The Marshal Pt. 06

It was only later, after she'd arrived in Washington, that his words had bubbled to the surface one night as she drifted in the twilight between awareness and sleep. The next morning she'd begged and pleaded with anyone who would listen to allow her make a phone call, and later, when she realized they weren't going to budge, she begged for service to make a call for her, all to no avail. She'd become so frustrated by the situation that she'd cried herself to sleep that night.

The next morning, she decided it didn't matter if the marshals wouldn't allow her to call Rob. If he'd said he loved her, a few weeks wouldn't matter. As soon as she arrived in Bangor and was out from under the watchful eyes of the Marshal Service, she'd call him. If he hadn't said he loved her, there was no rush to talk to him, and if he had said the words but didn't still feel the same way by the time she contacted him, it wasn't real anyway.

She knew finding out if he'd said the words before she left for Bangor didn't matter, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. Missy said it would be another week, maybe two, before the marshals would, as they termed it, 'release her into the wild.' She'd continue to bust her ass to get ready so she could be out of here in a week. She had a phone call to make.

Rob stood around the corner from the offices of Erma Shipping and Container, along with five of his fellow deputies. The six marshals, along with four more covering the back, were about to ruin Mr. Jack Erma's day. Jack had been importing fake name brand electronics, and the U.S. Marshal Service was there to seize his records and take him into custody.

"Everyone ready?" Paul Milligan, the lead deputy on the case, asked. They all had their game faces on and nodded. "Then let's go."

The six marshals trotted around the corner, their U.S. Marshal Service labeled ballistic vests and helmets clearly identifying them. Their warrant was a no knock, so Erma wouldn't have time to destroy evidence. When the group arrived at the door, five of the marshals lined up one behind the other, each man with his hand on shoulder of the man in front, while Rob used the heavy steel breaching tool, what the marshals referred to as The Master Key, to bust it open. Because of Rob's size, he was almost always on the master key because any door that survived the battering ram when he swung it would likely need explosives to open. The moment the door crashed open, Rob stepped aside and dropped the ram as the other five marshals flowed into the room and began to fan out.

His hands free, Rob drew his sidearm and followed his comrades in. Cries of, "Federal Marshals! Hands in the air!" and "Down on the ground!" rang as the marshals fanned out through the offices, their weapons hot. They'd been warned that Erma could be armed and violent.

Rob kicked open a door just in time to see a big man hustling an overweight older man through a rear door. He didn't know who the thug was, but the older man was probably Erma. "Halt! Federal Marshal!" he bawled. He might as well have been baying at the moon for all the good his command did. Protocol said he had to give the order and couldn't shoot unless his life was being threatened. "Out the back!" Rob bellowed as he gave chase.

He burst through the door the two men had fled through into a narrow passage between a chain-link fence surrounding the container yard and the building. Where the fuck is our backup! he growled to himself. There should have been four marshals waiting to prevent this. He charged after the two men.

The bigger of the two men stopped and turned to face Rob as the other man continued to run. Rob didn't care about the hired gun, but he had to get past him before he could deal with Erma. Rob skidded to a stop ten feet from the man. "Down on the ground! Hands behind your head!" Rob bellowed as he trained his weapon on the muscle.

The man smiled. "I don't think so."

"Down on the ground or I'll have to use deadly force!"

The man held his hands out from his side. "I'm not armed. You going to shoot an unarmed man?" He smiled again and flicked the first two fingers on each hand at Rob as he crouched. "Come on, you wanna dance?" he sneered, taunting the marshal.

The goon was stalling to give Erma a chance to escape. Behind the thug, Rob saw Erma stop at the corner of the building, glance back at them, and start to climb the fence. He only made it halfway up before Dodd burst around the corner on the run and hauled Erma to the ground. The two men struggled a moment before Dodd had Erma face down on the ground with his knee in his back, yanking Erma's arms behind his back. Phillips appeared, holding two more men by the arms, their hands already bound. Rob's attention returned to the smiling ape in front of him. He didn't realize Erma had been captured.

"Your boss is being handcuffed. Give it up."

