typea_all (23 page)

     "I'm off duty now, and I didn't want this to look like official business."

     "So this is pleasure?"

     "Not really, still business in a way."

     "Give it to me."

     "It's about the federal flag on you. I don't know all of the details, but the feds are very interested in you. Have they talked to you?"

     "They came by the house the other day. It's really nothing, just about some guys that I met because of work."

     "At the hospital?"

     "Yeah."

     "Well, it may go deeper than that."

     "What do you mean?"

     "I can't tell you much, because I really don't know much. The flag was placed by the OCD Force, a special team assigned to the AC field office."

     "They have an OCD force in the FBI? I may be a little crazy clean, but it's not a federal offense."

     "What are you talking about?"

     "OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. You know."

     "In this case, we're talking about the Organized Crime Division, that OCD."

     "Come on, look at this face. Is this the face of a mobster?"

     "They're a pretty powerful unit. When they have an interest in someone, then that someone should worry."

     "But I haven't done anything. Some guy wanted me to take his blood, it got a little messy, and he got a little pushy."  I didn't know how far to go.

     "Just be careful. Don't trust anything the feds tell you without checking with an attorney."

     "Luke, why are you even telling me all this? I mean, you're a police officer, shouldn't you treat me like the enemy?"

     "You're not the enemy. And to be honest, once I have my hands down a girl's panties, I kind of feel connected to her."

     He called me a girl.

Chapter 22

     The feds were outside my house again on Monday, two other guys, not Jackson and Samuels, and but there was no sign of Big Jimmy's men. After what Luke told me yesterday, however, I didn't know if the feds were there to protect me or to spy on me. At this point I didn't care. Having the feds tag along would save me from the Chesters and Big Jimmys of this world.   

     When I left for work, I stopped by their car and gave them a piece of my low fat chocolate cake.

"Hi guys. Here's some cake in case you get hungry later. I'm Brooke."

They didn't look happy, but hey, that wasn't my fault. The driver took the cake but didn't say anything.

     "If you guys plan to be with me, I should at least know your names."

     "Agents Wing and Beebe, temporarily with the AC field office."

     "Glad you're here. I'm headed straight to work this morning, so if you get lost you'll know where to find me."

     I was glad the day started off on that high note because it was down hill after that.

     It all started about 10:30, when a man about 60 years old came in for routine blood work. I'll call him Mr. Peck, not his real name, because I don't want him to know I'm writing about him.

     Mr. Peck came into the lab, sat down, and with a big smile told me his left arm had better veins. I cheerfully started to pull up his sleeve when I saw that his left arm was prosthetic.

     He laughed, "It's prosthetic. I just love doing that to you guys."

     He had a very expensive prosthetic arm and hand used for above-elbow amputees. It had a myoelectric system for the control of the hand, wrist, and elbow, so Peck had great flexibility. Only thing is, duh, you can't take blood from it.

     "How'd you lose your arm?" I asked.

     "On the job. I was a paper cutter."

     "What's that?"

     "I ran a cutting machine for a big printing company, but I put a little too much into my work." He started laughing again.

     I smiled but couldn't bring myself to laugh. I guess it's an amputee thing. "I'll just use the other arm."

     "Yep, that one is much better."

     I moved around to the other side and saw that the right arm was also prosthetic.

     He started laughing again. "I'm a real cut-up, ain't I? I got two of them. Company's insurance covered everything, all of the options. Most folks can't even tell I got 'em."

     "Did you have two accidents?"

     "Yep, I didn't whack them both at the same time."

     "Does that kind of thing happen often in your line of work?"

     "Really shouldn't happen at all," he explained. "The machines have safeties on them so you can't lower the blade if your hands aren't on them. No way to get caught underneath when your hands are on the safeties."

     "So what happened?"

     "A lot of old pros defeat the safeties with tape or all sorts of things. Makes the job go faster."

     A lot of old pros are mutants, too, I thought.

     "I was working on a real big job and wanted to make time. So I defeated one of the safeties so I could keep one hand free. I leaned in too far, got caught on something, and sliced the damn left arm off above the elbow. I guess I learned my lesson."

     "That's terrible. How did you lose the other one?"

     "Same way. After I lost the first arm, I forced the company to hire me back under the disabilities act. I showed them that I could run the machine with the prosthesis attached."

     "That's great."

     "Only thing is, it slowed me down a lot and I was afraid they'd can me. So I defeated the other safety to use my right hand for getting the paper in place and all. Boy, did I learn a lesson."

     Does a ton of bricks have to fall on this guy?

     "Are you working now, or on disability?"

     "I'm still working, and for the same company."

     "Not still on the cutting machine, are you?"

     "No. I'm their safety officer now." 

     Great man for the job, I thought. "Well, I can't take blood from either arm. What do they usually do with you?"

     "Take it from my leg, down near the ankle. Hurts like hell, but easier than getting it from the arms." He thought that was really funny.

     I never took blood from the leg before, so I called Joan and asked her to handle it.

     For lunch, Gail and I walked over to the cafeteria. I didn't pack anything to eat and I didn't feel like driving over to Smitty’s. Plus, I figured I'd save the taxpayers some gasoline by letting the FBI keep their car in the lot.

