by Dave Welch
It was my first call on the job, a bank robbery.
Our unit pulled up outside the building around 1:00 a.m. I was ordered to stay behind and observe while the Senior Special Agents moved in.
They circled the bank, swiveling their flashlights.
Then, a dark shadow sprinted through the parking lot.
I opened the car door slowly, crouching out of sight. I ogled on to the silhouette, but I lost the figure in the shadows.
Just as I was about to stand to aid my perception, a man popped up beside me. Startled by his sudden appearance, the man handed me a note and ducked off into the alley. This happened so fast I didn’t call it in.
I looked down at the wadded-up paper, and I opened it slowly. It was his phone number.
The rest was history…
I called him, of course. I guess I was trying to capture him or maybe even find his accomplice. That worked well…
Over the years, I developed more confidence in Crane when he trained me in several different forms of combat.
He was a second-degree black belt in Jiu-Jitsu and Aikido, and a third-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. He was also quite versed in kickboxing, boxing, and wrestling.
One day he said to me, "Candy, I'm going to teach you how to fuck somebody up."
I froze because I knew how to fight, just not like him.
I said, "Okay!" and just like that, my training began. Five years spent training with Crane, and every day, I was inconceivably subjected to his arduous teachings and myriad drills. I even learned how to shoot a gun at a higher level of precision.
He told me, "Candy, I've never killed a man a day in my life, but you…You, however, are something else. You have a tremendous amount of vigor. It's a toughness about you that even gapes me."
And while sitting here in my backyard (where we would always go to train), I nearly teared up. Funny I can't remember the last time I cried. But today became so tranquil, regardless of the vigorous training we had just undergone.
Crane sat Indian style in front of me, about a few feet away. He continued softly, "You don't process pain the same as the average man, or any human for that matter."
He thought I was an alien.
I laughed hilariously, but Crane didn't crack a smile.
"You don't believe in aliens?" he asked.
"Um… no. Well, I don't know. The probability of them coming to Earth is highly unlikely."
He looked up into the sun without blinking and mumbled, "Canieya, you must be ready for any and everything. The universe expands with detail, and we as humans have yet to uncover our truest level of intellect."
Just then, my life flashed before my eyes.
He swung at me so hard he knocked the wind out of me.
I guarded the attack with a grunt, gasping for air.
He yelled, "Hold your breath!" but continued to attack me from the ground.
He kicked, and I defended.
Then he squatted even lower to the earth and lunged his entire body at me, tackling me to the ground. He landed on top of me with his knee digging into my chest. The pressure was immense.
"Breath, in through your nose!!" He shouted.
I did. And that gave me a tad bit more strength, enough to ward off his barrage.
"Shrimp! Shrimp!!" He screamed.
I wrapped my feet around his rear leg to lock it in place. Then I grabbed his knee and shoved him off my chest. A wisp of air entered my lungs.
"Good!" He shouted.
I grabbed his shoulder, swung my leg around his waist, and mounted his back. Next, I applied a guillotine choke from the rear. But before I could solidify the position, he quickly slipped out of my grasp. It was as if he had anticipated the move.
The ground shuffling ended with us on our knees.
I whirled around to face him, only to stare deep into the barrel of a gun.
I stopped and spoke softly, "Crane?"
"You’re hesitating, Lawson,” he replied.
I slapped both my hands around the gun and his wrist, instantly releasing the firearm from his grip.
I caught the weapon before it hit the ground.
I hurried to my feet, shaking out of control.
This fiasco was over.
I kept the gun aimed directly at his head as I cautiously backed away. I really didn’t know this man. He could’ve killed me if he hadn’t provided the tidbits of advice amid this deadly ride. Nawl. That hadn’t registered yet.
Staring down to the ground, he mumbled under his breath, “Pull the trigger.”
I stood speechless.
“Pull the trigger!” He shouted.
I was fixated on him and shaking, my nerves a wreck.
I sort of heard him, and then again, I kind of didn’t.
From the looks of things, it appeared that I had just been tested. But never in our five years of training did Crane ever attack me like this. It was too real…
“If you don’t pull the trigger, Lawson, I am going to kill you.” Crane snarled, gawking up to me with a twisted smile.
“To be honest with you, I hate cops,” he sneered with a devilish tone.
By then, I was starting to regain focus, and my heart rate regulated itself, although I felt it breaking. I’ve been in law enforcement all my life, and I had been delaying Crane’s apprehension for years.
“Do it, Lawson!” He yelled.
All I wanted to say was, ‘I love you,’ but then it happened.
I felt my eyes water up until the years of retained tears flowed uncontrollably down my face.
I dared to wipe them.
I started sobbing, and my nose started running. I was a mess.
“Your heart is your failure. And because of that, I’m going to kill you...weakling.” He uttered.
He began to stand to his feet slowly. But I had the upper hand because I put enough distance between us to plainly see his every move.
“Don’t do it, Crane,” I demanded. “Crane!”
He looked into my eyes with a deadly, cavernous gaze that utterly perplexed my chemical makeup.
