"So I know, this is a fully legal writ you've got?" Ferris asked Jim, bustling behind him towards the front door of the main Washington D.C. police station, "Considering I feel partly responsible for this happening to Jerry, I want to be completely on the level this time, other than our disguises, of course..."
"Fully legal, Ferris; I got it right from the deputy attorney general," Jim assured him, "And even if they ask some questions on that, I was able to scrape together enough of the bail money from the rest of Mr. Simmons's legal team," he held up a check and adjusted the fake beard he'd put on. "You know, Ferris, it's been a thrill to work with you these last couple of days," he admitted to the boy, "I just wasn't having any fun with my job until you and your friends showed up. Working with you and them, I feel I have some meaning in my life again. It's going to be sad, I'll admit, when you all have to go back to Chicago..."
"I can give you my personal number the next time you're back in the greater Chicago area," Ferris told him, adjusting the tie on his suit, "If you ever need another day off, I'm up for it. Same with Natalie if she's ever in town."
"I'm sure she will. I can tell she and Cameron hit it off real good, so I think she'll find a way to Chicago at some point. Here we go, just act professional," Jim cleared his throat loudly and approached the station's front desk, where the sergeant on duty was on the phone. "...any of the prints around the store match anyone we know?" he was asking one of his colleagues, "Well, send it to the lab and tell them to get an ID as quick as they can; with that many guns stolen, someone could be up to something big, and we...hold on a sec, I've got company," he noticed Ferris and Jim in front of his desk and laid the receiver down. "Can I help you two?"
"Afternoon," Jim greeted the policeman, "My name's Ned Wiel from the law firm of Wiel, Robbya, and Blynd, and this is my nephew and legal assistant Dean Andrews III," he introduced Ferris, "It's my understanding you're currently holding a young man by the name of Jerry Greenfield here on theft charges?"
"Let me check," the desk sergeant typed some information into his computer, "Yeah, he's here. Are you his lawyer?"
"Uh, yeah, court-appointed," Jim said quickly, "And I have a writ of habeas corpus here signed by Deputy Attorney General Poindexter authorizing Mr. Greenfield's release from this establishment," he laid the paper on the sergeant's desk, "As well as a check for one hundred thousand dollars to cover his bail," he laid that on the desk too. The sergeant stared intently at both pieces of paper. "What firm were you from again?" he asked with raised eyebrows.
"Wiel, Robbya, and Blynd. We're a really small firm; we were the only ones readily available to represent Mr. Greenfield," Jim explained.
"Uncle Ned here has seventeen years of legal experience," Ferris cut in, "Once we were assigned to the case, we realized there was ample reason to suspect Jerry...uh, Master Greenfield was wrongfully sent here and is too young for prison anyway, so we filed for the writ and got it."
Looking suspicious, the sergeant looked over the writ and check again. "Everything does seem in order, but...which judge authorized this!?" he grilled them.
"We got it straight from the deputy A.G., like I said," Jim said, starting to sweat a little bit. The sergeant shook his head and picked up the phone. "I'll try and clear this with him, so I know you're on the level here," he told them, "So you know, the Greenfield kid was caught red-handed stealing Senator Tannen's wallet, and the senator has told us he's pressing full charges..."
"Well, we hope to sit down with the senator's representatives and work out a plea bargain right after this. Uh, can we see him?" Jim inquired.
"Yeah, down in the basement, cell nine, but no going inside until I clear this," the sergeant waved them off. Jim took a deep breath once they were away from the desk. "Still think we should have just given our real names," he complained to Ferris.
"Maybe. But as long as the writ is legal, I don't think it matters. Besides," Ferris looked over his shoulder again, "What fun would it be for the readers if we just walked in and walked out as ourselves?"
"Yeah, good point," Jim nodded knowingly. The two of them descended the stairs to the cellblock and up the hall until they reached cell nine. "Hello in there," Jim called into Jerry, who was lying on the bed with his face to the wall, "Remember us?"
"Go away," Jerry muttered bitterly without turning around, "I've had enough of this adventure."
"But don't you want to get out of there?" the assistant deputy director of media relations for the White House asked with a frown.
