Chapter 10
The Dirty Robber
Time slowed down to a crawl for Jane Rizzoli.
She first noticed the two white men in the black satin Boston Celtics jackets next to the front door of the establishment. Then, she noticed how deliberate they were in reaching inside their jackets and pulling out handguns.
The people were quiet, still, some even aware of what the men were doing.
For an instant, Jane thought the entire sequence to be very odd: why were the men taking their time? Why weren't the people running?
Why was she sitting at her table and not doing something about it?
Oh shit.
Time sped up in the two seconds it took for her to say the expletive to herself, and Jane noticed she had pulled out her own weapon and aimed it at the men in the black satin jackets, her finger about to pull the trigger.
Then all hell broke loose.
"DIVE!", Jane shouted at Giovanni, who dove under his and Jane's table as the men fired in their direction. She thought she felt something nick her back as she ducked, firing herself at the armed men. She tried not to hit any of the patrons running away from the scene; they weren't as considerate.
Jane watched in shock as a young waitress collapsed to the floor; the bullet one of the perps had fired at her head assured she wouldn't get up nor do anything else, ever again.
The perps weren't too far from Jane and Giovanni, and were closing in to finish the job. She had two left in the chamber; she needed help now.
"GET DOWN!", she heard someone yell from behind her, and saw five Boston PD SWAT team members jumping through the now shattered windows. Four more SWAT members ran through the front door and shot at the perps, who both went down in a hail of bullets.
"Stay here," Jane said to Giovanni, who wasn't about to protest nor do anything else. She took a clip from one of the SWAT members, and noticed that three NEI agents and several more Boston PD uniformed officers had entered the establishment. "CLEAR!", yelled a SWAT member from the kitchen area, where several patrons had run to take shelter.
Jane walked to the bodies of the shooters, and gestured to Giovanni to come over. He crawled out from under the table, and tentatively came over, wondering if the shooting was over.
He dove for the floor when he heard more shooting outside, landing inches from the body of one of the shooters. The officers and agents in the Dirty Robber pulled out their weapons, and Jane jumped over to cover Giovanni with her body. "What the hell's going on out there?", she shouted.
"The guy who left right as the jackets walked in, he got shot," said another NEI agent who had just rushed in. "He's alive."
"What about the van?", Jane shot back, showing her badge to the other agent as she stood up, stretching her hand out to Giovanni to give him a lift up.
It took just a couple of moments for the agent to figure out the reference. "Van was out of the line of fire," she said to Jane. "Everyone inside is safe."
"Hold on a moment," Jane told the woman before turning to Giovanni. "Which one of these dirtbags is the guy you were talking to earlier?"
"How'd you know that—"
"We were doing surveillance. Legal surveillance," she said. "You know either of those guys?"
"That one," he said, pointing to the one furthest from him. "Darryl Ray. Man, I thought he was a decent dude. Hung out with Freddie—"
Jane pulled out her phone, and showed Giovanni a NEI photo of Schmidt. "This guy Freddie?"
He looked at the photo closely, and nodded.
"Meet Frederick Schmidt, a.k.a. Freddie, the brains behind what went on here tonight," jane said. "And he's a Cissie. Confederate through and through."
Giovanni's eyes went wide as he realized how badly he had misjudged Schmidt. "Oh man. Oh MAN. I had NO idea, Jane. I swear to God—"
"You got duped, Giovanni," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Doesn't make you a dope. These bastards are pros. But we got them. You okay?"
"Yeah. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Now this agent is going to take you back to the NEI office at Division One, because they're going to want to talk to you—"
"Am I in trouble?"
"No," Jane said, thinking he probably wasn't. "I'll catch up with you soon. I gotta help them wrap up."
Giovanni stared at her for three long seconds, and then nodded. He stopped before he and the agent could step out outside, and he turned around. "Jane? Be careful."
"Always," she said. As Giovanni and the other agent walked out the front door, Jane saw someone on the other side of the street trying to get past a uniformed officer.
Maura!
Jane ran outside and across the street, and showed her badge to the officer trying to keep Maura in place. "Maura! Why aren't you in the van?", she said, a little more loudly than she wanted to.
"Agent Grant's gone," Maura replied. "After the shooting began inside, he heard something in his earpiece and ran out of the van. We don't know where he went—"
Jane saw Frost hobbling up the sidewalk, heading right for Maura and herself. She looked at Maura and nodded her head towards Frost, and both met the agent halfway. "Frost. Maura says Grant's gone."
"Grant got a lead on Schmidt when the shooting went down," Frost replied. "We're tracking them both. They're about four blocks away. They—"
Frost stopped talking and pulled out the walkie-talkie assigned to him for the op. "Frost. …. Where? Now? Copy that."
He looked at Jane and Maura. "Shots fired, just now. At Congliario's."
"That's about four blocks away," Jane said. "Maura, stay here with Frost. I'm going—"
"Jane," Maura said, with some uncertainty. "Jane—"
"I gotta go, hon," Jane said. "Grant needs me."
