ANSWERS AND QUESTIONS – CHAPTER 11
You've heard of the saying 'six degrees of separation'; well in Chicago, there's about two degrees of separation for Hobson. On more than one occasion I've walked into a place and just asked if anyone knew a 'Gary Hobson'; I've never had less than two people say that they did. Anywhere, upscale or down, everyone seems to know this guy or at least heard of this guy. What I get from them when we talk is an almost unanimous litany of praise. 'He saved me', 'he saved my family', 'he saved my mother, father brother whatever', just about everyone loves this guy. I can't even tell you how many people wanted me to tell them where he was so they could thank him more fully than they already had. This fits though, everyone knows Hobson, but I could only find a handful that were able to describe him as anything but 'Tall, White, Dark hair'. The people that owe him their lives couldn't pick him out of a line-up. Which makes me wonder something? Could Hobson have hired people to perform these deeds, people that looked like him, people that were forced to leave immediately after because they weren't actually him? Is Hobson creating this huge fan base so that even if he's ever tried for something, the 'vox populi' wouldn't let anything happen to him. In Chicago, it would be like putting Michael Jordan on trial for J-walking, political suicide for anyone that tried it. So maybe I have been neutralized. He's got the cops (most of them at least), the courts, the media and the people, who would be able to hurt him? Obviously the criminals, but he has them removed. So who's left? Me and a couple others, but that's it. I'm seriously thinking I should leave; just take Meredith and the kid and go. But could I walk away from this, and would Hobson let me?
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Meow . . . . . . . . Thump
"In politics today . . . ." Gary shut off the alarm and just lay there for a moment. He had gotten to bed early and slept well, that was unusual for him. And he knew that Brigatti loved him that was very unusual for him. He was surprised with himself because he usually worried about screwing up a relationship, so much so that he had a tough time getting one started, but not this one, this one just felt right. He opened his door and saw Cat wearing an expression that was almost ashamed; then he saw the headline and knew why.
"Detective Murdered in Home"; next to it was a pretty good picture of Brigatti. Slowly, as though refusal to accept the headline would make it go away, he picked up the paper and read the story. Brigatti and an unnamed woman were going to be murdered in her home. From the story it sounded like Brigatti put up a hell of a fight and dropped three of her attackers, but ultimately was killed. According to the paper this was all supposed to happen at 8:15; so he had time to call and warn her. He tore down the stairs not even bothering to read the rest of the paper or even get dressed. Saving Brigatti was the only thing that really mattered to him at the moment.
He picked up the phone, his fingers flying over the buttons, he heard it ring, just once and then the answering machine picked up.
"This is Brigatti, leave a message"
"Toni, it's Gary, you've got to get out of there, and you've got to get out of there now. Some guys are gonna break into your house and kill you around 8:15, so get the hell out of there now. You hear me Brigatti" he yelled into the phone, hoping his voice would stir someone to life; but there was no answer, just the beep of the machine.
He slammed the phone down, then immediately checked the paper, but the story hadn't changed. Then he noticed another story lower on the front page, 'Two women beaten outside bar'. It looked like Teressa's dad was wasn't the kind to let go easily. He was wondering how to handle both these situations when he heard voices in the office. He was wondering what was going on when Marissa and Teressa came out of the back, obviously headed out somewhere.
"Don't go out there" Gary yelled.
Both ladies froze. "What's wrong Gary?"
He looked at Marissa, "her dad is out there and he's not happy, you both need to leave out the back and call the police."
Teressa looked from one to the other, she could not believe that they were serious, but the looks on their faces convinced her that they were. She turned to Ms. Clark who said "come on Teressa, out the back. Will you be OK Gary?"
"Yeah Marissa, I'll be fine, you all hurry on. George isn't back there yet is he?"
"No" Teressa shot over her shoulder as the two ladies hurried out through the office and kitchen. Marissa called the police, but she also called Crumb.
"Be sure to lock the back once you're out" he yelled at the retreating figures.
