The French Connection Ch. 02

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9:00am. I sat at my desk, once again having to face doing a duty. The letter had arrived.

It was from Goth Girl Kathy, and it asked me to give the sealed envelope inside and its contents to her sister Becca. I called Roy McGhillie, and asked him to bring Becca and her mother to the Station. I then called Father Romano, who came down. When McGhillie brought the Larringtons in, I had them all go into the Pastor's Room. Cindy was watching from the doorway as I handed Becca the envelope.

"This came from your sister." I said. "She asked me to give it to you." Becca's eyes were too wide for her pretty face as she took it.

"Do you know what's in it?" asked Nora Larrington.

"No." I said, truthfully, though I had a very strong idea. "It's sealed, and I did not open it. Detective McGhillie, you should stay with your family here, and take them home when they're ready. Father Romano has also agreed to stay if any of you need him. If you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to it."

As I walked slowly down the hall, feeling depressed, I felt a hand come from behind and take my arm. It was Cindy. "You okay?" she asked.

"Not really." I said, then added "Come with me." I began walking with more of a purpose, and went into my office, followed by Cindy. I had her sit down as I sat down in my chair and got on the computer. A moment later, I printed a few sheets of paper.

"I don't know what's in that letter," I said, "but I have a pretty good idea." I handed Cindy the papers, which contained Martha the M.E.'s autopsy report on Kathy Larrington. As Cindy read them, she looked up at me with a gasp...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With tears in her eyes, Becca opened the envelope and took out the letter inside. It read:

""Dear Becca,

If you are receiving this, then I have died. I came to visit you and Mom last Christmas because I knew that I would not see you again. I have brain cancer, and its inoperable. Elizabeth took me to the best doctors in Europe, but they say they can do nothing. I have about six months left, maybe June or July. They say that I'll go blind soon, then eventually be unable to do anything. So I won't come home again, because I want you to remember me as I was, not as what I will become.

So marry that great looking guy who loves you more than anything, and if you have a girl child, 'Kathy' would be a great name for her. Tell Mom I love her, and keep going no matter what. I love you always,

Kathy."

"She was dying?" asked Becca, her mind reeling with disbelief. "Mom, did you know this?"

"No." said Nora as she read the letter. "Well... I knew something wasn't right; a mother knows these things. But she wouldn't tell me anything."

"Why didn't she come home? Or stay home after Christmas?" Becca wailed. "We could've taken care of her. I would've been there for her, so she wouldn't have been alone..." She began sobbing, breaking down.

"Yes, we would have." agreed Nora. "But she didn't want to burden us, I guess..."

It would be a considerable time before they left the Pastor's Room. Even Father Romano was taxed to find words...

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Cindy let the papers drop onto my desk. "It doesn't change anything." she said. "She died a hero. She gave her life for another person."

"Like Takaki Taichi-sama." I said, remembering his seppuku, which served to wipe out a cell of very bad people. (Author's note: 'Seriously Inconvenienced', Ch. 05.) "Death with honor, and bravery. Let it be her epitaph, as well."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No time for further contemplation. Jack Muscone and Martin Nash came to visit me an hour later.

"We've been following up on Brooke's so-called escape from Supermax." said Muscone. "We've been looking into the Federal Bureau of Prisons, as well as the Federal Marshals, for corruption. And we think we've found some problems." Muscone began outlining the problems.

"We also found something you asked us to look into." said Nash. "We sent a couple of guys in, undercover. Sure enough, one woman tells every new person she sees that she's wrongly incarcerated there."

Just then, Helena buzzed me. "Sir, Paulina Patterson is here to see you. She says it's urgent."

"Send her in." I said. As the FBI Agents got up to go, I said "Stay here, guys. I have a feeling you'll be wanting to hear this."

Paulina came in. "Don, something's wrong. And you FBI guys might want to hear this."

"What is it?" I asked, the 'vibe' getting stronger.

"You know Yvonne Newton used to work for me as my assistant." said Paulina. "I had to let her go after Julie turned bad. Well, I was going to ask Yvonne to work on my campaign, to make some extra money. But when I called her number, it was disconnected. And when I went by her townhouse, it was empty; the lights were all off, mail service was stopped last summer. I contacted the School Library System, with whom she had gotten a job. They said she sent an email resigning from her position late last summer, just before the school year was to begin. Don... she's just disappeared."

"I'll bet." I said, picking up the phone and dialing a number. "Captain Croyle," I said, "I need a Patrol to go by..." I gave the address. "Check and make sure that Yvonne Newton is not there. She may have gone missing..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Just after sundown, the helicopter landed on top of the Cannon Building in the City. A man and woman got out, and went to the second of two doors. This door went to the penthouse office that had once belonged to the late Henry R. Wargrave, and now was rented by U.S. Senator Samuel Russell.

"Come in, come in." said Russell to his visitors. "Have you been here before? Can I show you around?"

"Yes, we've been here before." said the woman. Russell noticed that she looked tense, and tired. Things weren't going so well for her, he surmised.

After polite offers of coffee and water were refused, Senator Russell said "The reason I asked you both to drop by today, is to make a determination of what we are going to do about the Iron Crowbar. With the Jan Camp case resolved, I'd like to move fast and strike him down while the iron is hot, to mix some metaphors, there."

