The Untouchable Ch. 01

This was originally published as "The Bull" so if you read that no need to read thin unless you are a glutton for punishment

I write almost pulp. Or poor comic book. In other words, cheap crap. You don't like that, don't read it. You want character development, good plots, realistic scenarios, go elsewhere. This may be Literotica but I don't do literature. My favorite writer for this genre is probably Donald Hamilton but I'm not in that league. No one is anymore, I mean who writes dialogue like this today:

One of my usual. Flash story. No real sex and very little violence, mostly implied. Copyright and all rights reserved and all that crap to me in the year 2021 AD (screw that CE stuff). The names are all made up and any resemblance to any other real or fictional character is purely delusional on the part of the reader.

If you want to complain about the hackneyed unbelievable plot, lack of character development, or breast sizes, be my guest. Just know I won't care. BTW Bull never actually makes a personal appearance.

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I really did not go into the office all that much anymore. I mean, with cell phones and all, what was the need. I got most of my assignments by phone and our phone security was damn near unbreakable. But I was in the area and the boss asked me to stop by. Of course, his request was more in the nature of a command as far as I was concerned.

We were not in one of the nice shiny new buildings like all the three letter agencies we worked with were. We were in a dirty old brick building in a neglected neighborhood of D.C., neglected by all except whores, gangs, and drug dealers that is. Once you got past the vestibule it was nice enough, but Mac was not one to spend good money on frippery. Our budget was off the official books, as we were self-funded in a way that probably would not stand up to strict legal scrutiny. But I was not in acquisition's, so I stayed away from that end of things.

One of the local gangs had taken a run at us when we moved in but after losing four members the first three days they tended to leave us alone after that. I had made it clear to the remaining ones I would just as happily put the rest of them under if they stayed being a nuisance.

As usual Mac was behind his desk when I entered his office. He wore a gray flannel suit like it was a uniform, creases pressed, snow white shirt with a rounded club collar, and a rep stripe tie. Maybe he thought he was one of those English spy masters, MI-5 or something, but I did not let the looks deceive me. Mac was probably the single most dangerous man in the world and if he wanted you dead then your only alternative was suicide. He had the best crew of assassins in the business to do the job and I knew it, because I was one.

He looked up at me briefly "have a seat, Eric" he said.

I sat in the chair opposite him. It was armless and had a hard back, but people did not usually stay in his office long. I think the chair was to discourage comfort not to enhance it. Mac did not do comfort, or intimacy.

"Did I ever tell you about my brother, Eric" he asked?

Brother? I was not even sure he had a mother. I thought maybe he just sprang up fully grown in his office like one of those Greek Gods of old. Nemesis, maybe, the Goddess of Retribution and Revenge. Or maybe Menoetius, the God of Doomed Might.

"No sir" I replied. Mac liked short answers.

"He died in Beirut in '83. Three years out of the academy and left behind a wife and two daughters. His daughters grew up and had children of their own. Now it seems one of them is off to college a half days ride south of here and having a problem. She is in her freshman year and went home for Thanksgiving last week and it seemed to her mother she was afraid to go back. She did go but something was off. Her mother told her grandmother, my sister-in-law, who called me. Never had a problem with her before and now she is afraid. Now why would that be?"

"I do not know sir" I know it was rhetorical, but it seemed like he wanted an answer. In fact, this was the closest we had had to a personal conversation in the seven years I had worked for him.

"Nor do I and I don't like it when I don't know something. Now it could be a young girl away from home for the first time, normal jitters, but she is my only brothers granddaughter. And I don't like the idea that something is making her afraid. I don't think they are connected to our affairs here, but you can never be too careful. I was wondering, Eric, since you seem to have a few days free, if you would be willing to drive down there and take a look around. Talk to her, see if her fears are legitimate."

"Of course, sir" I said, "if I do find a problem what do you want me to do about it?"

"Just do what you normally do, Eric. Remove it, whatever it is."

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a leather billfold type and pushed it over to me. "Our friends at NSA sent over some presents" he said.

