Teresa's Christmas Ordeal Ch. 01

The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Part 1 - Prologue

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" blared the lovely redhead at 7:00am, Monday, December 19th, from in front of the State Weather Service station that was adjacent to County Airport. "A cold front is expected to come in later this afternoon, bringing frigid temperatures, higher winds, and the possibility that we may have a White Christmas this year!"

"According to Fox KXTC Weather experts, this front will only bring light rain." Bettina continued. "But another storm system is coming in behind this one, and it could dump several inches of snow upon us as early as Thursday! This is not the year to wait to get your Christmas shopping done!..."

As we drank our coffee in MCD, Cindy Ross said to Teresa Croyle "As if you need anything else to do. Now we have to plan for weather, and the traffic accidents that will come with it."

"Nature is conspiring with our Commander to keep me on desk duty." Teresa replied with exceptionally subtle humor. "But that's no big deal; we've had those plans in place for years. The Fire Department runs the snowplows and all that stuff, and they and the Electric Company are ready for the storm. We just investigate accidents and help with stuck cars and such."

"Where's Commander Troy?" Cindy asked.

"Reviewing my submitted plan for Special Operations training." Teresa said. "We really need more crowd control work."

"Let's go barge in on him and mess up his concentration." Cindy said. They left MCD and went across the hall to the Commander's office.

Once in the hallway, Teresa said quietly "Have you made any decision yet, about the FBI thing?"

"No." Cindy said. "I've already told them I want to get through Christmas before deciding. The Deputy Director said there was no hurry, but I know he'll want an answer before Spring, so they can get me into Quantico sooner rather than later. So what about you? Are you going to ask the Commander for that personal favor?"

"Yes." Teresa said. "After our meetings this morning."

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

"Okay, ladies, since I have you in here, let me bring up what I was going to say at the Angels meeting." I said to Cindy and Teresa, who were perched in my 'hot chairs' in front of my desk. "There is one thing I'm getting pressure from the Chief and the Council about, and that's putting some Officers in the Detective Track. I've agreed that we will name some Officers for that Detective Track, to take effect on February 1st."

Both Teresa and Cindy could not help it: they involuntarily looked over at Pete Feeley's badge, which still hung in its frame next to Tanya's on my wall.

"Yes." I said, knowing their thoughts. "I haven't forgotten that. But let's worry about who we are going to elevate this time around. Teresa, let the Precinct Captains know, and have them submit some names. Cindy, you and I and Wes Masters will evaluate those names and give our recommendations to the Chief, which he will pretty much rubber-stamp."

Cindy just nodded. I noticed Teresa look at her, then at me, then back to Cindy. Hmmm, what is she thinking, I wondered?

After going through some more agenda items, I said, as I usually did, "Okay, is there anything else?"

"Captain Croyle wants to talk to you, sir." Cindy said, standing up. Teresa flashed her a 'Teresa Cunt' look while I observed Teresa.

"Yes, I can see that." I said. "You are dismissed, Captain Ross. See if you can find something less interesting than the conversation I am about to have with Captain Croyle."

"On. My. Way." said Cindy, taking no heed of Teresa's look at her. Cindy left the office, closing the door firmly behind her.

"Okay, spill it." I said.

"She really should mind her own business." Teresa said.

"You'll get her back, one of these days." I said. "Most likely during the Police Boxing Matches." That got as close to a grin as I was ever going to get from Teresa. "Now are you going to ask me to call my wife for you, or are you going to just sit there and waste both our time?"

Teresa now looked stunned. "How did you know? Oh, never mind... yes, I was going to ask if you'd call Dr. Fredricson and make an appointment with her for me."

"Absolutely." I said. I got out my personal cellphone and speed-dialed my wife's office.

"Hello, dear.' I said when she answered. "I need to ask a favor of you. Teresa Croyle needs to make an appointment with you... no, she didn't tell me what it's about, but then again she doesn't need to..." Teresa rolled her eyes and I had to struggle not to laugh out loud.

Laura said that the best she could do was Thursday at 2:00pm, and was that good for Teresa? I asked Teresa and it was. After confirming, Laura and I exchanged "I love you"s and disconnected.

