Well, I hope the story is keeping everyone happy so far. Frankin and Switt are becoming good friends with me. Maybe some day I'll have to invite them out partying. They've earned it, don't you think?
Anywho, it is time to find out what they are up to now. Are you ready?
Good.
For those that missed the first 7 installments, they can be found here:
Part One ,
Part Two ,
Part Three ,
Part Four ,
Part Five ,
Part Six ,
and Part 7 .
And now for Part 8. But be warned, it is a long one, so don't try to read it quickly. I would suggest you save it off and read it a piece at a time.
Enjoy.
The night was spent answering one call after another: there were cats fighting, dogs barking, noises around the house, trashcans being disturbed, the usual nighttime routine. Only on two occasions did they get a sighting from the chopper. It had been a fruitless evening, and nearing the end of the shift for Pascal and Kaiser.
The two teams met at the "Stop 'N Shop", and were joined by Jackson and Kowzlowski. Frankin gave the new team the run down on procedure, then Pascal and Kaiser shared some of the evenings antics with them.
"...the chopper said there had been a signature in the area a few minutes back. So, we went checking the grounds around this nice old ladies house. She had heard noises by the garbage cans and called it in. Pascal came around the left side of the house, and I was coming around the right. The trash cans were right in the middle of the back."
"So, we're, I don't know, maybe 10 feet from the cans, and this skunk comes backing out from under one of the cans. Man, we didn't know whether to shit or shoot. So, we backed away, real slow like, when we're back by the edges of the house, Pascal picks up a rock and throws it at the skunk. We both about killed ourselves trying to run before the skunk could do anything. Bet it will be a while before the trashman stops cursing at us." Pascal is giggling so hard she can't even add to the story.
"Then..." Kowzlowski interrupts Kaiser, pointing at the mountain. "Check it out."
It was just starting to get light on the horizon, but not quite dawn yet, still fairly dark. Up in the hills and trees, bright lights could be seen streaking across the area, crisscrossing at points. The termination points punctuated with bright red flashes the same color as the lights, only brighter. The radio started ticking off one team after another reporting in on their position, and completion of their target mission. One call reported a malfunction, and that target pulled a group of lights from several positions. A very large flash occurred at that junction. Completion was reported shortly afterwards.
Corson's voice came over the radio at that point. "'Chaser One', report."
Frankin answered. Corson continued, "Sorry for the light show. Had all targets locked and we didn't want to lose the advantage waiting for daylight for cover. Hope it wasn't too obvious. You're 'it' now. Happy hunting and keep us informed. Out."
Frankin 'rogered' that, and added, "The light show was pretty. Should add to breakfast conversation for a lot of folks. We'll have to wait and see what happens. Out."
Almost on cue, the other radio had dispatch reporting calls about fires, or lightning up in the hills. Frankin was ready for this call figuring it might happen.
"Dispatch. This is Det. Frankin. Disregard the calls of lights on the mountain. A group from an Adventure Club spoke to me about members of their group playing 'laser-tag' while on a camping retreat this morning. I am monitoring the situation at the moment, and it is under control."
"Copy that Detective. All units disregard the call."
On the other radio, Corson's voice sprang to life. "Very clever. We appreciate the help. Again, sorry for not waiting. Out."
"You owe me," Frankin muttered under her breath, not bothering to key the mike.
Corson's voice crackled one more time, "We owe you for that one. Out."
Frankin only looked at the radio. Shaking her head, she muttered, "that man is freaky".
Frankin turned to the group. "OK gang. Start of a new shift. Let's get out there." The three vehicles headed out. Two to patrol, and the other heading home.
Shortly into the "second shift", the radio came to life, it was the chopper pilot. "Chaser One, this is Tracker. Out."
"Copy. Tracker, Chaser One here. Out." Frankin was expecting another sighting and hoped it might be fruitful.
"Chaser, the clutter is increasing with the early morning traffic. Too much background being added. Targeting ability dropping quickly. I may not be of use before too long. Sorry. Out."
"Copy, Tracker. Stay up as long as you can. After that it will be a ground issue. Out."