"You certainly have my approval." said Mitchell 'Mitt' Bain Willis. He was the President of BigAgraFoods Corporation and a Member of its Board, of BigPharmaCorp's Board, and other Boards of major companies. While CEO Lloyd Feingold had been the face of BigAgraFoods when they were forced to move out of State after Larry Wheeler's murder, and while Feingold would testify before Congress, it was the rising star Mitt Willis that was the power behind the throne.

Willis was tall, slender, with blackish hair that was graying (perhaps with help) around the temples, a handsome face that looked aristocratic, and a measured but folksy way of speaking that connoted safety and calm. Willis was the poster child of the World Globalist Elites and the Republican Elites. He fully planned to run for the U.S. Senate seat held by the Conservative Bill Nunn, and wrest it back for the Establishment from Nunn and Nunn's Grassroots supporters, who Willis deeply hated as much as Wilson Hammonds did...

"I'll give you my blessings, of course." said the woman. "Unfortunately, I've suffered a setback. The Iron Crowbar made a huge mess of my plan in Paris, and my goals there were not achieved. As such, I'm going to be retrenching. There is one chance I'll get the Iron Crowbar, and soon, but it's a last plan, and I don't like last plans. If it fails, then you have carte blanche to do whatever you want. Just don't make a mess of things like that attempt upon the Governor over in Nextdoor County."

Neither she nor Mitt Willis mentioned that the attack on Jared had been her plan along with his. The Governor had lived. Regrettable, but he wasn't the primary target; State Senator Woodburn's staffer, the Queen of Opposition Research, had been.

"So gentlemen," she said, getting up, "I'll take my leave of you now. You said you'll arrange other transportation, Mr. Willis?"

"Yes." said Willis. He did not mention that he was staying in the living quarters below this office as Senator Russell's guest. "Have a safe trip home, my dear."

She climbed the stairs to the roof and got into the waiting helicopter, which would take her back to Pottsville Airport and her headquarters near there. Then she changed her mind.

"Take me to Town & County Airport." she said. As they flew, she got on her cellphone and placed an order for an Uber car, likely to be driven by a college student from the University. She would stay in the empty townhouse there tonight. It was empty, but it was home. She had just had this sudden yearning to go home, despite the danger.

I just want to go home, thought former Town & County Police Detective Julie Newton...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

4:50am, Tuesday, March 27th. As we flew in the small FBI jet towards the Supermax prison, Jack Muscone filled me in with more details.

"The Warden of this prison is officially on my 'sketchy' list." said Muscone. "His bank accounts have grown by large margins on occasions, with a couple of particularly big payments last summer. Then he distributes some of it, probably to some of the guards. We're not sure who we can and can't trust, so we're going on this pre-dawn raid while they're on lockdown for the night and there are fewer guards in fewer places."

"How many people do we have?" I asked.

"Twenty FBI Agents and thirty DEA Agents." said Muscone. "Special raid to interdict a drug pipeline into the prison... that's how we're justifying the DEA people."

"What about the warrant?" I asked.

"The Federal Judge in your District issued us one. He's seen enough of you to know that you just might be right. If what you think is right, we'll take the prisoner into our own protective custody and do DNA tests."

We landed at the nearby municipal airport. There were already a number of large vans, filled with heavily armed and armored Federal agents. I had on armor, also, but did not feel all that comfortable. The good news is that Muscone, Jefferson, and myself were flying in a helicopter.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

FBI Agents poured into the facility, essentially taking over the control room. The guards were asked to gather in the cafeteria, where they would be held. But there was one setback: as we were about to go down the wing that Julie Newton was supposed to be held inside, we were met by four men. Three were uniformed guards; the fourth was Warden Williams.

"None of you can have weapons beyond this point." said the Warden. He was a slender black man whose hair was approaching the length that the 1970s were calling and asking for their 'afro' back... so sorry if that's politically incorrect to say. He had a fierceness about his eyes, and looked like he could have a mean disposition if he wanted to.

"Now just a minute..." said Muscone, but I intervened.

"It's okay." I said. "I'll go down with them and verify the prisoner's identity." I handed Jack my holstered gun.

"You can't take that crowbar, either, Mister Commander Troy." said the Warden.

"Well," I said, "it's either me with the crowbar, or fifty Federal agents shooting you down, and I'll be taking the crowbar anyway." The Warden relented.

We went down the passageway, through a couple of locked iron doors that were unlocked from the control room. I walked down to a cell nearly at the end of the hallway, and looked inside.

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"All right," said Muscone, "this is too easy---- what is that?"

Armed guards with M-4s were pouring into the hallways outside the room, and another contingent were going to the cafeteria. The Agents inside had had the presence of mind to close and lock the doors to the control room, and so were secure for the moment.

"Get your hands up, all of you! Open that door!" the guards began shouting through the windows. There were well over one hundred men surrounding the Federal Agents, who were now barricaded inside the control room.

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"Oh my God! Commander Troy!" squealed Yvonne Newton. "Tell them I'm not Julie! Please, tell them I'm not Julie, I'm not supposed to be here!"

"I know." I said. "You're coming with us. Warden----"

As I turned to speak to the Warden, I saw that he'd taken a stance blocking my path. Behind him were the three guards, two with M-4s, one with a shotgun... ready to shoot me.

"You're not going anywhere, Iron Crowbar." snarled the Warden. "Except into a six-foot-deep hole..."

*** TO BE CONTINUED. ***