For MamaBirdCat. A story challenge featuring Low Light.
The Usual Disclaimer: don't own not making a profit
The Road Goes on Forever: The Highwaymen
Chapter Thirty Six
Lawyers Guns and Money
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11-13-2013
0825
To: CAbernathy
From: SF SciFi
Subject: RE: Scope Specifications
General Hawk-
Thank you for sending me the specs on the spotting scope. Without actually seeing the scope or knowing the arc and magnification I can say within 99 percent accuracy that the scope used was a high definition 80mm objective lens with either a 30x wide angle and a 25x to 60x zoom based upon the calculations that were given.
As far as I know there are only five scopes that I can say with surety hold the specifications. It is the scope Cooper MacBride and I developed for use in the field patent #183.268.001-09/12/2011.
I am curious as to how the specs were given. Do you have any other information?
Awaiting your reply
Sincerely,
Seymour Fine
SF SciFi
General Hawk had to read the email twice. He had a vague understanding of the scope by now and an even more obscure understanding of patents. He looked up from his desk. Fort Polk afforded him the privacy of an office while he was traveling. In front of him Ehrenstein sat like a trapped animal. His eyes were wide behind standard military black glasses. It was all he could do to keep himself from squirming. General Hawk knew the little Private would come in handy someday.
"Ehrenstein" He said.
The kid almost jumped. As it was he looked like he was going to piss himself. Hawk reminded himself to stay patient. His Private's had a healthy fear and respect for him. Given the two General Hawk would opt for respect. He cleared his throat.
"Your jacket says that you are in law school." General Hawk said.
The Private nodded until he thought his glasses would fall off. "Yes sir. I am in my fourth semester. I am following Law and Order. I was supposed to be studying judiciary law and jury selection. I don't believe I had the chance Sir." He said.
He swallowed.
"Sir? Is that what this is about Sir?" He asked.
He was being kicked out. He just knew it. He started to tremble. And when he started to tremble Ehrenstein started to sweat. He would never be able to look his father in the eye again. He thought briefly about his discharge. Maybe he could take his discharge and move to Alaska or Paraguay and become a sheep farmer. A sheep farmer made an honest living. It wouldn't be a glamorous life but at least he wouldn't have to face his father.
He was half through driving to Paraguay and buying his first sheep farm and managing the expenses of financing a good pair of sheep shears before General Hawk spoke again.
"Your father is a lawyer too." General Hawk said.
"What? I mean, yes Sir, he is." Ehrenstein said.
"Good. I need you to do something." General Hawk said.
Ira Ehrenstein didn't advertise. He didn't have to. Most of his business was conducted at home behind a large chestnut desk he kept his computer on. He might be in the middle of Kansas but Ira Ehrenstein was the only Jew for miles around. His office was a virtual cyber space that he could conduct on his own time. He could pick and choose which case he would take on at his leisure. His specialty was patent law. He didn't go looking for clients, his clients came to him.
That was why he was surprised to hear from his son when he opened his email. His son was smart but he was too mousy. He sent Abraham to the Army to toughen him up a little. He would never make a good lawyer if he was weak. He was now in the Joes. Ira knew he was barely hanging on. He expected at any day to hear Abraham tell him he was honorably discharged. He took a moment to open the email. He had moment of confusion before he opened the attachment. He only had to take one look at the scope's blueprints before he knew it was important. It was a military grade patent. It would pay his mortgage for the next twenty years.
He adjusted his glasses and looked at his wife. "Ruth hold my calls." He said.
He went to work.
General Hawk didn't have the time to think about it. He dismissed Ehrenstein with a wave. His night sniper and his apprentice were on their way to the gates. It was a little before ten PM. Hawk was awake as long if not longer than his Joes. The fatigue was beginning to show on his shoulders. He twisted his neck and rubbed at his shoulders as soon as Low Light and Trick Shot came in. His night sniper was in a bad way. He walked slumped over holding onto his stomach giving hisses of breath. He smelled like a gutter.
Trick Shot didn't look much better.
"What in the Hell happened here?" General Hawk ordered. "Dixon!"
"It was just a, uhhh…" He stammered.
Trick Shot and Low Light shared a look.
"It was just a bar fight General Hawk." Low Light whispered. He seethed through his teeth.
Bar fight or not Hawk knew enough to know there was more to it than that. Low Light he could understand but it was outside of Trick Shot's character. He had them in the infirmary where a sleepy stretching Lifeline was busy inspecting his bruises. Low Light's entire abdomen was a splatter of size 14 toe points spreading from X to X across his tattoos. When Lifeline went to palpate he could feel the crunch and sick floating of broken ribs. Low Light grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Sorry." Lifeline whispered.
He looked up at General Hawk. "Except for some broken ribs he's going to be OK, Hawk. I'll tape him up but after that it's up to him to heal."
Low Light made a move to protest before General Hawk interrupted.
"Sit down MacBride. You're not going anywhere until you give me your explanation." He said. "Did you forget that you are on probation? Give me one reason why I shouldn't boot you to the door right now."
Low Light didn't have the chance to answer before the double doors swung open.
That was the way that Vorona, Beachhead, and Cover Girl found him.
"General Hawk!"
