Beautiful Noise

by You're Those Guys

Mark and Milt are up to their ears in a complicated investigation of stolen merchandise and weapons.

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 31

Two days passed without any more attempts on their lives. In fact, they were able to develop a more semi-relaxed routine at the estate. Mark made breakfast, the Judge made lunch, both helped with supper. It was almost business as usual for them. Once, Milt came down for breakfast, Mark was standing at the stove cooking bacon and staring at it with an odd look on his face. Milt watched for a moment, then announced his entrance by turning the lights off and on. Other than that one instance, the judge noticed that Mark was far less tense, irritated or frustrated. Maybe it was the fact that surgery was more of a "definite" rather than an "if" that let him relax a bit. Maybe even trashing the gatehouse had helped him vent. Maybe getting to exercise some driving skills in a high-speed chase was the answer. Whatever it was, Mark was doing chores inside the main house with a relative ease about him. He didn't complain about being cooped up in the house instead of being able to go to the gatehouse or even doing yard work.

Part of it was because they had more of a game plan, something to work for instead of just reacting to the bad guys' actions.

Yet, Milt thought that the less-tense atmosphere wouldn't last.

At supper, Mark brought up something right out of the blue. "Judge, that attorney we met, the deaf one, he had the surgery, right?"

"YES."

"It didn't work," was Mark's almost dejected answer.

"NO. DOESN'T WORK ALL THE TIME."

Mark shoved his food around his plate. "Think he'd mind if I talked to him about it?"

Milt pulled out his wallet and found Dorger's card. "I'LL GIVE HIM A CALL."

OOOOO

One the third day after Kerns' attempt to run them off the road, a new development in the case came to light. The pictures were proving to be worth their weight in gold. There was nothing better than new evidence to blow the case wide open. It was early in the morning when Harper called up Hardcastle and told him he had stayed late at the office the night before to go over every inch of every photo for any bit of information he had.

"It's been a slow go, Milt. The explosion did some damage, but they're giving me the pictures as soon as they get them developed. They were able to salvage a few more pictures than they initially thought. This last batch they sent are pretty sharp. Get this, they're of the workbench. You know, if your and Mark's crime busting ever comes to an end, he could seriously think about going into photography. These are the ones we've been waiting on. How about coming down here and giving me a hand?

"I don't know, Frank. We've got a guest coming sometime today, and to be honest, I don't feel like giving the bad guys us as a target again. Things have settled down a bit. I'm not sure dragging McCormick out is the best thing."

"He's got total protection, and I could use another set of eyes on this thing. The chief isn't convinced this goes as high as you and I think it does, and he says with all the protection you two have, he's not willing to give me any more manpower. Whatta ya say?"

Hardcastle looked over to McCormick who was watching the highlights of the ballgame on a morning news show. "Let me ask him." He set the phone down wrote down the note. "FRANK WANTS ME DOWNTOWN, DO YOU WANT TO STAY HERE OR COME WITH? HE WANTS TO GO OVER THE NEW PICTURES WITH A FINE TOOTH COMB."

"Nah, I'll stay here. Besides, me and Officer Lafferty are going to play cribbage. He thinks I've never played before, and don't tell him I have. You just make sure you've got your police escort and that shotgun handy."

'YOU'RE SURE?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine, go ahead. Anyway, no one's tried to kill us for a few days. Maybe they gave up on the donkey hunt, huh? You know, moved on to more pressing international killing sprees, assassinating dictators, you know, that higher profile sort of thing?"

"FUNNY." Milt went back to the phone. "Okay, Frank, I'll be down in a while. Let me make sure everyone's in place here."

OOOOO

They spent the first hour or so with magnifying glasses practically glued to their eyeballs scouring the photos over and over again.

Frank finally spotted something. "Oh, yeah, I think I just found it."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"See this?" He slid over a photo toward Milt. "Look at the corner of the address label on there."

The picture wasn't blurry, but the logo was a bit small. "Frank, what the hell am I looking at?"

"It's a double GG logo. Right there." Harper suddenly was animated.

"That's a double GG?" Hardcastle's cast his suspicion.

"Maybe you need to get your eyes checked, Milt. This is the same logo used by one of the charities that U.S. Exporters delivers for. I did some checking with some friends of mine at the FBI. It's the logo for a shell business run by a paramilitary group that is actually run under the Federal Government. That's The Greater Good."

