The Greatest Good

by Craig N Hooper

“Okay, granted, you’re right, but what’s also important is that I have a lead with this organization. I can start working some of my army connections to help figure things out.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? You think I’m going to let you work the case? Really?”

  “You need me and my connections. Take me off protection.”

  “Don’t worry,” he scoffed. “You’re off protection, that’s for sure.”

  “I’ll work unofficial on this thing. You won’t even know I’m on the case.”

  Frank stepped toward me. “You’re already unofficial. And now you’re off unofficial protection. You’re going to be nowhere near this kid. I don’t want you even talking to him. In fact, don’t even look at the kid. I mean it.”

  “C’mon, Frank.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? When the governor gets here, he’s gonna go ballistic.”

  “I do get it, trust me. We’re in for it, I know.”

  “We’re in for it? No, not you; try me, Chase.”

  “That’s why we have to figure it out fast. These guys,” I thumbed at the door, “are useless. They’re probably talking about their fantasy football picks right now when they should be talking about the case. Seriously, listen.”

  There was loud talk near the door. Frank humored me and walked over and listened for a second. “Dammit.”

  “Football, right? I told you.”

  “Wrong, Chase. It’s—” Frank stopped mid-sentence and stepped back, just as the door heaved open.

  And the governor of California stepped in.

  CHAPTER 6

  Who’s this, Agent Lemming?”

  The California Governor and I were three feet apart and eye level. Ernesto Tuchek, however, didn’t look at me. He had his head cocked to the right, looking at Frank over my shoulder.

  Frank hesitated. “Uh.”

  “Well?” The governor prodded.

  “Special Agent Chase, sir.”

  The governor locked eyes with me. “Special? That’s debatable.” He gave me the once over. “What on earth are you wearing? Is that what you wore to protect my son? Flip-flops?”

  I tensed and stumbled with my words. “I had a bit of. I mean, I...”

  “Never mind. I don’t even want to hear it.”

  The governor turned and motioned at his entourage to stay outside, then closed the door and took three long steps, stopping at the foot of Stanley’s bed. He stood there for a few silent moments, assessing Stanley’s situation.

  I cursed in my head, then gave the governor the once over. I couldn’t believe he was Stanley’s father. The two couldn’t be more different. The governor was a hairy mountain of a man. He looked like a well-groomed gorilla in a black suit. No kidding. The man was tall and thick with a barrel chest and protruding forehead. He had thick hair the color of squid ink. I had a side view of him and could see his chest hair trying to escape from his white shirt. The hairs dangled over the collar like spider legs.

  The governor turned and addressed me. “So you’re the infamous Agent Chase. I can’t believe Stanley requested you for protection.”

  Requested me? I scratched my head. What?

  “It was your shift this morning, wasn’t it, Agent Chase?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, sir, it was.”

  “But you weren’t at the scene when my son was shot, is that correct?”

  “No, I was, just not when the police showed up. I stabilized your son, then went after the shooter.”

  “I take it you didn’t catch him.”

  I shook my head.

  “You knew the shooter’s position then, correct? Since you went after him.”

  “Yes, sir. I made out his position right before the shot.”

  “I got a report from an agent on my way over here. He told me something happened at the scene, something that concerns me, Agent Chase. A lot.” He paused and eyeballed me.

  I played along. “What’s that, sir?”

  “Witnesses at the scene said you dove in the opposite direction from Stanley.” The governor stepped toward me and entered my personal space. “You dove away from my son. Really? Is that true?”

  I paused and cleared my throat again. Why did I keep doing that? My face suddenly felt as hot as the sun’s surface. I cleared my throat for the third time. Damn.

  “Agent Chase?” the governor said.

  “I made a mistake, sir,” I said, swallowing. “I thought the shot was aimed at me. At first it was, but the shooter must’ve shifted at the last second and aimed at your son. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Diving away from your responsibility?” He shot a look at Frank. “Aren’t your men supposed to take a bullet for whomever they’re protecting?”

  Frank wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He was about to respond, but the governor interrupted.

  “Why did I go to the FBI for protection?” he said. “I should have requested Secret Service agents for the job. One of their men would’ve taken the bullet.”

  “Sir,” I said. “If I knew the shooter was going after Stanley, I would have dived on top of and protected your son, no question.”

  “But you didn’t. Explain to me why again?”

  “I tried to get as far away from Stanley as I could because I thought the shot was coming for me. My guess is the shooter aimed at me on purpose. He wanted me to dive away so he had a clear shot at Stanley.”

  “Great,” the governor said, blowing out a breath. “So the shooter is smarter than the protector. You’re lucky my son’s alive, Agent Chase.” He turned to Frank. “Be sure he’s off protection immediately. I don’t want him near my son.”

  “Of course, Governor.”

  Tuchek motioned at me. “Open the door.”

  I opened the door. As I did, I tried to crush the metal doorknob with my right hand. I stood and waited for the ‘get the hell out’. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t run from the room with my tail between my legs; probably out of pride.

  The governor didn’t tell me to get out, though. Instead, he shouted, “Agent Hornsby.”