"Copy. Will do Chaser. Will notify before heading back. Out."
"Copy. Thanks Tracker. Out."
Damn the luck, Frankin thought, thumping the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. Nothing like flying blind on the ground, chasing a phantom.
"Chill, Glory. Don't let the loss of the chopper get to you. The nice thing about the daytime is, it will cut out a lot of the nuisance calls. So, if we have to do it the 'old fashioned way', it should be fewer and farther between with the junk stuff."
"True. But you are way to calm. You need some more coffee." Frankin laughed at the thought that Kelly would ever be this calm. She had to be tired. And preoccupied with something, better find out.
"So, what's on your mind? You're kind of quiet."
"Oh, just wondering if your new partner will be cool, or a jerk. I mean, Alan's cool, keeps to himself, takes care of business, doesn't get too involved in 'politics'. You know, just goes with the flow around you. The next one might be a goof trying to 'make a statement' all the time."
"I was just thinking about the possibilities...," and she trailed off, looking out the window. "Like, how it might affect us."
"Not to worry. It'll work out. Wait and see. My new partner, if I need one, after all, we don't know about Alan yet, should be alright by us."
"We'll see." Switt went back to looking out the window.
The next couple hours went, as Switt said, calmly. No nuisance calls they had to pick up. All the calls were visible sightings of "other" sources that didn't require their intervention.
A few minutes before 9, the radio crackled again and "Tracker" voice came over. "Chaser One, Tracker here. Copy. Out."
Frankin figured tracker was heading in for the day, and was disappointed. "Tracker, this is Chaser One. Out."
"Chaser, I have a positive read in the 'Mountain Side Estates'. Coordinates are..."
Switt was busy writing down the location and checking it out on the maps. After marking the map, she nodded to Frankin.
"Copy. Tracker, we have it. Will you be covering? Out."
"Affirmative Chaser. Will provide support until I have to refuel, getting low here. Out."
"Copy. Thanks. We'll take it, but go when you have to. Out"
"Copy. Roger that. ETA? Out"
"5 minutes, tops. Out"
"Copy. 5 minutes. Out."
"That address is a twenty acre estate at the base of the mountain," Switt said.
"I know it. It belongs to Don Harmond. He's a major property owner in the area, and he owns several businesses as well. There is enough land up there for the clutter to thin out. So it's probably a good sighting. But I'll bet he won't be happy to see us running around his property. And, he has enough friends on the City Council, in the Mayors office, and around town, there will have to be some explaining going on. I hope Corson can cover this one, cause I can't."
"Great. Do a good deed, can't explain it, and get hung out to dry. Figures. We should be getting a medal, and instead, we'll probably get a reprimand. There are days ya gotta love this job." Switt giggled and shook her head at the thought. "Well Kimo Sabe, let's ride."
"You're a nut, Kelly. That's why I like having you around. OK. 'Let's ride.'"
They were a couple blocks from the entrance to the Harmond Estate when a call came in over the Department radio. The resident reports an animal in their attic. Frankin and Switt looked at each other and shrugged. Someone was smiling on them.
Frankin called in saying they would cover it. Probably just a raccoon, but they would call if they needed Animal Control.
The gate to the drive was open as Frankin pulled in. They followed the drive up to an impressive two story Southern style mansion, with columns on both sides of the drive supporting a second story patio that served as an entrance cover to the front door. Switt had seen the house from the street before but had never seen it up close. It was majestic.
Before leaving the Cherokee, Frankin called Corson on the radio and let him know this might be the real thing. He responded by saying he would have a "clean up crew" ready just in case.
Frankin and Switt walked up to the front door and Switt pushed the doorbell. Almost immediately, the peephole glass went dark meaning someone was looking through it. Frankin held her badge up for inspection being used to this kind of treatment. Before the badge was all the way up though, the sound of a deadbolt being thrown back, was followed by the opening of the door.
