Time Flies Ch. 04

This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is 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, racism, 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.

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Part 17 - Redemption

"What?" asked Fred Merkle.

"You heard me." said James Hamm, reaching into his sportscoat. "And you failed the test." he said as he pulled out a .22WMR auto-pistol and pointed it at the man.

"Hey, hold on." said Merkle, holding his hands up and towards Hamm, as if to push him away. "No need for gunplay here..."

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

"All units! Southpoint Mall! All units to Southpoint Mall! DEA Agent in grave danger!" I yelled into the mike of the Police radio as i flew down Riverside Drive, lightbar flashing and sirens blaring. I was going straight down the middle of the road, zig-zagging through the vehicles that were all-too-slowly scrambling to get out of my way. It's called 'the side of the road', people! Make use of it!

Two Police cruisers with armed and armored Detectives were right behind me, and I knew that others were converging onto the scene.

"Okay, Cindy, here's what I need you to do when we get there." I said. "And I'll fill in the details later..."

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

I drove down Riverside Drive and took the curve onto Depot Street at way too high a speed, but the heavy, armored SUV was able to sustain it. I again tested it when I turned hard into the drive that led to the back parking lot of Southpoint Mall.

"There they are!" said Cindy, pointing ahead. "Up against the building!" We could see that James Hamm had a gun pointed at Ripley, who was in front of Merkle, seemingly shielding him. My dashboard camera was already on, and recorded the horrific scene that was already unfolding.

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

"You son of a bitch! You set me up?" yelled Hamm as he saw the Police vehicles coming at them at a high rate of speed.

"No!" yelled Merkle. "This ain't us! This ain't us!"

"Fuck you!" Hamm snarled. "Die, nigger!" He aimed his gun at Ripley, and fired.

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

We were too late. I saw Hamm's pistol bob up and down twice, and Ripley staggered back into Merkle, who seemed to catch him and lower him to the ground. Hamm saw my vehicle barreling right for him, and turned and fired his pistol at me. The small-caliber round glanced off the bulletproof windshield of my Police SUV with no more damage than a pebble thrown up by a truck on the highway.

Hamm ran for his truck and got in, but that did not help him. I plowed my SUV right into the passenger side door, and pushed that truck right up against the building.

As I opened my door and ran over to help Ripley, Cindy had her gun pointed in Hamm's face. "Show me your hands!" she yelled. "Make one wrong move! I just need one excuse!" Hamm was trapped in the vehicle, but put his hands out the window.

As TCPD cruisers and SUVs poured into the parking lot and came up to us, I ran up to Ripley. One bullet had gotten him on the collarbone above his armor, and the other had drilled right through his upper armor and into his chest. I tore his armor off and saw the damage. I pulled the plastic evidence bag I always carried out of my pocket and turned it inside out, and covered his sucking chest wound.

"Breathe, Ripley!" I yelled at him. "Breathe!"

Ripley looked right up into my eyes and said "I... I'm sorry... for what I said... about your daughter... I'm sorry..."

"We'll be good, if you hold on!" I yelled, looking right back into his eyes. "Come on, breathe!" Ripley was trying to hold on, to live, I could tell. But his eyes were dimming.

Just then, two of our new EMS paramedics came up in their vehicle. One was male, one was female, and they were both in their mid-twenties. The woman knelt down next to me.

"Sucking chest wound." I said. "Bullet went through his armor. He's a DEA Agent."

"We've got him, sir." said the woman as her partner came up with the plastic stretcher, like the one used to take Teresa out of the remains of Ward Harvester. (Author's note: 'Teresa's Christmas Finale', Ch. 02.) With the help of two Patrol Officers, they got Ripley onto the stretcher. The female paramedic held the plastic down on his wound as the others lifted him to the gurney and put him into the back of the ambulance. With a wail of its siren, the ambulance took off, escorted by a Police cruiser towards its destination of University Hospital.

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

Cindy backed up my SUV, and Officers rather violently pulled Hamm out of his truck, removed his two weapons from his person, cuffed him and stuffed him into a Police cruiser, and drove away, destined for Police Headquarters and a tour of our Booking facilities.

My dashcam's data was downloaded by the CSIs that were arriving on the scene, and they began processing the rest of it, as well. I was going to go over and give my statement, but a paramedic that had come up in a second ambulance said "Over here, Commander."