  Phil Hornsby hustled in. Hornsby held the top position in FBI Los Angeles. He also oversaw the resident agency in Long Beach. His official title was Assistant Director in Charge, which was comical. ADIC was an unflattering and ill-planned acronym, but in Phil’s case it was on point.

  “Yes, Governor?” Hornsby fidgeted with his grey suit jacket. He wore one of those slim-cut suits, the kind of suit that was supposed to hug a person’s body, but Hornsby was so wiry he couldn’t fill it out, so the suit looked big and uncomfortable on him.

  “Agent Chase is off protection,” the governor said. “And I want the agents outside off the investigation. You’re taking over, Phil. I want LA running the investigation from now on. I don’t care how busy you are. Long Beach can still run protection, but not with Agent Chase on board.”

  “Understood, Governor.”

  “And I want three agents around the clock with Stanley. Eight hour shifts this time, no more twelve-hour stints. I want them sharp. Got it?”

  Hornsby nodded.

  The governor turned his attention to Stanley. Frank motioned at me to get out. I smoothed my hands across my stubbly head and stepped from the room. After easing the door shut, I turned and saw Anfernee Gates ten feet away.

  Are you kidding me?

  “How’d it go in there?” he said. “Bet the governor wasn’t too pleased with you diving away from his son, was he?” Gates patted his puffy hair with his left hand and adjusted his tight pants with his right.

  Everything inside me wanted to rush Gates and headbutt him, but I kept cool and refrained. Instead, I brushed by and bumped his shoulder.

  “Take care, Gary,” he said.

  I kept walking so I didn’t do anything stupid. Pepper struggled out of his plastic chair and waddled after me. I heard his lumbering footsteps behind me.

  “What happened, Mag? What’s going on?”

  I turned, but didn’t stop. �
��Not now, George.”

  Pepper waddled after me for another twenty yards until he got tired.

  My mind spiraled downhill. I walked back to the reception area and plopped into a chair. I took a few deep breaths and tried to think proactively. I thought about the governor’s revelation that Stanley had requested me for protection. I knew first-hand that the FBI rarely pulled protection details. The only reason why our office had ended up with the protection detail was that the governor went to college with Hornsby. So the governor had implicit trust in the FBI. He not only wanted the FBI to run the investigation, but also protection. But why was I specifically requested? I thought Frank offered me the assignment as a test. After a minute of thinking, I didn’t have an answer or a theory. I had to follow up with Stanley and Frank about the issue.

  As I looked around, I noticed a landline phone on the side table beside my chair. I dialed one of my closest friends, Mick Cranston. Mick and I were both recruited out of the Marines to work for The Activity. We’d worked a number of missions together over the years and I wanted his input on this morning’s events.

  I couldn’t reach Mick on his cell, though, and I hesitated to call home in case his wife, Julie, answered. She wasn’t impressed with my television appearance a year ago. Mick supported me over the incident, but Julie had reservations about the circumstances, and about me in general. They had twin girls and Julie didn’t think I was the best role model for the girls. She may be right.

  Knowing I really needed his input, however, I decided to try Mick at home. Just before dialing, I saw the woman I’d been dating, Eva O’Connor, breeze into the hospital. I did a double take just to make sure it was her.

  After a quick blink, I confirmed it was indeed Eva.

  She wore her typical power suit. The grey, pinstriped jacket was cut short and fit snug to her body. Her skirt hung just above the knee. Short enough to look sexy without being unprofessional.

  She walked right up to me, but didn’t sit in the open chair to my left. She stood over me. “When you didn’t respond to my email this morning, I knew something was up. And then rumors started exploding about Stanley. What happened, Garrison?”

  “I had a hell of a morning, that’s what happened. It hadn’t crossed my mind to check my email.”

  She loosened her stance. “Tell me what went down. Tell me in detail.”

  I motioned to the chair. She sat. Surprisingly, Eva whipped out a notebook and took notes as I recounted my entire morning. At first I thought it was odd, but then again Eva was in law enforcement and worked for the feds, so maybe she was going to look into the situation for me. Anyway, it took about ten minutes to tell my story because Eva wanted all the details. It annoyed me that she never asked how I was.

  She kept at it. “I guess that explains why you’re dressed like that. Anyway, so tell me more about this intruder at your house. You said you were tipped off. How did that happen?”

  “No interest in my wellbeing, huh? Or the fact that I may never see my son again.”

  Eva pulled closer and grabbed my hand. It shocked me how cold her hand was. “I’m sorry, Garrison, I’m obsessing about details. Are you okay?”

  She managed to evoke no emotion with her question. She squeezed my hand and gave me a piercing look with her green eyes. Eva had high cheekbones and flawless, olive-colored skin. So flawless, in fact, that I wondered if she ever spent time in the sun. If she did, I imagined she was the type of woman to wear large sunglasses and an oversized hat to protect her delicate skin from its rays. At any rate, the woman was striking, and I suddenly forgot how annoyed I was with her.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Just a little down.”

  “Understandable. Let’s talk more about it tonight over dinner.” She stood and looked at her watch. “I have to get back to the office.”

  “Which is where?”