It was an ID case and I flipped it open. There was an official National Security Agency ID, Special Field Agent John Smith, with my picture on it and the NSA shield. I smiled as I looked it over.

"So, we work for the NSA now. Do I need to be following their rules" I asked?

His look did not change but I knew Mac was not under anybody's thumb and maybe annoyed I suggested it. I think he worked for the President, but it might have been the other way around. With Mac you were never too sure. "You work for me, Eric, but they thought it might be helpful, impress the locals, that type of thing. They did ask us not to embarrass them with it, not that we would purposely embarrass the NSA."

"So, I should be discreet with it" I asked? Not embarrassing the NSA was not probably high on Mac's list of things to be concerned over.

Again, all I got in reply was a look. "I will send the details to your phone" he said. It was as close to a dismissal as I was expecting so I took my leave.

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Rachel Bascom lived in room 3C of the East Hall dormitories. The main door had one of those electronic locks that required a passcode and they had digital camera's covering it so they must have thought the security was tight, but it only took about 30 seconds for my device to click the lock open. The same device also blanked out any camera's and audio devices in my area, within a mile or so. It is amazing what they can do with cell phones today.

I took the stairs up to three and knocked on the door. The girl that answered was breathtaking. Masses of dark red curls framed a slightly freckled face with deep green eyes and what were a pair of cantaloupe sized breasts jutting out proudly from her chest. She looked to be wearing pajama pants and had a tank top that barely stretched to cover her.

"I'm looking for Rachel Bascom" I said.

"Jesus, aren't you a little old for this? Why can't you assholes just leave her alone" she answered me?

I took a step back and held my hands partially up palms facing her. "I am a friend of her grandfathers. He asked me to look her up while I was down here, have a little talk. Nothing more" I said.

"Rachel" she said over her shoulder "he says he's a friend of you grandfathers."

A few seconds later Rachel came to the door. She was a cute little thing, maybe 5'6", with chestnut colored hair, and barely looked like she weighed anything, but she was not the sexpot her friend was.

"Can I help you" she asked me?

"Rachel, my name is John Smith" I said. "I am a friend of your grandfathers and he asked me to look you up while I was down here. Actually, it is your grandfathers brother not your grandfather but close enough."

She looked at me. "My grandfather doesn't have a brother. Just who the hell are you?"

"Your other grandfather, Rachel. Your mothers father."

"But he passed away years ago, long before I was born. Wait, do you mean Uncle Carl? How do you know him and what do you want with me?"

Uncle Carl? That was a new one on me but who knows how many names Mac had and for all I knew that might even be his real one. I mean I was here as John Smith, but Eric was not my given name either. Did I even remember my given name? Did it matter anymore?

"Just consider me a business acquaintance of his. Tell you what Rachel. I do not want to discuss this in the hallway, and I do not think you two should invite me in. I noticed a little cafe at the corner. How about I walk over there and get us a table. Meanwhile you can call your mother and check that she talked to your grandmother about someone stopping by. If it all sounds legitimate to you, you and your friend can come over and I will buy you dinner in a nice public place. If it doesn't sound kosher just do not come."

She sort of looked me over for a minute, nodded acceptance, and closed the door in my face.

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I took my time walking to the café but eventually I made my way in and grabbed a booth in the back. It was close to the emergency exit and had a good field of vision covering the front door and most of the rest of the place. I had the waitress bring me a cup of hot coffee and stirred in too much sugar. I like strong sweet coffee, black, and although it was not all that strong it was hot. The place was mostly empty which I thought a bit odd considering the proximity to the dorm rooms, but it was a bit later on a Sunday night. There were three guys at one of the tables being a little loud, typical college punks from the looks of them, and a scattering of couples.

The girls arrived about twenty minutes after I did. I suppose I should have factored in time for them to change. I was on my second cup of coffee when they entered. Rachel slid into the booth opposite me and then her friend dropped in beside her. They had barely said hello when one of the college boys from the group of three sauntered over, leaned over our table, and spoke to her.

"hey slut" he said, "when you're done with this asshole" he nodded at me "why don't you come over and suck off the three of us."

His hand just happened to be leaning on the table in front of me so it the work of less than a second to put a wrist lock on him and drop him to his knees at the end of the table. The way we were facing I had his left wrist in my left hand, and I put just enough pressure, in exactly the correct spot, to bring it too just short of breaking.

He looked up at me and suddenly all the color drained out of his face. I have been told something happens to my eyes when I get the killing feel about me and this punk was pushing me close to it. I probably would not do it, but I damn sure felt like it. I know there was something missing in me, empathy I think people call it, or compassion, something like that, and when I let the lack of it show it tends to scare people. I have to work at it to appear normal.

I applied a little more pressure to his wrist. "listen carefully" I said quietly, "you get this wrong and you will not be walking out of here under your own power. In a minute I am going to let you talk and the only thing you better say is to apologize to miss Bascom and it better be sincere. I don't like that type of talk around young ladies." Before he had a chance to speak his friends came up behind him.

"What are you doing to Bobby" the larger one asked?

"Is this piece of crap Bobby" I said, indicating the kneeling asshole with my head?

"Yes"

"So, you agree he is a piece of crap?"

"Wait, what?"

"You two friends of his?"

"Yes"

"Good" I replied. "In a minute I am going to break his wrist and you can drive him to the hospital."

"What if we kick your ass instead?"

I looked at them. They stepped back a little. "Not likely" I said, "you two are not capable of it."

He tried to get some bluster back. "You think you can take the three of us?"

"Two" I said.

"What?"

"Two. Either one of you makes any move and Bobby here will not get up off the floor under his own power. So, there's only two of you."

"And you think you can take both of us?"

"No."

They looked puzzled. I do not know what they teach in college, but critical thinking does not seem to be on the curriculum.

"I know I can put you both in wheelchairs for six months to a year, depending on your recovery ability. I do not need to think about it." While we were talking I snapped Bobby's wrist. I decided not to wait for the apology. While I was at it I tore a few tendons lose. He would be in for a long surgery before morning. The bones sounded a bit loud when they broke, and he gave sort of a girlish shriek, so I let go and he curled up on the floor.

"Just take him to the hospital and he can apologize the next time he sees miss Bascom. If she wants him to. If not I suggest the three of you just walk the other way when you see her. Consider this a friendly warning, as you really do not want me to make it unfriendly."

His two pals picked him up and helped him out. The waitress had been hovering near by, so I called her over and asked the girls to order. I told them we could talk after we ate.

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For a local café the food was not all that bad. I ordered a Reuben sandwich, which seemed a little odd this far South, that came with fries and a pickle. I did not eat the pickle. I was on my third cup of coffee, which I needed to watch as too much caffeine tended to make me short tempered. But the waitress was cute. Probably a college girl picking up some spending money.

The girls had each ordered burgers which came with fries and pickles as well. Seemed to be a theme. The food came in red plastic baskets lined with napkins; I suppose it was cheaper than a dishwasher. The girls just picked at their burger's; I think Rachel was delaying our talk. I could tell she wanted to talk, she had come after all, but seemed a little reluctant.

I recognized him as soon as he walked in. William Hines was the local sheriff which was a fairly powerful position in some Southern counties. Up North everything is by town and city and counties are sort of an afterthought, but down South counties are still the main governmental unit, and Hines was a big dog in county government. I had read a quick bio of him, 43, brother-in-law was an FBI agent. Nothing really against him, he seemed more politician than law enforcement. He did a quick scan of the restaurant then made a beeline for our booth, pulled a chair over from the table nearby, and sat at the end.

"Rachel, Brenda" he said, smiling at them "how you two doing tonight?" I thought the girls looked a little uncomfortable. He was putting on the good old boy act.

They both murmured some pleasantries back at him. "And who might you be" he said looking at me.

"I might ask you the same question" I said. I knew who he was, but he did not need to know I knew, at least not yet.