"I'm not hurt." I said.

"Yes sir, but we need to wash the blood off your hands." the paramedic said. I looked down and saw that my hands were solid red with the blood of Jackson Ripley from where I'd held the plastic over his wound.

The paramedic led me to the ambulance, where his partner poured some relatively warm water into a small plastic tub, and I thoroughly washed my hands. This was not only for medical reasons, but so I would not be contaminating everything with blood. Once I was cleaned up, I went over to where the Detectives were congregating.

Julia Rodriguez came up to me, wearing armor over her civilian clothes. "He had two guns. One is a .22 WMR, and the other is a .40 S&W. Both are loaded with cop-killer bullets, which is why Ripley's armor was penetrated. There are no other weapons in the truck. No nine millimeters, so far."

"I think we'll be producing that momentarily." I said cryptically, causing Cindy to peer at me. "Grab a gallon-size evidence bag." Julia procured one.

DEA Special Agent Fred Merkle was giving his statement to my Officers when SSA Dwight Stevens came up with SAC Jack Muscone and ASAC Karina White. "How... how did you find it?" asked Stevens... well, more like 'yelled'. "The location? How did you find out where it was?"

I stared malignantly at him. It was Cindy who answered, her ice blue eyes also filled with anger as she said "We were clued in to a homing device Ripley swallowed. That led us to him."

"What?!" Stevens gasped. "Ripley wasn't supposed to have a homing device! They might've detected it! And who told you he had a homing device on him?"

Cindy replied: "Somebody who has one hell of a lot more integrity than you do, and trusts the Iron Crowbar... like I should have." It took considerable effort for me not to show anything on my face at those last four words.

"Oh, I'll admit it." said Karina White. "It was me. Jackson Ripley was worried about this sting being put together so quickly and haphazardly, and he told someone who told me. So I went and found him in the restroom while you and Merkle were bickering with SAC Muscone, and I had Ripley swallow a homing device."

"And the rest was easy, as the old saying goes." I finished up, then looked at Karina White. "I do wish I'd known that earlier, though."

Karina said "I thought it was a legit sting, and just took the precaution. But after Stevens wouldn't tell you where the deal was dropping, I knew I had to let you know." Stevens was looking at White with fury in his eyes.

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

Fred Merkle came up to us, his mean-featured face looking sullen as he came up. "What happened here?" Dwight Stevens asked.

"We were about to make the deal when all these Police cars came flying up." said Merkle, staring malignantly at me. "Hamm pulled out a pistol and began firing at us. Ripley jumped in front of me, and saved me."

"So if the TCPD hadn't come barging in," said Stevens, also staring right at me, "Ripley would be unhurt, and Hamm would be in custody." It was a statement, and an accusation.

"No. No he wouldn't." I said, as I put on latex gloves. "Hamm didn't come here to make a drug deal. He came here with the express purpose of murdering Jackson Ripley."

"Whaa?" Jack Muscone gasped. "How do you know?"

"That will become apparent in just a second." I said as Julia Rodriguez came up to me, and Cindy moved to let her in... and put herself behind Merkle. "Special Agent Merkle, would you please put your hands behind you?"

"What? Why?" asked Merkle, whose face had the same look that (almost) everyone else's did: confusion.

"So that Commander Ross can handcuff you, and take you into custody." I said. "Fred Merkle, you are under arrest, for Conspiracy to assassinate Jackson Ripley, a human being and a Federal Agent, but worse, you are under arrest for the first degree murder of Carl Fisher, a.k.a. Carlton Bellows, a human being."

"What?" gasped Dwight Stevens. "Are you crazy?"

"Why, no." I said. "And if you'd shut up and learn to trust me, you'd find------"

*WHAM!*

Fred Merkle had gone for his gun, but Cindy was a bit too active for him. She slammed him to the asphalt, then pulled his hands behind him and cuffed him in less time than it just took you to read this.

"You're full of shit, Troy!" Merkle yelled as he lay prone on the ground. "You ain't got shit on me!"

"Oh, I beg to differ." I said as Officers pulled Merkle to his feet. "I beg to differ. You recording this, Culver?" Patrolman Culver assured me that he was. I reached into Merkle's sportscoat and extracted his DEA-issue Glock 17 with my latex-gloved paws.