Just inside were two very nervous "kids" waving them in. A young man about college age, wearing nothing but an oversized pair of gym shorts and holding a fireplace poker in one hand. And a younger girl, in a long sleeve shirt with only the two middle buttons done. The boys chiseled build spoke of sports, possibly gymnastics. The girl however looked young enough to be in high school. And given her mode of attire, it was clear she shaved from her ankles to her ego. This had to be a desperate call considering they weren't practicing a school play, obviously, and could be in a lot of trouble under the circumstances. Both were obviously shaken by something.
"You called about an animal in the attic?" Frankin asked the frightened pair.
"Uh, yeah," the boy said, "but, I don't know what it is."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, we used to get a lot of raccoons until Dad had heavier screens put up along the roof vents. Laura and I were...uh...upstairs when we heard the noise. I thought, raccoon, or maybe a bat at first. So I called for animal control. I didn't think much of it at that time.
"Then it moved. I mean, from one end of the attic to the other, fast. Never heard anything move that fast up there before. Besides, a raccoon shouldn't be able to get those screens open. Spooked us both. So we ran down here to wait. I grabbed this," waving the poker around, "just in case."
"Are you going to check it out?" He asked a little sheepishly. It was apparent this hurt his pride, to be frightened out of his own home and having a "female" officer "rescue" him.
"That's what we're here for. If necessary, we'll call animal control to handle it. Now, where were you when you heard the noise?"
"Uhh...we were in the master bedroom. The noise came from the attic section above there. The attic is divided in several places by firebreaks with access doors. The doors are kept closed, so whatever it is, it's stuck in that section."
"How do we get up in there?"
"Up the stairs, then go left. The master bedroom is at the end of the hall, on the right. There's a pull down ladder in the closet on the far side of the room."
"Okay. I guess we start there." Frankin couldn't help but think, is there anyway to make this a little more challenging?
Jackson and Kowzlowski pulled up just then. "Hey 'Lead', sounded interesting. We were on a swing by when we heard the call. Mind if we tag along?" Jackson asked.
"Check the sides of the house and see if you can find an entrance to the attic area. If so, keep an eye on it." Down the road, Frankin could see the other two teams heading their way. After a long night, this was attracting a lot of attention.
Jimenez and Whitedove pulled up first. "We were having breakfast by the highway, and hustled as quick as we could. Just in case." Whitedove said, looking a little excited about the possibilities.
"Cover the back, and front of the house. 'Just in case'." Whitedove stood there and looked at Jimenez. The look in her eyes told him she wasn't moving. Jimenez didn't say a word. He turned and headed towards the back of the house.
Pascal and Kaiser were the last to arrive at the scene, but only by a minute. Both came bounding out of the CJ. "You weren't going to party without us, were you?" Kaiser intoned. "We just finished dinner and were ready to pack it in for the night when we heard the call. What can we do?"
Frankin just looked at the two of them. Kaiser was wearing the green sweatshirt. And Pascal was wearing the threadbare tee shirt of Kaisers'. And, it was obvious from the threadbare, translucent material, her service weapon was the only thing holstered under her jacket. Dinner, indeed.
"Take the two residents and put them in my car, out of harms way. And, get them a blanket and some coffee also, it's chilly out here. Then, just be handy."
Frankin turned around and found Switt watching Pascal. Quietly enough for only Switt to hear, Frankin said, "Shows over. Time for work."
"Hmph. Party pooper." Switt replied with a quick smile. Then turned and followed Frankin inside.
To the left of the large foyer entry, was a wide, curving staircase that led upstairs. At the top was a large balcony area overlooking the entrance. To the left and right were hallways leading off to the opposite sides of the house. They were interested in the left hallway. Following it down to the end, they passed doors on both sides, but it was the one at the end that they were interested in. When they reach it, it was open.
The size of the master bedroom stopped both of them in their tracks, it was huge. Around the room, typical bedroom furnishing were placed appropriately. The biggest attraction was a massive four-poster bed taking center stage on the wall across from the door, looking elegant despite the disheveled state it was in. On both sides of the bed were doors. The door on the side closest to the entrance was open. Inside, clearly visible from where they stood, was the interior of an equally huge bathroom. The other door therefore, had to be the one to the closet, their target.
