I had instantly gone to sleep, and the next thing I knew, Bobby was waking me for my shift. She said, "I let you sleep three hours. I don't want to wake Sarah. This is the first real trauma she's been through. She needs her rest to be of any use tomorrow. I hope you don't mind. Wake us both at five. I have it dark in the front room, so I can have the drapes open. Keep watch on the guys out there and the back yard. The back is vulnerable if someone really wanted to get in."
The next three hours were a bit of a strain since I kept imagining hearing things. But I kept watch out both the front and back, along with the video monitors.
I woke both girls at five. They got up, showered, and dressed for the office. I still didn't have anything but the jeans and shirt I was wearing. Before we left, I asked Sarah if she had her weapon. She checked in her purse, took out the lightweight Glock, dropped the clip to make sure the magazine was full, pulled the slide back to check to see if a round was chambered then put the gun back in her purse. I looked at Bobby and she rolled her eyes. I told her to wait a second. I went into her closet, pulled another Glock, three magazines, and a box of shells. I also pulled one of the new MP5's two additional thirty round magazines and a canister of a hundred rounds.
When I came back into the hallway, Bobby asked, "A little overkill, don't you think?"
I grunted and added, "Think about the last few days, then say that again."
We went out to the garage, set all of the alarms, and got into the car, with me riding in the back seat and raised the door. Bobby used her radio to check with the two Marshals in the car at the curb. They said all clear and that our chase vehicle was around the corner. I was busily loading the magazines for the Glock. I seated a clip, put a round in the chamber, checked the safety, then proceeded to load the MP5 clips. I had just finished loading the first magazine and seating it in the MP5 when we passed what was supposed to be our chase vehicle. It pulled out after us. I looked up a second then did a double take.
Bobby caught my double check and asked, "What's up?"
"There's no Marshal tag on the front of the car following us. Call the chase car and ask them where they are."
There was no immediate answer, then we got an answer, "We are just leaving the seven eleven at the entrance to the subdivision."
Bobby said, "Oh shit."
I quickly told Bobby, "Call the house car and tell them that we will be moving slow and to come up on us quick. Tell the chase car to set up a roadblock so we can pinch them in."
Bobby was giving the directions I asked her to give, while I was stuffing rounds in the other two magazines for the MP5. The people in the car following us couldn't see me watching them as we were in a vehicle with absolutely black windows. It was obvious they didn't have our radio frequency since they kept right behind us. Just as we rounded a bend in the road, we saw our guys parked across the road, standing on the other side of their car.
The guys from the house were coming up behind the car behind us, then all of a sudden, the car following us jammed on their brakes. Our guys following them saw the maneuver in time to stop and back up. I yelled for Bobby to stop and back up a little to give the car behind us less room to turn either direction. I checked our guys blocking the road and they were climbing back in their car to come to us.
Bobby backed to within about thirty feet of the car behind us and stopped. I suppose it would be a standoff, but I wasn't up for a long wait. I didn't get breakfast and I wanted to get downtown. I lowered the window and pointed the Glock out the window at the windshield of the other car.
"Bobby, tell our guys behind them to use their bullhorn to tell them to get out with their hands up or face the consequences. Tell them to count to five. Then tell our guys to get down."
She used the radio to tell the men what I wanted. The guys radioed back, "What consequences, we don't have any consequences."
Bobby keyed her set, "I think our guy is finished with playing, just do it."
The guy with the bullhorn said, "I'm going to count to five. If you're not out of the car by five, you're not going to enjoy what happens. One, Two, Three,"
Before he said four, all four doors opened and four guys got out with their hands up, but all four still holding weapons.
"Drop your weapons and lie on the ground, do it now, drop your weapons."
One of the guys acted like he was going to put his piece down and get on the ground, but instead he leveled the gun at the car behind them even though he couldn't see anyone. I began firing and knocked the guy down but could tell he wore armor. Another guy decided to fight and I shot him and hit him in the neck. The first guy was trying to get up when one of the Marshals behind us put a round in his head. The other two guys just stood there with their eyes closed, but their guns were now on the ground.