"I know," Maura replied. "I need you too."
"Hey," Jane said, touching Maura's cheek. "We'll catch the bastard before you know it. Just gotta go bail out Grant, again."
Jane's smile reassured Maura a little, but not much. Maura steeled herself again for the part of Jane's job she hated the most.
The part where Jane might not come back alive.
Congliario's Bar and Grill
Jane jumped out of the passenger side of the Boston PD Chevy Caprice patrol car that skidded to a stop behind a line of police vehicles that blocked the west approach to the popular restaurant. She saw several officers and NEI agents with weapons drawn, aimed at the front door, and made her way behind them.
She looked more closely at the front door, and saw Schmidt standing behind the door, holding Grant by his neck with the muzzle of his SVD-63 semi-automatic weapon pressed firmly against Grant's temple. What an irony, she thought; as a Boston Red Sox fan, she knew the founder of the establishment was Hall of Fame outfielder Tony Congliario.
The popular hometown star became heavily involved in the Underground Railroad after his retirement in 1981, then was killed by CSS agents nine years later because of it. Congliario's wife took over the bar and grill and carried on his work; her children inherited the family business after she passed away in 2007. The establishment was well known for its food and for giving Confederate refugees their first employment in the UCNE, along with a good salary and benefits while helping them get established locally in their new home.
Having barricaded the front door with a board, Schmidt was uttering threats, vulgarities and demands: "I WANT A F* #ING CAR TO THE RUSSIAN EMBASSY AND A MILLION CONFEDERATE DOLLARS!"
"We do not negotiate with terrorists," she heard a NEI agent say, using a loudhailer.
"YOU HAVEN'T SEEN F* #ING TERROR YET, YOU ASSHOLES!", Schmidt yelled. "NINETY. EIGHTY-NINE, EIGHTY-EIGHT—"
Damn damn DAMN he's counting down, Jane thought. She knew NEI would not negotiate with the man. Grant knew the risks that came with his job, including being killed.
She pulled one of the NEI agents aside and showed him her badge. "What the hell happened here?"
"You know the players?"
"One of them's my partner and the other's the bastard we were trying to catch."
"Your partner followed Schmidt on foot after the shooting at the Dirty Robber a few blocks away. I assume you know—"
"SEVENTY-SIX, SEVENTY-FIVE," they heard Schmidt yell.
"I was there," Jane replied. "How'd they get there?"
"Schmidt found the establishment there to be crowded, and ran in shooting," the agent said. "We think there's one dead and several wounded, including your partner."
Jane looked at the doorway, Grant sitting down, the muzzle of the weapon still pressed against his temple, and blood running down his forehead. She noticed a red stain on his shoulder as well. "He can't stay like that all night," she said. "There are a million agents and officers here. Why hasn't someone shot the bastard by now?"
"We don't negotiate with terrorists and you know as well as I do Hoodie would rather have that terrorist alive than dead," the agent replied.
"There are hostages in there now, not just Grant," Jane said. "Schmidt's not leaving himself any leeway to get out of this alive. He's going to take others with him, too."
"Not my call, unfortunately…nor is it yours. That's above both our heads."
"FIFTY-THREE, FIFTY-TWO—" Schmidt kept counting down. "WHERE'S MY CAR? FIFTY, FORTY-NINE—"
Jane broke away from the agent she was talking to and ran to the woman she thought to be the lead agent on the scene. Great, Jane thought as she recognized the woman. The freakin' Deputy Marshal General.
"I'm busy, Agent Rizzoli," the DDG said to Jane.
"Ma'am, let me try. They want me—"
"I realize that. We do not negotiate with terrorists."
"Ma'am—"
"Out of my way, Agent."
Jane realized not only was the DMG not going to budge, and not only was Schmidt counting down now from 38, there were agents on either side of her and behind her, to prevent any last-second heroic acts on her part.
This bastard's going to kill Grant, she thought. What the HELL are we doing? Why are they standing around?
Schmidt stopped at 30. He looked out at the agents and officers.
He saw Jane.
"GIVE ME F* #ING RIZZOLI RIGHT NOW AND I LET THIS RACE-TRAITOR GO," Schmidt yelled.
Jane knew what the DDG's response would be. "We do NOT negotiate with terrorists," the DMG replied via loudhailer. "Surrender now, Confederate."
"NOT GONNA HAPPEN, YOU FRIGID QUEER!," Schmidt yelled. "THIRTY. TWENTY-NINE. TWENTY-EIGHT—"
Jane heard a screech behind her. She was able to turn her head, and saw the front end of an armored Land Rover. Her suspicions about who was inside it were verified moments later, when she saw agents creating a hole for the Marshal General of NEI himself.
The Marshal General shook his head at the Deputy Marshal General, and walked towards the front door of Congliario's Bar and Grill….alone.
