Town & County Confidential Ch. 03

After a few minutes of thought, as Teresa watched me staring at the wall to my right, upon which rested framed citations and plaques, I finally said "There's another way to confirm this, if what I'm thinking is right." I then looked at Teresa and said "But it's completely off book and off the record, if you get my drift."

"I'm your Angel for it, then." Teresa said.

I fished out my personal iPhone and made a call. "Hi, it's me... yes... we need to meet... I'm bringing the Iron Wolf... yes... okay, we'll be there..."

Part 17 - The Kill

10:45pm, Friday, October 9th. Tarnished Police Officer Justin Hendricks came into the abandoned King & Ebenezer Food Industries building west of Town. The former meat processing plant was pitch black dark and had a dank smell. Hendricks had a battery-powered LED lantern that lit the large space in a dim, eerie blue.

"You there?" Hendricks called out.

"We're here, all right." growled a voice. Suddenly the outside of the building was lit with the almost blinding blue light of Police vehicle lightbars being turned on all at once, and the inside lights came on. As Hendricks looked around, he saw Officers of the Law pouring into the building, heavily armed and armored, surrounding him.

And then the Officer behind the voice appeared, wearing all black with a khaki-colored trenchcoat over it, a khaki Tilley Hat with Airborne wings over the Police hat badge, and carrying a red crowbar in his hand.

"What the hell is going on?" Hendricks snarled loudly.

"What are you doing here?" I snarled back. "And who were you going to meet?"

"I'm here to meet a confidential informant." replied Hendricks. "But you just fucked that up."

"My heart bleeds." I said. "So... is this confidential informant on file with us, like he or she should be?"

"I want a Union Rep." said Hendricks. "I'm not answering any more questions without a Union Rep present."

"He wants a Union Rep." I said to Teresa Croyle, who had come up with a small wooden chair, like those found in Sunday School rooms for kids, or maybe kindergartens.

I then said to a Officer in all black and heavily armored, wearing a helmet and goggles that secured his identity: "Frisk the bastard." The Officer did so, removing Hendricks's service weapon. He had no other weapons on him. I said loudly: "Search the building! Every inch of it!"

Officers rushed to implement my instructions. After five minutes, one of them came back and said "No one else here, sir, nor on the grounds outside."

"Okay, good." I said. "All of you except Hotel and Mike here can go." I was referring to the two Officers that were armored and masked. All the other Officers left the building, except Teresa.

"Sit down, Fat Boy." I said. When Hendricks did not move, I yelled "I SAID SIT THE FUCK DOWN, YOU FAT PIECE OF SHIT!" The two armored and masked Officers moved forward and forced Hendricks to sit on the small chair.

"This is harassment!" Hendricks yelled. "This is physical abuse! And I object to your yelling at me like that, Troy! I demand you show me some respect!----- UHHK!"

*THWACK!*

I had swung the red crowbar like a baseball bat, and hit Hendricks solidly on his chest, right on his sternum.

"You'd better start showing me some respect, you disgusting fatbody." I said. "If you're trying to draw my ire and make me get physical... I just did. The next crowbar blow will knock your goddamned teeth out. And the third blow will split your head in two. I'm not playing with you any more, Fat Boy. This is for keeps!"

"I protest this physical abuse." Hendricks said, between coughs. "I want a Union Rep."

"I'm sure you do." I said. "But I'm not asking you any more questions. I'm here to tell you some news. Whoever called you here was not going to meet you. He or she was going to kill you. Your little exploit at the convenience store last night did not fool us, Fat Boy... and your handlers know that we know. And they won't stop trying to kill you until you are either dead or you tell us what they don't want you to tell us."

"I don't believe you." said Hendricks. "You're just trying to set up an excuse to kill me yourself."

"If he wanted you dead, Dog Shit, you'd be dead already." Teresa growled huskily into Hendricks's ear, almost whispering. "And the Iron Crowbar is the only reason I haven't wiped you out yet. Now are you sure there's nothing you'd like to tell us, before some very serious people do some very serious damage to you?"

Hendricks said: "I'm here to meet a C.I. I want a Union Rep. I will answer no questions without a Union Rep present."

Teresa cackled, a sound that could be horrifying in its malignant intent. She said "That's fitting... Dog Shit here is going to go to his grave asking for a Union Rep."

I replied: "Oh, Fat Boy here knows I'm not going to kill him, and he knows that if I really needed to know his information, we wouldn't be here having this pleasant conversation. He knows I'd be getting the information by other... very unpleasant... means."