"It doesn't matter if I'm in this cell or out; my life's ruined anyway!" Jerry snapped, "Now that I have a criminal record, there's no way I'm ever going to get any job! Tannen's going to walk no matter what we do, and there's no way I can help my family now! I should have just sat down and kept my mouth shut back at the school and not said a word to anyone...!"
"I just want to say, Jerry, I'm sorry," Ferris approached the bars, "It is partially my fault you're in this. But that's why I'm going to make it right. We have a writ for your release, and a possible smoking gun in bringing Tannen down; his lover wants to talk, and we have an appointment..."
"Doesn't matter, and I'm not interested," Jerry muttered, still not turning around.
"So you're just giving up on everything? After you've come this far to try and get justice for your family, and for everyone else Senator Tannen may have cheated and swindled? How is that going to help your family?" Ferris goaded him, "Come on, even if this is a losing cause, we might as well go down fighting to the bitter end. Because sometimes the struggle is just as exciting as the victory, and if you quit now, you cheapen the struggle. Trust me on this-I know that's a little harder now given everything that's happened, but I'm not giving up fighting for you. Now I'm asking you not to give up fighting for yourself and everyone and everything you care for. When we do that, the bad guys automatically win."
Jerry slowly rolled over on the bunk. "And your release form's perfectly legitimate, no problems?" he grilled Ferris and Jim.
"Perfectly legal, perfectly valid," Jim held it up, "And I..."
"All right, you guys," the sergeant was storming up the hall towards them with a frown, "I called around; there's no law firm out there named Wiel, Robbya, and Blynd. So what's the real story!?"
"Uh...like I said, we're a really, uh, small firm, so small we, um, don't even have a listed phone number," Jim stammered, "No website, no..."
"Cut the comedy act," the sergeant put one hand on the holster of his gun, "Impersonating a lawyer is a felony offense, buster. So unless you have a good excuse to..."
"But the writ's still good, isn't it?" Jim asked desperately.
"Yeah, it's good. Too bad you're clearly not. So as I was saying, you'd better talk fast and tell me what the real..."
An idea struck Ferris. He spun back to Jerry and mimed choking towards him. Jerry shook his head and mouthed, "No more tricks." Ferris rolled his eyes. "Do you want out of here or not!? It's the only way right now!" he mouthed back. Sighing, Jerry pretended to gasp for air and went into spasms. "Officer, look, he's having a seizure!" Ferris gasped out loud, pointing into the cell, "His file said this could happen! Get him out of there!"
"Oh God, not here, not now!" the sergeant frantically unlocked the cell door and threw it open. Ferris casually snatched the keys out of his hands behind his back, as well as the sergeant's radio, and handed them to Jim. "Here, hand him out here; we'll take him out front and call an ambulance!" he extended his arms for Jerry. The sergeant picked the still shaking Jerry up off the floor and handed Ferris's cohort to him. "Thanks," Ferris commended him. He then nodded to Jim, who swung the cell door shut and locked it in a flash. "And since that writ was legal, and I posted the proper bail, officer, technically we've followed the rule of law here," he said coolly.
"Hey, let me outta here!" the sergeant shouted, grabbing the bars and shaking them hard, furious at having fallen for such an obvious trick.
"Well, we'll give you a fair chance," Jim laid the keys on the ground just out of the sergeant's reach, "If you can get to them, you can let yourself out. "Shall we?" he asked the boys, gesturing towards the end of the hall, "We've got a big appointment in Rockville to hopefully seal the deal in forty-five minutes."
"Just no more manipulations or tricks, you guys; I just want to do this straight up from here on," Jerry cautioned them.
"No more tricks, Jerry; this'll be a straight-up interview, then we're back to the White House to stop Tannen's speech," Ferris assured him. He sided up to Jim once they'd reentered the squad room and whispered in his ear, "I forgot to ask, did you get through to the president this time before we left?"
"In fact, I was on the line with Matthew Simmons while you were getting ready; he's on his way back now, and should be just about..." Jim checked his watch, "over the Canary Islands now. So, judging by how fast I know Air Force One can go, he should get here just in time. He's steamed at the thought Tannen would try and frame him for his own crimes to get the party's nomination. Even better," he leaned closer to Ferris, "Your idea to send him the photos of Nat's birthday worked; he feels genuinely horrible he missed it, and he gave up a high level conference with the Bahrainis to come back."