"Here you go, Detective Rodriguez." I said as I put the Glock in the evidence bag she was holding. "Careful, it's loaded. I need for you to take this under two-man control to the Ballistics Lab at the State Crime Lab building. You will find Captain Perlman and Dr. Christina Cho waiting for you. Once they test it, I believe they will find that the nine millimeter slug that killed Fisher came from this very pistol!"

"Oh my God!" gasped Jack Muscone as Julia and Theo Washington moved out smartly with the evidence.

"How long have you known that?" asked Dwight Stevens, and his voice was more than skeptical. "And why didn't you tell us?"

"I did. Well, I tried to." I said as Detectives and Officers gathered around. "I told you at the Federal Building that your Agent's life was in danger, and you didn't seem to notice my use of the singular instead of the plural. I didn't have time to explain at length, and you just wouldn't trust me."

"As to how long I've known," I continued, "I put it all together just minutes before I went to the Federal Building to find you, as Commander Ross here will attest. I realized it when one of my Detectives made the remark that the DEA had set up the roadblocks when the body was moved, and dumped where we found it. It wasn't the entire DEA, just one dirty rogue Agent, but that's when the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for me."

"And I can't wait to hear the full explanation." Cindy said as she came up, put her arm around my neck and patted me on the shoulder. "Which you will not withhold from me. Don't let the sun set on me not knowing."

"Of course." I said, then grinned as I said "By the way, that was a great takedown, there. Keep that up, and you might win a Police Boxing Matches title one day."

"Oh, ko!" Cindy said with a look of mock disbelief on her ruggedly pretty face. "I have six PBM trophies on my shelf." she said, holding up her hands with three fingers outstretched on each hand. "And just how many do you have?" I heard Detectives and Officers murmuring and chuckling.

"Yeah," I said, "and exactly what is the green crowbar's record against the red crowbar? Why I believe there's a zee-ro in your win column, there." More murmurs and chuckles.

"Six." Cindy said as she walked away from me, holding up her fingers again. "Six! More than all the red crowbar trophies combined! And you'll never catch up!"

I sang to the tune of Madonna's Gambler, excellently paraphrasing it:

"You're getting angry, you know I can see,
you're just jealous 'cause you can't beat me..."

"Why don't we go to the gym when we get back to Headquarters?" Cindy challenged me. "We'll see about that."

"I thought you wanted to hear the explanation of the case." I said nonchalantly.

"All riiiiiight." Cindy conceded. "I'll let you live... this time." Murmurs and chuckles abounded. Dwight Stevens was looking at us in sheer disbelief. I only wished that Miriam Walters could've heard us, as well.

Part 18 - Wins and Losses

When we got back to Headquarters an hour later, after the crime scene was fully processed and I'd given my statement on camera of what had happened, I was directed to the Chief's Conference Room. FBI EAD Owen Lange was waiting there with the Chief, Sheriff, and Jack Muscone. ASAC Karina White was talking with Paulina Patterson in my office.

"Have a seat, Mr. Crowbarrr." said the Chief. I sat down to his left, with the Sheriff to my left and Lange in the seat across from the Sheriff. Jack Muscone was at the other end. Cindy was called in, and sat between the Chief and Lange, across from me.

"I have some bad news." said Lange. "Jackson Ripley didn't make it, He died on the operating table. They tried hard, but there was nothing they could do."

"On behalf of the TCPD," said the Sheriff, "we're sorry for the DEA's loss, and his family's loss, of course."

I said "I do want you to know that Ripley's last words were that he was sorry for what he said about my daughter. That was... good of him to do, to get that out with the last of his consciousness." Cindy nodded sadly in agreement.

"I do have one question." said Lange. "Dwight Stevens is saying that if the TCPD hadn't come flying into the parking lot, Hamm might not have pulled his gun and shot Ripley. What do you say to that?"

"That Stevens has his head up his ass." I said. "Check my dashcam. Hamm already had the gun drawn by the time we entered the parking lot, before he even saw us. And my report will give my full explanation of why I think Merkle lured Ripley into that parking lot so Hamm could kill Ripley."

"Why don't you go write that report up now." said Sheriff Griswold. "I get the feeling we're going to be needing it, and soon. You can explain to all of us at the Cop Bar tonight."