"Paramilitary front? That's just our luck. So it's not a charity."

"Not really, but it gets listed as doing some charitable works so the governments give it that classification. And if that's what this is all about, you and Mark really stumbled into the eye of the tiger. U.S. Exporters being a paramilitary group and having a government contract to ship almost anywhere, add in the fact that charities can get you into areas that no government can and boom. They're running free and clear. Basically, even though these guys are so-called Feds, they do whatever they want, whenever they want and however they want. And they have the full protection of our own government behind them."

Milt was busy eyeing up the so-called logo. "I guess I had my doubts that was what we were dealing with."

"Nah, you were hoping that wasn't what you were dealing with. Anyway, they exist right in our own back yard. The worst part is that even if we can take some of them down, they'll probably start right back up."

Milt leaned back in his chair. "Any ideas?"

"Yeah. I'm turning this over to some people I trust in the FBI. This is too big for us, and my jurisdiction ends at the city limits. Once it's in the hands of the proper authorities, maybe that'll take the heat off you and Mark."

"Then who do they go after?" Milt asked, already knowing the answer. "Okay, you take it from here, Frank. Let us know if we can do anything else. I want to be at the house when Dorger arrives."

"Who's Dorger?" Frank asked as he put all the pictures into the file.

"He's an attorney who lost his hearing in Vietnam. He had the same diagnosis McCormick does, but his surgery didn't work. He offered to talk to Mark if he wanted to."

"And Mark wants to? Isn't that sort of, well, dark? Wouldn't you rather have him talking with someone who had it done successfully?"

"Yeah, of course I would, but once McCormick makes his mind up about something, he dives right in. He wants the whole story. What can I say?"

"I'd say take him in today and have them fix him up and get on with your lives."

"Once we think we're in the clear, he'll schedule the surgery. He's worried that maybe it won't work and he'll be deaf from now on. I think he wants a better idea of what to expect if it isn't." Milt looked at his watch and noticed how much time had gone by. "I'd better get back. Lafferty's probably tired of losing all those games of cribbage by now."

Chapter 32

"Five games, Lafferty?" Milt asked, trying not to grin.

"He picked up on the game very quickly, Your Honor."

Yeah, right. It was all Milt could do to not laugh. It wasn't difficult when he saw Mark's straight face and simple shrug. The kid could play cards like nobody's business and usually win every pot in a game. Milt still hadn't figured out how he did that.

"Okay, you might want to get out of here while you haven't lost your shirt," he told the officer. After Lafferty left, Milt wrote out, "YOU DIDN'T LET HIM WIN EVEN ONE?"

"Yeah. When he thought he was teaching me the game, I did. Two whole games, Hardcase. Then I won the next five. Told him it was beginner's luck."

Milt was happy to see the chow-eating grin back on McCormick's face. Actually, it was good to see him not be depressed anymore. The last few weeks had been hard for him, and, like Milt had told Frank, Mark needed time to deal with the problems instead of having everything dumped on him all at once.

"Wanna play a game?" Mark offered, holding up the deck of cards in one hand.

Milt was about to decline when the doorbell rang. He shook his head, held up his hands to let McCormick know that their guests had arrived, and walked over to the front door. There were the Dorgers, both the Mister and the Mrs. along with a police escort.

"The Dorgers," the officer said.

"Thanks. Please, come in. Excuse the armed guards. We had a bit of trouble," the Judge explained.

Mr. Dorger shook the Judge's hand. "Judge Hardcastle, nice to see you again," Mr. Dorger said.

"You, too. Mrs. Dorger," he greeted her as he shook her hand as well.

"Thank you for inviting us," Mrs. Dorger said. "I'm quite pleased you called, and please call me Delores. This is Cliff."

"I hope we're not inconveniencing you. Things have changed a little bit, and they can move the surgery up. Mark knows the odds, but he needs to hear every angle on this," the Judge said. "That's why he asked me if I'd call you so you could talk to him, tell him the truth, you know?"

Cliff had been reading Milt's lips. "I understand. You should hear it too, Judge. I think you need to know what might lie in store for him."

"If you're sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all, believe me, I wish I'd have had someone like me to talk with back then," he paused and added, "Besides, have pad, will travel." He pulled out a steno pad. "Lead the way."