  Eva and I met a little over a year ago at a joint law enforcement symposium. Eva was there representing a classified task force from another agency. A few months ago we bumped into each other again, and we’ve reconnected a few times since. She can’t tell me who she works for.

  Eva ignored my question. “Eight fifteen tonight, sharp, for dinner.”

  I looked at her, not sure if she was telling me the time or asking if that time worked for me.

  “Good,” she said. “I’ll see you at Casa D’Amici.”

  With that, she spun and walked out.

  I collapsed into the chair. Before I could get any thinking done, I saw Frank steam into the reception area and head toward the exit. I turned in hopes that he wouldn’t spot me.

  I wasn’t so lucky. He saw me and changed course.

  Frank marched up to me and said, “We need to talk.”

  “About?”

  “Not here, somewhere private. Let’s go.”

  He hauled me up with one arm and led me down a short hallway. We ducked into an empty clergy room. There were two chairs in the room. The walls were painted a dark, serene green. The lighting was subdued and calming, which was in stark contrast to Frank’s mood.

  He told me to sit while he drew the blinds on the door’s window.

  “Why’d you lie to me?” He turned and walked toward my chair.

  “Lied?” I said.

  “Withheld the truth is a better way to put it, I guess. You didn’t say a word to me about the shot coming at you. And that you dove away from the kid? Obviously you know how that looks. And obviously this doesn’t help your career.”

  “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Tell me exactly what happened at the coffee shop.” Frank put his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s work through this together.”

  I didn’t like Frank standing over me, so I said, “Have a seat.”

  He wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a seat. “Alright, talk.”

  “At first I thought the shot was for me. I spotted the shooter on the roof before the trigger was pulled. It looked like he was set up to take me out, but at the last second he must’ve shifted.”

  “Maybe the plan was to take both of you out, but the rifle jammed on the second shot, the one meant for you.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “The rifle was bolt action. One shot at a time, one target in mind. Not enough time to re-rack. Not with that gun.”

  “So, like you said, he lured you into thinking he was going for you, knowing you’d dive away from Stanley to protect him, then he’d have a clean shot at the kid.”

  “I guess.”

  “What do you mean, I guess?”

  I leaned forward. “He had a clean line at Stanley, so he could’ve taken out the kid easily. I shouldn’t have even spotted him. It was like the shooter wanted me to know he was there.”

  “How so?”

  “By reflection from the scope. He made the worst mistake a sniper can make, a total amateur move, and he did it three times.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The objective lens of any scope reflects sunlight, just like a mirror does, or the face of a watch does when the sun’s rays hit the surface. Every shooter knows this. Snipers have countermeasures to protect against glare, like a hood for the lens, or a KillFlash.”

  “KillFlash?”

  “A honeycomb-looking filter on an end of a scope that reduces reflective glare. You use a KillFlash when shooting in sunny conditions. But this shooter didn’t use one. Everything else he did, though, was professional. His location, his extraction point, his dials, and all his settings were spot on. He knew what he was doing. So he must’ve been sending me a signal.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “That’s why I need to be on the case, Frank, to figure this out. Why am I not dead right now? This guy had two chances to take me out. Right now I should be sunny side up on a stretcher in the county morgue. But I’m not, and I’m the best person to figure out why. You know how tough it is getting any answers about a black ops unit. But I have an in. I can solve this, I’m your best bet. Plus, I need to r
edeem myself, Frank. And, of course, I need to stop any further threats on my life.”

  He stuck a finger in my chest. “Not a chance. I’ll subpoena evidence about your old unit if I have to. I’m not going to risk my career over this, or yours. If you still have one. Besides, LA’s running the show now and they want a detailed account of what happened the past few days. Hornsby gave me these reports to fill out. You have some paperwork to do. Here’s your share.” He handed me a decent sized stack. “Get to it.”

  Before Frank left, I said, “One more thing.”

  He sighed. “What?”

  “Speaking of lies, how come you never told me Stanley requested me for protection? Is it true he requested me? What’s that about?”

  “Not telling you something doesn’t equate to lying. There’s a big difference. Get that straight.”

  “Let me rephrase, then,” I said, attempting to smile. “How come you withheld the truth?”

  “I wasn’t told exactly who made the request. And I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

  “So it’s true, Stanley did request me?”

  “I guess. Who cares anyway?”

  “Maybe it’s nothing. I’m just a little curious. If I remember correctly, you offered me the job as a test assignment, right? As if I had a choice in the matter.”

  “It’s my management style, you should know that by now. I didn’t think twice about it. I always offer agents assignments, to make it appear as if they have a say. That way if the assignment turns out lame, they don’t whine to me.”

  “And if they refuse?”

  He laughed. “I make them do it anyway. I can count the refusals on one hand, by the way. And in your case, I knew you were desperate to be working again. In reality, Chase, it really was a test assignment. I knew if you performed well on this assignment I would have leverage to get you reinstated.”

  He paused and put his hands out, showing me his palms.

  “I know. I screwed up big time.”

  “I’m sorry, Chase. I really am. “But I do need that,” he pointed at the paperwork, “completed by the end of the day.”

  “So for the record, you have no idea why Stanley requested me?”