Walking past the bed to get to the door on the far side, the litter of various "entertainment" paraphernalia confirmed the two youngsters were definitely not practicing a school play. Switt looked down and giggled, "Ooooh! Look. Salad tongs. Kiiiinky."
"Those aren't salad tongs. That's a speculum." Frankin corrected.
"Ooooh! Kiiinkier." Switt responded, waggling her eyebrows.
"Kelly, you're a goof. Now...focus? Thank you." Frankin couldn't help but wonder what meds she was on. But she had to admit; Switt's offbeat humor took the edge off most situations.
Closer to the closet door it was apparent the door was only half closed, closed but not latched. They stopped and listened for a moment, but couldn't hear any noise from the other side of the door. Not that it meant much, but any noise would give them a clue what was happening inside. And the door had to be opened.
Frankin looked at Switt and motioned her to cover the door. The look Switt gave her back said she thought Frankin was crazy if she was going to open the door by hand.
Frankin climbed up on the bed and put one foot on the nightstand. She planned on pushing the door open from the side, and out of the way of anything that might be inside. But as she stretched for the door, it was obvious she didn't have the reach she wanted.
"Glory," Switt called, "here." Reaching into her jacket, she produced a bar about eight inches long and tossed it to Frankin. It was a collapsing baton. Easily carried in its compact state but extends up to two and a half feet extended. Very useful at times.
Frankin extended the baton and placed the tip against the door. When she was sure of her balance, she gave the door a shove and stepped back quickly.
Nothing happened.
Frankin got off the bed and joined Switt a few feet back. They used their flashlights for a better look into the closet. Neither one was going in to look for a switch as there wasn't one on the outside of the door. Inside they could see the typical contents you would expect. They could also see the ladder hatch to the attic. It was partially down and open.
The adrenalin was now pumping. They could feel their hearts pound and the blood roaring in their ears. With sweaty hands, they adjusted the grip on their flashlights and weapons. Moving the beams around the closet, they were looking for anything out of the ordinary, when they heard a noise form inside. Near the floor. They both froze.
Weapons trained in that general direction, they waited for several seconds, though it felt more like several hours. A little patch of orange came into view, just inches above the floor. The two tensed even more, waiting for a clean shot.
The patch played peek-a-boo several times. Both of them were ready to take out the entire section of wall if necessary when the entire head came into view. Despite scaring the hell out of both of them, they held off shooting long enough to see the head was feline. Following the head, came the rest of an overweight, orange and black, tiger striped house cat.
The too long held breath, exploded from the women. Shaking from the adrenalin, the two of them watched as the cat sauntered towards them. The cat looked up at them, in the way only cats can, that said, "I see you, but you are beneath my notice." And strolled right past them. They couldn't help but turn, to watch as the cat passed.
Jackson's voice came over the radio. "Yo, Lead. There's a trellis covered with ivy on the West Side of the house that goes all the way up to the roof overhang. It's right at the soffet opening. That heavy gauge hail screen over the opening has been torn off and it's big enough for a person to fit through." Before either woman could reply, there was a noise behind them. Coming from the closet. With the second wave of adrenalin in twice as many minutes, they started to turn towards the noise.
Switt, with her left leg raised to turn, got hit between the ankle and calf of that leg. The momentum spun her into the wall to the right. In that "slow motion" effect of the adrenalin, she could watch the wall come up to kiss her square in the face, but could do nothing to stop it. When she hit, stars exploded in her head and were sucked into the black hole that followed. Barely staying conscious, she wedged between the wall and the bureau she had been standing next to.
Frankin, a half step, and slightly to the left, also had her left leg raised to turn. She got hit just below the knee of her right leg, taking it out from under her. In that same "slow motion" way, she watched the wall in front of her slide down and get replaced by the ceiling. She couldn't help but think of the punch line to a joke, "Honey, the ceiling needs painted." Then the floor slammed into her, knocking the wind out of her. She laid there as black and white motes performed a ballet in her field of vision.