Inside McGinty's, Gary was sitting at the bar, trying to figure out how he was going to warn Brigatti before it was too late. He knew that calling the cops was out of the question, there was no way that they'd believe him; he was going to have to go over there himself, but he couldn't leave until he knew that Marissa and Teressa would be safe from the girl's father. And that wouldn't happen until the man was arrested, so sitting and waiting were his only options at the moment. He was sitting at the bar, checking the rest of the paper when his head shot up, someone was opening the front door. He moved to stop it, but he was too late. Brent walked in "hey, Mr. Hobson, this guy said he needed to talk to you". He turned back to indicate who he was talking about when a baseball bat cracked into the side of his head. Without a sound, Brent slid to the floor.
The first thing Gary saw was the bat, followed by a fairly muscular arm, which belonged to a pretty big Guy. Mr. Walters couldn't compare to big Steve, but he was bigger than Gary.
"Where's my daughter, Mr. Hobson?"
"She's not here."
"So what have you done with her, have you had your way with her yet?" Mr. Walters was slowly approaching Gary the bat waving in front of him, almost like a flag.
Gary was disgusted by what the man was suggesting "I haven't touched your daughter, that's just sick."
"Why else would you keep a useless little bitch like her around, she's no good for anything else, just like her slut of a mother".
Without any further comment (thankfully) Ted Walters charged and started swinging his bat at Gary. Gary was backing up putting tables and stools between himself and this psycho, all the wile looking for something to use as a weapon, or at least allow his to defend himself. He had thought about the shotgun under the counter, but he believed that only killing Mr. Walters would stop him, and Gary knew he could never pull a trigger. Without realizing it, he had been backed into a wall; he put his hand out to steady himself after a difficult dodge, when he felt something hard and wooden. Without looking he grabbed and pulled and found that he had a hockey stick in his hand. Not just any stick, but his Chris Chelios autographed stick, back from when Chelly played for the Black Hawks and not the damned Red Wings. Without thinking, he jabbed the knob end into the guy's chest and pushed. The guy tripped over a chair and went down hard. Gary probably could have finished him right then, but he was more worried about Brent. Going over to the young bartender, he checked for a pulse, and found it strong and steady. That was good news at least; Gary turned back to see what crazy Ted was doing, when the bat hit him in the ribs. The pain was enormous, and he definitely heard some cracking. He tried to catch his breath, but couldn't seem to manage it. Gary was on the floor, kneeling in front of Brent, the hockey stick above his head trying to protect them both from the rain of blows that Ted was throwing at them. Finally one blow slipped past and caught Gary right above the forehead. The room went dark, like it was suddenly twilight, and he couldn't remember why the man was mad at him. He only knew that someone would be hurt if he failed, so he tried to hold on. He couldn't, and he collapsed, waiting for the bat to hit him again. He heard a surprising metalic clang, and the lights went out.
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After Marissa's call, Crumb hurried down to McGinty's, wondering what trouble Hobson had gotten himself into. He saw the door open and from inside he could hear someone screaming and the sound of two wooden items hitting each other. Being careful, he peeked in and saw a large blond man swinging a bat at Hobson, the expression on the guys face was totally insane. Hobson looked dazed, and was trying to protect himself and someone else. Being as quiet as he could, Crumb moved into the bar, and pulled an old fire hose nozzle down from the wall. While he was doing that he heard a wet smack, and jerked back around just in time to see Hobson collapse with a groan, leaving himself wide open. The crazy guy lifted his bat with a roar of triumph, just in time for Crumb to crease his skull with the nozzle. The guy pirouetted slowly; his glance at Crumb showed a face that did not quite understand what had just happened. Then, without a sound, he dropped the bat and collapsed himself. Without letting go of the nozzle, Crumb went to see if Hobson was OK and see who he had been protecting. He immediately recognized Brent and checked both men out, making sure that both were breathing and that both hearts were beating. After assuring himself that they were alright, he checked on the guy that he had clocked. He heard noise and looked back; Hobson was muttering something about 'calling Brigatti'. He debated on waking the younger man up, but decided to wait until the EMT's got there.