"I want a Union Rep." said Hendricks again.

"Let's get out of here." I said to Teresa. "Fat Boy knows the score. If he chooses to ignore his situation, then it's his funeral... literally" The light suddenly cut off, and we exited the building, leaving Hendricks sitting alone in the dark...

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

I've heard a lot of nasty stories from a lot of broken men over shots of bourbon about their ex-wives. I just listen and try not to laugh. None of their ex-wives even come close to being as cold-blooded my own ex. James Bond ain't the only Agent with a license to kill and the willingness to do so...

Earlier that day, Teresa and I had gone to see Melina Allgood, Mayor Daniel Allgood's beautiful wife. Melina Troy Allgood, that is. Yep, my ex-wife. And my current wife's sister.

And that's the part people know about. What they don't know is that Melina was once the most dangerous and feared 'wet boy', a.k.a. sniper assassin, in the CIA. Then she became a 'Dark Agent' in the FBI, practicing her dark arts for the FBI.

As we sat down in her living room, the family dog Dorothy jumped onto my lap, and I began petting her. Dorothy was the daughter of my dog Bowser. Even if she wasn't, I would be petting her. Your Iron Crowbar loves dogs.

"So, what did you need to talk about?" Melina asked.

"First," I said, "you may speak as totally freely in front of Teresa as you would me, so don't hold back. Second, has anyone contacted you about killing a dirty cop named Justin Hendricks?"

Melina was good. Damn good. Her blue eyes didn't even flicker. She said "Not much gets past you... or are you guessing right again?"

"I assure you that it's a very educated guess." I replied. "So what can you tell me?"

Melina said "The answer is 'yes'. I've been asked to assassinate TCPD Officer Justin Hendricks, but I can say no more about it. Or do I need to?" Teresa was gaping at both of us.

I said "Why don't I tell you, and you can correct me where I go astray. The request was made a a very high level of the DEA. They recruited Hendricks as a C.I. and a mole, or so they thought. He double-crossed them, and now they're scared he'll tell our Internal Affairs... or worse me... about it."

Melina nodded. "That's pretty much the gist of it, except that I don't think they ever successfully recruited him. He strung them along, and told his real superiors all about it. And before you ask, the only person I know that he answers to on the Dark Side is Sergeant Toole... who is also not long for your Police Force and not long for this earth."

Indeed, Sergeant Toole was in the process of being fired for a number of infractions, but had grieved them and his hearing was coming up in the near-future.

"Toole's not Hendricks's boss, at least among the bad guys." I said. "Officer Jeremy Hatch is part of the dirty cop ring, and he's more of the leader than Toole and Hendricks."

"Thank you for that information." Melina said. "It looks like you're well on your way to excising the cancer in your Police Force. But even with my resources, I can't find out who is pulling their marionette strings. That's for you solve, Iron Crowbar."

I nodded. "In the meantime, do me a favor. Don't kill Hendricks. Not now, nor in the future. Don't show up tonight at the location you're supposed to hit... which is where, by the way?"

"Ebenezer & King Food Industries." said Melina. "Hendricks is supposed to arrive at 10:45pm. Show up right then, so I can say I saw the cops there and aborted my mission..."

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

As we drove back to Headquarters, Teresa said "I'll be saying a thousand Ave Marias a day for even thinking this, much less saying it out loud, but wasn't that a chance to get rid of Hendricks? Let Melina wax him, and our problem is solved."

"I would agree, and I definitely considered it." I said. Then my voice turned sad as I said "but when Halston told us about 'Caleb's information, I saw Pete Feeley's Shield on my wall out of the corner of my eye. I was thinking of him, and Lieutenant Irwin, and Officer Barker, and I know I could not stand it if Hendricks would be given the same honorable Police funeral those Officers received."

Corporal Peter M. Feeley was the father of Tanya Perlman's (now Muscone's) son, Peter D. Feeley, and was murdered in the line of duty by Angela Harlan, the Black Widow serial killer, before his son was born. I had not acted in time to save him, and would never forgive myself for my failure. I keep his Badge on my wall to remind me of the consequences of failing to be on time solving a case.

Lieutenant Ivar Irwin was an outstanding Officer and very loyal to Teresa. He died saving her husband Todd when Todd had been taken hostage by some very nasty perps. And Officer Barker had thrown a young girl out of the way of an out-of-control, onrushing car, only to be hit by the car and killed himself.