"Good for him. It's the first step to becoming a better father again. Well, anyway, we have," Ferris checked his own watch, "Two hours to bring the train home. So let's go out to Rockville and seal the deal."
"Ah, these are the days you love to wake up to," Mr. Bueller declared out loud, stretching on his front porch and staring contentedly at the sights of summer all up and down the sun-bathed street, "These are the days June was made for."
He bent down to pick up the newspaper from the front step and walked back inside. "Morning, honey," he kissed his wife in the living room, "Since it's the weekend, what do you want to do today?"
"Didn't you remember, Tom? Don and Nancy Chinich are coming over for lunch; we've got to get set up in the backyard," Mrs. Bueller reminded him.
"Oh yes, I remember you mentioned that. Well, let's get the tables ready, then," Mr. Bueller threw open the basement door and hefted a large table. "Ferris call at all? I haven't heard anything from him since the flight left," he asked his wife, straining under the weight of the table.
"He hasn't called me either," Mrs. Bueller shook her head, picking up a pair of folding chairs to carry out, "So I'm guessing he's too busy enjoying the trip. You know, part of me wishes we could have could have gone along as chaperones..."
"Nah, Katie, eventually you have to trust the kids can take care of themselves. And there's no reason we can't trust Ferris," Mr. Bueller argued, helping her place the chairs, "It will be a bit more lonely around here without him, though," he grew melancholy.
"I know, Tom. I hope he'll drop by when he's in college...Jeannie, give us a hand setting up for the Chiniches," Mrs. Bueller asked her daughter, who'd come into the kitchen and was about to pour a bowl of cereal.
"After I just got up!?" Jeannie protested.
"Jeannie, don't push it. You can certainly carry a few chairs and food," her mother admonished her. Sighing, Jeannie abandoned the cereal bowl and trudged to the refrigerator to get out some hamburgers. "Go put them out on the grill, sweetheart; I'll cook them up real soon," her father instructed her. "It's good to know that when...say, Katie, look at that," he pointed at the TV screen on the countertop, where footage of the congresspersons and donors dancing to You Can't Stop the Beat at the hotel the previous night was being shown. "Oh boy, I knew things were crazy in Washington, but I didn't know they'd end up doing that," he remarked, bursting into laughter at the sight.
"No telling what the people in Congress are going to do next," Mrs. Bueller chuckled as well, "That must have been a sight to see for everyone there. Too bad Ferris probably missed it. Oh well, I'm sure he's seeing lots of other interesting things on the trip..."
She and her husband turned and walked outside with more chairs in hand. Jeannie, in contrast, stormed right up in front of the television set. "He'd better not have been orchestrating this, because if...AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHH! I KNEW IT!" she roared as Ferris's image appeared on the screen, popping impressive dance moves across the floor, "He's having the time of his life, and I'm stuck being his lapdog and a...!"
"Jeannie, stop shouting in there and bring those hamburgers out here!" her mother ordered loudly from outside. Growling, Jeannie snatched up the meat. "It's not fair," she grumbled out loud, stomping towards the back door, "It's just not fair at all...!"
"So what's it look like, Phil?" Jim asked the Secret Service agent walking towards him at the truck stop just off Interstate 270 in Rockville.
"We went around the property three times; no sign of any snipers' nests or hidden bombs or any similar threats," Phil said without any emotion, "We also knocked on the door; the lady's alone, and there's no sign of any bugs or cameras in the cabin."
"Wonderful. OK, you, Bill, and Gil go with the kids, just in case anything were to go wrong," Jim directed him. He bustled over to Ferris and his friends by one of the Secret Service cars near the truck stop's restaurant. "OK, it's in your hands now," he told them, "I'll be waiting here with the rest of these guys," he pointed at the half dozen or so other Secret Service agents clustered nearby, "If anything goes wrong, call me, and I'll send them in for backup. It is now," he checked his watch, "Ten eighteen. Judging by Washington's usual traffic patterns on a Saturday morning, you've probably got about a half hour in there before we have to pack it in and get back to the White House to expose Tannen."
