Delivery in the Rear Ch. 01

"I'm Edward Blassingame, founder and CEO of SPS." said the distinguished man. "Granger, it's okay, give the Agents the manifests of all our trucks, and recall all trucks with a security warning now."

Granger looked like he wanted to kill someone, but said only "Yes sir" and moved to comply with his orders.

"My apologies about that." said Blassingame. "We have told our people to be wary of law enforcement. We've had crooked City Police officers try to get manifests without warrants, and for criminal purposes. Let's find an office to talk..."

Part 3 - The Largest Packages

"What are you doing?" asked Cindy as she came into my office at 2:00pm, still Monday December 12th.

"Playing Legislative Staff." I said. "I'm essentially writing the bill that will be introduced as the SBI Bill in the next Legislative session, and I'll send it to the Governor when I'm done."

"Wow, all that power in your grubby paws." Cindy said teasingly.

"And not to be wasted, for darn sure." I said.

"So what's your concept for the SBI?" Cindy asked. "Besides destroy it completely..."

"I'm tempted." I said. "No, it's going to be similar to what we tried before... gut the SBI, make it essentially a reserve force to assist local LEOs, have its agents be reservists from local LEO units and State Troopers. The essence of it is to devolve the power back to the lowest base possible: towns, counties, and Sheriff Departments, with the SBI subservient to that, and only taking the lead when county lines are crossed."

"Good luck with that." said Cindy.

"What, you think it's a bad idea?" I asked, a bit surprised.

"No, I think it's great." Cindy said. "But... speaking out of turn... I think it'll meet the same fate as the last couple of bills, and not much will change."

I nodded. "Yeah, you might be right. We'll certainly face tremendous opposition. But it'll be a starting point, and that's the key... most bills in the Legislature get amended, but rarely is the original bill truly gutted."

"The Democrats will introduce their own bill." said Cindy. "It will attempt to strengthen the SBI, destroy the SBI Reserve, and empower the SBI over all local LEOs; the idea being to centralize police power as much and as high as possible."

"What, are you writing their bill for them?" I asked jokingly.

"No." Cindy said. "I just got some 'inside baseball' on it, from a couple of different sources that shall remain nameless. Basically, Katherine Woodburn is going to re-introduce her bill from last time. The only significant difference is to completely destroy the Reserve program. Also, if you do the machine gun thing to the SBI again, they'll have the authority to prosecute whatever is left of your body."

"Oh, that's going to happen anyway." I said. "Which is why next time I won't try to miss; it will be shoot-to-kill. If there is a 'next time', of course. Anyway, the good news is that Governor Jared is going to veto anything he doesn't like."

"If he does that, won't that just leave what we have in place?" asked Cindy.

"If it's not funded," I replied, "then there will be no SBI at all if nothing passes. And that won't disturb my harmony at all---"

*BUZZ!* *BUZZ!* *BUZZ!*

It was my lovely assistant Helena buzzing me. "You have a phone call from Agent Muscone, sir." Helena said.

"Thanks, Helena." I said. Before I picked up the receiver, I said "This is interesting... a formal call on the landline instead of speed dialing me on the cellphone." I picked up the receiver. "Hi Jack..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We drove to the City in my Police SUV, blue lights burning as I achieved triple-digit speeds. Because we were already in civilian clothes, it was easy to clip on our SBI badges, log in as SBI Reservists, and be ready to investigate the case.

"I just want you to know," Jack Muscone said as he met us outside the distribution center, "that I hated like hell to call you in. I wanted us guys to solve this ourselves."


"Well, Jack," I said with a grin, "if you can avail yourself of 400 years of experience, you should do so." Muscone could not prevent himself from laughing.

"Touché." he said. "But here's the gist of it." He outlined what had happened, and what had been done to this point.

As we came into the warehouse area, I saw a very sullen-looking man staring at us, who Jack said was the uncooperative Director of Distribution.

"About a third of the Peach Computers packages were already delivered." said Muscone. "The rest have been brought back here, but I'm not sure what to do with them. I'm not even sure what, if anything, we're looking for."

"All right." I said. "Tell me about this Distribution Director. Dick Granger."