The bullhorn sounded, "Move to the curb and lay on the ground, face down. Do not move. As the guy on one side began moving, he looked into the car twice before moving.
"Quick, radio our guys, tell them there is at least one more guy in the car."
The guys were starting to move when they heard Bobby and stopped. Tell them to use the bullhorn. If they don't clear the car, we will destroy it from here.
"Get out of the car. We will fill that thing with so much metal you won't know what model it is. Now get out now."
I grabbed the MP5 while opening the door. I flipped the weapon off safe and onto bursts, thinking I was going to blast out the windows. All of a sudden a guy jumped out of the car on each side rolling and firing fully automatic weapons at the car behind them. You can't hit shit with those mini-automatic machine pistols. While I was shooting bursts up one guy's crotch, the other guy was being pin-cushioned by the guys in front of us.
It was over almost as soon as it started. I was out of the car, leveling the MP5 at the guys on the ground, hopping to the car behind us, making sure it was clear. Shit, they had four shotguns in there along with a couple of hunting rifles with scopes. They had been serious. I went over to the two guys lying on the ground and laid the hot barrel up against one of the guy's head saying, "You know, I love the way it sounds when a skull explodes from a close up round." Then I laughed very cruelly. I think he wet his pants. I stayed there until the two were cuffed and cleaned. Both had ankle holsters and a back up in their belt.
I looked at them and said, "Too bad you didn't have a chance to get at your backups. It would have been fun. I'm starting to enjoy this."
One of the other Deputies told the two, "This is the kid that's done over a dozen of you guys in the last two days. I think he means it."
Sirens were coming, so I headed to the Expedition. Bobby was on the radio calling for a clean up truck and some crime scene specialist. She told them we needed the tow truck again.
As I got in, Sarah asked, "Are you alright? You're acting angry."
"I'm hungry, damn it, and these assholes are causing me to miss breakfast. See if we can leave here and get to the office. I don't think anybody is going to get between me and something to eat. As a matter of fact, how about an egg McMuffin, or one of those croissants from Burger King."
Sarah got out and talked to the two sets of Marshals that were holding off the county guys. She came back and said, "They said to take off, but to remember to write up the incident report since Wild Bill Hickok here is doing most of the damage.
Bobby chuckled and asked, "Are you serious, do you want something to eat? Do you think you can keep it down?"
"Hey, radio those guys and tell them to let the media photograph and film everything and everyone. Don't cover the dead guys, let them take the pictures as they are and to make sure they take pictures of inside the bad guys' car."
Bobby did that and asked why. I answered her saying, "Let's begin to let some of these idiots know we're ready. These guys all have armor on, so they're professionals. It might increase the temperature a little, but I think we're ready. There may be a big payoff if I get gone, but it's going to be the toughest hit they ever make."
After pausing a second to get another breath, "I'm starved and yes, I can keep it down. If I can eat an MRE while some sniper has me pinned down, I can eat a breakfast sandwich in a bulletproof Ford."
I busily reloaded my weapons in the back seat, then sat back to watch the terrain. We stopped at a Burger King because it was first and did get a bunch of biscuits with sausage, egg, and cheese, along with some of those mini fried potatoes. We got some cinnamon rolls, a milk for each of us, and a cup of coffee each. When we were on the way to the office with something to eat, I had the feeling we were going to get to the office without any more trouble. We did.
We parked in the garage in the open VIP spot. It was called that, but it was a secure spot that was open on all sides so no one could hide around it. I left the MP5 in the car but put the Glock in my waistband. I'd have to remember to pick up a belt clip for it. Since I didn't have a jacket, all I had was a T-shirt framing my shoulder rig. You could see the Glock sticking out of my waistband, so I must have looked pretty strange. I'm sure several people did a double take on the guy with a cane walking between an Amazon and a nice looking lady into the federal building.
We held up our badges and the two security people that were really secret service, waved us through. We rode the elevator up to our floor, the two ladies with me greeted the receptionist, and we went into the main office.