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Armstrong had been heading in when dispatch patched through a call from a nearly hysterical Marissa Clark. She was going on about some nut attacking Hobson and she asked him to hurry over. Part of him wanted to just let it go, but he turned his car around, and called for back-up. Sad to say, his biggest reason for going was to find out who hated Hobson enough to attack him. He pulled up to the front of McGinty's and saw the open door; he pulled his gun and slowly eased into the bar. He saw some indistinct movement, so he whipped around the corner and yelled FREEZE. What he saw was Crumb, holding something made out of metal.
"Hey, Armstrong, glad you're here."
"What's going on Crumb?"
"Beats the hell out of me, Marissa called me, so I came over and there's this guy going at Hobson with a baseball bat."
"Who's the other guy?"
"That's Brent, he's the day bartender; he usually shows up early and opens the place up."
"Any ID on the attacker?"
"I didn't check, I was waiting for you guys to show, I didn't want to foul up the crime scene."
"Well" said Armstrong, holstering his gun "let's see if we can pin a name on this clown."
The two detectives went through the blond guy's pockets. They discovered he was Ted Walters of Memphis Tennessee, and so far as they could tell, he had no connection what so ever to Hobson or Chicago. They were still trying to puzzle out the why's and wherefore's when the EMT's showed up, as well as Marissa and a young woman.
The medical guys went to work on the three victims, while Armstrong and Crumb tried to find out what was going on from the two ladies.
Marissa was trying to explain about the young waitress and her father, when a groan from one of the men interrupted them.
"Gary" Marissa gasped and hurried over to him. Armstrong went with her, while Crumb was still with the girl he thought of as Melanie, trying to understand the whole story.
When Marissa got to her friend, she could feel the blood on his head and hear the confusion in his voice. "You've got to warn Brigatti, she's gonna be killed."
"What are you talking about Gary, they got the guy that attacked you."
"Not him, Mob, they're gonna kill Toni and Meredith, at 8:15; what time is it?"
"7:35" Armstrong answered "how do you know this?"
"No time right now, you need to get over there" Gary gasped out.
"I'm not going anywhere until I get an explanation" Armstrong insisted.
"Then her blood will be on your hands, and I'll never let you forget that" Gary glared at the detective "I just know she's in trouble, now get over there."
Armstrong recoiled a bit at the vehemence in Hobson's tone, but his spine stiffened, he wasn't going anywhere.
She could hear the agitation and sincerity in her friend's voice. Marissa knew that Toni and Meredith were in trouble, but she could also tell that Armstrong wasn't going to move unless someone forced him. She leaned close to Gary "should I tell him"?
Gary looked uncertain for a moment, then shrugged "if it's the only thing that will save her, sure."
Marissa nodded and stood up, "come on detective, let's go save your partner."
Armstrong just glared at the two of them "what the hell are you talking about."
"Just what Gary said, Toni and Meredith are in danger, we need to get over there, and I'll explain everything on the way." She emphasized the last, implying that they should already be moving.
Armstrong was at war with himself, part of him didn't want to let Hobson out of his sight, another was worried that these people might know something and that Brigatti was really in danger, and the third was ecstatic at the promise of an explanation, perhaps even confession. He got up and took Marissa's arm "OK Ms. Clark, just come with me." He took her out of the bar and to his car, helped her into the front seat and went around the other side. He started it up and got on the radio, telling dispatch that he was on his way to Brigatti's and that a black and white should meet them there. This done, he looked over at the blind woman next to him. He could see the worry creasing her face. "OK Ms. Clark, explain away."
Marissa sighed, not sure that this was the smartest move, but began anyway "about six years ago, Gary, Chuck and I were working for a stock brokerage….."
Fifteen incredulous minutes later, he pulled up to Brigatti's place, his attention immediately drawn to the number of cars around it, and the open front door. He didn't believe Marissa's story for a second, but it looked like she and Hobson were right when they said Brigatti was in trouble. The patrol car showed up just then, and with the two officers, Armstrong went into the house.
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Melanie/Teressa had finally calmed down enough to where Crumb could understand her story. He shook his head, the things Hobson got messed up in. He sat her down, away from the activity, then walked over to the EMT's to see how everyone was. It sounded like Brent, and the guythat Crumb hadclobbered both had severe concussions, Brent also might have suffered damage to his left eye. Hobson just had a mild concussion, but also three broken ribs. Crumb could see the younger man drifting in and out of consciousness as they prepared to load him into the ambulance; every time he was awake he went on about Brigatti. He had figured that Hobson had a thing for the reporter, not the detective, but if he had a thing for the detective, where did the reporterette figure in. He sighed and shook his head again; leave it to Hobson to complicate the obvious.