"He's a 'dick', all right." said Muscone. "I know more and more people are frustrated, and start spouting the Constitution at us... even certain redheads with crowbars are known to do that." I smiled as Jack went on: "But this guy... two of his guys are murdered, and he acts like he doesn't give a shit."

"Do you have full info on him?"

"No, he's bitching about getting a warrant to get is employee files." said Muscone. "The CEO, Mr. Blassingame, he's been cooperative about everything else, but his lawyer did intervene and said Granger had the right to refuse us access to Granger's information."

"Well, then, let's stop playing games with the son of a bitch." I said. "Is Sapper Warren here?"

"Right behind you, Commander." said Sapper. "Or should I say 'Inspector' Troy?" I turned around and shook his hand.

"Whatever you like, just keep it clean." I said. I told Sapper what I wanted him to do.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Granger looked up with baleful eyes as the large black cop and the large white man in a gray suit and carrying a red crowbar approached him.

"Let me see your I.D." said Sapper Warren.

"Get a warrant." said Granger.

I stepped up, crowbar in hand. "Granger," I said menacingly, "State Law requires you to follow a Police Officer's instructions when he tells you to show him an I.D. So you either show him your I.D., or you will be arrested and taken to jail. And then I will come in and... talk... with you. And let me assure you, Mr. Granger, that it will be painful to talk when this crowbar is shoved so far up your ass that you'll never shit again."

"Are you threatening me?" Granger said angrily.

"Yes." I said simply.

"One more time, punk. Show me your I.D." Sapper ordered. Granger very reluctantly and slowly produced his driver's license. Sapper held it up, and I used my Police iPhone to take a picture of the barcode on the back of the license. When all of Granger's vitals came up, I sent the data in an email to the City Police, the FBI, and my own TCPD to run checks on Granger. I might have forgotten to send a copy to the SBI.

"Okay, Granger." I said. "We're going to scan every one of these Peach Computers packages..."

"How? There's thousands of them!" Granger complained.

"How were they scanned when they went through here?" I asked.

"Through our processing line, of course." said Granger.

"Fire it up, then. Re-scan every box." I ordered.

"No." said Granger. "I'm not cooperating."

"Fine." I said. "Sapper, place this man under arrest. He is to be detained for potential involvement in the murder of two of his employees. His actions are suspicious, and cause me to believe he is complicit in the crimes."

"What?!" gasped Granger. "You can't arrest me! You have no arrest warrant! This is a total violation of my rights!" When Sapper tried to take his arm to affix cuffs, he pulled away.

"That's resisting arrest, right there." I said. When Granger again tried to avoid being grabbed, Sapper moved with amazing speed and easily subdued Granger, slamming him to the ground. Handcuffs were quickly affixed to the offender's wrists.

Just then, Jack Muscone came up with an older, distinguished looking man in a well-fitting suit. "Don, this is Edward Blassingame, the SPS CEO. Mr. Blassingame, this is Commander Donald Troy, the Iron Crowbar."

Mr. Blassingame shook my hand as if I were a celebrity. "Well I declare, you don't look nearly as old as I though you'd be, Commander. Er, what's going on with Granger, here?"

"Sir, I'm sorry for the loss of your employees this morning." I said. "I'm here to assist the FBI in the investigation of their murder. Mr. Granger here has been uncooperative in a suspicious way, and then resisted arrest when we attempted to detain him. He'll be spending the night in jail pending his arraignment in the morning."

"I'm sure you'll understand when I say I'll have my lawyer representing him, to assure his rights are observed." Blassingame said. I nodded, and Blassingame continued "So, Commander, what do you need from me?"

"I need a couple of I.T. people, sir." I said. "People who can help send mass emails, and can help scan these packages for me."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Emails had been sent to all recipients of packages that had already been delivered, asking said recipients to contact the Police if there was anything suspicious about their packages. The packages that remained were being sent through the incoming processors again. The I.T. guys had put in a protocol for a "re-scanning". They'd asked me what the scanner was looking for.

"All of these packages were in sequential order." I said. "Anything outside those numbers should be flagged. Any box that's way out of sequence with packages going before and after it. Any address that is outside the norm. Also, things like an order of just one system."

As they went to work, I sat down and perused my Police iPad tablet, using my Police iPhone as a hot spot. "Hmmm," I said, "this Granger guy is interesting."

"How so?" asked Muscone.