Hardcastle led him into the den, and finding no Mark, led them into the kitchen where the young man was fixing himself a glass of lemonade. Milt turned the lights off and on once, and Mark turned his head toward them. He gave their visitors a little wave and then lifted the container of lemonade in a silent offer. He came over and joined them at a table as the Judge got three more glasses so they could all have a drink.

Mark stuck out his hand and said, "Mr. Dorger, Mrs. Dorger, thanks for coming out. I hope you don't mind us wanting to talk to you."

"MY PLEASURE MARK, I'M GLAD YOU HAD THE JUDGE CALL ME, AND PLEASE, IT'S CLIFF, MY WIFE'S DELORES. AND WE DON'T MIND IN THE LEAST."

"Sorry we couldn't go meet you. We've had a bit of trouble, and the police don't want us in an open area. I know you began to tell the Judge about your experience, and I was hoping you'd give me an idea of what I might be facing."

Cliff gave him an apologetic smile. 'MARK, EVERYONE'S SITUATION IS DIFFERENT, I SIMPLY WANTED TO SHOW YOU THE OTHER SIDE. MY WIFE CHASTIZED ME FOR BEING RUDE IN THE RESTAURANT THE OTHER DAY," he laughed. "SO I AM GLAD YOU CALLED AND GAVE ME A CHANCE TO APOLOGIZE. SHE SAID I SHOULD NEVER TAKE AWAY SOMEONE'S HOPE. AND I AM SORRY IF I DID THAT."

"You didn't. And its okay, I understand. Now, I think I do. It was a bit soon for us to be out and about after the accident, I think. I wasn't pleasant company then."

Cliff looked over to Milt and apologized to him as well for putting him in such an awkward position.

"Water under the bridge, Cliff. Don't worry about it."

"MARK, THE GOOD NEWS IS THAT MOST OF THE SURGERIES, NEARLY 85 PERCENT, ARE SUCCESSFUL FOR CONDUCTIVE DEAFNESS, SO YOUR ODDS ARE VERY GOOD."

"The doctors want to operate. They say the swelling has gone down enough to perform it."

'WHO'S THE SURGEON?"

Mark and Milt both laughed, "Doctor Guthrie and Doctor Pepper."

Cliff joined in and quickly wrote down. "DON'T YOU WANT TO ASK HIM IF HIS FIRST NAME IS IMA?" He laughed and they immediately joined in. "SERIOUSLY, I'VE MET THEM BOTH. PEPPER'S AN EXPERT IN THIS FIELD. GUTHRIE IS AN EXCELLENT SURGEON. YOU'RE IN THE VERY BEST OF HANDS. YOU SHOULD BE VERY CONFIDENT."

"I am, but I guess part of me wants to know what the fifteen percent of the equation might be like."

"NO SUGAR-COATING. IT'S NOT EASY, BUT IT IS ONLY ONE OF THE SENSES MARK, YOU STILL HAVE FOUR VERY POWERFUL SENSES."

"We've been trying to learn to a few bits of sign language. I've gone through that book a few times, but it can be slow." Mark signed out the sentence as he spoke.

"THAT'S VERY GOOD. IT'S EASY TO LEARN NOUNS AND LETTERS ON YOUR OWN. THAT'S A BIG HELP WHEN YOU TAKE CLASSES BECAUSE YOU'LL BOTH NEED SOME PROFESSIONAL SCHOOLING FOR ACTUAL CONVERSATION, AND THERE'S LIP-READING TO LEARN TOO. BUT YOU'LL BE SURPRISED AT HOW FAST YOU PICK IT ALL UP. BELIEVE ME, THERE'S ALL SORTS OF GIZMOS AND GADGETS OUT THESE DAYS TO MAKE LIFE MORE LIKE LIFE AS YOU KNOW IT." Cliff spoke as he wrote, so Hardcastle heard what he was writing. "BUT THE JUDGE IS RIGHT, THERE'S NO NEED TO PUT THE CART BEFORE THE HORSE. WAIT FOR THE SURGERY."

"Do you know others who have had successful surgery?"

"OF COURSE, I CAN PUT YOU BOTH IN TOUCH WITH THEM IF YOU WANT. I CAN TELL YOU'RE APPREHENSIVE ABOUT THE SURGERY, BUT THERE'S NO NEED TO BE. BASICALLY MARK, IT'S NOT GOING TO BE THE END OF ANYTHING, IT'LL SIMPLY BE A CHANGE OF DIRECTION."

"So what happened with you?"

"I LOST MY HEARING IN NAM, CAME BACK HERE, WAS TOLD ABOUT THE SURGERY AND I'D HEAR AGAIN. WHEN I WOKE UP, I WAS LYING IN THE RECOVERY ROOM, AND I DIDN'T HEAR A THING. I THINK THAT WAS WHEN IT REALLY ALL CAME CRASHING DOWN ON ME. THE DOCTORS DIDN'T EVEN APOLOGIZE FOR GETTING MY HOPES UP. THEY JUST SAID THE SURGERY DIDN'T WORK AND TO GO ABOUT MY BUSINESS. NOT MUCH OF A BEDSIDE MANNER. TIMES HAVE REALLY CHANGED."

"Must have been rough to wake up like that."

"IT WAS. I FELT LIKE MY GUT HAD BEEN KICKED IN. IF THEY HAD TOLD ME THAT THERE WAS A CHANCE I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HEAR, I THINK I COULD HAVE TAKEN IT BETTER."

"Would you have still had the surgery?"

"ABSOLUTELY. IT WAS A CHANCE, BUT AT THE TIME, I THOUGHT IT WAS A SURE THING."

"I have a lot of thinking to do don't I?"

"SOME. I THINK IT'S BETTER TO KNOW ALL THE OUTCOMES BUT NO MATTER WHAT, YOU HAVE A LOT OF LIVING TO DO NO MATTER IF YOU GET YOUR HEARING BACK OR IF YOU'RE DEAF FROM NOW ON. HANG IN THERE, I'LL BE GLAD TO HELP OUT IN ANYWAY I CAN. MY WIFE CAN TELL YOU MORE. SHE HAD THE HARD PART."

Mark looked over at Mrs. Dorger who was sipping her lemonade and allowing the men to talk. She spoke and signed at the same time while Cliff wrote out what she said so Mark could understand.

"Cliff and I were always very vocal people. We loved to sing, yell at baseball games, we'd call each other all over the house. I'd yell at him when he left his socks in the floor. We were loud. It was fun. When he came back from Vietnam and couldn't hear, I had no idea what to expect. At first, I had to stop myself from calling him or yelling at him for doing things like leaving his socks on the floor. He couldn't hear me. It was very frustrating. I'm just guessing, but I think Judge Hardcastle has gone through some of that himself since this happened to you."

Mark glanced at Milt who nodded his head. "Yeah, I had finally told him to yell at me one day when I trashed the gate house. I just couldn't deal with the politeness anymore, and I kind of lost it. It's like he was walking on eggshells around me, and that's not us. Never was. Heck, we insult each other, yell at each other, joke and that all just kind of stopped. I didn't like it."

Delores nodded her head. "I know. One day, I'd just had it. It was something very simple. He'd eaten what was left of the potato chips and left the bag on the coffee table. There he was, in the same room, me yelling at him and he couldn't hear a word I said. In all honesty, I think it made us both feel better. Then we were told about the surgery." Delores paused for a moment. "We were told he'd hear again. One doctor in particular was certain of it. Cliff checked into the hospital, but when he woke up, he still couldn't hear anything. The surgeon came in later and said the surgery didn't work and then turned and left. Very callous, very cold and without an explanation."

"What did you do?" Mark asked.

"We put our lives back together after that. We signed up for a sign language class. They gave us a book of hand signals to look over. We taught ourselves the alphabet and a few nouns. We even had a few hand motions that were ours alone. He learned to read lips, and we learned new ways to communicate. Like how the judge turned the lights on and off when we came in to let you know we were in the room. We do that as well." She waited while Mark read everything Cliff wrote out.

"But he can't hear you if you yell at him. We've had a few issues with that," Mark told her.

"No, he can't hear me yelling at him, but he knows when I get angry. You'd be surprised the different ways there are at expressing that particular emotion that can be seen if not heard."

Mark and Milt both laughed at that one.

Mark turned back to Cliff. "Do you miss it?"

Cliff thought for a moment. "SOMETIMES. SOMETIMES IT'S NOT THE SOUND ITSELF I MISS, BUT I'VE FORGOTTEN WHAT SOME SOUNDS SOUNDED LIKE. I CAN REMEMBER SOME. LIKE A DOG'S BARK, AN AK-47, A GRENADE, A PLANE TAKING OFF. OTHERS I CAN'T REMEMBER. I'VE TRIED, BUT I CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT THE OCEAN SOUNDS LIKE. THAT I MISS. THE MEMORY."

Mark understood what he was saying. Life wasn't over if he never heard again. They'd learn to adapt. But…

"Have you found some things you can't do like you could when you could hear?"

"LIFE WILL BE DIFFERENT. THERE'S NO CHANGING THAT. I CAN DO MOST OF THE THINGS I DID BEFORE BUT I HAD TO MAKE ADJUSTMENTS. I CAN'T ENJOY MUSIC, AND LET ME TELL YOU, I WAS ONE OF THE BIGGEST ROLLING STONES FANS AROUND."

"Yeah, I told Hardcastle he could have my headphones if I didn't hear again. This guy plays Dixieland, would you believe it? In a band!" He thumbed his finger over at Milt.

"NOT A DIXIELAND FAN?"

"The Stones, I like 'em a lot. Them?" Pointing at Milt again, "They're a little rough around the edges."

For the first time in a long time, there was laughter in the kitchen.

The Dorgers stayed a little longer, explaining in some more detail about the surgery and life afterwards. They even discussed the possibilities of only minor success with the surgery. There was always the possibility that his hearing wouldn't come back 100. They discussed all the adjustments they had to make in their houses, the issues that would come up that they'd have to work around.

Finally, Milt walked Delores to the door while Cliff and Mark finished up their conversation. "I really appreciate your coming out here and talking to him," the judge told her.

"It was our pleasure, Judge. I know what the two of you have been going through these weeks. It couldn't have been easy." She took a breath, then asked, "I hope I'm not stepping over the line or sticking my nose in where it's not wanted, but I get the sense that you two are good friends. Does Mark not have any family to help him through this as well?"

Milt shook his head. "No, not really. He has some distant relatives, but they're not family, if you know what I mean. Most of the ones I've heard about, he wants to stay distant from."

"You've obviously been a very good friend, sort of like a father to him yourself." Milt turned his head away. "Don't be embarrassed, I can just tell," she warmly smiled. "In any regard, you're lucky to have each other to get through this. I'll tell you though, if the surgery doesn't work, these 'stages' he's gone through, you might go through some worse times," she patted Milt on the chest while she composed herself, "Brace yourself, Judge, because it will be heart wrenching for a while if the diagnosis becomes permanent. You'll both survive, but it will be very rough. He has you. I can tell that you're as worried about him as if he were your own son."

Milt glanced back at the two men who were still 'talking.' "Yeah, the kid kind of grows on you," Milt said. "He's been alone most of his life so he's had to learn to accept help from people when it's offered. I'm probably one of the few people he's ever really trusted enough to let help him, and it took a while for us to get to that stage."

Meanwhile, out of earshot of the judge and Delores, Mark asked a very pertinent question. "How did you get through law school not being able to hear?"

"IT WASN'T EASY. THE TEACHERS LET ME KNOW THEIR LESSON PLANS, AND I HAD TO LEARN MOSTLY FROM THE BOOKS ON MY OWN. I DID SCHEDULE A LOT OF APPOINTMENTS WITH THE TEACHERS TO ASK THEM QUESTIONS. AFTER A WHILE, I WAS LUCKY ENOUGH TO HAVE SOMEONE WHO KNEW SIGN LANGUAGE IN THIS ONE CLASS WITH ME WHO WOULD SIGN EVERYTHING THE TEACHER SAID."

"Let me guess. Tax law?"

Cliff laughed. "YES. TAX LAW. ARE YOU WANTING TO GO TO LAW SCHOOL?"

"I was thinking about it, I need a few more classes to finish up my Bachelor's. I don't know if I could swing Law School financially though, but I haven't had a chance to speak to anyone about financial aid yet. I've really only saved enough money to go to the local college to finish my degree if I only take one class at a time. Then this happened, and I don't know how I'll manage it if the surgery doesn't work. And then there's the entrance exam to even get in."

That was understandable. "ONE THING AT A TIME REMEMBER? THINGS ARE DIFFERENT NOW. THERE ARE LOTS OF OPTIONS AVAILABLE TO YOU THAT WEREN'T AVAILABLE TO ME 15 YEARS AGO. COLLEGES MAKE MORE ALLOWANCES FOR STUDENTS WITH SPECIAL NEEDS THAN THEY DID BEFORE. YOU'D PROBABLY BE ABLE TO HIRE A SIGNER OR GET ONE ASSIGNED TO YOU FOR CLASSES THESE DAYS. IT'S WORTH LOOKING INTO."

