Day 19-3
Everything goes almost right, at least until Micheals comes back in through the door.
Jimmy is off the chair so fast, I don't think anyone realizes what is happening. Definitely not Micheals, because he has no time to react before Chief is on top of him, hands on his throat.
Shit! I take the chance and go after the agent closest to me. One quick move, and his H&K is in my hands. I knock out two of the others with the stock. Rolling clear, several bullets throw dirt off the floor around me. Back on my feet in a flash, I slam Darrel with the weapon. Then I am beside Jimmy, and the H&K points into Micheals face.
"Call 'em off!"
He can't, because Chief has got him just about to turn blue.
"Let go, Jimmy!...Damn it, I said let go!" I don't know why in the hell I am yelling at him, but pulling back on his shoulder sure doesn't help.
He just tightens his grip around Micheals' throat.
"Stay back, or your boss here is dead meat," I warn, unsure how many of the agents are actually on Micheals' side. "Jimmy!" I lock one hand in a death-grip around his wrist, never taking an eye off the others. "Jimmy!"
Finally he lets up, and I am not sure for a moment whether it was in time or not.
Then Micheals starts coughing and gasping for air.
"You goddamn..." The rest is cut off because he doesn't have enough breath yet.
"Get up! Tell your boys to put their guns down, or I'll blow your fuckin' head off," I order from between gritted teeth, dead serious, the gun in his face and ready to carry out the threat.
Chief moves aside, but barely enough to give Micheals room to get to his feet
"Just do it!" he hisses toward the other agents. "You're going to regret this, Riggin."
"I don't think so….Jimmy!" Getting his attention isn't easy because he refuses to look away from Micheals for even a second. Gees, I'd sure like to know what's going on between them two? "Damn it, Jimmy, look at me!" I pull him around, rougher than intended, earning myself a withering glare. "Help me out here, will ya? I need you to get Cut and Harless loose, understood?"
Another hard look toward Micheals, then he finally gives me a nod.
"Not quite all there, is he?" Micheals sneers, and I am definitely glad Jimmy can't hear it. I doubt that anyone could pull him off the guy's throat for a second time.
"Are you really nuts, or just plain stupid?" I ask madder'n hell.
"Guess he don't know him too well after all, huh, Chase?" Cut is free and steps beside me, handing me one of our .45s.
"Apparently not," I agree, sticking the Llama back behind my belt. "Cut, take care of that bunch over there."
"My pleasure. All of 'em?"
"Not sure. I think Sawyer ain't in on it, but tie all of the others up, just in case. Oh, and, Cut, the thumbs not the wrists. Right?"
"Right!" He grins roguishly, then goes to work like he actually enjoys it—I figure he does.
"Sergeant," Harless now comes over, "I really didn't know...Jesus Christ, George," he turns to Micheals, "what in the world are you into this time?"
"None of your fucking business, you bible-thumping son-of-a-bitch," Micheals screams back at him. "Thought I'm just your average everyday lapdog, didn't you? Well, let me tell you something, Agent big-shot Harless, you can stick your loyalty and patriotism so far up your ass, that it..."
"Shut the hell up!" I yell at him even louder. "One more word, and I'll forget that I'm a soldier of the United States Army. It's bastards like you that get us killed, leaving our asses hanging out to dry, while we're sticking them in the wind for our country."
"Beautiful speech, Sergeant," Micheals scorns despite my warning. "And it's jerks like you and that fucking red-skinned bastard over there, that..."
He doesn't get any further, because I have had all I could take. So it'll cost me my rank, but it's worth it. My fist lands dead square against his jaw, his head snaps up, his eyes roll back, and he drops like a wet rag.
"Jesus Christ, Sergeant!" Harless gasps.
"Sorry, Sir," I answer, shaking my hand since I had felt a couple of knuckles crack with the punch.
"Good shot, Chase!" At least Cut admires the action. "Want me to tie him up, too?"