"Can we do that tomorrow night?" I asked. "I need to interrogate Hamm right now. If we can get a confession out of him, we can put Merkle to death at Jacksonville State Prison."

"Or Federal prison." said Jack Muscone.

"Don't let the sun set on you tonight." Cindy 'warned'.

"Just watch the interrogations." I replied...

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

"My client has invoked." was the first thing out of lawyer H.J. Lynch's mouth when Jack Muscone and I came into Interrogation-1 at Headquarters. The Monitor Room was full, so Detectives were in Classroom 'E' watching.

"Yeah, about that." I said as I sat down opposite James Hamm, who was handcuffed to the ring on the table. "There's new charges. He may want to think this one through... and get really good legal advice."

I re-read Hamm his rights, and he said nothing in reply. I then said "The dashcam don't lie, Hamm. And neither did the hidden button-cam that Jackson Ripley was wearing. And we know that you and Merkle were in league, and conspired to kill Ripley. In fact... my four favorite words: let's watch some TV!"

I expertly used the remote to turn on the monitor by the door to the jail side. In case your wondering, it's inset into the wall and protected by a thin plexiglass sheet, so perps can't get at it.

An image came onto the screen. It was Ripley's button-cam, which had transmitted to a recorder in the van. As it played, I said "So I wondered why Merkle stated the amount of the money... 22k. There was no reason to say that, not even for wires. What he was doing was telling you to use the .22WMR pistol instead of the .40 cal... so that the bullets would pierce Ripley's armor and kill him." Hamm tried hard to keep a straight face, but his widening eyes gave him away.

"Yeah, your play-acting wasn't all that good, Mr. Hamm," I said, "just like it wasn't all that good when you huffed and puffed and got your house blown down in your office at the Sanitation Department. So! Here's the story. We can take this the Federal route, or the local route. You are looking at the Death Penalty either way... yes, DEA Agent Ripley died in the operating room."

"Tough shit." Hamm snarled hatefully. H.J. Lynch immediately put his hand on Hamm's shoulder and began furiously whispering to him. Hamm whispered "It's okay." then turned and addressed me: "You don't have a thing on me. That nigger was pulling a gun; he was trying to kill me first. I acted in self-defense. The other DEA Agent will testify to that. You ask him."

"Oh, I imagine that I will." I said. "But before your lawyer has a heart attack trying to stop you from talking, let me paint the full picture for you... so that he can advise you better, of course."

I began: "We know that you were Carl Fisher's 'handler', for lack of a better term. I do have to commend you for being as careful as you were. You had a good setup, you really did. You set up Fisher to have a job in the Sanitation Department. Someone would send Fisher drug orders in coded texts. But Fisher did not forward those texts through other texts or emails, so they never could be traced back to you."

Me: "What he would do is come to work, and find a way to get that coded message to you. Maybe on a piece of paper you could burn, maybe verbally, maybe he'd just show you the text on his burner phone. But here's the sabot in the gears: Fisher did not know the key to decode the texts! Well, you thought he didn't, but over time he figured it out. I'll get to that, later."

Me: "So you got the coded message, and either you or your proxy sold the drugs. And your method of secure identification with the buyer of the drugs was also good: you or your proxy wore a wristwatch set a number of minutes ahead or behind, as contained in the code. And if both sides's watches were in sync, and the correct incorrect time was on both watches, the deal was made."

Me: "But something went wrong, didn't it? Unbeknownst to you, Carl Fisher knew enough about the codes to know the where and when, and how much. He was going to show up, cut the deal himself... or interdict it, take out both sides, and walk away with the drugs and the money. But he didn't know about the time offset. He went in there with his watch not set wrong, and he was shot twice in the chest immediately. So that's two murders you're going to be executed for."

"I didn't kill Fisher." said Hamm. "I wasn't there." The lawyer Lynch again tried to get Hamm to stop talking, but Hamm waved him off.

"The good news for you," I said, "is that I know you didn't kill Fisher. The bad news... is that the man who did kill him was cleaning up the messes. And that meeting today, Mr. Hamm, was meant to leave both you and Ripley dead. The man you're counting on to give you that alibi... he wasn't going to. And he's also not a very good witness; we've arrested DEA Agent Fred Merkle. We know that you and he were working together. But he was going to betray you, and still well might. You don't owe him a damn thing, not one scrap of loyalty."