     The feds were parked along the curb and easy to spot as we walked over to the hospital. Wing was asleep behind the wheel, and Beebe was standing under a tree smoking and reading a paperback.

     As we walked past him, I loudly said something very derogatory about my vacuum cleaner, a Hoover, to get his attention. Funny how that name still brings FBI guys to attention. Gail didn't even ask why some guy was following us; I suppose my reputation for weirdness had gotten around.

     Beebe sat at a table a few down from us, drinking coffee. He had a strange look on his face that I finally recognized, so after lunch I went up to him. "If you have to go to the bathroom, just follow me. I don't have to go but I'll walk you there and wait."

     "I can't leave you alone while I..."

     "Listen, we're in the hospital, I'll be right outside the men's room, maybe the busiest place in here. What could happen?"

     "Well, I really have to..."

     "Okay, so it's settled. Follow me."

     Gail went back to her lab while I walked Beebe down to the employee's restrooms in the basement and I waited outside the men's room for him to finish. Across from the men's room was a bulletin board filled with stuff for sale, rooms to rent, things lost and things found. Nothing really interested me, but it was a way to spend a few minutes with nothing else to do.

     Suddenly, a vice-like grip clamped onto my shoulder and yanked me around.

     "We got a score to settle." It was Jerry Odem.

     "That hurts, Jerry, let go. What's your problem?" I tried to pry his hand off my shoulder but he was too strong.

     "You're my problem. I know you had something to do with that shit in the locker room."

     "What are you talking about?" I tried to hit him but he grabbed my wrist.

     "You did that to me. I'm not sure how, but I know it."

     "Don't even go there, you jerk. Don't take it out on me if you couldn't get a promotion. You know, some people who think they're a big cheese just smell like one. Let go!"

     "I'm done in this hospital, but I'm gonna settle the score first." He started pulling me towards the stairwell.

     "If you don't leave me alone, I'm going to scream for the FBI."

     "Yeah, sure."

     "There's an FBI agent in the bathroom." He kept on pulling me. "Beebe," I yelled. "Help!"  Where the hell was Beebe?

     I knew he had a better chance of causing some serious damage if he got me into the stairwell. In the hallway, even at the far end where we were, there was some chance that another employee would show up.

     He had one hand on my shoulder, with his fingers painfully dug in, and his other hand around my wrist. When I tried to move my free hand to scratch his face, he dug into my shoulder deeper so I had to stop. He was pulling me toward the stairs but looking around to make sure nobody else was coming. My only other weapons were my feet.

     I resisted as much as I could until he stopped and looked at me, then I stomped on his ankle as hard as possible. The heel of my shoe hit his anklebone, and he yelled in pain, releasing both hands. I started to run away but he reached out and grabbed the back of my pants leg, jerking me back so I lost my balance and went straight down to the floor.

     "You goddamn bitch! You're gonna be real sorry you ever messed with me."

     He held onto my leg and started dragging me toward the stairs. I looked around for something to hold onto. There was only a round trashcan with one of the ashtrays on top. I reached as far as I could and got one hand in the hole below the ashtray were the trash went. Jerry kept dragging me. The can didn't slow his progress, but as he pulled me, the can overturned and the sand in the ashtray fell out in a pile in front of me.

     I grabbed a handful of the sand, and yelled "Jerry." When he turned around towards me, I threw the sand at his face with all my strength. Some sand went into his eyes and he let go long enough for me to get to my feet and run into the men's room.

     Normally, running into a men's room is not the smartest way to get away from someone, but I knew this men's room held an FBI agent.

     "Beebe!" I yelled. "Beebe."

     "What the hell are you doing?" I heard from within a stall.

     "There's someone after me! Help!"

     I heard the toilet flush. "Brooke, get in the next stall, up on the john."

     I ran into the stall, locked the door and jumped up on the toilet, just in time to hear Jerry enter the men's room.

     "You stupid bitch, I got you now."

     He must have seen some movement under the first stall, where Beebe was. He pulled the stall door open, and I heard "Freeze. This is the FBI."

     "Jesus, he's got a gun!" Jerry yelled and then ran out of the men's room.

     Beebe started to run after him but his pants weren't up all the way and he tripped and fell. "Hold it, this is the FBI."

     When I opened the stall door, I saw Beebe on the floor with his gun in his hand and his pants halfway down.

     "What the hell was that all about?" he asked as he got up.

     Trying not to look at the exposed part of the agent, I said, "A jerk who thinks I had something to do with him not getting a promotion. I'll just wait outside until you're done."

     When Beebe came out, I asked him to arrest Jerry.

     "Sorry, I can't do that."

     "What do you mean? He attacked me."

     "Do you have any witnesses? Remember, I didn't see anything. For all I know, I just pulled a gun and scared the shit out of a guy who only had to go to the bathroom."

******

     When I finally got back to the lab, Reynolds was sitting in the waiting room.

     "What are you doing here? Where's Bruno?"

     "Bruno isn't with me today, he's on some errands. Is there someplace we can talk in private?"

     "Well, right now the lab is a little busy. I don't do this for fun, you know."

     "That's okay. I'll wait, out in the lobby."

     Beebe had been with me in the men's room, but Wing had stayed in the car, right outside the lab. There's no way Wing could have missed Reynolds coming in and he really must be wondering what's going on.