. We’ve got the place: the John Hancock Building, 85th floor. We’ve got the motive. They failed to obtain a secret that I hold—and I’m not telling any of you. Their motive is to create a disaster and blame Iran. My bet is that they’re planning an act of terrorism that looks something like 9/11, even if on a smaller scale. What they want is a public spectacle that will shock our nation with fear. This will prevent any immediate rapprochement with Iran and keep contractors sucking the mammaries of America, the cash cow. Are you with me?”
“My gosh!” gasped Wade. Others murmured disbelief and dread.
“The president and his entourage will be in the Hancock tomorrow,” announced Leona.
“How does the president fit in here?” asked Hillar.
“Perhaps it’ll be an assassination attempt,” interjected Graham. “The president is on record for working things out with Iran before they get a deliverable WMD.”
“Yeow,” shouted Hammer. “Look at us! Wade and I are just rent-a-cops. We’ve got a teenager and three gangbangers at this table. Maybe Graham and Shmoo know what they’re doin’, but this army’s bein’ led by a minister, a lady minister of all things. No offense, Pastor Lee. Maybe we should turn this over to someone else, someone bigger.”
“There’s not enough time to tap someone bigger,” snapped Leona. “And, as I said, it's possible someone bigger's got a mole. So, we’re the only hope. If you’re gonna whimper, Hammer, you’re certainly welcome to count yourself out. Wade, you too. I understand your reluctance. What we lack in experience and firepower needs to be made up with courage and cleverness. I think we need to proceed because we may be the only ones at this point who can figure out what’s about to happen. If it’s not us, then it just might be nobody. It’s time to show a little patriotism, you guys.”
“We’re in,” said Hammer.
“We’re in,” added Wade.
“Okay. Here’s what I want you to do. Wade and Hammer, you take the three Stoners back home tonight. Drop ‘m off in Woodlawn. Exchange cell phone numbers. Be prepared to open up a conference call with each other tomorrow. Hillar and I will meet you at 5:00 pm on North Michigan Avenue in back of the old water tower. That will give us a three-hour countdown to the blast. Got it?”
“Yeah,” said Wade and Hammer.
“Okay?” asked Leona looking at each of the three tams singly. All nodded affirmatively. “You five can leave now.”
“But who’s gonna finish clean’n up here, Pastor?” asked Everett.
“Now, aren’t you the gentleman! You know how to win a woman’s heart, Everett. If you’d gather up the trash into a plastic bag and place it by my side door, that’ll do. Close up the Weber and put the utensils in the kitchen. I’ll take if from there. Thanks.”
The five went about their work and eventually those inside could hear car doors slamming and the SUV departing. While this was going on, Leona turned her attention to Hillar. “Tomorrow, please come to church a half hour before Saturday Morning Club begins. Help set up. As soon as it’s over, go home and change. Put on your Cubs tee shirt and sneakers. Into a backpack please put two bottles of water, binoculars, a roll of Scotch tape, and your helicopter.”
“My helicopter?”
“Yes. And make certain the batteries are fresh. We’re going to the Cubs game. Got it?”
“Okay, but...”
“Okay, right. Time to get home and hug your mother.”
“Okay,” said Hillar. He gave Buck a final nose nuzzle. He left through the side door.
Leona turned to the two remaining. “Shmoo, I want to make a Skype call. I might need you. When I’m finished, you can go home. Graham, would you please stay until Shmoo leaves? Then, I’ve got something for you to do too. It’s gonna be a short night, I’m afraid.”
The two nodded with nods vigorous enough to be salutes.
“Get yourselves another beer. I’m going into the living room to call David Ragland.”
45 Friday, Chicago, 8:55 pm
Leona dialed David Ragland’s cell on the big screen. He answered. “I’ve got Skype,” said Leona. “Want to talk ‘n’ see?”
“Any chance to see you I’ll take,” Ragland said. In a moment Skype connected them visually. The detective was holding his cell with camera close to his face, but Leona could see the inside of his car behind him. Leona was comfortably seated on her couch across the room from the LED camera, providing a full room view.
“We saw you on the TV news, Mr. Ragland.”
“Call me Rags. That’s what my friends call me.”
