Disclaimer: {Insert your favorite disclaimer HERE}
Author's Note: I started writing on FFN June of last year. At that time I wrote "Kill 'Em All, Let God Sort 'Em Out". It was a multi-chapter story. I swore I wouldn't do it again. My muse has other ideas. "A Bottle of Wine" doesn't count because it was going to be one chapter but somebody wheedled me into writing more. This story is going to be at least three chapters. It's an important event in the lives of the characters. I really hope I can do it justice.
Spoilers: Hiatus 1 & 2. The most important character deaths of the series.
Ghost: …..If thou didst ever thy dear father love-
Hamlet: O God!
Ghost: Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder
Hamlet: Murder!
Ghost: Murder most foul, as in the best it is, But this most foul, strange, and unnatural
Hamlet: Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May
sweep to my revenge
Act I Scene V, The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark- William Shakespeare
NIS safe house apartment, Thursday February 28, 1991 0530hrs
Special Agent Mike Franks was not a happy camper. He had his reasons. One, he was working a witness protection detail. He hated witpro. As in this case, it meant being stuck in an apartment staring at four walls. Two, to work said detail, he'd been called off his vacation in Mexico. That's right, he'd traded beer, fishing and 'other pursuits' for sitting in this apartment with a sawed off shotgun in his lap. The good news was the day shift should be here momentarily.
Mike and his partner for the evening, Special Agent Brett Place were guarding a Marine dependant who'd witnessed the homicide of a Marine that occurred in Oceanside. Normally not a big deal. The perp in this case was Pedro Hernandez, head of a drug dealing outfit that the Camp Pendleton NIS office was trying to put out of business. That made it a really big deal. So big that the new SAC Harold "Iron Ass" Applegatecanceled everybody's vacations and reeled them all back in.
When Franks rolled into the office yesterday, he volunteered for the overnight shift so he wouldn't have to deal with the protectee. So far that had worked well. When Mike and Brett showed up last night at 2300, the woman and her daughter were already asleep. Today they both would be going to San Diego. Once there, the US Attorney would take the woman's formal statement and the US Marshalls would take over the protection detail.
Mike looked at his watch. Special Agents John Bailey and Kathy Franklin should be arriving any minute. Franks looked towards the couch. Special Agent Place was dozing.
He looks entirely too comfortable
Mike took a spare 12 gauge shotgun round from his pocket. He flipped it at Place. The round hit Brett in the forehead, causing him to jump to his feet reaching for his weapon.
Franks grinned.
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty."
"Shit, Mike. You trying to give me a heart attack?"
"Ah hell, a young fella like you should be able to just wake up and not get your panties in a knot."
Place's response was forestalled by a series of knocks on the apartment door. Drawing his weapon, Brett walked to the door and looked through the peephole. He moved to the knob side of the door and looked at Mike.
"It's Bailey and Franklin."
Mike nodded and stood, bringing the shotgun to his waist pointing it at the door. Place reached out and unlocked the dead bolt.
"It's unlocked."
The door swung open and Franklin and Bailey stepped in quickly shutting the door behind them. Franklin's eyes widened when she saw the sawed off pointing at her, waist high. Bailey laughed.
"Still got the scatter gun I see."
Mike laughed too.
"Still the best argument ender I know."
Franklin watched as Mike broke the action and unloaded the shotgun.
"That's not an issue weapon."
"You're absolutely correct Agent Franklin. This little beauty is my personal property."
The shotgun in Mike's hands had started life as a full size fowling piece with twenty eight inch barrels. Now the buttstock was shortened by three inches and the barrels only extended two inches past the end of the foregrip. Franks slid the gun into its case and looked at John Bailey.
"They're still both asleep and the place is tight. What time are they due in Dago?"
"Thirteen thirty. I'll be drivin' the van and Kathy'll be in the chase car."
"Ya know, you're really too short to be doin' this. How much longer John?"
Bailey grinned widely.
"Twenty days and a wake up."
In three weeks John Bailey would retire from NIS and go back to his native New Jersey.
"Well, that should be a good party. We're outta here. C'mon Place."
I-5 Southbound between Oceanside and Carlsbad 1215hrs
The first sound in the blacked out bedroom was the shrill sound of a pager going off. The next sound was the bedside phone ringing. Mike Franks fumbled the handset out of its cradle.
"Franks."
"It's Applegate. Are you awake?"
"Yeah Harold, I had to get up to answer the phone. What is it?"
"John Bailey's dead and Franklin's in the hospital. Both our protectee's are dead too."
"WHAT!"
Mike jumped out of bed turning on the light on the nightstand. The clock next to the phone read 1120.
"What the fuck happened Harold?"
There was a sigh on the other end of the line.
"Apparently about half way between the safe house and San Diego somebody sniped John. The van went off the road, flipped a couple of times and wound up back on its wheels. Franklin stopped and as she ran towards the van she caught a round in the thigh. I want you as lead on this. Nothing's been moved yet. You need to get out there ASAP."
Applegate then gave the closest mile marker to Franks.
John's dead, John's dead, John's dead, Joh…
"MIKE!"
"Right Harold, I'm on it."
When he left the safe house earlier, Mike took his 'company car' home. This now came in very handy. With the gumball light flashing and siren wailing Mike made it to the crime scene in record time.
Pulling into the crime scene area, Mike saw an NIS sedan on the shoulder with the driver's door open. Further up the road in the verge area between the shoulder and the barrier fence was a red wood sided van. The nose and roof were crumpled and the left rear tire was flat. There were white sheets draped over the windows. Franks got out of his car, pinning his shield to his jacket. When he got to the crime scene tape he gave his name to the agent who was acting as recorder.
"The county ME's over by the van Mike."
"Thanks Tom."
Franks walked up to the ME.
"What do you have Doc?"
Dr. Roger Land sighed
"Right this way Agent Franks."
The two men moved to the van and the ME pulled the sheet off the driver's side. John Bailey was still belted in behind the wheel, half his head shot away. Dr. Land cleared his throat.
"It was a straight on shot. Probably from the overpass down that way."
The ME gestured towards an overpass less than a quarter mile away.
"Entered Agent Bailey's head under his right eye and exited out the back. The slug is buried in the seat back behind him. The van swerved, rolled and came to rest where you see it. The two passengers, Mrs. Shannon Gibbs and her daughter Kelly died of neck injuries and internal bleeding."
Mike opened the driver's door and stepped on the sill so he could look into the rear of the passenger compartment. He jostled Bailey's body.
"'Scuse me John."
The woman and her daughter were also still belted into their seats.
"Anything else for right now Doc?"
"No. I'll have more once I can get them all on the table."
"Thanks Doc. I'll be in touch."
Mike looked around for the senior crime scene tech.
"Yo, Hart. Let's get to collectin'."
"Okay Mike. We're on it."
As Mike walked back towards his car he lit a cigarette.
What a cluster fuck.
A/N: From what I've read and heard the end of the season is going to be Gibbs-centric with Mike Franks making an appearance. Something tells me the events of the end of February, beginning of March 1991 are going to rear their ugly heads. That's one of the reasons I'm doing this. As I said earlier I'm hoping to do justice to this very important event in the lives of our favorite characters. Pop the balloon and let me know what you think so far.