Neither of them saw the "spider" bowl the cat over, bite it, and start to web it to the wall in front of them. The "spider" was oblivious to the two of them. Coming out of the closet, they were no more than stationary objects.
Switt squeezed her eyes tightly shut for several seconds before pinching the bridge of her nose. That seemed to help clear up her vision, and chase away the last of the stars. She groaned, and forced herself to turn until her back was now wedged in the corner. It took a moment for her to focus her eyes.
At the same time, Frankin finally managed to get air into her lungs. She coughed several times as her chest protested the exercise, but it did blow away the last of the motes. She raised her head and looked down the length of her body.
The "spider", hearing the noise, turned to see who the intruder is. It moved several feet forward and struck a defensive pose, head down, body up. Behind it, one side of the web holding the cat to the wall pulled free. The force of the swing pulled the other side free and the cat hit the floor several feet to the left of where the "spider" had it.
Frankin and Switt both focused on the "spider" about the time it struck its pose. Once again adrenalin flowed.
Switt slid down the wall to a sitting crouch, keeping her left knee up. With a two handed grip on her weapon, she rested her arm on her knee and aimed instinctually at the "spider". Her training screamed, "Go for 'body mass'." That is where she aimed.
Frankin brought her weapon up to, and above her right leg, and aimed down her body. Laying her right foot over to the right and all the way against the floor, she had a clean shot straight into the things mouth.
Both fired at the same time. One burst of red disappeared into the "spiders" mouth and the other pierced its abdomen just behind the head. Again, the "slow motion" effect made it seem like minutes before anything happened. The basically football shaped body rounded out and expanded to the size of a medicine ball. The natural "body armor" of the thing tried to hold it together, but had hit its limits.
Sounding like a shotgun going off in the room, the "spider" exploded. It split around the middle and the back half hit the wall where the cat had been. The head shot downward hitting the floor with enough force to bounce it almost to the ceiling. With the outward forces balanced, the other section stood there as if waiting.
A halo expulsion of red, green, and yellow viscera had sprayed a neat band around the room, covering the floor, walls and ceiling. It looked as if a boundary had been painted between them and the door. The thought of crossing that boundary didn't appeal to either of them.
The head of the "spider" hit the floor with enough spin and momentum to roll to a stop right between the two women. Its oversized, grotesque, hairy face had that "moving eyes" aspect of a painting, where no matter where you stood, it looked like it was staring right at you. And that staring face came to a rest, just as the rank stench of the "spiders" burned and boiled innards made it to their noses. The sight, the smell and the adrenalin were too much for the two.
Rolling, as best as could be done, given their positions, away from the center of attraction, they lost much of their breakfast. Both then launched themselves onto the bed, and scrambled over it to the bathroom door on the other side of the room. Inside the bathroom, they continued to lose the rest of their stomach contents into the sinks of the double vanity. It took a minute for the convulsions to stop. Leaning on the vanity, they regained their composure.
Looking at the back of this expansive bathroom, they were pleased that a door opened out onto the hallway. This brought a flood of relief as it meant they wouldn't have to cross the "barrier" the spider left behind.
Turning to leave, they held on to each other for support. At the first step, both fell to the floor gasping in pain.
Switt looked at her left ankle only to find the cuff of her jeans scorched and her sock a dark brown. The shoelace on her sneaker was also fused together. From just below her cuff to the top of her sneaker, her ankle felt like it was on fire.
Frankin grabbed her right leg just above the knee and to the outside of her leg. Her pants leg had a flap blown open, exposing her leg. The edges around the mating material for the flap, and the flap itself, were scorched and burned. The outside of her leg was an angry red and looked like it was starting to blister.
Fueled by the basic instinctual need for self-preservation, they had forgotten about the exhaust gases of their weapons. Between fear, excitement, and the adrenalin, neither felt the pain until after the threat passed and the adrenalin wore off. Now they were paying the cost of their survival. As bad as it felt, it was better than the alternative.
Helping each other up, they made their way downstairs. There, they were met by Corson, and a very unusual group of "service" people; carpet cleaners, a delivery man, a pest control person, and a couple more dressed in professional mover uniforms. The rest of their crew was waiting there as well. With their arrival, Corson and the officers verbally fought to get their questions answered first.