Un-noticed by all, a ginger cat sat watching the unfolding events in the corner. If you bothered to look underneath the cat you would see a paper, but no one bothered to look.
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Brigatti's alarm went off; she lay there for a second before rolling over and turning it off. She got up and stumbled into the shower; god she hated mornings. She turned on the light in the bathroom and got a look at herself. 'If Hobson saw me like this he'd have kittens'. Then she realized that he had seen her like this, the morning after he told her about the paper. She smiled to herself when she recalled that morning, she had seen him checking her out, and he certainly hadn't looked like he was disappointed. Toni debated on waking Meredith before taking a shower, but remembered that the reporter was worse about mornings than she was. It would be pointless to try and wake her until there was some coffee going. Checking that the water was up to temp, she got into the shower and started her day.
Twenty five minutes later, Meredith Carson was awakened by an aggravated voice; "get your butt out of bed Carson, or I'll drag you to that paper of yours in your skivvies".
Meredith's eyes fired open, and there standing over her was Toni Brigatti. The woman had two cups of coffee in her hands, and for this Meredith was willing to forgive practically anything. Without a word, Meredith took the mug offered her, and started sipping it quickly, letting the warmth and caffeine work on her. She glanced at the other woman in the room. Meredith had always been a loner, and she sensed that Toni had been the same way; if you had asked either of them a week ago 'Are you lonely' they would have looked at the questioner as though they were insane. Neither of them would have known how to answer, it would be like asking a blind man to describe color. They had always been lonely; neither of them had ever known any other way. Then they fell into each others lives, and discovered what they had been missing. Looking back on it, Meredith wondered how she had managed to live her life this far without friends. Toni was just standing there, lost in her own thoughts, at ease with Meredith, when she glanced at her watch, "come on Carson, we're burning daylight" she said and left the room. Meredith proceeded to get dressed; she took her showers at night, that way she could sleep later in the morning. She was heading toward the kitchen when she saw the flashing light on Brigatti's answering machine. Being a reporter, her curiosity level was always way above normal so not even considering that it might be private, she hit the replay button.
'Toni, its Gary' the message started, but the tone was wild, almost hysterical. When the gist of the message got through, Meredith understood why, so did Toni, who had wandered out there at the sound of Hobson's voice. When the message had finished, both women looked at each other, fear dilating their eyes, then they looked at the clock in the hall 8:10; damn.
They were moving towards the back door, Brigatti with her gun out, when they heard movement. That meant the back door was out, and if they were at the back then the front was covered to; well probably. To check, Brigatti stood to one side and jiggled the knob. The roar of the shotgun sounded like a mortar blast in the townhouse. Brigatti quickly retreated down the hallway with Meredith, trying desperately to figure a way out of this. She had her Smith out and was covering the only approach to the hall when she asked Meredith "can you shoot?"
"Hell yes, you have another gun in this place, where is it?"
"My bedroom, bottom drawer in the nightstand, and there's a few extra clips for this thing, bring those too."
Meredith ducked into the bedroom and dashed over to the nightstand. She heard the doors to the apartment bang open, she was moving as fast as she could, but was afraid she'd be too late. There it was, an Army issue .45 automatic and about five full clips for the thing. Her eyes widened, there were also about ten clips for the Smith; she just shook her head, what was Brigatti preparing for World War III? She stopped and heard movement in the living room, then the booming bark of Brigatti's 10mm; she closed her eyes and just for a second tried to believe that this was a dream or a movie or something other that real life. But it didn't go away, and her friend was in trouble, so she went to do what she could. She opened the door just a crack and saw Brigatti next to the bathroom door, kneeling with the gun trained down the hall towards the living room. She opened the door a bit more and started tossing the extra clips for the Smith past Brigatti and into the bathroom.