"Not going to happen. Come on if you think you can take me," the gorilla snarled as he inched toward Rob, clearly calculating his odds of getting past the marshal. Dodd and Phillips had their hands full, while Keener and McCurdy were nowhere to be seen, and Rob's backup was late. The other marshals must not have heard him over the shouting as they cleared the rooms. Rob could probably get away with shooting the asshole if he charged, but he didn't want to have to explain why he shot an unarmed man if he didn't have too. Rob dropped the magazine and ejected the round in the chamber of his Glock so the goon couldn't use the weapon against him. The ape wanted to dance? Rob would give him a fucking dance.

For the past two weeks Rob had been pulling every string and calling in every favor he could, trying to reach Bae. He was desperate to find out if she was okay. She'd been a mess after the shooting in the Moynihan Building, sobbing and clinging to him as they pulled her away, screaming 'No!' as she struggled to reach Rob. He'd damn near hit one of his fellow deputies as he tried to go to her. Had two more deputies not grabbed his arms and held him back until they could talk him down, he would have.

After he'd calmed down, he'd apologized for his actions. The other three men shrugged it off with a slap on the back in understanding and nothing more had been said, but that didn't mean he wasn't still seething inside with frustration. For the past week Rob had wanted to beat the shit out of somebody, and this gorilla would do just fine.

The moment Rob's weapon was cleared, the thug feinted like he was going to go over the fence but then tried to rush past the marshal instead. Rob didn't fall for the fake and jammed his gun into his holster by instinct as the man tried to rush pass. The passage was barely wide enough for two men to walk shoulder to shoulder, and Rob stepped in front of the charging man and set to take the impact. The hard charging gorilla was a big man going soft with age, but the impact was still jarring. The pain of their collision only fueled Rob's rage. The marshal wrapped his arms around the goon's waist and turned with him, bringing him around and throwing him into the fence. The hired muscle bounced off the fence like a trampoline, off balance and stumbling as he tried to run. Rob hit him in a tackle to drive him into the fence again.

Their feet snarled, the two big men went to the ground in a tangle. The goon drove an elbow firmly Rob's ribs. A ballistic vest doesn't do a damn thing for a punch, especially in the unprotected sides, and the searing pain blinded Rob with rage. The big man almost slipped Rob's grip, but Rob grabbed a foot and pulled hard. It was enough to prevent the ape from getting to his feet. As the thug fell, Rob scrambled to his feet. The man was a brawler and struck at the marshal, trying to break his knee with a well-placed kick, but he missed and Rob took the impact on his thigh. The blow made Rob stumble, but he hardly felt it. The thug was scrambling back, trying to get to his feet, knowing as long as he was on the ground he was in danger. As the goon rose, Rob threw the hardest right he could, his rage and frustration juicing him up.

The man stumbled back as his face exploded in blood. Rob drove a left into the thug's midsection, then another right into his jaw. The goon was out on his feet, but he was still standing. The marshal drove another left and then a right into the thug's gut. The man swung feebly at Rob, a swipe he easily dodged. Rob drew back and put his back, legs, and shoulder into another right straight into the man's already ruined face. Rob knew his hand was going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow, but goddamn did it feel good to bloody this fucker.

The gorilla stumbled back, bounced off the fence, and fell. Rob wanted to fall on him and continue beating the thug until he was exhausted, but he refrained. The man wasn't unconscious, but he was done and was waving a hand weakly in surrender. Rob hauled the defeated man off the fence, threw him facedown onto the pavement, and put his knee between the goon's shoulders at the base of his neck as he pulled his arms around behind his back.

"How'd you like my dancing, you fucking asshole?" Rob snarled. He didn't expect an answer and didn't get one. Rob rolled the bloodied man over and propped him against the fence before standing over him panting. As soon as another marshal showed up he was going to have to go collect the magazine for his Glock.

"Jesus, Cogburn!" Phillips said, shoving his two guys down against the fence beside the still bleeding goon. The other three men were scuffed up, but they were in a lot better shape than Rob's guy was.

Erma was shoved down next to the other three men. "Don't move or I'll turn his guy loose on you," Dodd warned.