"Yeah, we better. Sorry, Harless, but I'm through taking chances."
"That's all right, Sergeant. I understand. Guess he has a lot of explaining to do."
"Damn right, man," Cut grumbles. "Seems sometimes you don't know people as well as you think, huh, Chase?"
I know exactly what he is actually getting at. He sure ain't talking just about Micheals. I glance over at Jimmy. Man, that bastard beat the hell out of 'im. Bet anything, that cheekbone is cracked.
"Sergeant," Harless breaks my thought again, "you said earlier, you sent a message to someone. May I ask whom?"
Boy, is he polite all of the sudden. "Sir, I am not at the liberty to tell you that at this time," I answer equally polite, and Cut snickers. "Let me just say this much, there are some people on the way up here to take care of the matter. According to my calculation, they should arrive at any time."
"Yeah," Cut is still smirking, "betcha Buck's already found 'em."
"Who?" Harless looks confused.
"Buck, my dog," I state matter-of-factly. "I sent him to warn them when we got tangled up with your boys there." I nod toward the group of tied-up agents, receiving a whole lot of angry stares in return. Only Sawyer grins back—understandable, considering he isn't tied.
"It seems, there are several of them that are George's boys instead of mine, doesn't it, Sergeant?" Harless muses thoughtfully.
"Sure does, man," Cut grumbles again. "Damn, do you even know which ones you can trust?"
"Well, to be honest, Gary is the only one I'm sure of right now," Harless admits, indicating Sawyer. "The others? Jesus, I thought we were all on the same side."
"Big mistake, huh?" Cut grins.
#####
Jimmy has paid no kind of attention to our whole conversation. He is watching Micheals like a hawk, even though the guy is tied up and sleeping peacefully at the moment. He hasn't bothered to wipe any of the blood off his face either, but the bear-claws sure are back around his neck.
Boy, Micheals really fucked up on that point. I think Jimmy can take just about anything, except someone messing with that necklace. I probably oughta check his eye, but he sure don't look like he'd appreciate any company right now. Better leave 'im alone. Just gotta watch, 'cause he is fiddlin' with that damn Bowie, and if Micheals wakes up and starts running his mouth...no tellin' what Jimmy's gonna do.
"Hey, Cut?" I follow my own line of thought.
"Yeah, man?"
"Can I get an honest answer from you about something?"
"Depends, Chase."
"On what?"
"On the question," he smiles crooked.
"Well, I was just wondering...seemed to me, you's surprised too, that Jimmy and Micheals know each other."
"Sure as hell was. And that's the God's-honest truth, if that's what your question is."
"That's it, Cut. So you didn't know either?" I still push the issue.
"Damn it, NO!" he snaps irritated. "But I'm sure dyin' to find out a little more about it. Looks like Jimmy really pissed Micheals off, at one time or another. Think I'll go have a little chat with 'im about it. What you think?"
"I think he ain't much in a mood for that right now. Better wait a while, Cut."
"Perhaps I am able to shed a little light on the matter, Sergeant," Harless breaks in, to our surprise.
"Sir?"
"Thought you didn't know about it either?" Cut squints suspiciously.
"Well," Harless hesitates, "I didn't. But what I gathered from George's remarks...I think I have the situation pretty much figured out."
"Oh, yeah?" Cut squints harder.
"Yes! Just one question...going by your reaction when I mentioned Oklahoma..."
"That's where me and Jimmy's from," Cut admits.
"Thought so. You sure sound like it," Harless continues, and Cut frowns because he is a little touchy when it comes to remarks about his accent. "Anyhow," Harless rubs his chin, "the way I put it together, seems it all has to do with a questionable incident about six years ago, involving agents from our department. You have to understand, the matter was handled pretty hush-hush, so I am not certain of the exact details. But I know it concerned Reservation land, and a conspiracy to open several hundred acres of it for illegal dumping. It really dawned on me, when you said your friend could read lips."
"Huh?" Cut squints confused.
"Well," Harless gets thoughtful, "I always figured it was just a rumor, but apparently it is true. Seems George got in trouble at one time over a videotape from a security camera. You might know that there is no sound on these tapes, just video. But it is possible to interpret what is being said, at least for someone who is very skilled at reading lips."
"Holy shit!" Cut's eyes widen. "Damn, Chase, if he's right...wait a minute..." He gets up and quickly walks over to Chief. "Jimmy?" he lays a hand on his shoulder, and I am surprised when he actually manages to get Chief's attention. "Just one question. Is he the bastard who shot Steve?" Cut asks, dead serious, with a motion toward Micheals.
Jimmy gives him a brusque nod, then goes back to staring.
"Gees," Cut exhales a long breath on the way back over. "That sure explains it."
"Care to fill me in?" I pull up an eyebrow.
"Well, Chase," he squints, "remember that time I called, and told you 'bout Steve getting killed?"
"Sure do."
"Micheals is the one who did it."
"Are you positive?" I ask hard.
"No doubt about it now, man. It all fits. Just took me a little while, and some help from Mister Harless here, to figure it out. Jimmy worked for Steve, right?"
"For what you told me..."
"Yeah! And when Steve come across that tape he showed it to Jimmy, and he could tell what was bein' said."
"And Jimmy ends up turning in Micheals, after the bastard caps Steve," I fill in the next part.
"Right! And Micheals is still pissed, 'cause he ended up in the slammer for it."
"Just one thing wrong, Cut."
"What's that?"
"How the hell did he get out so quick? He said, Jimmy cost him three years of his life. Three years? Sounds like kind of a mild sentence, don't it?"
"Sergeant," Harless breaks in, looking pale, "are you saying that George might be responsible for someone's death?"
"Might be? My ass!" Cut snaps in my place. "Apparently you're still watching George over there through rose-colored glasses. Let me enlighten you a little. Jimmy's brother, Steve, was killed in cold blood. Shot in the back at point-blank range."
"Oh, good Lord!" Harless turns even paler.
"For what I know," Cut continues cold, "there was a meeting set up on that particular day, between Steve and a Government Agent, concerning that damn tape. And only three people knew about it."
"Let me guess," Harless has recovered, "your friend, his brother and George, right?"
"Right!" Cut confirms. "By the way, Jimmy's my cousin."
"Oh, no!" Harless sighs. "But what I don't understand, if George really had anything to do with this whole mess, how did he get out of it? Why wasn't the matter pursued in court?"
"Good question," I agree. "How about we ask him that? Looks like the little love-tap I gave 'im is startin' to wear off."
"Looks like," Cut grins. "Guess we better get Jimmy occupied with somethin' else, before Micheals opens his big mouth and lands himself in more trouble."
"No, shit!" I roll my eyes. "Think you could talk him into cleaning up his face, while Harless and me try to get some answers from Micheals?"
"I'n give it a shot, Chase."
"Excuse me, Sir?" Sawyer interrupts gingerly, squinting at Harless.
"What is it, Gary?"
"Well, Sir, the guys were just wondering what's going on?"
I glance over at the group of agents. Apparently our conversation has taken too long, and they are starting to get impatient.
"Just tell them to sit tight," Harless instructs. "I will explain everything, as soon as I get a few little details straight with Agent Micheals."
"But, Sir..." Sawyer starts to object.
"Damn it, Gary, I have enough trouble on my hands as it is. Don't you turn on me, too."
"I won't, Sir. I was just wondering." He squirms uneasy. "Sir, I don't think Weaver and Lucas have anything to do with it."
"Look, Gary," Harless rubs his forehead, "I would very much like to believe that none of our men have anything to do with what's going on. But I can't afford to take that chance right now. You saw what happened..."
He is interrupted when Micheals lets out a scream. Shit! We haven't been paying attention, and apparently he and Chief got into it. At least that is what it looks like, considering Jimmy has the Bowie knife against Micheals' Adam's apple and a flare of rage on his face.
Cut and I react at the same instant, jumping over there and grabbing a hold of Jimmy's wrist. Good thing too, because it takes both of us to pull his arm back. Chief is breathing hard between clenched teeth, refusing to let go of the knife until Cut twists his hand to a point where he has no choice in the matter. Damn, does he get a look! Then Jimmy pushes to his feet and walks out the door, without any kind of further reaction.
"Jesus Christ the Almighty!" Harless gasps. "What in God's name did you say to him, George?"
Micheals doesn't answer. He is staring blank, trembling like a leaf in the wind.
"Damn, Chase," Cut mutters, "I gotta go after Jimmy..."
"You do that!" I answer hard. "Calm him down, damn it, before we end up with this jerk here dead on our hands."
He gives me a quick nod and hustles out the door.
"Micheals!" I kneel down and shake his shoulders. "Micheals, snap the hell out of it!"
He blinks a couple of times, then looks at me, getting a cynical sneer on his face.
"Let me talk to him, Sergeant. Please?" Harless requests calmly.
Too calm for my taste. "Okay, have at it. But I'm telling you, the first foul word out of his mouth, and I send him back to la-la-land. Got it?"
"Yes!…George?" He kneels down as well, and I move aside a little. "George, listen to me. Shut up and just listen," he barks when Micheals starts to say something. "Now look, man, there are a whole lot of things going on here, and I need some explanations."
"What the fuck are you looking at me for?" Micheals hisses. "You goddamn better cut me loose, Dan, or I swear I'm gonna..."
"Shut it, George!" Harless roars. "Shut it, or I'll turn that Indian loose on you again and..."
"That goddamn son-of-a-bitch," Micheals cuts him off. "Should've blown his fucking brains out when I had the chance. He's nothing but a..."
"Micheals!" I reach for the Llama and point it at his forehead.
"Put the gun away, Sergeant. I'll handle this," Harless growls from between gritted teeth. "George, one more word and I'll forget who you are. Now…" he pushes my gun-hand aside and takes a deep breath, then continues, "I have a couple of questions, and I want some straight answers."
"What do you want to know, Dan?" Micheals appears compliant all of the sudden.
"First of all," Harless squints suspiciously, "what do you know about chemical agents being dumped in this area? And second, what is going on between you and the Indian?"
"First, nothing! And second, not a fucking thing! Now get out of my face!" Micheals snaps derisively, and Harless flinches.
"Look, George," he tries again, "I can't help you, if you are not willing to cooperate."
"I don't need your goddamn help, Dan," Micheals screams, and the veins on his forehead swell. "You want to do a good deed, cut me loose and give me back my gun, so I can..."
"Enough!" Harless yells, and now he looks like he is ready to punch Micheals' lights out. "You leave me no choice, but to turn you over to the authorities, George," he continues calmer. "I am sorry, but if that's the way you want it..."
"You and your goddamn authorities," Micheals sneers. "Just see how far you get with them. Fucked them once, I can do it again, but this time..." He cuts himself off, apparently realizing that he has already said too much.
"How did you get out of the murder charges?" Harless puts things together quickly.
"Sure would like to know that, wouldn't you, Dan? Why don't you just ask that fucking Injun you are so fond of ? I'm sure he would be happy to tell you." He snickers like a mad-man again, then turns his head away from us.
"Jesus Christ, Sergeant!" Harless straightens and I do the same. "I think he has really lost his mind. Look, I have to go talk to my men. Don't worry, I will not turn any of them loose until this matter is resolved. Trust me! Perhaps you should speak with your friend. Tell him, I promise that George is held accountable for his actions. But explain to him, that I cannot allow him to take matters into his own hands. Think you can do that?"
"I'll try, Sir," I promise, a little unconvinced. "But I have to warn you. Keep Micheals quiet, or I don't guarantee for anything."
"Fair enough. I'll do my best."