Suddenly there were what sounded like coughs coming from the living room, and the air above the two women was filled with lead. Brigatti dove into the bathroom yelling "God I hate machine guns". Meredith eased back, leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar and standing up, moved back against the wall so she could see into the hallway between the jamb and the back of the door.
The thugs had only heard the one gun, so they figured that there was only one person. They moved down the hallway firing to cover their movement, trying to get a shot into the bathroom where they had seen Brigatti dive. Meredith waited until she could see at least three of them and then, crouching down, opened up with the Colt. As the would-be killers turned to respond to her attack, Brigatti leaned out of the bathroom and tore them to pieces. The shear volume of sound pummeled Meredith's ears; she could not even hear herself scream. Suddenly, there was silence, almost as loud as the shooting. As her sensereturned, Meredith could hear things, sounds she could not identify. One was a bubbling sound, like a kid blowing through a straw into a milkshake; the other was a deep moan, like trees in the wind. She looked out the door and almost puked. There were four bodies there, all covered in blood. Two were obviously dead, parts their heads were missing; the third was slumped against the wall with an incredulous look on his face and four holes in his chest. The fourth was the source of one of the noises, he had been hit in the lungs and the air rushing in and out made that horrid sound that she had heard. The groaning was coming from the living room.
The problem the ladies faced was simply this, they had no idea how many people there were. Was this all, dare they risk it, should they try to make a break for it, was a survivor calling for re-enforcements; they didn't know so they couldn't move. At least they couldn't try to leave, but that didn't mean they couldn't try to add to their arsenal.
"Carson, try to get one of those M-16's" Brigatti hissed.
"No problem, you OK?"
"I caught one in the leg, ricochet, but it's not deep, just hurts like hell; you?"
"I'm fine" Meredith said. She leaned out, and was trying to pry a rifle from one of the dead guys, when she heard the coughing sound again, then the lights went out.
Brigatti looked up in time from bandaging her leg to see Meredith jerk and go down. Go down and not move. The detective felt sick in her gut, the person she was supposed to be protecting was hurt, maybe dead; and right now there was nothing she could do about it. The only wound she could see was a crease in the other woman's scalp. Brigatti hoped that that was the only one and that Meredith was still alive; well, better make sure they both stayed alive. Shifting her gun to her left hand, she stuck it out the door and emptied the clip down the hall, not even aiming, just fanning the gun back and forth to cover as much of the hallway as possible. She was rewarded with two screams and some more machine gun fire. She slapped another clip into the Smith and listened.
She knew they'd be coming again; her first priority was making sure Meredith survived, and lying in the hallway was not a way to do that. Sticking the gun out the door with her left hand again, she emptied the clip in the hopes that it would keep the creeps heads down for a second or two. Then she dashed out of the bathroom and dove towards the bedroom and where Meredith lay. Brigatti had bought herself some time, but not enough. She had picked up Meredith enough to get a grip and was pulling her into the bedroom, when one of the killers let fly with a shotgun. Brigatti caught some pellets in her right shoulder and arm; a consequence of this being that she dropped her gun. She was still pulling the other woman when the rest of the thugs grew some balls and started shooting. One bullet creased Brigatti's back and she gasped in pain but finally managed to get Meredith out of the open. Brigatti kicked the door shut, and hauled Meredith out of the way, getting her as safe as possible. Toni could feel her consciousness slipping; she was losing a lot of blood. She looked around the room for something to fight back with when she saw the old Colt and the spare clips on the floor. Slowly, because her right hand wasn't working that well, she reloaded the .45 and waited. One of the guys had more guts than brains and kicked open the door and started shooting. Toni dropped him with two to the head; but she could hear more of them in the hall and she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. The room became darker, and sounds more distant; she sagged onto the bed as her eyes closed. Distantly she heard a fusillade of shots, 'goodbye Hobson' she thought, and lost the fight to stay conscious.