They came to a complete stand still as soon as they saw him. The rest shuffled in awkwardness. The room was so tense Hawk could almost cut it with a knife. Trick Shot busied himself studying his shoes. Vorona couldn't keep her eyes away. She grimaced each time Lifeline wrapped Low Light's ribs. Beachhead found a spot on the wall he could look at where he didn't have to see his best friend. Cover Girl looked up at the ceiling.
Out of all of them Beachhead and Low Light were the most tense. Beachhead didn't look over. It was as if he expected it. If he knew about the fight then he kept his mouth shut. The two men didn't acknowledge each other. There were seconds and then minutes where they refused to look at each other. Hawk made a point to notice it.
"Alright I want to know what's going on and I want to know what's going on NOW." He said.
He zeroed in on Beachhead. If anyone was going to tell him the truth it would be his DS. He stood for a long time in front of him. Apart from clenching and unclenching his teeth Beachhead didn't move a muscle. General Hawk walked slowly around him studying every shift in posture he could. He didn't flinch. It was as if the entire room was holding its breath.
There was a cough from the corner.
"It's like Trick Shot said. It was a bar fight." Low Light said.
Hawk didn't look over. He watched Beachhead instead.
"Is that so?" General Hawk asked.
"Yes Sir it was a bar fight." Trick Shot said.
The rest of the room started to mumble. For his part Beachhead could only blink. It was the first sign he gave that he even knew what was going on in the room.
"And you can confirm this Beachhead?" General Hawk asked.
He was so close his nose could touch his cheek. Beachhead still refused to move.
He nodded. "Yes Sir. A bar fight." He said.
Around the room everyone was agreeing and nodding their heads at each other. General Hawk didn't believe for a hot minute that was the extent of it. Whatever else was going on his Joe's were closing ranks. There was only one reason why. They were protecting one of their own. Given the choice between the two and Low Light's alienation from the group General Hawk put his money on Beachhead. He didn't know why the Joe's were protecting him. He didn't have to. They had every right to a good reason.
General Hawk looked down. Neither Beachhead nor Low Light showed any signs of offensive wounds. With as much as he was injured he expected them to have at least bruised or bloody knuckles. He walked over and tapped to the side of Low Light's bed where he propped himself up.
General Hawk jerked his hand up.
"And you didn't even throw a punch." He said.
Low Light winced.
"No Sir." He whispered.
General Hawk slowly moved his head up and down but Low Light didn't fold. None of them would. Low Light let go with all of the grip of a newborn baby.
Hawk tapped the bed one more time and faced the room. No one would look at him. They were busy watching Beachhead. Somehow he had something to do with the fight and Low Light's broken ribs. He exhaled. Whatever reason they had for their code of silence he wouldn't find out about tonight.
"Alright as long as I don't get reports coming in from the local chief of police I'll take it as strictly off the record." He said.
That seemed to make everyone relax.
General Hawk talked over them. "In the meantime get some sleep. There's still a competition going on and it looks like this storm isn't going to let up any time soon."
Low Light took the time to put his shirt back on. Except for looking like he gained an extra twenty to thirty pounds his broken ribs were stabilized. There weren't any internal injuries. Beachhead only saw a small part of it but the bruises made him look away. Why he lied he was going to find out. He took him by the elbow. Cover Girl, Vorona, and Trick Shot glanced over but otherwise left without a word.
"Cooper." He said.
Low Light jerked his elbow away "Stay out of it Wayne." He said.
Low Light never called him by name. "It's not your fight."
"I know why you lied. I know what you're going to do." Beachhead said.
He shook his head. "I can't let you do it. I can't let you go after Pete. You're throwing it all away. Your career, Trick Shot, your…..friends." He said.
For a moment the two men looked at each other. It was Low Light that broke away.
"I have to. I have no choice."
It was twenty years in the making. Since that night in Sierra Gordo Low Light dreamed of the time he would meet God. In them he alternated between friend and foe. At times he was almost a father figure guiding him down the path he was on. They would meet in an outside bar in Nicaragua surrounded by kapok trees. He had so many questions. They shared chicha and talked about old times. That was when God would give him the answers.
Other times he crawled in the mud with his sniping rifle watching God from the far bank of a river. The rain made rivulets down his back and blurred his vision. On the other side God sat behind a stack of American bills. His Barrett M90 was propped up in the corner. He shook out a cigar. His lighter had the symbol of a Maltese cross surrounded by olive leaves. Inside the cross were the two circles of a sharp shooter. God only had the chance to look up before Low Light took his shot. He stared directly at him. The lightening flashed across his face. It was as if he expected it all along.
Tropical Depression #7 as it was called would twist its way up from the Caribbean and gain speed over the heat of Cuba. From there it hugged the East Coast of Florida at a slow and drenching ten miles per hour. Alabama only felt its outer bands. The real torrential rains were happening in Florida. The Joes were heading right for it.
End Chapter Thirty Six
Lawyers Guns and Money
Warren Zevon
I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk, hey
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this yeah
I'm the innocent bystander somehow I got stuck
Between the rock and a hard place
And I'm down on my luck yes I'm down on my luck
Well I'm down on my luck
I'm hiding in Honduras
I'm a desperate man
Send lawyers, guns and money
The shit has hit the fan, hey