He was almost to his feet. This had become too risky.
I pulled the trigger…
Wimbledon, London, United Kingdom
Present Day
Five years passed, and my life was not the same. And it never will be, especially after that criminally insane, stupid ass Crane fucked it up so bad.
I moved to London, far from those past horrific memories. And settling wasn’t that difficult. I found a lovely one-bedroom home in a quiet rural area, away from all the commotion and turmoil.
I developed an ongoing desire for instructional teaching under another trainer. The Gracie lineage was kind, and my results in Jiu-Jitsu were promising. My routine was simple. Wake up, train, shower, go to work, train, go home, shower and sleep.
I became obsessed with the apprehension of criminals.
I just wanted to kill… Horace Vaideen.
Deadly Edge
It was 4:30 a.m. when my phone rang.
I reluctantly rolled over in my cozy bed to check the caller ID. It was Chief Goodrum.
I picked up the phone and slowly put it to my ear.
“Lawson! Lawson! What in god’s name are you doing?” He yelled.
Damn this dude, my new boss. I called him Goody. He was nothing like the other guy, who died tragically in a drug sting a couple of years ago.
“Hello…” I mumbled.
“I need you in early. I’ll-”
“-Goody, I don’t come in for another three hours. What’s the problem?” I interrupted.
“I’ll explain it to you when you get here. So, get up! Drink some black coffee!” He ordered, hanging up the phone.
It was too early for Goody’s confusing riddles. It seemed like he had been up for a while. Nevertheless, he was excited about something.
But I stayed in bed with my eyes closed and with the phone to my ear. The sheets felt so good, I didn’t want to get up.
Within a second or two, the dial tone got on my nerves.
I hung up the phone, and I finally got out of bed.
I jumped into the shower and got dressed fast.
Fully clothed, I proceeded into the kitchen to be greeted by an old and dear friend. Yep, it was none other than Rosie, my cat. She’s always greeting me with subtle sounds of purrs and meows, but I couldn’t cuddle with her this morning.
I regretfully prepared this black, nasty ass coffee (I hate coffee) as Rosie brushed up against my leg.
“Hey, Rosie,” I said with a smile.
I decided to fix her something before I left the house. Tuna and milk—she loves it.
I walked over to the refrigerator to get her milk.
I opened the carton and poured enough into her bowl on the floor.
I then grabbed a can of tuna from the cupboard. I opened it and dumped it into her saucer next to her bowl of milk.
I trashed the remains of the tuna can.
I closed the carton of milk, and I put it back in the fridge.
By the time I finished fixing her breakfast, my horrible coffee was ready.
I poured it into my silver coffee canteen as quick as I could. Then, I rushed off to the door, turning to see Rosie watching me.
“See ya, Hun,” I said, blowing her a kiss.
I stepped into the cold of the day, shutting the house door and locking it behind me.
I pressed the auto start on my keychain while rushing to the car. Then, taking a sip of coffee, I paused to open the door.
Suddenly, I spun with a gasp, dropping my canteen as a figure vanished from the roof. I rubbed my eyes, peering into the rooftop as the canteen rolled down the driveway.
Focusing on the roof for a moment, nothing was there, I turned quickly to grab my canteen from the ground.
Plopping in the seat of my car, I examined the rooftop thoroughly until finally slamming the car door while calming to a resolve.
“I’ve got to get my eyes checked,” I mumbled.
Traffic was a breeze…
I arrived at the FBI Headquarters twenty minutes early.
Everything was chaotic. It seemed like every man and woman on the force had been called in. With such an upheaval, I didn't know what to expect, so I paced myself confidently as I approached the entrance doors.
I took a deep breath and walked into my paradise.
The people respect me here. They look to me as a source of inspiration. Some think I’m crazy; that's cool. I've been with this agency for five years, and I’ve built a pretty long history of arrests. I’ll arrest dey’ ass too if need be.
When I entered, the office turbulence slowed to a lurch…
Everyone turned to look at me.
“Oh, don’t get quiet now! Acting like you saw a ghost or something,” I boomed, walking over to my desk.
I felt them following me with their eyes.
“What? Is it something on my face?” I asked.
Not a single mumble graced my itchy ears. I felt a bit uncomfortable as I rubbed over my face.
“There must be a booger in my nose,” I whispered.
I crashed into my seat, sighing with relief.
I reached into my purse to retrieve my pocket mirror. I checked my nose intensively.
It looked clean…
I put the mirror away and kicked my feet up on the desk.
I stared off into this space of junk, orange hazing, musty skank of a busy office. Then, as my memories unscrambled and reformed in chronological order, I thought about Crane. The memory alone triggered my crazy.
Whom!
Slammed a door, interrupting my memories.
I lifted my head to notice my short and stocky, bald-headed boss standing in front of his office.
He walked over to my desk.
I looked down for a second, and when I looked up, he was standing right over me. It was kind of miraculous with how fast he made it over.
“You know, if you really want to startle someone, try sending them a naked photo,” I smirked.