Sarah did what she's been doing for years. She sat at her desk, put her purse in a drawer and turned on her PC. She pushed some of her stuff around, arranged her phone just right and smiled, probably thinking to herself, "Ready."
Howard waved at us from his office. As Bobby and I walked toward Howard's office, the agents standing and sitting began applauding. It kept up all the way to Howard's office. Bobby and I waved, then ducked into the office to talk to Howard.
The first thing he said was, "Christ, can't you guys just come to work like normal Deputies. You've upset the media and a whole bunch of folks out in Carolwood. They are bitching that we put a hazardous hiding place among good citizens."
He chuckled and said, "The brass is still getting up, having breakfast and should be here by eight thirty or nine. I told them you guys would probably be here early, but they are wheels and we're expected to wait on them. Wait till they hear you had another incident on the way in. How many, and how many are able to talk?"
Bobby said, "Six and two."
Howard looked at me and asked, "How many did you do?"
"Two, maybe three."
He looked at Bobby and she said "Two, probably three."
He nodded and said, "You know from your school work that if you have an exceptional high kill ratio they're going to retire you. They don't go by military or Marine rules. They think it's unhealthy to be that accurate or that you could be involved in that many incidents."
"Can't be helped. If I'm canned, I can go back to work for the employment people where I may still have a job."
Howard grimaced, "Forget those people. We'll put you on airplane detail. Boring as hell, but very safe, it pays well and the travel is great."
He took a deep breath, "Go do your incident report real quick and bring it to me. You have to do them individually, you know. Now get before we have these guys up our butts."
As we were leaving he said, "Oh yeah, we put your clothes back in the penthouse, Chuck. We brought a set to the office for this morning. We've rented the entire floor. That's where we stashed the brass. Bobby will be in the other bedroom in your penthouse so plan on going for some clothes unless you want to go on a shopping spree courtesy of Uncle Sam."
We went out to Sarah who had three separate incident reports already printed out. It had three separate versions and mine was close enough to be damn accurate. I thanked Sarah profusely and signed it. She said she would wait a while and take them into Howard.
Bobby said, "Follow me, I want to get some different firepower for you."
We went into the supply closet where she twisted and turned a combination lock and pulled open a door to a large gun safe. It was jammed with every kind of handgun you can imagine. She pulled a box out and checked it then pulled out a box of shells. She had chosen a Glock forty caliber. It's actually not that much bigger than a 9 mm, but it has more powder and more penetrating power.
She asked for my badge ID. She scanned it then scanned the serial number from the box on the gun. She handed me the gun and asked me to read the serial number. I did and it matched. She closed the safe then looked through the stuff hanging up coming up with a nice shoulder rig and holster for the big Glock. Her next gift was a belt holster she said I could use for a backup when I needed one. She pulled three high capacity magazines from a stack then said, "Let's get you changed into something decent, then we'll go downstairs to the range and give this piece a test drive.
Out in the office, we asked around and found that some of my clothes were in the locker room. One of the Marshals took me to show me where. It took ten minutes to dress and put on my new hardware. When I came out carrying my personal weapon, Bobby said, "Give it here, I'll keep it until you get a place to put it. We can leave it in the hotel. Um, give me the other Glock from the house, because that's checked out for there. She put all of the hardware into her purse and we walked toward the door. We told Sarah where we were going and headed toward the elevators.
We walked into the range at eight o'clock. The range officer was having some coffee. "Hey, heard you two were doing some target shooting. Glad you're here to practice."
Bobby said, "I just gave him a forty. Give him some range rounds and let him break this thing in. It might be stiff." She turned to me and said, "Tear it down and clean it real quick before you start. That'll probably help a little. You can clean it again when you're done. Hey, Stan, give me some of those forties too."
I cleaned the piece and reassembled it quickly. If you know how to break down one Glock, you can do any of them. I loaded three clips and put on the ear muffs. At the shooting position, I fired a full clip, hitting the target consistently, but all over the place. I dropped the clip and took it to the range officer. Do you have any other barrels for this thing? I think this one has a nick in it, hits are all over the place. He opened a drawer while I was tearing the pistol down and handed me a new barrel. I slid it in place and locked it down.