"What was the noise?"
"Why didn't you answer the radio?"
"Are you alright?"
"What can we do?"
Corson and Pacal were the only two to move, as well as ask questions. Corson grabbed Frankin and Pascal took and supported Switt. Corson then bellowed a command that parted everyone like the parting of the Red Sea, "Coming through!" And the four of them passed through the front doors of the house.
Outside, Corson steered them toward a large delivery van, sporting a well-known service name. Frankin could tell by looking, that the van had been hastily improvised to "look" like the well-known van. Most people wouldn't give the truck a second look, and let it go at that. It was a great cover though. The van was parked so the back doors were away from the street. It was equipped as a mobile emergency room. Much like an ambulance, only better.
While getting their burns looked at and dressed in the van, Dr. Willems stopped by. Looking at the burns, he scolded both women, "I told you to watch out for the exhaust gases." He then gave them a smile and a wink, and walked off carrying the weapon packs.
Corson stopped by as well. He let Frankin know he was taking the rest of the crew back to the lodge for debriefing, and that she and Switt could stay on sight to keep an eye on things. He would debrief them later.
He also said, he informed their boss that the team's services would be needed for the rest of the week. He figured that would give them a little time off before going back to work. He then left with the other six team members.
The clean-up crew worked quickly, cleanly and professionally. By mid-afternoon they were finished, packed up and ready to leave. Frankin and Switt were amazed that there wasn't any sign of what went on here today; no smell, no stains or marks on the floor, walls or ceiling, and most importantly, no parts of the "spider".
The boy and girl were allowed access to the rest of the house that didn't interfere with the clean up. It was explained to them that this was a pilot program by the city, to try to minimize the impact of the, sometimes "messy", police work. And since it was an "experimental" pilot program, they weren't allowed to talk about it in case the city found it implausible to maintain.
The two kids were perfectly all right with this arrangement. They were less than excited about 'Old Man' Harmond finding out anything that went on during his leave. Turns out he doesn't exactly approve of his son dating a fellow student from a "less than affluent" family. Seems "rich bigotry", and being from the "wrong side of the tracks", is still alive and well in the world.
The pills they were given for the pain were designed to take the edge off the pain, and not affect the functionality of the rest of the person. Unfortunately, by the time the clean up crew left, Frankins leg was starting to tighten up, and the edge was getting sharp again. She had Switt drive them home. And as Frankins house was closer, they went there first with the thought that Switt would then drive home and return the Cherokee the next day.
By the time they arrived though, Frankins leg had tightened up enough she needed help into the house. "Kelly, just get me to the bed. All I want to do right now is sleep. A couple hours sleep out of the last twenty-four, pain from the leg, all the excitement, and maybe even these pills, and I am toasted. I want to do nothing but crash."
"I'm there to," Switt agreed. And the two of them headed into the house supporting each other, looking like a couple of drunken sailors returning from shore leave. From exhaustion and a lack of balance from the injured legs, both women ended up tumbling onto the bed when Switt tried to help Frankin into it.
"Thanks for getting me home, Kelly," Frankin said staring at the ceiling.
"You're welcome," Switt replied.
And the both of them immediately fell asleep.
Switt answered the doorbell the next morning, "good morning, General."
The General didn't miss that her attire consisted of a pair of cartoon boxers and a white cami top. The fact that her hair was also wet indicated that she had just recently gotten out of the shower. It was therefore reasonable for him to think Frankin may not be available. "Morning, Ms. Switt. Is Detective Frankin available?"
Leading him to the living room, she responded, "she's making a cup of tea as we speak. Would you like one?"
"No, thank you."
"Have a seat and I'll let her know you're here."
Switt came limping out a minute later carrying a steaming cup of tea. Setting it down on a coaster, She sat down on the sofa across from Corson, and stiffly put her foot up on the coffee table. Corson recognized the aroma, herbal "healing" tea, anti-oxidants and other good stuff to promote quicker healing. Good choice.
