Page 26 of Seamus: Unconventional
Now he laughs. “Do that. This may be a few days, keep us open and tell me what you need.”
“Light or Circuit will be on with us and get you that.”
“Light is on with ABSZ IT for background. You’ll probably see that before I do. If I had a Protector, I’d send them to just read it but they’re all on Ops.”
I smile at that. “Detective is a job that was recommended to a buddy at discharge. I may like it.”
He laughs with the flight crew. “You’re a fuckin’ nut. Keep me updated.”
“Roger, Boss.” I hit the key and turn to get back to my seat. The partners are looking at each other and Brothers are watching. “We’re detectives for a day. Find what you can from ABSZ intel, the Officer, K-9 partner and detective. Records would be good for all of them.”
Hologram boards pop up all over the place. I get back to my seat and close my eyes. I can watch all the shit they collect in the chip.
***
Nevada
Local SWAT surrounding an apartment building for two days should have been an indication of inexperience, lack of training, or pure unadulterated ignorance to the FBI. Special Weapons And Tactical units should not be camped out anywhere, they’re meant to use the special weapons and tactical training to resolve volatile situations quickly and safely. In Nevada, they bring lawn chairs and pickup trucks like it’s Friday night high school football. I’m sure me and my pack of partners jumping out of the chopper in front of the Flight Crew has some tongues wagging but the tailgate feel to this party is just wrong.
“You’re who the FBI sends?”
I look at the oldest cop I’ve ever seen thinking they need some blood younger than ancient here. “BSC sent me and my partners. Are you the PD Chief?” There are younger cops here but they’re sitting in those fabric folding game day chairs while trying not to see us, or follow the conversation.
“Yeah. What we got here is a detective that won’t release the dog. My boys need the dog. His partner got herself killed a day or two ago. That dog cost a fortune. It’s ours and we want it back.” It’s hard to overlook that this guy is at least twenty years past retirement.My boysandit’s oursis telling. My partners are neverit.
I put my hand up. “Your Officer was shot and her K-9 partner won’t let the new K-9 Lieutenant or any other handler close. The Officer had an impressive history of closing cases in a sleepy town with a higher-than-average crime rate. What I need is the location of the K-9 and detective.” I give him the Intel he obviously missed somehow. He lost a cop without so much as a pause for breath saying it. That higher-than-average rate is a concern with the good ol’ boy attitude and ‘that’s news to me’geriatric surprise I’m seeing here. We had shit like this happening in Texas too. It’s why I filled out paperwork my workers could flash around showing legality that even uneducated Border Patrol would recognize. The bastards even came back flaggingmewhen I challenged them over Carlos’ tribal ID being a legal form of ID for Native Americans. It doesn’t have to say US for it to be real and anyone holding an Officer badge should know South American countries are still American countries. The know-it-all asshole pulled up dual citizenship not realizing I was born in America and raised in Scotland. When I produced my social security card the jerk tried to confiscate it. How anyone wearing a badge that challenges citizenship doesn’t know at least the basics is mind boggling. He proceeded to explain how immigrants with visas get social security cards. I showed him via the government website how immigrants certainly pay into social security for every hour worked but can never apply for those benefits so Social Security cards serve as proof of citizenship to the United States which is one of many countries in America. He assured everyone that heard his yell, he is a hundred percent American and I corrected him that without a tribal ID, he was not but he could one hundred percent be a citizen of the United States.
Shadow leans against my leg. While our thoughts move fast, he is, of course, right, so I get on with it. Since the old guy forgot the question and is staring at me for a prompt, I give him one, “Location?” I ask.
He points to the apartments with a shaky hand.
Shaking my head, I walk away. “Locate K-9. Sorry, Brothers. I’m pissed. That idiot isn’t in charge of anything.”
Shadow chuffs while I get pictures and signs through the chip. Wilson makes me laugh with his red handprint with eyes on a volleyball from theCast Awaymovie. “Wilson, who wrote that?” I ask to distract my mind trying to hit every step with my feet, this is more than I do in physical therapy, but I think the old guy didn’t have much upstairs either.
‘20th Century Fox, DreamWorks. Writer William Broyles Jr., Director Zemeckis, Produced Starkey-Hanks-Rapke.’ Wilson is good with intel too and was named for that picture on the ball.
“Okay, okay. You know a lot about the movie. It’s the hair, Brother. The only thing you got from the sheepdog is black and white coloring on the bottom of you, weight that helps and that weird sprout of reddish hair between your ears. I thought you were shaved.” Why anyone would shave everything but that sprout is odd.The splashes of red is kind of weird too but he didn’t ask for all or any of that either.
Light sends me a negative and feed of Wilson pushing a Prospect’s stomach with an elastic in his mouth. I stop following the partners and turn. “You have to beg to get that hair tied?” It was more likedo it or I’ll bitebut no one pays attention to the partners so I use beg.
The partner with the reddish waterspout looking ponytail on his head barks once but it isn’t loud.
“Light, fix that, if he wants it shaved, get it scheduled regularly for him.”
I get a roger sign and hear Wilson chuff as I climb the next flight. The waterspout keeps it out of his eyes but looks stupid. The Brother shouldn’t have to deal with that shit. I wouldn’t.
The detective had to pick a third-floor apartment. “This is why SWAT is in the lot. My guess is they wanted FBI to come drag the K-9 out and return him to the PD, no questions asked, of course. With all the testosterone laden PD down there, they didn’t expect me and my partners so the sight of us with Badass backing kept their testosterone contained in their muscle-bound bodies. Not one of them stood with their elder mouthpiece who stumbled through the story they fed him.”
The chuffs are softer now that we reached the landing. It is more sad than funny. Shadow, Bobo and Sarge are sitting in front of the third door down on the right so I go that way.
‘Cowards come in all shapes and sizes.’ Shows behind my eyes. It’s not from a connection so this is Cort with his Lead glasses or it could be Mase with the seer shit.
“Preach, Brother. It’s true enough, but don’t preach right now, save it for the after party.”
Thumbs up emojis come at me with whoever is laughing in my ear. I knock and hear the distinctive click of a gun safety switch. I’m not in the mood to play today. That was a lot of stairs. “Seamus MacGregor from the Badass Maestro Club. I have K-9s with me and our guns don’t make that click when the safety is switched. My gun has a laser so there isn’t a safety on it but the K-9 partners’ safety doesn’t click. Put the rifle down and look out the peephole, window, hell, just open the damn door and you’ll see our gear. We match the chopper that just landed.”
The laugh is from the other side of the door now. I shake my head. People are crazy and that laugh was a little too high pitched. “Detective Pratt said to shoot first.” The door opens a little, then all the way. Bright milk chocolate colored eyes and a smile while the old rifle is pointed down in her left hand has me relieved, to a point. She’s got it under her arm so a quick flip would have it on me or my partners in a nanosecond. But, no one shooting us is smiling like that.