Teresa nodded solemnly. "I understand, sir. And yeah, for Hendricks to get the same funeral Irwin did? That wouldn't be right."

"Okay," I said authoritatively, to get us out of our melancholy, "when we get back, get the Detectives ready for another round of stakeouts. We'll have Hendricks occupied, so if something is going down tonight, he won't be able to interdict and stop it..."

Part 19 - Federal Follies

There are few things as dangerous to American Citizens as Federal Agents, no matter the branch. The only difference between God and a Federal Agent is that God doesn't think He's a Federal Agent. Their arrogance at times is beyond belief. They throw their weight around, threaten good Citizens with being charged with crimes to browbeat them into submission, and they think the U.S. Constitution is 'just a goddamned piece of paper', to quote George W. Bush.

I've been on the business end of their physical abuse in the past, and my back still hurts because of it. That's one more excuse... er, reason, for having the bourbon flask... and the red crowbar. Russ Ferrament is not scared of Federal Agents, though I often hear the voice of Jedi Master Yoda saying 'You should be... you should be...

8:00am, Saturday, October 10th. The best news of the day is that the University Bulldogs were playing an away game, so we didn't have to deal with the 90,000 or so fans coming into our Town & County like they did during home games.

I was at my home, having breakfast with my children and our dogs Bowser and Buddy, when the phone rang. It was the Chief, asking me to come to the Station. Of course I said I would be right there, and left immediately.

When I got to the Station, the Chief met me in the hallway, which was rare. With him was Commander Teresa Croyle and Deputy Chief Cindy Ross, who had just arrived.

"They're in the Main Conference Room with the Sheriff." the Chief said.

"Who?" I asked.

"Jack Muscone, Dwight Stevens, and Kevin Pitts." said the Chief. "And Dwight's boss, DEA Special Agent in Charge Rutherford Lyndon."

Rutherford Lyndon was white and had a bald head and a trimmed mustache and beard; he looked like a cross between a college professor and a Special Prosecutor. He was medium height, slender, and had been a DEA field agent for years. I'd always considered him to be one of the 'good guys'.

We went into the Main Conference Room and took our seats. The Chief's place was at the near end of the table, and me to his left. The Sheriff was to my left, two seats over... in the dead middle of the large conference table. Cindy sat between me and the Sheriff, and Teresa to Jack Muscone's right... where she could pull a gun and kill the Federal Agents before they could succeed in trying anything. DEA Special Agent Pitts was to Muscone's left, DEA Supervisory Special Agent Dwight Stevens to Pitts's left, and SAC Lyndon was to the Chief's right and Stevens's left.

And the frosty atmosphere inside the room matched the morning chill outside. Jack Muscone bid us all good morning, but the DEA Agents said nothing, and we said nothing to them. I did observe that Jack Muscone and Kevin Pitts seemed to be concerned. Dwight Stevens seemed determined, or was that defiant? Rutherford Lyndon seemed to be neutral, and unconcerned about anything. Hmmm.....

After the Chief's assistant Cassie poured us all coffee and then left, the Chief began the meeting: "Okayyyyy, you asked for this meeting, Mr. Lyndon. What's it abouuuut?"

"Dwight?" said Lyndon. When Stevens looked at him with a surprised face, Lyndon said "Why don't you tell them what this is about?"

"Er, yes sir." said Stevens, who then noticed me peering hard at him, and turned his own gaze to the Chief. He said "Chief, we would like for you to stay your suspension of Officer Hendricks, and allow him to have his Patrol car back."

"And whyyyyy do you want us to do that?" asked the Chief skeptically.

"We know Hendricks is dirty." said Stevens. "Our surveillance of The Eighth Street Latinos includes watching Hendricks. We're hoping he'll lead us to gang members, and then he can be... er, 'persuaded' to turn State's evidence against them."

"And you didn't tell us what you were doing, Stevens?" I asked angrily. "And you dare to whine if I don't tell you something, you God damned hypocrite?"

"Don't blame him, Commander." said Rutherford Lyndon. "I ordered him not to tell you."

"But of course you informed the Chief, and our Internal Affairs, right?" I barked, then said "Ohhhh... no, you didn't tell them, either. Nor the Sheriff, if I don't miss my guess."

"And you never do." Teresa Croyle added 'helpfully'.

"Not only that, Chief, Sheriff," I said acidly, staring at Dwight Stevens, "we're not being told the real story, here. Shall I tell them the real story, Commander Ross, and have these Federal Agents correct me if I go astray?"