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Gary was practically terrorizing the ER at Cook County Hospital. He had been brought there from McGinty's, but this was not where he wanted to be. He had been checked out by the Emergency Room doctor and his ribs were bandaged. It hurt when he took a deep breath, but it wasn't anything he couldn't live with, now he was waiting for Dr. Grant to come down and evaluate his concussion. Brent was awake, but a lot more groggy, and occasionally Gary would help the kid out by getting things for him or reading articles out of year old magazines. But most of his time was spent trying to find out what was going on with Brigatti. Every cop that wandered through was subjected to a severe third degree, the ones guarding Ted Walters had offered to shoot Gary if he bugged them one more time and the duty nurse had threatened to sedate him more than five times already. It was killing him, he didn't have the paper, he didn't know what was happening, he couldn't find out if she was dead or alive. 'You've got to have faith' Rachel had told him a long time ago, but sometimes that was easier said than done.
"You're going to wear out the linoleum if you keep this up Mr. Hobson."
Gary spun at the familiar sound of Dr. Grant's voice "I've got to get out of here doc."
"Yes, I'm sure you do. I recall what a model patient you've always been Mr. Hobson, nice to see that some things indeed never change. Well then, up on the bed, you should know the drill by now."
As Gary was situating himself, the nurse came up "does he need a sedative doctor" she asked, shooting Gary a rather hard look.
"Not right now, thank you nurse, but I won't rule it out just yet."
Dr. Grant examined Gary and found him to be relatively alright. "As much as I hate to say this Mr. Hobson, you should be discharged. You suffered a mild concussion, but I don't see that as sufficient reason to hold you here."
As Gary was getting dressed, he went over to where Dr. Grant was examining Brent. "Will he be OK?"
Dr. Grant looked up "I would have thought you'd be gone by now."
"He's an employee and a friend" Gary explained.
Dr. Grant nodded slightly "he should be fine, but I want to keep him here for a day or two, sometimes head trauma can get bad on you very quickly."
"What about his eye?"
"Well, we'll have to have a specialist look at it, but he should retain full function. He may need a corrective lens or something for it, but it should still work."
"Fine, whatever he needs, you just send the bill to me. Oh, and thanks doc."
Dr. Grant looked up, "I'm compelled to ask Mr. Hobson, is there anyone in this city that you don't care about?"
Gary gave him a wry little grin "I haven't met one yet" and left the doctor to his work.
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Armstrong couldn't believe what he was seeing. There were bodies and blood everywhere. It looked like a movie or a bad training film, because carnage like this just doesn't occur, at least not outside a war zone. As he looked around, he saw two men, both armed and both saw him at the same time he saw them. One of the uniforms screamed 'FREEZE' but it was too late. The two guys opened up and the police answered. When the shooting stopped, one of the uniforms was hit, but alive and the two guys weren't moving. Armstrong carried the wounded man out and told the other to start collecting weapons and seeing who was alive and who was dead. He got out to his car and called for back-up and ambulances, lots and lots of ambulances.
Marissa heard the horror in his voice, and could smell the coppery tang of blood "are Toni and Meredith OK?"
"Marissa, I need you to help out Officer Phillips here while I go find some answers."
"But"
"No time, he needs first aid and you're all I've got. He's shot in the leg and gut, just put pressure on it and keep him talking, I've got to go back in there."
Marissa just nodded and worked her way around the car and knelt down beside the wounded man. She kept up a conversation with him, but her mind was on her friends, and whether they were still alive. In her mind she prayed.
As Armstrong made it back into the house, the uniform grabbed him and said, "you've got to see this".
Walking down that hallway was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He needed to see what had happened, but he was afraid of the answers.
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Gary was just finishing the paperwork for himself and Brent when the ER seemed to go nuts. A doctor was in the middle of the room yelling. "We've got ten gunshot victims headed this way, I need OR's one through four on standby, and any extra set of hands down here. I don't care if you're a podiatrist, every pair of trained hands is crucial. We'll do triage right here" he said indicating the lobby, "and let's get all these people out of here. The nurses were scrambling to set up the treatment rooms, and Gary and the two cops guarding Ted were put to work carrying things and escorting the other ER patients to another area. While he was working, Gary caught snippets of conversation.
'Was it a gang war?'
'I heard it was a raid on a militia group'
'Someone said they were terrorists'
'I heard some cops were ambushed'
Then the ambulances started to pull up and all speculation ended.