Back at the firing position, I slid a magazine in place after putting my ear muffs back on, and began firing steadily at the target. Ten rounds right in the center. I dropped the empty magazine and slid another in then put ten rounds in a really tight group in the head. This was a sweet gun, light, easy to shoot, and very accurate. I was amazed a bad barrel got through the inspectors.
For the last magazine, I pushed the quick targets. These targets become lit at random, and you have to shoot each one within the one to one and a half seconds that it is displayed. The faster you shoot, the faster they light up. I went through the quick targets, hitting them all without any problem. I dropped the clip laid the gun on the position counter, and began picking up my brass.
Bobby came to me and said, "Jesus, you have to teach me to do that. That's uncanny. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"
"When I was in the Marines, especially in Iraq, sometimes we didn't have anything to do. Some guys like to watch TV twenty-four hours a day, but I like to read and shoot. So I practiced about four to six hours a day. You get pretty good if you shoot that much."
"I don't have time to shoot that often, but whatever tips you have, teach me. No wonder you were so accurate out there. I thought you were kidding about aiming and hitting head shots. You weren't lucky, you were accurate."
I had her get in position and asked her what position was most comfortable for her. She said, "No, I want to shoot with just one hand like you do."
"Listen, accuracy is more important than style. Show me how you shoot."
She used the two handed approach. I checked her hands and adjusted them so she didn't have a finger tipping the front of the weapon. I asked her to do some dry fire for me first, and to concentrate just like she would if it were live.
Instead of coming up on the target, she tried to level at it and pulled the trigger. I told her to do it again so I could see if she did it the same. She did.
I told her to put the weapon down. I then showed her without using the weapon how to come up on the target. I went through the motion three times. Then I put my finger up in the air and said, "Think of this as the trigger and think squeeze. No pulling, reserve that for my dick. Now squeeze. She did squeeze, but still pulled a little.
I said, "You will be very accurate if you learn to squeeze the trigger. Pick up the weapon and try again. Now use the motion to come up on the target, and then squeeze the trigger." This time she was concentrating and the gun didn't jump up but stayed level. We repeated the motion and the squeeze three more times.
"Okay, now let's try a single round. Keep in mind that I want you to use the motion I showed you, and that you just practiced to come up on the target, then you squeezed the trigger where you wanted to shoot."
Bobby was totally focused. She brought the weapon up slowly and when she was satisfied with the shot, squeezed the trigger. She hit the target dead center.
"Wow, did you see that, a ten pointer. Let me do it again."
We put another single in a magazine and she went through the steps and fired. Another hole right in the center.
"This is easy. Why didn't they teach me this way before? Let me try a full magazine."
I handed her a full clip and stepped back out of the position so she could do it all on her own. She fired ten successive rounds dead center where she aimed. She dropped her magazine and reached for another. I opened the door and said, "Now, all ten in the head."
I shut the door and watched as she put ten holes in the head of the target in a nice tight group. She dropped the magazine then laid the piece down, smiling. She bent to begin picking up the brass. I opened the door, and handing her another full magazine, said, "Here, one more but do it single handed. Square away at the target then rise, shooting exactly like you do if you had both hands on the weapon."
She didn't look confident, so I told her that she was a natural and plenty strong enough to handle the forty single-handed. She put the muffs back, slid the magazine home, and chambered a round. She took a deep breath, raised the weapon, and began squeezing the trigger. She put ten rounds in the target, five in the center and five in the head. The grin on her face was awesome. She dropped the clip then laid the weapon down and pulled open the door and hugged me to her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. In ten minutes you showed me how easy it is to shoot. I've got to practice more so it's natural, but I can do it. Now I won't waste so many rounds in the field."
We picked up her brass, cleaned both weapons, put a fresh magazine in them, and I holstered mine while she put hers in a belt clip under her jacket. As we left, the range officer said, "If you stay around here, I'd like you to give some lessons down here. I hear you have a technique to use when you're up against body armor. I'd like to see it."
Word travels fast in a closed community like this.