"He was arrested three years ago." I said. "He and six other people were at a restaurant, and someone overheard their conversation and called the Police, saying they were using racial language and talking about murdering blacks. All seven of them refused to cooperate with authorities, got lawyers, and pushed back really hard on their arrests, citing invasion of privacy and their Free Speech rights. Maybe at least one of these people was a lawyer. Anyway, they sued the restaurant and the Police, trying to get the name of the person that had called in the report about them, but the Police claimed C.I. status for the person, and the judge dismissed the case against the restaurant with prejudice."

"We'll check them all out." said Muscone. "Send me a copy of that, will you?" I sent the names of the other six persons to all the pertinent agencies.

"You might add Granger's assistant Marilyn to your researches." I said.

"Yeah, we've already added her name to our 'naughty' list."Muscone said. "I'll see if I can get Granger's employee records, too. You think he's involved in these murders?"

"I don't know about that." I said. "But he may have been involved in how the trucks were sent out and what was on them. This is way too easy a place to give a driver an extra package and have it delivered almost without a trace."

I began looking at the information on the victims. "Damn," I said. "Gonzalez had two small kids. I really feel for them... they're going to have to have Christmas without their father."

"After last summer," Cindy said, "I'm grateful your kids aren't having to have that." I nodded in agreement.

"So..." I said, "Gonzalez was Hispanic, but he was a citizen his wife was a citizen, his parents were citizens. Have to go back to grandparents to find any immigrants."

"Why is that an issue?" Cindy asked.

Jack Muscone, who was sitting next to me, said "Gonzalez activated his radio while he was being held at gunpoint. It's hard to hear, but the perp called him a 'Spic' and Gonzalez said something about being a citizen just before the perp shot him."

I said "I would add that shooting this man, and the other man too, was a very unnecessary action. Most robbers would have just kicked the drivers out and drove off in the truck, or held the driver hostage but alive while emptying the truck. But these drivers were apparently shot immediately, in cold blood. Now why do that? One reason could be a hatred of immigrants, though that doesn't hold well for the other man."

Muscone said: "Mansell, Johnny Mansell. No Heisman Trophies, different spelling. This guy was a borderline loser. His wife had left him, and others said he never got over that, was always crying about not being able to see his kids. And sure enough, his wife has a restraining order against him, as well as full custody of the kids and he has almost no visitation rights... all visits must be supervised by Child Protective Services in the State east of us, where she lives."

"Why?" Cindy asked. "Molestation?"

"No." I said, reading the file. "He's been on medications for years. Paxil, stuff like that. His wife was afraid he'd go off into a fit of rage around the kids, and hurt her or them or himself or someone else. I'm not sure she didn't embellish that, and the CPS people say he never got angry when in their presence."

"And he was driving an SPS truck?" Cindy said.

"Yes" said Muscone, "but his route was a very short one. Mostly to the City Railyards nearby and back. And his truck always had a tracking device that they monitored."

"And we had no problems with Mr. Mansell." said Mr. Blassingame, who had just come up. "We have a parole hire program, mostly people who load and unload the trucks, do routine things. We had him in that program, and he did well. We trusted him with a truck for short runs, and he did well with it. It's unfortunate that... he met his end that way."

"Yes sir." I said. "Very unfortunate."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have to be going home, as I have a couple of evening functions to attend." said Blassingame. "My assistant Mr. George here will assist you if you need anything." The CEO left.

"Have a seat, Mr. George," I said. "It's going to be a long evening." However, Jack Muscone called Mr. George to one side and began talking to him, probably wanting to get information about Granger.

I looked at my tablet again. "So Mr. Mansell didn't have much of a record in spite of all the bad we're hearing about him. And he was a citizen, all of his family were citizens going back a ways."

'Sir, we have something!" one of the I.T. guys called out. A worker was holding a box.

"Thank God you wore gloves before picking that up!" I exclaimed. "Here, let me take this very carefully..." I took the box, holding it as if it were a bomb or the most prized artifact since the Spear of Destiny. I set the box down on a table nearby and examined it with my magnifying glass.

"What singled this box out?" I asked the I.T. guy.

"It was out of order, and it was a single delivery to an address that is a software company, not a place selling these or a personal home." said the I.T. guy. Sapper Warren and a couple of City Police Officers came up as we were talking.