"OK then, we'll be quick and the point. You guys ready?" Ferris asked the other teens, who nodded firmly. "OK, hands in," he held his out for them to grab, "For the colony, and for oppressed ants everywhere..."
"Ferris..." Cameron raised an eyebrow at him.
"Sorry Cam, couldn't resist. For country, and justice, and everything that's good and right, let's do this!" Ferris pumped his fist downward, climbed into the driver's seat of the Secret Service car and pulled out into the parking lot, the chosen Secret Service agents following behind them in a second car. Jim and the other agents followed them to the road and flashed them a farewell thumbs-up...
...in so doing, not noticing the black car at the edge of the truck stop's parking lot far behind them, the window of which now rolled down. A familiar face with bloodshot eyes and now wild red hair leaned out and watched Ferris's car disappear out of sight over the interstate bridge. Grinning sadistically, Rooney starting dialing his cell phone. "They're on their way. There's three agents with them. Go one car at a time. One of you stop here and make sure the fat dope and the Secret Service can't interfere," he said softly.
"Gotcha, Ed, we'll take care of it," the person on the other end said. Rooney hung up and started his own car's engine, eagerly fingering the hunting rifle with telescopic sight lying on the floor next to him. "The game's about up, Ferris," he snickered with a cold laugh, shifting into drive and pulling forward, "And there's no way you can weasel your way out of this one..."
Five minutes later, unaware of what was swirling around him, Ferris knocked on the door of the bright red cabin in a rustic swath of woods outside Rockville. The door opened a crack. "Are you alone?" the woman he'd seen with Senator Tannen the previous night stuck her head out.
"All except for Natalie's Secret Service detail," Ferris gestured at the three agents, "They'll guard the perimeter while we speak, Mrs. Hale."
"Come on in then," she waved them inside the cabin, "Have a seat," she pointed at the sofa, "If you can get what I have to say to the president, Bob'll be ruined for sure...you're out already?" she was surprised to see Jerry among the teens.
"They got me out-a little extra-legally, but they did it," Jerry shot a stern look at Ferris, but quickly switched it into a small smile of gratitude. "So what have you got!?" he grilled Hale.
"I swiped a couple of the letters Bob wrote to Wilson Karkovice," Hale opened a drawer in the kitchen counter, "He offered him ten thousand dollars to force out all the holdouts in Glencoe. I've been having an affair with Bob for two years now, and I can tell you there's other similar scams he's committed all throughout Illinois. He and his brother then reap the profits."
"And you'd be willing to testify to this in court under oath?" Sloane pressed her.
"Yes. Here," Hale pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to Ferris, "Everything you'll need to know's in there."
"Well, we'll see what we've got here," Ferris unwound the envelope...and frowned. For the only thing inside was a single document, on which was inscribed, in extra-large letters, THE GAME'S UP, FERRIS. NOW YOU'RE MINE. "What!? What's this all...!?" he started to protest, but then realized in horror exactly what it was-right as a barrage of gunfire exploded outside, and the Secret Service agents could be heard groaning in agony. "Oh God...!" he gasped, jumping back to his feet, "Everyone, out the back door, quick!" he urged the other teens, "We've been set up...!"
But the back door then burst open, and a half dozen heavily armed men swarmed in. "Freeze, you little brats!" the leader, a tall man with dark hair who was toting two machine guns, ordered them, leveling both guns right at Ferris, "None of you are going anywhere."
"You filthy snake, you lied to us!" Natalie bellowed at Hale.
"Bob's my life, and I'd do anything for that man," Hale sighed dreamily, "Especially for the chance to be First Lady. Have a seat, kids, like I said," she pointed them back to the sofa, "Bob has a speech to make, and it shouldn't have to be interrupted."
Sighing in disgust, Ferris plopped down on the sofa. He took a quick glance out the window and was crushed to see three well-dressed bodies being dragged into the woods by more gunmen. They were completely on their own now, he rued. He'd have to think fast to get everyone out of this one...but he knew he had to try, given their lives almost certainly depended on it...