By the time the marshals had handcuffed everyone, removed their ballistic vests and tactical helmets with face shields, and started collected the evidence, Rob's right hand was throbbing as he flexed it continuously to try to keep it from stiffening up. He should have used palm strikes. They weren't nearly as satisfying as hitting someone with his fist, but they hurt a lot less. The ape Rob had beaten the shit out of, plus the other three men that watched him do it, kept a wary eye on him anytime he was close. Rob made it a point to glare at them, like he was itching to beat the shit out of them too.

"You okay?" Milligan asked in a quiet moment. "How's the hand?"

"It hurts, but I don't think I broke anything. Why?"

"Phillips said you went fucking nuts on that guy."

"I couldn't shoot him. He was unarmed."

"So you beat the shit out of him?"

Rob shrugged. "It was that or let him run."

Milligan shook his head slowly, his lips tight in disapproval. Nobody said anything, but the entire office knew, or at least suspected, about Bae and Rob. "Did you get it out of your system?"

Rob's lips thinned. He wasn't fooling anyone. "Yeah, I think so."

Milligan put his hand on Rob's shoulder. "Phillips and Dodd both said it was a clean beatdown, but you need to get control of yourself. You read me?"

Rob nodded. Milligan was right. Rob didn't have to beat the shit out of the guy, and hadn't even tried to take the thug down in a pin. He wanted the goon to fight so he'd have an excuse. "I read you."

As the bagging and tagging continued, most of the marshals on the initial raid returned to the Moynihan building. Rob's hand was still throbbing, he was dirty, and his ribs, knees, and elbows were sore from his dance. He just wanted to go home, take a long hot shower, pour himself a coffee bandy and rum, and put some ice on his hand.

"Cogburn. The Marshal wants to see you," Michelle said as he walked into the office.

Rob sighed. He hadn't even had a chance to sit down. "Did he say why?"

"No."

He watched her a moment. She knew something. "What aren't you telling me?"

She shook her head. She had her poker face on, but her eyes were dancing. "Not for me to say. You need to hear it from the Marshal."

"Shit," he muttered. "Why am I always the last person to know anything around here? Is it bad?"

She shook her head again. "Depends on your point of view, I guess."

"Not even a hint?" She shook her head again. "Dammit," he muttered as he turned. He felt like he was being sent to the principal's office and was wondering what he'd done. It couldn't be about the ass kicking he'd given Erma's man as it was too soon for the Marshal to know about that. He walked to Marshal's office. "The Marshal wanted to see me?"

"Just a moment, Deputy Marshal," Jenny, his assistant, said. She picked up her phone and pressed a button. "Marshal Graves? Deputy Marshal Cogburn is here to see you." She nodded at Marshal Graves' door. "He'll see you now."

Rob entered and stopped in front of the marshal's desk. The last time he was in this office, he'd received an official reprimand for breaking a whole host of procedures. Fortunately for him, that reprimand had been lost before it reached his file, and he wondered if he'd be as lucky this time.

"Have a seat, Cogburn," Graves said. Rob sat. "I've been reviewing your report, along with the reports from your fellow deputies about this Han incident. Damn fine work."

"Thank you, sir."

"You were the only person to pick up on Thrussell texting Han's men, and you were the one most responsible for keeping Han Bo-bae from harm."

Rob's lips pulled down in annoyance. Three marshals had given their lives to protect Bae, and Nicholson was still recovering from his wounds, not to mention the marshals that had saved their asses in the stairway. It didn't seem right he was getting all the credit.

"Thank you, sir, but a lot of men deserve credit for that."

"Yes, yes they do, but you were the only one that picked up what that asshole Thrussell was doing, and you kept her in the elevator when everyone else walked right into the ambush."

Rob didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

Thrussell was awaiting trial for his actions. Kwang-hoon got six of his men past the security checkpoint using Thrussell's credentials. They'd created a diversion to delay the marshals who were to take Bae to her safe location by staging an accident that blocked the ramp while substituting their own SUV. Thrussell's text had let them know when to put their plan into motion.

Thrussell had sung like a canary when the plan went to shit, claiming Kwang-hoon had threatened his family. Maybe Kwang-hoon had, but that hadn't held any sway with the judge. Thrussell had been charged with accessory to murder of the three marshals, among other things, and the charges were added to Kwang-hoon's already long list of crimes. Everyone was certain the case was so fucked up it would be appealed, but it was a forgone conclusion Han Kwang-hoon was going to prison for a very long time.