"Hmmm," I said. "Yes, it looks like the box was opened and re-taped. Let's see if we can get some prints."

"Really?" asked Muscone. "My goodness, how many people have handled that box?"

"Since it was re-taped?" I asked. "Let's see." I had a small fingerprint kit, and sprayed the fine powder on the tape on the top, along the back and sides. Then I turned on the UV light app of my Police cellphone. Fingerprints, and a couple of good ones, glowed green under the light, and I took pictures with the camera.

"And they're off to the FBI database." I said. "Okay, Sapper, do your guys have a videocamera?"

"We got Police iPhones." said Sapper.

"So do I." said Jack.

"Me, three." said Cindy. I had four people recording as I carefully opened the box.

"Okay, gaming console, computer, wires... oh, this one has a drone... ho-lee shit!" I exclaimed as I examined it. To everyone's surprise, I opened another box and pulled out its drone.

"As you can see," I said to the recorders, "the standard drone shipped is basic, with this basic camera in it. But this one in the anomalous box..." I held it up. "This is no-kidding hardware. This camera is super-advanced, and this drone itself is a much higher level of technology than what Peach Computers is putting out."

"So this is what they were after?" Jack Muscone said.

"Yes, I think so." I said. "Okay guys, what truck was this box on?"

"Truck 164." said an I.T. guy.

Jack Muscone whistled. "Right between 162 and 166. Damn, Crowbar, 400 years ago..."

I smiled. "Mr. George, can you tell me what happened to Trucks 163 and 165?"

Mr. George consulted his computer tablet as I bagged the anomalous system as evidence, and the drone as separate evidence. "Truck 163 is in the shop for maintenance." he said. "Truck 165... well, there is none... what I mean is that Truck 165 was totaled in a crash some six months ago, and we haven't put a replacement Truck 165 into service."

"Okayyyy..." I said. "Who is the driver of Truck 164? And what was its route today?"

Mr. George again consulted his tablet, then said "It was held up here, and didn't make it out of the gate when the recall was issued."

"You may tell the driver that he is a very lucky man." I said. "A very, very lucky man. If he'd left on time, I think he'd be dead, too..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The City Police Department's jails are not nearly as modern nor nice as the TCPDs. So Granger was brought to an interrogation room near Sapper Warren and Robin Ventura's desks, which were in a large room not unlike our MCD or Vice Rooms.

"He's called a lawyer." said Ventura, as we looked at him from behind the one-way glass of the darkened anteroom, which was really to the side.

"Nathan Masterson." Ventura went on. "He's the young up-and-comer with the local Gresham & Mason office." No sooner were the words spoken when a youngish looking man, white, short, slender, and with a full head of black hair just a little too perfectly in place came in and began talking to Granger.

After a few minutes, he picked up the telephone on the wall. Seconds after that, Sapper Warren's pager buzzed.

"They're ready for us." said Sapper.

"Let's go." I said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Well, if it isn't Commander Donald James Troy." said the young lawyer as Sapper and I walked into the Interrogation Room.

"It's 'James Donald', Mr. Masterson." I said. "And you have not yet had the pleasure of meeting me."

Masters smirked. "What is it today? FBI? SBI?"

"Inspector Troy of the SBI." I said. "This is City Police Detective Thomas Warren."

"Whatever." said Masterson, clearly intending to show disdain for the black Detective. "Go ahead and say it, Mr. Granger, and save us all a long night."

"On the advice of my attorney," said Granger, "I am invoking my Fifth Amendment rights, and I will not answer any of your questions at any time."

"I'm still going to read you those rights." I said, doing so from the card, making sure Granger and his little legal beagle were given no legal loopholes.

"So," said Masterson, "are you going to do the right thing and let me take my client out of here now?"

"He's Detective Warren's guest for the night." I said. "We'll be showing why he should continue to be detained in Court in the morning."

"Inspector Troy, you're from the little Town over there." Masterson said sneeringly. "This is the big City. We have Night Court here."

"You have all the fun, dontcha." I said. "Go ahead to your Night Court. Your client will remain with us overnight."

And that was the case, as a U.S. Attorney was right there to do legal battle with Masterson. The judge sided with the Government, and cited Granger as a flight risk. He would not make bail until the next afternoon.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *