Charlie's Requiem: Democide (29 page)

Bru finally picked up on the coward’s game as well, and following John’s lead, replied.

“Captain Carlson, we wouldn’t have been able to hold them off as long as we did if it weren’t for Undersecretary Bedford’s efforts. We were honored to serve at his side!”

“No boys, the honor is mine!” Bedford replied. “These men are special and I want them for my personal guard. That is, if you approve of it, Tommy.”

Captain Tommy Carlson scratched his chin, pretending to consider the Undersecretary’s “request.” But in reality, all knew what the answer was going to be well before Carlson agreed.

“Great idea as always, Micah. I’ll have them transferred immediately!”

“I knew I could count on you, Tommy. What do you say we go grab a bite to eat before these boys escort me to my place.”

“Sounds good,” Captain Carlson said. “Let me get my secretary to inform the chef that we’re coming.”

Carlson turned to John and Bru.

“You two, clean up and report back here in one hour. Your new orders will be waiting. And, well done!”

The captain left the room, triggering John and Bru to turn and begin their exit as well.

“Gentlemen,” they both heard from Bedford who was still sitting in a chair next to the captain’s desk.

“Sir?” John turned back and replied evenly.

“Well done.” He stated. “Whatever you want, it’s yours! You know you have a well-placed friend now.”

“Thank you, sir!” John replied back.

Both men left the captain’s office and made their way back to the locker room.

“I need a shower!” Bru stated tiredly. “I feel filthy in more ways than one.”

John simply nodded, realizing he had never felt this dirty in his entire life; and a shower wasn’t going to change that a whole lot. But what else did he have?

After they had cleaned up, both men met up in the commissary and sat down to some coffee and rest.

“Nice job out there!” One of their fellow agents said as they passed John and Bru on his way out.

John just gave a thumbs up, preferring not to engage anyone in conversation, lest he reveal his true feelings. Looking at the results, the last thing he felt was that he did a good job. All he and Bru did was to give that spineless weasel a chance to look good, all while he put his wife at risk.

“I feel like puking,” Bru said quietly. “If one more guy comes up and congratulates me, I just might pop ‘em in the nose.”

“I sure don’t feel cleaner since our shower,” John replied. “But we did what we had to do. We protected a family from kidnappers or worse, and I’m hanging my hat on that. Anything else is just smoke in the wind, and we aren’t responsible for that.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Bru sighed. “We did save the kid, didn’t we?”

“And his wife,” John replied.

“Speaking of that!” Bru said as he got a devilish look in his eyes. “She sure was taking a shine on you, wasn’t she?”

“She’s the last thing I need right now,” John replied. “The wife of a top federal official is not the type of woman I want to tangle with. Besides, I don’t do married women. No upside to it. I’m finished with the casual relationships; been there, done that, got the t-shirt. And, suppose it does get serious? Now I’m stuck in a relationship with a woman that cheats. I could never trust her again.”

“I suppose,” Bru sadly replied. “It’s just that she’s so hot! Figures, she would have it in for you and not me.”

“Tell you the truth,” John said. “I think it’s the gear we wore.”

“Ya think so?” Bru said perking up.

“I’ve been in a uniform for almost 15 years between the Marines and OPD. I can read these groupie women like an open book, and I’m telling you, she’s got it in for the black leather and the cold steel of our guns. It’s about power, which would explain her marriage to Mr. Yellowbelly. He’s got power and she likes it!”

“Hmmmm,” Bru said as he mused about the situation.

“I’ll bet that she’d appreciate a visit from one of her big, strong protectors when she recovers a bit.”

“You think?” Bru asked excitedly.

“Sure, just make sure you know what you’re getting into. You’re playing with fire.”

“I can handle it,” the cocky man said.

John looked up at the clock and finished his coffee.

“Let’s go! We have to be in Carlson’s office in five.”

John and Bru walked briskly to the captain’s office. Carlson’s secretary gave them a quick smile when they entered the door to the front office, then directed them to take a seat.

“The captain and Undersecretary Bedford should be back momentarily.” She said, then continued. “Nice job today, boys! I heard you took down an entire gang out there!”

“Well, we had some help,” John replied, thinking of the helicopter gunship that had saved their bacon.

“Bedford?” She said with a smirk. “That hot-aired piece of blubber couldn’t have done anything other than cry in a corner!”

“But…” John began, as he was prepared to recite the story the Undersecretary had fabricated.

“Enough,” the pretty blonde woman said as she waved off any further lies. “I’ve known Bedford for years. He and the captain have been tight for quite a while and I know that his story is nothing but bull. Captain knows it too. Heck, I think everyone knows it but that tub of lard. He makes things up and eventually he comes to believe the fables he creates, making them fact in his mind.”

John sat mutely in front of her. His silence was all the girl needed to confirm what she already knew.

“You know,” she continued. “He pissed his pants. Told us that he got water on himself while he was helping you rescue his wife. Fat pig! I smelled the urine as he walked by. I almost puked!”

She got up from the desk and went to the hallway door to leave. “I’m going out for lunch.” She sighed.

“And you two seem like good guys. Just make sure you know whose side you’re on.”

“What do you mean by that?” John asked.

“Just what I said.” She smiled and left the room.

“That was freakin’ cryptic,” Bru said. “What do you think she means?”

“She means that working with Undersecretary Bedford may be a liability. I mean, if she’s worried enough to warn us after we just met her, yet she’s known him for years, then we better be careful around him.” John thoughtfully replied.

“What about his wife?” Bru asked, with his devilish grin, which made John crack a smile.

“If you can’t control your hormones, then it’s all on you when the hammer comes down. And don’t say I didn’t warn you when it happens.” John said.

A moment later, the two men could hear Bedford and Carlson laughing as the came down the hall. The door opened, bringing John and Bru to attention, both me snapping crisp salutes.

“At ease, Gentlemen!” The captain commanded. “The Undersecretary and I were discussing your actions today and you both have upheld the highest standards of the Department.”

“Indeed,” Bedford continued. “Your valor while assisting me in stopping those thugs will not be forgotten. First, as you know, the captain has assigned you to be under my command. I am forming a special detail to find out who is responsible for this outrage.”

“Outrage, sir?” John queried.

“The captain and I both agree that someone in the Department tipped off our attackers. I want to know who that was. Agent Drosky, you were an Orlando policeman before joining the Department. Your experience will be invaluable in this investigation.”

Bedford turned to Bru, continuing his soliloquy. “And you, Agent Bruner, showed remarkable courage for one so young. Valor is an asset that is hard to find and will be welcome in my task force.”

Finally, Bedford turned to Carlson and finished his verbal thoughts. “And with your captain’s help, we can clean this department of its cancerous traitors, clearing the way for our final step in reconstructing the country.”

Bedford moved to the office’s window and stared into the sky. The sun beamed onto the tops of the large, gray and white rain clouds that were moving in from the west. Lightning snapped down from the building storm, making the flat western landscape pop as if a camera’s flash had erupted over the land.

“Once this department has been purged, Homeland will install me as the regional governor, controlling the entire southeast. And you gentlemen,” he concluded as he turned and faced his three employees. “You will be there, at the beginning of a new America. A new country that will ensure that all of its citizens receive an equal outcome where once there had been inequality. You will be able to tell your grandchildren many years from now, that you were in the room with the man that helped create a fair and just United States.”

The captain began to clap his hands, encouraging the rotund man and stroking his massive ego. Bru and John stood dumbstruck, trying to grasp the utter audacity of it all.

“You men look star-struck!” Bedford said as he watched John and Bru stare mutely back at him.

John, recovering quickly, seized the moment to ingratiate himself with his new boss.

“I know I speak for us both, Mr. Undersecretary, when I say that we are so grateful for this chance. I suppose I could best describe my feelings as being overwhelmed.”

Bedford beamed with pride and power.

“I understand completely!” He crowed. “It is an awesome opportunity. You men are understandably amazed at your luck, although I must say you have earned your place here.”

Bedford moved away from the window and approached the agents, shaking everyone’s hand.

“Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome to the new America.”

Bruner and Drosky were sent to Administration, where they were re-classified as “Special Agents, Homeland Security.” The new classification gave them more privileges and better perks. Bru was given a tower room on the same floor as Drosky, and both men were given their own firearms to carry 24/7.