"Okay," I said. "Thursday at 2:00pm. Don't be late. Now do I need to assign you a watchdog to keep you out of trouble? And don't ask for Captain Ross, because the two of you are double trouble for me."

"And to think they call us your Angels." Teresa replied, giving it right back to me. "Thank you, sir." She got up and turned to go.

"Teresa," I said, and she turned back. I said "Good luck. I'm excited for you, and Todd. I hope it goes very well for you."

"Thank you, sir." Teresa said. "It was a hard decision. But after watching you with your kids, and Todd with his... well, it's about time." I nodded, and Teresa left.

No, it was not too hard to observe Teresa for weeks, and to deduce that the siren call of motherhood was beckoning her. The appointment with Laura was the first step in Teresa's very big step... to become a mother herself.

Part 2 - Plots and Plodding

"This weather could be a problem." said the younger man. "We might get trapped here, and unable to get back to Apple Grove."

"Relax, Doug." said the older man. "You can spend Christmas with us."

It was Tuesday, December 20th. The younger man was Doug Jackson, father of the late football player Jefferson Davis Jackson. The older man was Michael Burke, father of Todd Burke and the late Jack Burke.

They were at the Lakeside Inn & Suites on the southern end of Lake Reservoir in Nextdoor County. Their benefactor, Wallace Bedford, was also in the area, attending a Board meeting and Christmas parties at BigPharmaCorp.

"We're expecting family to come in, and we have to be in Apple Grove." said Doug Jackson. His wife Roberta was here with him.

"I understand." said Burke. "Jeanine and the kids are here with me. I'm inclined to stay here or at our home in Town through the storm instead of trying to get back to Lake Amengi-Nunagen and just being trapped there. You and Roberta are welcome to stay with us, if you like, but I'll understand if you need to get back home."

"So who are these people we're going to be meeting with?" asked Jackson.

"Tom Riordan is one of them." said Burke. "I'm not sure who the other is, but he's going to be the liaison for the people implementing our plan."

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

I was sitting in my office, pretty much twiddling my thumbs. My paperwork was almost completely caught up; only the year-end stuff remained, and that had to wait until next week and early January. Teresa was too damn good for her own good; her plans to fortify the Special Ops teams had been so well done that all I did was sign my approval and send it to the Police Chief.

Christmas shopping was done. Laura was trying hard to figure out what I was going to do for her gift. After giving her the Mercedes for her birthday, and getting my brains fucked out for weeks in thanks, she knew I wouldn't try to match that. Meanwhile, Carole was learning the concept of 'Santa Claus' and wanted a Barbie doll... and a toy dog for Bowser. I told Carole that Bowser might prefer snacks from Santa.

Normally Molly would stay at the Cabin with Ian and Ross. Her and Cindy's mother was coming down from Canada tomorrow, as well. But we were going to have to see what the weather did---

*BRING!* *BRING!* *BRING!*

It was my desk phone. I answered.

"Hell-o, Mr. Crowbar." came the voice of Chief Moynahan over the line. "Agent Muscone of the FBI has requested a few moments of your time at the Federal Building. He assures me that the pile of firewood delivered there is purely for be-nign purrrr-poses."

"I'm sure." I said. "With your permission, Chief, I'll be on my way."

"And swiftly, Mr. Crowbar. And swiftly." the Chief admonished.

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

Tom Riordan came to Michael Burke's suite at the Lakeside Inn. With him was a slender white man of medium height, his black hair slicked back, wearing black rimmed glasses. He looked young... a bit too young. He was wearing an ordinary black suit, white shirt, and gray tie; in any crowd he would be barely noticed.

"Hello, gentlemen." said Riordan, shaking hands with the other men. "This is my friend... 'Rusty'. Rusty does not shake hands." They nodded to Rusty.

"Gentlemen," the young man said, "give me a moment to sweep this room for bugs." He took a small device out of his pocket, and proceeded to walk around the room methodically but very quickly.

"Seems clean." he said. "But if you'll put on your jackets, let's talk on the patio."

They went out onto the patio, the view overlooking the lake. The wind was whipping around as the young man again swept for bugs, finding none.

"My apologies for making you withstand the cold." said the young man. "It will be safer to talk here, where the wind will help mask our voices in case I missed a listening device."