“Does this mean I’m a friend now?”
“Indeed,” said Ragland, taking over the conversation’s lead. “You’ll be happy to hear something. I’ve been thinking about becoming religious. In fact, I’d like to come to your church Sunday. I want to sit right below the pulpit. I want to drool over the prettiest pastor in Chicago.”
“Your motives don’t sound too holy,” Leona responded, smiling.
“I guess, then, I’ll have to come and see you in one of those little confessional booths. I’ll confess my unholy thoughts.”
In the next room both Graham and Shmoo heard everything. Graham’s face registered disturbance, the kind of disturbance that signals jealousy. Shmoo grinned and then frowned, expressing paternal disturbance.
“You’ll need to confess to God, not me,” said Leona.
“You didn’t need me today,” said Ragland, changing the subject, feigning a whimper.
“No, as it turns out, I didn’t. But I need you now. Would you do me a favor?”
“No can do. I don’t do favors for gorgeous women unless they come to talk to me in person.”
Leona did not answer right away. Shmoo stood up and walked from the dining room into the living room. He sat down on the couch next to Leona and placed his arm loosely around her, dropping his hand on her far shoulder.
“Is that you, Shmoo?” shouted the detective.
“It sure as hell is, Rags. I’d like you to know that I think of Leona as one of my daughters. I protect her like a father. Do you catch my drift.?”
“Gotcha, Shmoo. Now, Leona, just what is that favor?”
“Are you attached to the president’s detail in any way?”
“No, I gotta stay available for my usual.”
“Good,” Leona went on. “Would you be able to check on reports for me? Since last Sunday, has the department had to deal with anything unusual involving either Iranian nationals or Iranian Americans? Robbery? Murder? Kidnapping? Anything?”
“Yes, I can poke around. Why do you need this?”
“I cannot say right now. But it could be important.”
“How fast do you need this?”
“Five minutes.”
“What!?”
“ASAP. It could be important, I said.”
“Okay. I’m close to the station and on coffee break. I’ll get back to you by text or phone.”
“If you find something, I’d like details. Everything. Can you scan and email documents?”
“Boy, you ask a lot.”
“It could be important, Rags.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Oh, by the way, Shmoo, you’ve got a good-looking daughter.”
“It’s time for us to hang up,” said Shmoo
“I’m h
anging up,” said Rags, while Leona was laughing.
They said their goodbyes. Leona thanked Shmoo and called a taxi to take him home. They agreed to the rendezvous at the Chicago Water Tower the next day. Then, she told Graham it was time for his assignments.
Graham said, “I’m tired of this beer. I think I’ll find some of your good wine and pour myself a glass. May I pour you one?”
“No, Graham. I suggest you don’t. You’ve got a lot of work to do tonight. You need to be able to drive and think straight.”
“Why drive?”
“Because you’re not staying here. I’ve got a list for you.”
“Are you my wife, my boss, or my drill sergeant?” Graham placed both his hands on Leona’s shoulders. He looked her squarely in the eyes. He shook her very gently, then kissed her on the forehead. She twisted her neck just slightly and lifted herself up so that their lips could meet.
Still holding her arms around Graham, Leona withdrew slightly and whispered. “Sorry if I’m barking orders. I feel a sense of urgency. I guess I’ve just taken over here, haven’t I?”
“Yes, you have. But it’s really okay, Lee. You’re rising to the challenge. You’re a damned good leader.” Graham withdrew from the embrace and reached for his beer bottle. He emptied the last drop of his Sam Adams and looked to the side. “Did Detective Ragland flatter you?”
“I don’t have time to enjoy flattery right now. Give me your attention, please.” She slapped Graham on the shoulder as if she were a doctor with a newborn. He turned to look directly at her. Then, she continued. “Let’s think this through together. What kind of event is CUB planning? If we’re right that it’s going to take place at eight o’clock tomorrow at the John Hancock Building, most likely on the 85th floor, then what? Are they going to send a party up the elevators or fire stairs to assassinate the president? Are they going to yell ‘fire’ and pick off important people from sniper windows? Or, are they going to set a real fire? If so, where? On the first floor? The 85th floor? Assuming the streets and sidewalks will be blue with cops, how will they make it happen?”