I smiled and nodded, not wanting to commit to anything for a while.
We arrived upstairs at precisely nine o'clock. Sarah said our guests were on their way and called to make sure we were on our knees when they got here. Howard heard what she said and cautioned, "Remember, these guys do my proficiency report. Be nice. You, Johnson, and you, Bobby, go find an empty desk and look busy. I'll call you when they want to talk to you."
Bobby and I took adjoining desks and since the PCs were on, we both logged onto the department website. We went through the news about our local fun, noting that the latest episode had not made the site yet. Then we both logged onto the local news channel site to see live footage of the scene still busy out in Carolwood. The guys were really playing it up. The street had chalk mark outlines where the bodies had lain. There were little evidence markers everywhere. There actually couldn't have been that much evidence. Not that many rounds were fired. They even had three interviews, one with a Deputy Marshal, one with a bureau agent, and one with a Lieutenant with the Sheriff's department. Everyone was getting into the act. The news lady who usually had a smile, had this serious look on her face saying, "Now the hoodlums in the area know that the officials would prefer not to take prisoners."
Howard called me at that exact instant. "Johnson, come in, ah, Bobby, you better come in too."
I went into the office and was introduced to a John Scott. The man was about fifty with gray hair, cut in a nice flat top. He held himself erect and had a good military bearing. I came in and stood at attention. He recognized the stance and said, "At ease."
"Charles Johnson, huh? A date of being sworn in last week. It has here you were sworn in to help in your protection as a person in federal protective custody. So you're the one who started the employment office fiasco, huh?"
I'm sure the guy knew what my tiny file said by heart. But he wanted to be dramatic. "I'm told that you have volunteered for a couple of unusual assignments and have performed meritoriously. Do you enjoy killing?"
Aha, the shock value.
"No, Sir. I defend with deadly force, not with enthusiasm, but focus on my team's safety."
His eyes opened wide then he said, "Everyone out of here. Everyone except you, Johnson. Now!"
Everyone left Howard's office with flat top and me still standing. When the door closed he reached out his hand and said quietly, "Semper Fi,." I nodded, but added equally as quiet, "Ooorah."
He said, "How long in Special Operations?"
"Seven years, Sir."
"I'm not a Sir, neither are you. How long have you been out?"
"You know the answer to that, it's in my file."
"You're right, I do. Sorry about your leg, would you have stayed?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to stay in the Marshal's service?"
"I don't know yet. It depends on what is decided and if I live that long."
"I want you and you'll live. We're too damn tough to be done in by a bunch of money grubbing cutthroats."
The man paused, looking at me as if trying to see inside my head.
"One word of caution, Johnson, try not to kill everybody. I hear you had an incident this morning and allowed a third of the attackers to live. Good move. The service frowns on too many kills. As it is you're going to have to see a shrink to make sure you're stable. Do you still get the shakes?"
"Not usually."
"Good, that means you think clearly under pressure. I'm going to call the folks back in. They think I'm dressing you down for being so accurate with a gun. I know that it is training and that you are just protecting your unit. Please remain a Deputy Marshal; you will have a great future with us if you do."
He said, "Sit," then went to the door, and called everyone back in.
When everyone was back in, he asked Sarah, who had joined us, "How come you swore Mr. Johnson in as a regular Deputy Marshal and issued him an ID with a full security clearance."
Sarah said, "I checked his military records with the Secret Service. His clearance is still current and is higher than what is required for the Marshal service. Mr. Johnson exhibited the values we want in the Marshal service and if he were a full Deputy Marshal, I felt I could get him to stay with us."
"Good thinking." He took a deep breath. "Howard has briefed us, and now we are going to interview the two men that were just brought in. We will not use your famous window technique because I want the bulletproof glass between the other buildings and me. I don't think we've ever lost a prisoner from being shot in an interview room before. There are a lot of firsts with this case."