They were shuffled over to the Department of Personnel where a new uniform issued, jet black with ornate bronze accompaniment. A crest with an image of a Roman battle helmet and its red plumage was on each shoulder, and the words “Hodie Praetorian” stitched underneath.

“The impudence of this guy is stunning!” John said to Bruner.

“What the heck does “Hodie Praetorian mean?” Bru asked.

“It means that our psychotic leader thinks of himself as the new Caesar, and we are the Hodie Praetorian, or today’s Praetorian guard.”

“But didn’t the Praetorian guard turn on the Caesars?” Bru asked.

“They sure did,” John replied. “But it sounds like Bedford and the rest of the leadership doesn’t think too far in advance. Let’s just see where this takes us.”

“John,” Bru whispered as they walked back to Administration where their official papers were being prepared, “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Neither do I,” Drosky replied. “But I think we need to stay close to the top of the food chain, for now. Being in the know is better than being out of the loop, and we can use what we learn to make a difference. It’s sounding a lot like our democracy is being bulldozed to make room for a power grab.”

Drosky stopped his partner, laying it out on the table. He needed to know where they stood as a team.

“I don’t like this, and if I can do anything to bring our country back, I’m going to do it.” John said.

Bru looked at his feet, shuffling them as he formulated his reply.

“You know,” he started. “I’m not even 24 years old and all this shit needs to happen right now.”

Bruner finally looked up into John’s eyes. “But I’m old enough to know this is not the country I want to live in. I’m with you, partner.”

With a smile, the two men resumed their walk to retrieve their new identity cards and assignment papers. Bru was temporarily assigned to Bedford’s family and was sent to the hospital ward where the Undersecretary’s wife was recovering from her gunshot wound.

Special Agent Drosky was attached to Undersecretary Bedford as one of his personal guards. Making his way to the back of the headquarters building, he joined three other men in identical uniforms. Moments later, the Undersecretary appeared and they all escorted him out the door and into an SUV that was equipped with a powerful diesel engine.

Holding onto handles bolted to the outside frame of the vehicle and standing on metal running boards, John and the other three guards took flanking positions as the black SUV shot out of the lot and down the road toward the tower. Expecting them to stop at John’s own building, he nearly lost his grip as their vehicle passed by the front door and turned north. Up ahead, he could see a massive amount of activity around the three apartment buildings where he had secreted Charlie and her group.

His emotions ran from anger to fear as he anticipated the worse, expecting Charlie and her group to be in custody. But when he arrived, there was no sign of Charlie or her crew. Instead, he watched with amazement and a confirming sense that the crisis was likely promoted or even instituted by his own government.

The apartments, built with a heavy amount of federal assistance, had generators hooked up to two of the three buildings. Utilizing the same connections that were present at DHS headquarters and the “Tower,” John could see the built-in female connectors which had been extended from the side of the buildings, and how seamlessly they attached to the government generators. Charlie’s building, the northernmost structure, was still not hooked up yet. But it was obvious to even the most naïve observer that these three-year-old structures had been constructed with the intention of utilizing the DHS generators. It was more than coincidence that they were now rolling up to the southern of the three apartments, where a semi-formal greeting party was at the front glass door in preparation for the Undersecretary’s arrival.

“Undersecretary Bedford!” A man with an ornate uniform said. “Welcome. We have the top floor secured and your living quarters are ready.”

John and his three companions formed a phalanx with one to either side of the man, and one in front and behind. John took the rear position realizing that he didn’t know where they were heading.

They followed their greeter onto the elevator, the point man checking the car prior to Bedford entering it. With electricity restored to the building, cool air was billowing out of the vent as they rose to the top floor. John noticed that access to the floor was by key only, meaning that Bedford and his family were the only occupants of the thirty-room fourth floor.

When the doors opened, a cacophony of sounds hit them. Table saws, drills and hammering all assaulted their ears.

“Sir,” their overdressed guide said. “We’ve not gotten all of the rooms converted.”

Bedford exited the car in disgust, staring at the large, open space where all walls had been torn down and the floors and ceilings gutted.