"William Hines, Sherriff of this here county. And you are?"

"Wondering if you have identification to back that up" I said. I was not going to make it easy on him.

"There's no need for that" he said, "I am sure both these girls will vouch for me."

I considered that for a minute. "I find that interesting, Sherriff. Why would two freshman girls know an important man like the Sherriff of "this here county"."

I could tell I was irritating him. I tend to have that effect on people normally and since in this case I was trying to, it was working. "We met during an investigation, but at the moment, I'm asking the questions. Now who are you?"

"John Smith"

"OK Mr. John Smith just where are you from?"

"Up North a bit. What can we do for you Sherriff? I would ask you to join us, but we were having a private conversation."

"I'm here officially. It seems we had an incident here a little while ago, one of my boys is over at the hospital with what looks like a broken wrist."

"My guess is a compound fracture and a couple of torn tendons but I am not a doctor. I did not know he was your son."

"He isn't my son I just think of all the kids here that way. Would it have made a difference if he was?"

I thought about that for a minute. "No, probably not" I replied, "I would have broken it anyway."

"And that there seems to be the problem. I can't have you going around breaking kids wrists. You want to tell me why you did it?"

"He was rude to miss Bascom."

"Don't you think breaking his wrist for a rude comment was a bit extreme?"

"Damn Sherriff you are just full of interesting questions, just making me think tonight. Do I think it was extreme?" I made it a point to stop and appear to think on it. It really was a no brainer though. "He walked out of here alive so I would have to say no. Besides, he was interfering in a Federal investigation."

"What Federal investigation?" I liked how he said investigation, like it had nineteen syllables.

"My Federal investigation."

"You're a Federal agent?"

"I am." That one pulled him up a little short.

"I suppose you have some sort of credentials to back that up."

"I do."

We both sat there looking at one another. I think he thought I was going to pull out my ID out and show him or something. He did not want to ask but I knew he would, sooner or later. I was not in a hurry.

"Would you like to show me some identification" he asked?

"Not particularly."

"And if I insist?"

"Well that hardly seems fair, Sherriff. You want me to show you mine, but you will not show me yours. That was not the way it worked in grade school."

Both girls started giggling at that one. The look he gave them was not pleasant but when he looked back he found that I could do that look too, and mine was a damn sight scarier than his. He was annoyed and trying to be intimidating. I, on the other hand, was a psychopath, just a controlled and useful one. He could not hold my gaze and, glancing down, noticed the Kahr 9mm resting under my right hand on the table. It was pointing enough in his general direction to worry him.

"I am going to reach into my breast pocket with my left hand and remove my ID" I said evenly, "so let's all be nice and careful and not make any sudden movements." The girls had gone strangely quiet and even the café seemed still. Time often slows in situations like this. I pulled the leather case out and slid it over to him. He flipped it open, looked at me, looked at it, and then back at me.

"Fucking NSA agent? What the fuck is the NSA doing down here?"

"Watch your language Sherriff" I said "there are ladies present. I already broke one wrist for rudeness tonight, I don't want to have to shoot anyone."

"You'd shoot me for being rude" he asked?

I considered it for a bit. He really had me thinking tonight. "I might. Need to think on it for a bit."

"And you think you'd get away with it?"

"Always have before. Of course, as they say, past results do not guarantee present performance, but I would be willing to chance it."

"Arrogant aren't you."

"Me? I am not the one who walked into an unknown situation, going up against a man I did not know, and had a gun pulled on me. That type of arrogance is going to get you killed one of these days."

He went back to looking at the ID. I knew what he was trying to do so I made it easier on him.

"Rachel, you have a pen on you" I asked?

"Yes."

I flipped her a napkin. "Write this down. WX-1846398Y38. John Smith, Special Field Agent. Then give it to the Sherriff here." She did as I asked.

"There you go Sherriff. Call that into your brother-in-law and he can vouch for me."

He looked at the paper then at me. I do not think he liked where this was going. "What do I tell the kid in the hospital" he asked?