"Yeah, I will if I need to," Mark said. "Thanks Cliff."

"Ready?" Cliff asked as he walked over to his wife.

"Cliff, Delores," Mark said, "Thanks for coming all the way out here. I really appreciate it."

Both Dorgers nodded their heads, and Cliff raised a placating hand and smiled.

Milt opened the door and motioned for one of the officers to come in. "Lafferty here will escort you back down the highway. I'm sorry for all this, but it's the safest way."

"By the way," Cliff asked, "I didn't ask before, but what kind of trouble are you two in that requires police protection? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Milt cleared his throat. "We work with the police sometimes, and we went someplace where the bad guys were, saw something we shouldn't have and they're not too happy with us. That's why we've got police protection."

Cliff nodded his head and gave a knowing "uh huh." He shook Milt's hand and said, "I hope everything works out for Mark. If not, I can help put you in touch with groups and individuals who deal with this sort of thing every day."

Lafferty escorted the Dorgers to their car, then drove ahead of them back the way they came. Milt turned and saw Mark re-reading through a lot of the notes Cliff had left. Maybe, just maybe, they were better prepared for what they might be facing.

Maybe.

Chapter 33

Milt watched as Mark counted his money. He'd taken Lafferty for about 100. He won about 50 from the red-headed cop. What was his name? Kelley? The judge took out his pad and pen and wrote, "YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T CON THE COPS. POKER IS ONE THING, BUT CRIBBAGE?"

Mark read the note and laughed. "That's what makes it so perfect, Hardcase. They don't expect me to know how to play the game. It's easy money."

"IT'S A CON."

"It's a bluff. Big difference."

Still, Milt was amused at the fact that Mark had beaten every cop that was protecting them one at a time at cribbage. Actually, he was more surprised that every one of the police officers knew how to play the game. Poker, yeah, but cribbage?

"BET FRANK TAUGHT THEM HOW TO PLAY THAT. KEPT THEM BUSY ON THOSE LONG STAKEOUTS."

"Well, he taught me. I guess they figured that since I'm not a cop, he wouldn't have done that. Besides, I can beat Frank too. Last time he played against me, he lost 200."

No doubt about that, Milt thought to himself. The kid was sharp.

Milt sat back in his chair while Mark put the money in his wallet. There was a much more relaxed ease about the young man now. Everything that had happened seemed to have brought him back to his old self. Well, almost. The high-speed game of bumper-cars down the PCH and the talk with the Dorgers had been the biggest help over the hurdle. That, time and attempts from Hardcastle to not treat him any differently – yeah, things were almost back to normal.

Milt turned on the TV and surfed through the channels. He finally settled on a football game just as the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Milt, it's Frank. I need you down at the station now. The lid's just blown off this whole thing."

"What's going on?"

"You name it, it's going on. It's even bigger than we first thought. Mark's pictures were the one thing that the Feds needed to put it all together. It gave them the answers they needed. There are some new developments, and they want you in on the briefing."

Milt sighed. "You think we're still the primary target?"

"Yeah, I do, and I'm telling you, this thing is huge. That little deal about Kerns and the warehouse ain't bupkiss to what we're about to face. We're talking military type commandos and weapons that would easily take out the state of California," Frank's voice had an edge of disbelief to it. "This thing goes all the way to the Middle East, Milt."

"What am I supposed to do there that I can't do here? Milt said.

"The federal investigator is down here now, and he's going to brief the morning team. He has to be out on a flight by 11pm. You've got to hear this, so you need to come down here quick."

"Should I bring McCormick?"

"Any other time, I'd say yes but we don't have time to write everything down. This guy is on a major time crunch. Mark's got plenty of protection and I'm sending Wilson and Chavez over right now to pick you up. You can tell Mark everything when you get back."

"I'll be ready, Frank."

Milt hung up the phone and then wrote Mark a note.