"You're thorough." said Michael Burke. "I like that."

The man nodded shortly. "My employer requires it. Okay, here's what is going on. My employer has agreed to your request for action to be taken against Dr. P. Harvey Eckhart. Our surveillance of 'The Vision' compound in Coltrane County has been difficult, and any attempt to penetrate the property would be ill-advised. Therefore, we are going to have to strike at him when he is outside the compound. We understand that he will be teaching a seminar next week?"

"Yes." said Tom Riordan. "At the new Town Civic Center. Fifteen hundred people will be attending."

"Good." said the young man. "I would suggest that none of you be anywhere near there at any time Eckhart is there. There is one more thing..." The man paused, then said "My employer's fees usually start at ten million dollars per attempt. However, he is going to waive that fee, as he considers this to be a special case. In return, Mr. Jackson, you might be asked to provide information in the future, which either he or I will ask you for when the time is right. You will know when you hear the word 'JACKAL' used. Mr. Burke, you may consider this a personal gift, and my employer requires nothing of you"

"I'm grateful." said Burke, knowing it would be prudent to ask no questions and tell no lies.

"That will do it, then." said the man. "You may go about your businesses as usual. If you see me in Town or anywhere else, act like I'm not there and like you don't know me at all."

"I have to ask one question." said Doug Jackson. "Is the target Eckhart? Or the pieces of shit that murdered my son?"

The young man nodded in understanding. "All I will say, Mr. Jackson, is that you will not be disappointed with the result."

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

"I'm telling ya," said Jack Muscone, "the paperwork these days is getting more time consuming than actual law enforcement. Washington is killing us. We literally have to document when we take bathroom breaks while on field missions."

The verbal outburst had been caused by the necessity of me signing documentation that I would not reveal the classified information I was about to be told. I signed the papers, then sat back as the monitor on the wall at the end of the table lit up.

"Okay," Jack said, beginning the briefing, "we told you earlier that we had chatter that your life might be in danger. We've been able to narrow it down somewhat, and my boss and your real boss, that being your wife, have authorized me to give you this information."

A fuzzy photograph of a man appeared on the monitor. Muscone said "This is the only picture the CIA has of a man we know to be a freelance assassin. Our codename for him is JACKAL, after the Frederick Forsyth novel. He operates in Europe and is believed to live in France; ergo, the codename. French Intelligence, pardon the contradiction in terms, calls him Le Caméléon.

"The Chameleon." I said, almost to myself. "Because he uses disguises?"

"According to this report, he is tremendous with them." replied Muscone. "But that's not his greatest ability. He is considered to be one of the best assassins or snipers in the world. He's like the man with the Golden Gun in the Double-Oh-Seven movies: he can be hired to kill. And he is truly one of the very best in the world at killing."

"His specialty is getting to people who are heavily protected." continued Muscone. "He won't try to to kill the President, but he's believed to have gone after some high-level diplomats and even a couple of CIA spies. He's taken out a few high-level French, German, and Polish Government people, as well. Anyway: he guarantees an attempt within three months, and his fee is a minimum of ten million dollars for a U.S. kill, or ten million euros for a kill in Europe or the Russian Federation."

"In gold?" I asked.

"Doesn't say here." said Muscone, looking through the report. "No... apparently in currency, cash."

"Hmmm," I said, "so he keeps his money liquid and able to move around. Interesting."

"Yes." said Muscone. "Anyway, we got some intel that JACKAL is in the United States, and was last known to be headed to the City. And that intel also suggested that the Iron Crowbar was his target."

"May I?" I asked, taking the report from Jack. I don't think he intended for me to read it, but he did not object an I perused its pages.

Afterwards, I said "I hate to say this, and don't you get any ideas..." I grinned as I continued: "...but if someone wanted to kill your friendly neighborhood Iron Crowbar, it would not be all that difficult to do. Case in point: I've been kidnapped twice. Someone could just as easily have killed me on the spot those two times. I try to take precautions..."

I then finished: "Anyway, the point is that someone does not need to hire the Ten Million Dollar Man to rub me out. So something else is going on here. It may be related to me, or someone is using my name as a decoy to hide their real purpose and intent."