Then Frankin limped in stiff legged. Dressed in a long-sleeve, button-up sleep shirt, and also carrying a cup of tea, she took a seat to the right of Switt, and likewise raised her leg to rest on the coffee table. It was obvious that both women's injuries were still making them uncomfortable.
And, thanks to Corson's visual vantage point, he was becoming uncomfortable as well. It was difficult to conduct business while looking up a double set of legs. Best to do this quickly.
"As you know, I've notified your superiors that the team was needed for the rest of the week. I've altered your responsibilities to keep you active for an additional week. That should give you additional time to heal before returning to the Department."
"You know about the "non-disclosure" situation. So that shouldn't need to be visited again."
"Also, as you and your team worked so well in the civilian side, I have been authorized to offer positions as "Civilian Adjuncts" in case there is ever a need like this again. You work well together and you have training with the equipment. If you accept, you will be "unofficially" working with my "agency".
"Officially, you don't work for an agency that isn't there. Using weapons that don't exist. Against things that couldn't happen.
"Now, there is the matter of compensation." And Corson went over the plan with them. It was a very generous plan.
When he was done, Frankin asked, "how does the rest of the team feel about 'not' working with you again?"
"All were in favor, except for Whitedove. I believe she has spiritual issues about the whole thing."
"Do we stay together as a unit, or do you pick and choose as time goes on? And where do I stand in the pecking order of the team?"
"All stays as is. The "team" is you and this crew. It would be your call if you choose to stay."
"Minus Whitedove," Frankin mused.
"Only if she doesn't resolve her feelings. I don't want uncertainty to cloud someone's judgement. If she is unable to commit, then 'minus Whitedove' it will have to be," Corson clarified.
Frankin mulled this over for a minute, then looked at Switt. Kelly nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Looks like you haven't a team, that doesn't work for an agency that isn't there, using weapons that don't exist against thing that can't happen." Frankin said, looking back at Corson.
Corson smiled. "Great to have you aboard. Now excuse me for a moment." Reaching into his jacket, the General pulled out a flip-phone, opened it, and said, "Doctor, if you would be so kind."
Almost immediately, Dr. Willems walked through the front door carrying two very familiar packs. Setting them down, he looked at the two women sitting on the couch the way they were, and lost his train of thought.
"Dr. Willems, care to explain..." Corson said, bringing the Doctor back on track.
"Um...Oh...Yes." Dr. Willems cleared his throat then continued, "after the incident with the exhaust gases. I redesigned the grips of the guns to divert the gases towards the front." Holding up one of the guns, he showed the grip curving towards the front of the gun. "This should minimize future incidents."
"They are to be kept for quicker response times, if necessary. But keep them safe, they are not for the public to know about. I think you probably know what I will have to do if you don't." Corson's point was clear.
"One more thing," Dr. Willems said before disappearing out the door. He returned quickly, carrying a box; a large one. He brought this to Corson.
Before leaving, Dr. Willems turned towards the two women. "It has been a pleasure working with the two of you. I hope we get together again soon, but under different circumstances." He shook Frankins hand and leaned in to give her a quick peck on the cheek. He then repeated the process with Switt, though with her, he whispered something quickly in her ear. He then bid them good bye and left.
Corson missed all but the Doctor leaving, as he was busy opening the box the Doctor brought in. Reaching inside, he looked at Frankin and said, "I have it on authority, that you like collecting souvenirs." From the box, he removed a wooden base with the spider's head mounted to it.
"A trophy. Display it wherever you wish, but make sure it is presented as a novelty. Much like those phony "alien" heads made from deer rumps that were popular in the 80's."
"Thanks. You can put it back in the box for now," Frankin said, making a face at the sight of the head. "You have this on authority, huh? Should I guess the source?"
"No. I think you know. If this is incorrect, I will gladly take it back," Corson offered.
"No, no. You can leave it. It's alright," Frankin admitted.
With that, Corson got up to leave. Despite his protests, Frankin and Switt got up also to walk him to the door. They claimed it was to keep their legs from getting stiff.