"Son of a bitch, it's Hoodie himself!", Schmidt said, loudly enough for Jane to hear. "You come to negotiate terms with me, ya prick?"
Hoodie said nothing.
"Tell you what…give me a million Confederate dollars, and KGB escort to the Soviet Russian embassy, and you let my buddy go that you're holding somewhere, and I'll let this joker go, and you can have Rizzoli, and I'll throw something extra in."
Hoodie said nothing.
"I'll tell you where you can find some of those nice pretty New England girls. The kind whose mommies and daddies are cryin' over…who're getting some nice and not-so-nice lovin' from by Russians, Chinese, Islamists, hell, probably Southern and Reformed Baptists. Men and women. With film."
Hoodie said nothing.
"What do you say, Marshal General? You can't turn down that deal. Those girls can't afford for you to turn it down."
Schmidt tried to stare Hoodie down. He flinched five seconds later.
Hoodie walked forward again, stopping within ten meters of the front door. "Those are your final terms?"
"As good as ye gonna get," Schmidt said. "By the way. You kill me, the Director's price on your head triples."
Hoodie silently stared a hole through the man. "We don't negotiate with terrorists," he said.
The Marshal General whipped out his handgun and, before Schmidt realized what he was doing, fired it at the Confederate. Schmidt had no time to react, or do anything else, ever again.
Grant jerked his head away from the muzzle of Schmidt's weapon when he saw Hoodie going for his weapon. He pried the dead man's finger off the trigger after making sure the safety was engaged, then thanked his lucky stars he was still alive to tell the tale.
Epilogue
The next day
Jane and Maura's home
"Hoodie didn't need Schmidt; NEI and Interpol found the missing kids in Abu Dhabi," Jane said, sitting on the living room couch next to Maura. "Sergei – the KGB handler they shot outside the Dirty Robber – was willing to talk. He gave up the Abu Dhabi location and the location of other Cissie agents inside the UCNE and the IRNA."
"How's Agent Grant?", Maura asked. "I couldn't get in to see him."
"NEI's only letting their people in; standard procedure this soon after an incident like that," Jane said. "Schmidt whacked him on the head pretty good when they fought inside Congliario's. They removed the bullets from his shoulder and leg and he's gonna be on the sidelines awhile."
"He'll have to recover from the injuries and undergo rehabilitation," Maura said. "That process could take several months, depending on how quickly he heals and how hard he works in rehab."
"Joey'll be fine. He'll be on desk duty. Meanwhile, I get to work down in Homicide with Korsak and Frankie. And I get to keep up my other project."
"Barry."
"Exactly. I'm through with Frost's moping. It's time he gets back in the game."
"He's an amputee, Jane. How would he get cleared for field duty?"
"Oh…if someone knows the right people…who have fancy technology that would mimic a real leg…and hold up like a real leg…and he has NEI backing," Jane said.
"Jane Clementine Rizzoli Isles!", Maura said, in a faux admonishing manner. "To abuse your position like that—"
"Correction, Maura Dorothea Isles Todd Rizzoli. To take advantage of my position like that, so that experimental technology can help a good law enforcement officer return to his job and do it at least as well as he did before…and to help out a good friend."
Maura wrapped her arms around Jane's right arm. "Well, when you put it that way, it makes perfect sense. Now…about the other issue?"
"Giovanni," Jane said, and Maura nodded. "He's fine. I talked to him early this morning, and put in a good word for him. He talked to NEI and got cleared this afternoon."
"That's good," Maura said. "Did you show him the video?"
"After you texted me about it a thousand times. NEI didn't get it, but I was persistent. Anyway…he watched it three times, and sent this."
Jane pulled out her smartphone and played a video of Giovanni, sitting in a chair somewhere in the NEI headquarters.
"Dr. Isles, Jane set me straight yesterday and this morning. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, I really am. I guess I got dropped on my head after I was born or something, because I can't think of any other reason for being stupid like I was, about you two. I was freakin' blind to what was there all along. Well, congratulations to you both. You two are good for each other, and you're gonna have a lot of fun together. Hey, I'll even pay for your wedding and honeymoon!...or take you out to Congliario's sometime. Watch a Red Sox game on the big screen, eat some wings and drink some beer, and some of that fancy food and wine for you, Doc…anyway, sorry for the misunderstanding, and thanks for being so nice about this. You can keep everything, by the way, Jane, even the bear."
Jane glanced back at the bear that took up a corner of the living room as the video ended.
"That's really sweet of him, honey," Maura said. "And we will take him up on his offer to visit Congliario's. I'll even eat a wing or two, along with a healthy grilled chicken salad. And so will you."
"Yes, Maura, I will eat the wings and drink a Sam Adams," Jane said, causing Maura to roll her eyes before both women shared a laugh. "You know, sweetie. There's one other good thing that's come of all this."
"Which is?"
"Giovanni finally believes us after we spilled the beans the second time about our relationship."
FINI