"HAVE TO GO TO POLICE STATION. FEDERAL INVESTIGATOR THERE. WANTS ME THERE TO HEAR BRIEFING. WHATEVER IT IS WE STUMBLED INTO IS BIGGER THAN FRANK THOUGHT. FRANK THINKS IT'S SAFER IF YOU STAY HERE. HE'S SENDING A CAR FOR ME. I'LL TAKE NOTES WHILE I'M THERE."

"How much bigger?" Mark asked.

"MILITARY COMMANDOS FROM THE MIDDLE EAST AND HIGH TECH WEAPONS BIG."

Mark nodded his head. "That's big. Okay, Kemo Sabe. You go, just watch your back. I'm going to see if there are any other police officers I can fleece."

OOOOO

A newly assigned officer to the protection detail, Allan Schmidt, commonly referred to as Big Al to his co-workers, had offered himself up to play McCormick in cribbage. His fellow cops warned him not to fall for the deafness or the innocent schoolboy antics of McCormick, but Schmidt tossed all their alerts aside and decided he'd be the one to beat Mark once and for all. He even bragged that he had won the squadroom's cribbage trophy just over a year ago.

The rest of the guards took to their respective stations to guard the estate, the house and said human contents of the house, making their own bets as to how fast it would take Mark to win another hundred dollars from the unsuspecting officer.

Nightfall had set in and, outside on the grounds, everything was quiet and still.

Inside Mark was finding a more seasoned opponent in Officer Al, as he started to call him. The indoor lighting was subdued and most of the house sat in darkness. Al and Mark were in the den, sitting at a card table that had been set up near the window.

"That's fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six and a double run, Officer Al. Looks like I smoked you, too." Mark said pegging out. "Game one, McCormick," Mark continued. "But I'll admit you play better than your buddies. How about a wager on the next game? There's nothing I like better than taking money from a cop in a card game."

Officer Al was not impressed, "YOU'RE STINKING LUCKY, MCCORMICK AND YOUR MOUTH IS GOING TO BE THE END OF YOU SOMEDAY."

"Maybe so, but today's not the day," Mark grinned at him. "Whatta ya say? Are you up to playing again?"

"MY DEAL!" Al scribbled out.

OOOOO

"Let me get this straight," Hardcastle interrupted the speech he'd been listening to. "The CIA has been aware of this particular group for months, had evidence that that they were running guns on a massive scale but didn't tell the FBI. The FBI has been aware of interstate smuggling of items but didn't tell the CIA. The IRS has been looking into some of the financials of this group and knew something was going on, but didn't tell the FBI or the CIA. Not only that, no one in the alphabet soup told any local law enforcement that these particular kinds of crimes were being done."

"Yes, Your Honor," Federal Investigator James Gallagher replied. "Unfortunately, until we had the evidence Mr. McCormick took of the warehouse with the bills of lading with the Greater Good logo, we couldn't tie everything together. We can now build a case against them with enough charges to bury them. The main problem we've faced is that the organization itself is mostly based in other countries. Tracking them has been rather difficult. They use shell companies to hide their assets and eliminate any competition or threats with individuals recruited from the military."

"And you mean to tell me this one group in particular is operating here, in the United States instead of someplace overseas?" Milt bluntly asked.

"According to our sources, the CIA was aware of their intentions to enter the country a few months back, however, the FBI was not. The Greater Good was planning to move its base of operations temporarily here in the US, sir, and we believe there is an active advance platoon right here in Southern California. We have some confirmation that they are in the region," Gallagher explained. "The leader of this platoon is an individual named Frank Morris. He's a former Green Beret, Special Forces Ranger. He and I have met before. Not only is Morris the head of this particular team, he is, in fact, the leader of the entire commando unit for the Greater Good. You gentlemen stumbled upon quite an organization."

"And just how active is active?" Harper asked, with a disgusted look on his face.

Gallagher cleared his throat. "Our information is that they arrived in town this morning. We're attempting to track them down now."

"They're in town? Now? You're attempting to track them down, and all of you knew that these people were coming here? What, was someone asleep at the wheel and these guys just sneaked right in? And you're leaving town, how is that tracking them?" The Judge said angrily.

"Judge Hardcastle, in all honesty, we believe we have sufficient manpower in place, and my personnel have orders to find these renegades and shoot to kill. Believe me when I say we don't like them any more than you do. They don't follow any ones rules but their own."

"And yet, you're still leaving right?" Harper asked.