He turned to me and said, "In front of everyone here, including the Chief of Personnel of the Marshal Service, I'm promoting you, Johnson, to Sergeant with a notation of Acting Field Lieutenant. Your pay will reflect the higher grade. Your promotion is not for downing so many perps. It's because of your military background. I can't have a Lieutenant being commanded by a Lieutenant, so Howard, you are hereby promoted to full Commander, not Major but full Commander. Sarah, please make these new promotions effective as of eight o'clock this morning."
"Now, if any of you others have something to ask or say, do it now, as we have work to do."
I stood, but Howard motioned for Bobby and me to stay, along with Sarah. The others left the office, shutting the door heading for the interview rooms.
"What the fuck did you say to that man? He didn't look like he was chewing you a new asshole. Sorry about my language, ladies."
I said the only thing that made since. "He is also a Marine. He was in Special Operations as well. He understands."
"What does he understand," Howard asked?
"He understands that I don't kill enjoyably, but I will defend my unit."
Bobby said, "That's something like what you said before he sent us out. Is that something you're taught in Special Operations training?"
"That is the second goal of every mission. Our primary goal is to execute whatever the order is, but to always protect our unit. I was just protecting our unit."
Howard said, "Perhaps we should send all our men through Special Operations urban combat training. But then DC would start calling this the wild west office."
He turned to me and said, "Thanks, Chuck, full Commander is a very high honor. The man who was just in here is not a full Commander. He is a lowly Major. This was a special promotion and you are to blame. I blame you because the rank is too high for Tampa. They'll move me and I don't want to move. I wonder if my wife will like DC or Chicago? I doubt it."
Bobby said, "Maybe the guy out west is retiring. You might be in line for that job."
"We'll see. I want you two to go get some clothes for Bobby, enough for a week, then come back, check in the hotel and come back to the office. An acting Lieutenant has some extra responsibilities. You're in charge of showing him, Bobby."
"Does that mean what I think it means?"
"Sarah, make Bobby's promotion permanent as of this morning. And let's make sure the payroll gets really screwed up because I wish to address you as Sergeant from now on. Now just like the Captain on Star Trek says, 'make it so.' Now get, all of you. And be careful out there. You are to have a lead and a chase. Make sure our cars are armored like the Expedition, just in case."
The three of us left the office with shit eating grins. Apparently the big shots had told everyone of the promotions they had handed out and gave me another hand. I just grinned and headed for the door, picking up my jeans and T-shirt on the way. Four guys followed us out the door.
Bobby briefed the four on the way we would go out to the house and made sure they had the max authorized ammo with them. The one guy said, "We've checked out enough hardware to start our own regime. We should be okay. We could almost use a third guy in each car for eyes."
Bobby stopped before we got to the elevators. "Hey, it's not a busy duty day, I looked at the roster. Let's get two more men just for fun. We should get to the hotel in time for a nice lunch. Come on."
We went back and asked Sarah for a couple more men. She checked the roster of available guys and paged three. They happily came running. The alternative was getting stuck on an Air Marshal assignment that had them overnighting somewhere. Older, semi-retired, guys that missed a lot of work handled a lot of the Air Marshal jobs
The trip out to the house was event free. One of the reasons was probably the county sheriff's cars parked all over the neighborhood in the guise of speed traps. Bobby even said, "Perhaps we should reconsider and just stay here."
As we stopped to raise the garage door, the extra man riding with us said, "If they want you in the hotel, go. The place is easier to protect and closer to help."
I said, "I will miss the pool, though."
The guy looked at me asking, "Didn't you use the roof pool. It's exclusively for the penthouses. They even have a jacuzzi and small sauna up there."
"I didn't know, and I guess they thought that I didn't swim with my bad leg. Heck, swimming is better for me than that damn treadmill."
The Marshal said, "I'll tell all the guys to clear the pool area when they come on duty. That way you can just go up there. Actually the only way up there is on the penthouse elevator or the stairs. There is a maintenance elevator for both the penthouse and the roof but that's easily locked out. We even have a control panel with a visual of the elevator plus a video panel now. They installed it yesterday. The duty guy can see the lobby, the approach of each elevator, inside each one plus the door area for the stairwell on each floor below. Any movement on the penthouse elevator or any of the stairwells above the third floor activates an alarm. It's pretty cool and makes for a lot better security."