"It sounds so simple when you explain it." said Muscone. "And you're right. So... what do you think could be going on here? And if JACKAL is not after you... who is he after?"

"It would have to be someone very important, and someone hard to kill, as you said." I replied. "And I don't know of anyone, except maybe your boss, who would merit such expensive attention. Well..."

"What?" said Muscone.

"P. Harvey Eckhart." I said. "There have been probes of 'The Vision' property in Coltrane County, and he has tight security. It would be hard to kill him... but does even he merit the pursuit of this Chameleon guy?"

"What about your wife?" asked Muscone.

"Who is trying her damnedest to retire from the CIA?" I asked back. "And again, who wants to pay someone ten million dollars to kill her? A needless expenditure of money. Let me ask this: does this guy do anything besides kill? Does he steal art? Diamonds?"

"Not that we know of." said Jack. "Just an assassin for hire."

"Who trained him?" I asked.

"We don't know." said Jack. "As you just read in that report, he grew up in Switzerland. His mother was Swiss and his father was French and a diplomat, mostly to African nations. He was in the Swiss Army upon reaching adulthood, as all adult Swiss men are, but beyond their basic training, we have no record of him being in any military."

"Swiss." I said. "Banksters."

"What?" asked Jack. "What was that?"

"That was me thinking out loud." I said. "I am looking for anything, any scrap of information that explains this man... why he became an assassin, what motivates him, stuff like that. These guys usually start out in someone's secret services, CIA, KGB, Stasi before it was dismantled..." I went into a reverie.

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

Tom Riordan and the young man 'Rusty' were gone. Michael Burke and Doug Jackson went to find their wives, and they found them in the main room of Burke's suite. Roberta Jackson and Jeanine Burke Burke were chatting about children, but Michael could feel the strain between the women.

"Well, ladies, shall we go to lunch?" Michael said.

"Doug," Roberta said to her husband, "I think we need to get back home before this weather front comes in."

"I do agree with that." said Doug Jackson. "Michael, we'll have to take a raincheck on lunch." The Jackson's left for their room, and would check out and leave within fifteen minutes.

"They were in a hurry to go." said Michael to his wife.

"Roberta's really worried about the weather." said Jeanine. "She said three times she was concerned about getting back home."

"Yes, Doug mentioned it also." said Michael. He peered at his beautiful wife. "You don't like her, do you?" he said. "Roberta."

Jeanine looked up into her husband's eyes. "No, and the feeling is mutual. I think she's a racist, and a virulent one. And she knows I'm not one. And we don't have much else in common to talk about except children. And that brings up memories for her about her son being murdered over in Coltrane County."

Michael nodded. "Yes, I think that's their obsession... their son's death."

"So," Jeanine said, "what did you and Doug and your guests talk about?"

"Oh, nothing much." said Michael. "Just some possible business deals."

"What kind of business deals?"

Michael began to look peeved at the line of inquiry. "Just... things related to my company, maybe some real estate deals up near the Lake."

Jeanine peered at her husband, then lowered her eyes. "Michael we need to talk. Every time we come here, you meet with strange people, then you won't talk to me about them nor what you're doing with them. This is the first time I've felt like you're putting up a wall and trying to hide something from me."

Michael peered back at his wife, seeing her piercing stare. He said "Look, honey, you know in your law practice that there were things you didn't discuss with family. I've got some business things going on that I can't talk about."

"Why not?" said Jeanine. "What is so secret that you can't talk to your wife, not to mention your real estate lawyer, about it?"

"Okay, I was trying to say it the nice way, but obviously that's not working." Michael said, anger creeping into his voice. "So I'll tell you this way: I cannot tell you what it's about, and I'm not going to, at least not until everything is finished. Now stop asking me about it."

"Michael, I---" Jeanine started.

"NO MORE!" Michael shouted. "DROP IT!"

Jeanine's beautiful face mirrored her total shock. She got up, grabbed her two sons, and took them into her bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.

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

Jack Muscone took me to the Cop Bar for lunch, where he had the Double Cheeseburger Plate that was named in his honor. I must admit that I had the Double Cheeseburger plate as well, and it was very tasty.