He waited until the goons had all turned to each other to congratulate themselves for their success, briefly taking all their eyes off their prisoners. In a flash, he turned to Sloane and silently gestured for her to start recording on her cell phone. Sloane nodded and reached quickly into her purse, pulling her hand back out right before the villains turned back around. "So you're Wilson Karkovice, then?" Ferris asked the leader of the goons out loud.
"Yep, that's me, kid. Apparently my reputation precedes me," Karkovice grinned, impressed with himself.
"Yeah, you can say it did. Jerry's told us all about how badly his father got assaulted when he wouldn't sell his store to Prince Construction," Ferris gestured at Jerry, "And boy, you must have been really hungry for a payday to have been that brutal with the man."
"Greenfield, huh?" Karkovice squinted at Jerry, "Yeah, I remember you now; we cased that store for a week before we moved in. Of course, if he'd been smart enough to sell, it wouldn't have had to have come to that..."
"He's a cripple now for your information, you dirty son of a...!" Jerry angrily rose to his feet, but another gunman grabbed him and hurled him back onto the couch. "Well too bad, that's not my concern," Karkovice shrugged indifferently, "With the money I was offered for the job, I'd've been crazy to refuse."
"Let me guess, right out of Bert Tannen's bank's vaults?" Cameron spoke up, having picked up on Ferris's plan, "It was the perfect cover, wasn't it; Ronald Prince stashed the payment for you and your goons there for the jobs you carried out for him, Bert Tannen handed it out to you after it was done, and his brother the senator got to come in and crow about making progress getting rid of blight while pocketing some bribe money from Prince on the side. Am I getting warm there?"
"You've really done your homework, kid. But you're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Karkovice leaned menacingly in his face.
"Of course he's not. But we'll deal with him later," came a familiar cold voice from the back door. Rooney entered the room, his eyes murderously locking in on Ferris immediately. "Right now, we're going to take care of far more personal matters. Greetings...Mr...Bueller," he growled in Ferris's face in a faux computerized voice, "Shall...we...play...a...game!?"
In a flash, he hauled Ferris violently to his feet and punched him hard in the chest to loud cries from the other students. Ferris doubled over in pain, which left him wide open for Rooney to rear back with his hunting rifle and smash the handle right into Ferris's forehead, sending him crumpling to the mat. "Not so tough now, are you, Ferris!?" he roared, kicking him brutally in the ribs, "Get up and fight me like a real man!"
"Leave him alone!" Sloane screamed, trying to push past the gunmen to get Ferris.
"Shut the hell up, Petersen!" Rooney bellowed, thrusting the gun at her, "And for the record, you and Frye are hereby expelled, no appeals allowed! I said GET UP!" he jerked Ferris back to his feet, kicked him hard in the chest, then threw him into the wall. "Stop it!" Hale was now looking horrified herself. She tried to get between Rooney and Ferris, "I didn't agree to this; you said we were just going to keep them under heavy watch until...!"
"Get out of my way!" Rooney shoved her aside and hauled Ferris back up again. "You brought this on yourself, Ferris! Did you really think I was going to let you make a fool out of me and get away with it!?" he snarled in his student's face, "Well now you're going to pay in blood!"
"In that case, can I have a ten second head start...!" Ferris tried to reason, only for Rooney to smash the rifle handle across his face again, sending him back down to the floor. "Time to say...!" the principal started to declare, cocking his rifle.
"Quiet, shut up a minute," Karkovice held up his hand, holding up his ringing cell phone. He activated it and set it on speaker. "Yeah?"
"Will, is it all under control?" came Senator Tannen's voice on the other end.
"Yep, we've got these brat kids here at gunpoint; it's all under control," Karkovice assured him.
"OK. There's a couple changes of plan. First, I moved up the press conference to eleven. Given everything that's unfolded, better to make the announcement for the presidency more quickly. Try and take care of them before I'm done, and make sure you destroy the bodies so that no one ever finds a trace of them."
"What!?" Hale looked stunned. "What are you doing, Bob!?" she rushed the phone, "You swore we weren't going to hurt them; you said we were just going to hold them here until...!"
"Sorry darling, but the plan changed," Tannen told her dryly, "Oh and Will, kill her too," he instructed his enforcer, "I can't have an adultery scandal hanging over my head, now can I?"