At the door, he thanked them again for their good work, and let them know he would be in touch. He then turned to Frankin and said, with a sense of warning, "Be careful. 7 out of 10 times, the mammal is victor over the reptile." The look in his eyes told Frankin he meant it, and was concerned. He then turned and left.
Switt's eyebrows were knitted together when she looked at Frankin and said, "Mammal and reptile?"
"Don't worry about it, Kelly. Just the General doing his 'spook' thing." Frankin closed the door.
The General joined Dr. Willems in the car, and the two headed back. Frankin's house was situated in some rolling hills just outside the city. Neither of the men spoke. Their only companion was the road noise and the sound of the tires humming as they crossed one of the many bridges in the area.
About three miles into the trip, there was a local phone company van parked by a switch box on the side of the road. Corson pulled in and parked in front of it. He and Dr. Willems got out and walked back towards the van.
Halfway there, the passenger door opened, and a man wearing a company uniform and ball cap got out and walked to meet them at the edge of the road. Wearing dark sunglasses, and a used-car salesman's smile, the man exuded friendliness, confidence, and the need for those who met him to want to take a shower.
"General," he exclaimed with that half-surprised, half-cheerful tone you save for a chance encounter with an old friend. "And Dr. Willems."
"Mr. Goeshen," the General and Willems replied, nodding to the man. Montegreen Goeshen, a.k.a., "Mongoose". The General thought about how appropriate that nickname was.
"Well. Was the 'souvenir' appreciated?"
"I'm sure you are aware of the answer to that question."
"Yes, I am. But I still like hearing it from a participant to the occasion."
"It was accepted."
"Good." Still smiling, the man nodded towards the van. The driver, in dark glasses and ball cap also, knocks on the panel separating the driving compartment from the rest of the van.
In the distance, there came the sound of a muffled thud. Looking back the way they came from, Corson and Willems saw a round, black ball of smoke rising in the air. Corsons shoulder drooped slightly at the sight and Willems just stared, not comprehending what he was seeing.
Goeshen, ever smiling, looked at Dr. Willems and said, "Well, Doctor. It looks like one of your toys just suffered a mishap."
Willems looked at him and asked, "What...what do you mean. One of my 'toys', and a mishap?"
Goeshen shrugged his shoulders and said, "Looks to me like one of your 'battle packs' malfunctioned and just blew up. That can't be good for funding. Can't have anything that unstable in our boys hands, now can we? Especially after it blew up a couple law enforcement officers."
"But it couldn't have been one of the packs!"
"Sure, sure. The committee won't see it that way. They'll see the 'potential' cause of this, and your funding is gone."
"But don't worry. I think I know some people that would be more than happy to use the funding and pick up on development of new field technology."
Willems ran up and got in Goeshen's face spluttering, "It couldn't have been one of the packs...it had to be something else...we can't lose the funding on this...it works...it wasn't..."
With Corson trying to break the two up, the three of them kept moving around further and further into the street. It wasn't until an old souped up '55 Chevy came flying past, horn blaring, that the group dove out of the street and stopped arguing.
Goeshen picked himself up first. Looking in the direction the car went, he said to the General, "Be nice to be young again. Huh, General?"
Then, as an afterthought, "Be nice just to be again." Making reference to the smoke in the distance. With that, he headed for the van.
Half hanging out the door of the van, Goeshen looked at the two men still sitting in the dirt. Reaching up and touching the brim of his ball cap, he says, "Gentlemen. A pleasure. Till we meet again." Swinging in and closing the door, Goeshen gestures to the driver, and the van moves out onto the road and toward town.
Corson helped the Willems to his feet. "C'mon Doctor. Nothing more we can do here."
Both stopped to look back at the fading column of smoke before getting into the car. As they got back onto the road, Corson said, "When we get back, I'll send the crew out to clean up."
And they headed back to town.
I really enjoyed it! Your ending leaves it so that there can be a part 2 (at least in my mind) - is that the plan?
Posted by: bogie | March 30, 2004 at 06:19 AM
I'll never tell.
Posted by: Wichi Dude | March 30, 2004 at 05:25 PM