I thought of Bobby's house and said, "We should ask for an auxiliary panel like you have, Bobby, so when the duty guy is eating he can have the same view."
The guy said, "It's done. We don't eat with many protective custody people, but since folks like yourself and a lot of dignitaries from the service stay there, they put a false wall up with an entire array. We don't leave them on though. They only come on upon demand."
As she was driving, Bobby said, "We'll probably have them on all the time. I don't think I'll ever be as uptight as I've been. This has been intense. I can't believe there's been so many attacks."
"I saw the investigation notes from the bureau. This employment fraud thing is just so huge, there are mob types all over the states that are upset over losing the easy money they were getting. We're putting a big dent in their income, plus we've been busting fake training centers in almost every state. A couple of them were even being used as drug drops. Your tax money at work, we provide the office space where they collect free money, divide up the dope, and distribute it to their carriers."
"Amazing that one girl not being at work regularly could cause this whole thing to collapse," I said, shaking my head. "If the Director had hired me as his assistant, no one would ever know. He could have corrected the problem with the girl and the fraud would have continued."
The duty guys at the house were using the family room and facilities. "Hey," one of them said, "this is good duty. These monitors are great. Anything gets close and a buzzer or beeper goes off. Even a stray dog set the thing off. I love the motion detector on those roof cameras. That makes the distant perimeter easy to watch.'
The other man there said, "If there is anything you don't want moved, let me know now, because this house is going to be empty by tomorrow. Your new place is being prepared right now and they will move you en masse tomorrow. A group from the Atlanta office will be here to do the move."
Bobby asked, "Do you have a floor plan for the new place yet?"
The Marshal opened a briefcase and gave Bobby a small floorplan so she could familiarize herself with it. Bobby commented, "Not much different, except it's bigger and there is more open space around it. I like the idea that there are even quarters for duty guys."
"No more going to the Seven-Eleven for potty breaks either. We either use a jug or have a replacement crew come for relief. That was a real freaky thing that happened this morning," the Marshal said, then turned to me. "How did you figure it wasn't us this morning anyway? I heard you were the one pulling the alarm."
"All of our vehicles and the bureau's have plates on the front of them. That one didn't."
"Uh oh, not all of them do, our surveillance cars don't, but then they are more common looking anyway like that Mustang you're driving or at least were driving. Anyway, that was good thinking and a good eye. Even if it had been a totally unmarked car and you didn't know it, you did right to confront it. There wouldn't have been any harm done."
Bobby came out with two big suitcases and said, "That will take me through a week or so. I suppose I'll be spending more time in the office than usual, so that requires better clothes."
She went back to the bedroom then came back out with three aluminum cases, "Let's pack up some hardware to carry along with us. Get the MP5 you have in the truck and the one behind the fridge."
We broke down the two rifles and put them in the cases, with six extra full magazines each. In the third case, she put the Glock, plus another, and my 9 mm in along with all my extra magazines and six more.
Bobby looked up and said, "That should take care of us. I like the idea of having a rifle in the truck with someone that can use it. I have a modification I want on the truck too. I want a sun roof with a flip up Kevlar shield in all directions. Chuck could have covered that car easily without leaning out the door or window. Hell, they've made that damn near bomb proof, might as well make it into a fighting vehicle as well."
We loaded up the Expedition, radioed the office and the car down the street that we were coming, and opened the door. The trip back was as uneventful as the trip in. Instead of parking in the garage, we went to the valet entrance and put our luggage on a cart. One of the agents took the Expedition, while we went straight to the penthouse elevator. I looked at the control panel as we were riding up and noticed one other button that had an "R" on it. I wanted to check out the roof. That might be a nice place to get some sun."
We checked in with the duty guy and went into the penthouse. We carried Bobby's bags to the second bedroom. I went into the other bedroom and there were all my clothes hung in the closet, cleaned, and pressed. I thought that it will be nice to have some clothes again. To bad I lost the other suit, I had really liked it. Oh well, I knew where to get more.