"WHAT!? But I gave everything for you...!?" a crushed Hale screamed at the phone, but was cut off as one of Karkovice's goons smashed his rifle over her head, sending her crumpling to the floor. "Orders are orders, lady," the goon sneered at her, "OK, who goes first?" he turned murderously to the teens.
"Ferris goes first of course. Turn your head, Ferris," Rooney gestured murderously at him with the rifle, "I want this to be quick and painless for me."
"No," Ferris tried to rise to his feet and squirm away. Rooney kicked him hard back down to the floor. "I SAID TURN YOUR HEAD, YOU FILTHY JACKASS CRETIN!" he screamed in carnal hatred, kicking Ferris over onto his stomach and jamming the rifle against the back of his head. "You've had this coming for years, and now you're going to get exactly what you deserve, Ferris! Prepare to go to Hell...!"
Just then a loud bang rang out from behind the cabin. Rooney and the others turned away just long enough for Ferris to squirm out of the principal's gun's barrel and kick Rooney in the legs, sending him toppling towards the floor...until Cameron leaped off the sofa, grabbed the principal in mid-fall and shoved him backwards towards Karkovice and his men, who conveniently were all standing in a row and were thus knocked over like ten pins. "Ferris, are you all right!?" Sloane worriedly jerked him back to his feet.
"Yes; go, run!" Ferris shouted at her and the others, who all leaped off the sofa and rushed out the cabin door. He waved Cameron towards the groaning Hale. The two of them hefted her up and carried her out the door as fast as they could. "I'm so sorry..." she mumbled regretfully, "I didn't think it would come to this...!"
"If you'll testify for real, it'll be a redemption for you," Ferris opened the back door of their car with his foot and helped shove Hale inside. Groaning from the injuries to his ribs, he staggered to the driver's seat and dove in. "What were those bangs!?" he turned back to ask Natalie, fumbling for the key to start the car.
"One of the Secret Service men must still be alive; he must have heard the shouting inside and set off a concussion grenade to...OH MY GOD, LOOK OUT!" Natalie screamed and dove to the floor, seeing an enraged Rooney rush out the door and aim his gun straight at the car. Ferris slid down himself as the ensuing shots shattered the windshield, sending glass cascading over him. He hastily threw the car into reverse and roared backwards down the road at eighty miles an hour, looking up only when the sound of gunshots had ceased. "I think I might have created a monster..." he mused grimly, spinning back around rapidly so they were facing forward.
"If Tannen switched the press conference till eleven, now we only have twenty minutes to get there in time to discredit him!" Jerry lamented, staring at his watch, "So pour it on, Ferris!" he urged him.
"Pedal's to the metal, Jerry...and unfortunately, we've got company...!" Ferris glanced out the rearview window to see a whole squadron of cars hot on their heels...and gun shots again started ringing out behind them, making everyone slide down in the car. "Jim, it was a trap; they're after us! Get us out of here!" Natalie screamed to the assistant deputy director of media relations over her cell phone.
"Yeah, I know, Nat; I went to go the bathroom, and they locked me in!" Jim lamented on the other end of the line, "I just broke out a couple minutes ago, but they shot out all our cars' tires! I can't help you right now!"
"Then what are we supposed to do!? We can't outrun them forever!" Cameron protested into the phone.
"Uh...get on the interstate and try and lose them in traffic. I'll catch up as fast as I can once I get another ride. Sorry, that's the best I can do now," Jim apologized, hanging up. Ferris sighed and hunched low over the steering wheel, turning hard back on the road that would lead them back to Interstate 270. "Well, you folks probably wanted an exciting finish, and you're going to get it," he said knowingly into the rearview mirror, ducking back in as a shot from his pursuers zinged dangerously close, "I just hope it doesn't turn out fatally for us, even if me dying here won't be an official death since it is just fan fiction..."
"What the hell are you going on about!?" Jerry upbraided him.
"I'll explain later...if there is a later...!" Ferris ducked another set of shots from behind. "If I ever meet the guy that wrote this, I'll kill him..." he muttered out loud, wondering if he and his friends would survive alive...