He laughed sarcastically.
“Very funny.” He chortled as he leaned into my ear and whispered.
“My office. Now!”
Goody’s office had the same orange haze as the rest of the precinct. The only difference was the atmosphere. It was a bit gray from all the cigar smoke that soared triumphantly over the stomach-churning odor.
I figured that I should tell Goody about what I thought I saw this morning. I hesitated no longer as he sat at his desk.
“I saw a ninja staring at me from my rooftop.” I blurted.
Goody froze in his seat.
“There’s no such thing as ninjas. Especially not in London. Have a seat—but don’t make yourself at home,” he added.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I retorted.
“Lieutenant, I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Which one do you want first?” He asked.
I grabbed a piece of gum from my pocket as I sat down. Then, I waited, allowing the gum to ease my nerves.
“Bad news,” I said.
I knew what was about to happen.
I should’ve listened to my mother before moving over here. But I wanted out. I wanted to be as far from my past as I could possibly get.
I know I can be a bit harsh when it comes to the law. Maybe I was too violent. That had to be the reason for my forthcoming termination. But whatever the outcome was, it came without a gap in Goody’s breathing.
“Our little friend, the Bomb King, just blew up a police precinct in New York,” said Goody.
Aw… well, that surprised me. I just knew I was about to get fired.
“You can’t be serious!” I yelled. “How?”
“Quite simple,” he said. “Vaideen got a copy of the blueprints and planted a series of C4 explosives around the base of the structure. And from what I’ve heard, he had been planning this ever since the summer of 25’.”
“No warning or ransom, ultimatum, or anything?”
“Nope,” he replied. “Next thing I knew, every floor was reduced to rubble. Lieutenant, this is the fifth time this year the U.S. Federal Agency has called me, begging for some assistance. This man has got half of the nation looking for him. Bounty hunters, U.S. Marshals- nobody can seem to catch him.
As a matter of fact, two of my best agents lost their lives in that explosion. I took action then. Hell! We all did. But for what? Lawson, it’s like I’m fighting a fucking ghost here.”
I blew a bubble with my gum.
“Anything could happen,” I said. “Over these last couple of years, the crime rate has skyrocketed.”
“That’s why I called you,” he declared.
I prepared myself by chewing my gum and crossing my legs.
“This must be the good news.” I hinted.
Goody sat back in his rugged leather seat and put on that clumsy smile he’s so known for. This smile usually means that his good news is slightly worse than his bad news.
“Ahh, the good news. Well, you see, Lieutenant, the good news depends on how you take it,” he assured with a phlegmatic tone.
I knew it! Goody is forever saying one thing while meaning another. Every time I come into this stankin’ ass office, by the time I leave, I feel like I’ve been deluded. Bamboozled!
But not this time, dammit!
I’m winning this time.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean that I’m offering you a promotion, Lawson.”
Me? With a promotion?
“Promoted to what?” I blurted.
Just then, the door opened behind me, and two agents entered the room.
“A hitman, or whatever you want to call it,” Goodrum said.
In my head, I was thinking, ‘Oh shit, who is these catz?’ but the only thing that came out of my mouth was-
“What?”
“You will be certified to kill,” Goody said as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out one of those god-awfu
l, half-smoked stankin’ cigars.
God, please don't let him light it.
Goody looked over the cigar and blew a small amount of lent away. Then, he tucked the cigar in the corner of his mouth and continued.
“Lawson, you’re the best I’ve got, practically the best in the field if you ask me,” he admitted.
I sat speechless, wanting to say more…
“Goody, I-”
“-You’ll be restated in New York,” he interrupted.
I tried to speak again, but he went on. “You’re looking at a substantial pay increase and a list of other benefits that these dashing young men will be more than happy to explain. I’m sure of it,” he declared.
Goody pulled out a match and struck it against his rugged, sandpaper-like beard.
The match lit with ease.
This was my queue. I knew that this conversation had reached its end cause I don’t do secondhand smoke. It makes my teeth hurt.
I shuffled around in my seat, clearing my throat and preparing for the horrific raid of smoke to hurdle its way into my lungs. But there was so much I still wanted to know.
I turned to look at the jagged duo. They looked fierce, almost like Crane… It kind of disturbed me. I couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut.
Before Goody could light his cigar, I turned back towards him, shouting, “I thought this position required training and time.”
Then it hit me. Crane had already turned me into a monster. A beast. And I didn’t even know it. I was precisely what this colloquial of bean counters were looking for. My cavil became invalid…
He took the cigar from his mouth, which he hadn’t lit yet.
Thank God.
Then, he threw his hands up and yelled.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I stuck my neck out for you. And I did a lot of things that I shouldn’t have done to pull strings on the doll!”
What the hell is he talking about?
“You know if you want the position or not. I don’t have to pester you,” he boomed with hesitation.
The fire on his match began to die, and just before the flame simmered to an end, he rekindled it, puffing quickly on his cigar.
I should have been out of here, but I think he was trying to say something with that bad doll analogy.