Rob had looked in on the trial a few days later and thought Kwang-hoon looked good in prison orange with ankle bracelets and handcuffs. It suited him.

"The reason I called you in here, Deputy Marshal, is you're being transferred."

"Transferred?"

"That's correct. Effective immediately you are relieved of all enforcement duties. You will spend the next ten days receiving training on witness security. When your training is complete you will be transferred to Bangor. The Supervising Deputy Marshal there has been promoted and will be transferring to a new location. You will begin training with him to assume his duties, while at the same time providing oversight for a person entering the witness security program. She will be the first located in Bangor, and they need someone trained. That'll be you."

"Witness Security?"

"That's right. The work you did with Han Bo-bae hasn't gone unnoticed. You were asked for specifically for this assignment since you're from that area."

Rob didn't want to seem ungrateful, but he didn't want to be a babysitter. "I'm sure there are deputies far more qualified for this and the SDM position than I am."

Graves looked at his fingers as he interlaced them on top of his desk. "As I said, you were asked for by name."

"I can turn it down, right?"

Graves nodded, but his face told another story. "You can, but I wouldn't recommend it unless you don't plan to advance beyond being a deputy marshal."

"So what you're telling me is, 'Take it or else.' Is that what I'm hearing? Am I being punished?"

"This is a good opportunity, Cogburn. Most men would jump at the offer I've just given you."

"Yes, sir."

Moving back to Maine had its appeal, but Rob didn't want to be a babysitter, and he didn't want to sit behind a desk all day. On the other hand, he was also afraid if he didn't take the promotion, he might never be offered another. Eventually he was going to get too old to kick in doors. He'd also like to, someday, be a marshal. That meant first being a supervisory deputy marshal and then a chief deputy marshal. This transfer would be the first rung on that ladder. Maybe the Bangor office was small enough he could still get out in the field occasionally.

Rob licked his lips. "Thank you, sir. I accept."

Graves smiled, stood, and reached across his desk. "I think you've made the right decision," he said as Rob rose with him and accepted the offered hand. "It's been an honor and a privilege having you under my command, Deputy Marshal."

Rob forced himself not to wince as the two men shook hands. "Thank you, sir. It's been an honor serving with you."

The next two weeks Rob attended school, learning all the ins and outs of witness protection. There was a lot more to it than he expected. Michelle and Lou did only short-term protection, guarding female witnesses as necessary for trial, in addition to preforming other regular duties. What he'd be doing was far more in depth, sweeping up every little crumb of information the witness dropped to safeguard her secret. He found it fascinating, and by the end of the first week, he was looking forward to the opportunity.

The only thing he knew was the name of the woman he was protecting was Britney Hadley. He couldn't find out if that was her former name or her current name, where she was from, or anything else about her. He kept getting the same answer, 'You'll be briefed when you accept responsibility for her.'

He dared hope Britney Hadley was Bae, but he steeled himself for disappointment. All the pieces fell into place. The timing was right, Han Bo-bae and Britney Hadley shared the same initials, Bae had claimed to love Maine, and she was all woman, but he couldn't believe the service would put them together. Not only would that break practically every rule in the witness security book, but it ran the book through a shredder and then set it on fire. None of that matter, and he still he hoped.

After his training, he returned to his now former office. He hadn't planned to return, but Lou had insisted. He'd finally relented when she'd informed him there was a surprise party planned. The party had been the typical office affair, full of embarrassing stories, good natured ribbing, and gag gifts. After the office party, Rob, and ten of his closest friends continued at a nearby bar. That was a more subdued affair as they remembered their good times. It was his last night in the city. Tomorrow he flew to D.C. to pick up his charge. As the evening wound down, he promised to let them know when he came back to collect his stuff so they could get together again. The transfer had happened so suddenly he'd made no arrangements to move.

By nine only Lou and Michelle were left. "I need to be going, but there is one more thing before I do," Lou said. She grabbed Rob's face and kissed the shit out of him. He was a man, and Lou was sexy as shit, so he pulled her into the kiss, but he didn't try to extend it. After she had her fill, she stepped back and smiled. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that. Since we're not colleagues anymore, and you're moving way the hell up to Maine, nobody can say shit."