"Sounds like a plan." said Cindy with a twinkle in her eye; she loved it when I did this. Jack Muscone looked a bit shocked. Kevin Pitts looked concerned. Dwight Stevens looked skeptical and hostile. But it was Rutherford Lyndon that looked downright scared... and with good reason.

I began: "We've been trying like hell to get rid of dirty Officer Hendricks for some time, but the fat bastard has been as slippery as an eel, and rabidly protected by the Union as if their very lives were at stake. And now we're finally in a place where we can bust that guy down, and here you are begging us not to do it."

Your Iron Crowbar: "And why? Let me tell you chronologically. First, the Media has been accusing the Police of being racists for not solving these robberies fast enough. I wonder who had them do that. Next, you were pushing like hell to have a joint operation with us to have stakeouts... in fact, you were so pushy it got the Iron Wolf Commander Croyle's hackles up." Teresa nodded vigorously in agreement.

Your Iron Crowbar: "We've also learned about the large sums of money that were put into the shop owners's bank accounts... which the shop owners themselves didn't know were in there. That was the DEA again, trying to distract us with so-called 'shiny objects', to distract from what they were really doing. And when we made our raids on The Eighth Street Latinos's prostitution operations, you were pissed off that we did it."

I turned to the Chief and said "Chief, what they're not telling us is that they've already contacted Hendricks and attempted to recruit him as a C.I. They tried to rattle him by saying they had evidence of him committing crimes, in a similar way other dirty Federal Agents tried to claim I committed a crime and raided and destroyed my home over it." (Author's note: 'No Way Out', which in a way is a sequel to the Spillane-ish 'Film Noir'.)

Me: "That didn't work on me, but Hendricks played a different game, probably upon the orders of his real Puppetmaster, the Criminal Mastermind behind a lot of what is going on. Hendricks played along, said he would work with the Feds... then turned right around and double-crossed them. He didn't tell the DEA about our raid, and then he stopped the robbery last night that was about to go down in front of our Detectives on their stakeout!"

"Why did he do that?" Jack Muscone asked, his voice denoting his genuine curiosity.

"Because We the TCPD were staking it out and would've captured the perps." I replied. "Hendricks found out about our stakeouts... yes, Sheriff, we do have moles in the Police Force... and he moved quickly to stop it and stymie us. And soooo... Federal Agents ordered that Hendricks be assassinated."

"What?!" Chief Moynahan and DEA SSA Dwight Stevens said simultaneously. Everyone else except Teresa looked equally shocked.

Dwight Stevens said "Are you really accusing me of doing something like that?"

"Not you personally, Mr. Stevens." I said, looking hard at him. Then I turned to SAC Rutherford Lyndon and gave him my best imitation of a 'Teresa Cunt' look. Teresa was giving him the real such look.

"What are you insinuating?" Lyndon said, his voice connoting indignation... and that he was bluffing.

"Don't try to treat me like I'm an Agency of the Weak-Minded, Mr. Lyndon." I said. "We got word from C.I.s that there was going to be an attempt to murder Hendricks, and it's not hard for me to connect the dots back to the DEA's recent operations."

"Is that true?" the Chief said, looking daggers at Lyndon. "You were going to mur-derrrr a TCPD Officer?

"A dirty one." Lyndon replied.

"I don't give a damn if he's dirty or not!" the Chief all but shouted. "You were going to come in here and murder one of MY Police Officers in MY County?"

"It was not the DEA's doing." said Rutherford Lyndon.

"Then whose doing was it?" yelled the Chief.

"Chief," I said quietly and solemnly, "would you and everyone give me a moment of private conversation with Mr. Lyndon, alone?"

"With respect, Commander," said Kevin Pitts, "I can't let my SAC be alone with you or anyone, especially after what was just said."

"Your loyalty is commendable, and reasonable, Agent Pitts." I replied. "But I can assure you I'm not going to hurt him." Though he was going to wish I would, I thought to myself but did not say out loud.

"Let's go, everyone." growled Sheriff Griswold, getting up. FBI SAC Jack Muscone persuaded the other DEA Agents to get up and leave, also.

Once the door closed and I was alone with Lyndon, I said "I want to know who told you to kill Hendricks. Was it Robin Isley? Brendon Chapel himself?"

Brendan Chapel was the current Director of National Intelligence, yes that one, and the head of the Federal Intelligence Community. He was arguably the most powerful man in the Nation. And this was not the first time I'd crossed his path; and he, mine.