"I have to be in Washington by 6am. I'm sorry, I've read all your reports, Lieutenant, and everything points to this faction. You confirmed the name, The Greater Good. My agents have this situation on the top of their list and well in hand. I can assure you of that," Gallagher explained.

"Well in hand, my ass, Milt complained. "Just how big is this so-called 'platoon' that you're attempting to track?"

"Could be as small as four or as large fifty. Our intelligence hasn't confirmed their number yet."

Milt threw up his hands in frustration, seeing the same expressions on the faces of everyone else in the room. "You don't know where they are, you don't know how many. Four to fifty -- that's a hell of a big discrepancy. We might stand a chance against four, but against fifty? How the heck do fifty commando's get into our country and no one knows anything?"

"I'm not here to go into those kinds of specifics. But yes, it's unfortunate that they were able to slip in. Given that fact, we think the platoon being stationed here may be rather small. Maybe twelve men or less. Due to the data at hand, we believe that their objective now is to eliminate you and Mr. McCormick due to your ability to survive the other attempts. We're coming at it from every angle."

"Yeah. Right. Every angle. Given your track record so far, that's not reassuring," Harper bemoaned.

"And just how do we know the good guys from the bad guys in all this?" Milt asked.

"The good guys won't be shooting at you," Gallagher quipped.

"Can you guarantee that?" A disgusted Frank Harper asked.

"Lieutenant, we had one of our people inside Kerns' organization. Given the reports we have of the incident at the warehouse, we believe our agent was trying to save Mister McCormick's life when Kerns was firing at him, and he was killed in the explosion. These people killed one of ours."

Milt put two and two together. The big guy who stayed behind, the one who looked like he could wrestle Mr. T and have a chance at winning. He'd been the undercover federal agent.

Frank leaned on the desk and made sure he looked Gallagher squarely in the eye. "They've tried to kill Judge Hardcastle and McCormick three times. The kid is facing being deaf for the rest of his life right now. You should have told us everything up front. One of my guys is already dead. More are wounded. That means they've tried to kill some of ours and succeeded once. From now on, I want to know what you know. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. We do," Gallagher quickly backpedaled. "I did not mean to imply in any way that our investigation is meant to diminish what has happened here with your people over the last month. I will instruct my personnel to work with your teams whenever possible. I wouldn't want to see this turn into a jurisdictional tug-of-war since we all want the same things. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get to the airport."

Chapter 34

Six ex-Navy seal/green beret/special forces types secured the Donzi speed boat onto the dark and uninhabited Seagull Beach about a mile down the beach from Gulls Way. As quietly as they could, they quickly unloaded a couple of duffle bags of high powered rifles and semi-automatic weapons. Wearing full camouflage as well as being being outfitted with full night surveillance gear and self-protection weaponry, the six men huddled up, talked briefly about their objective and split apart as they ran full speed up the cliff to the estate.

The first two made their way to the front gate, where they easily surprised the unsuspecting officers from behind with the muzzled high powered rifles.

Frank Harper's officers never knew what hit them.

Soldier #3 took out the officer by the fountain, while soldier #4 took out the officer by the pool and soldier #5 dealt with the officer back by the rear gate. After eliminating the last exterior cop, soldier #6 shimmied his way up to the roof. With all outside interference dealt with, they quickly moved into position. One soldier took position on the perimeter of the house, one on the grounds, one more held position closer to the boat in order to secure their retreat while two waited for the signal from the one on the roof that he had cut the power and it was clear to enter the house.

Finally, soldier #6 gave the signal that the power was about to be cut. They were ready to go in.

OOOOO

"You forgot to count knobs, Officer Al, and that means your point is now my point," Mark said.

Al leaned back and shook his head as he handed Mark the 50 he had just lost. "WHY CAN'T YOU CALL ME BIG AL, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE DOES?"

"Because calling you Officer Al riles you up!" McCormick grinned. "Always a good tactic to go for when playing for money. It puts your opponent off his game."

WHAM…..the light right between the two of them was shot out, sending debris flying in every direction.

"What the hell?" Mark hadn't heard anything but he saw the minor explosion of the light bulb and shade and knew something indeed was up. The room was now pitch dark. Suddenly, the electric clock on the desk went out as well. What the heck had just happened?

There was a bullet hole in the lamp shade.

Mark got on the ground fast.

Besides someone shooting at them, the power to the house was now completely off as well. There wasn't even a moon out to help illuminate the den. "Al?" he whispered. "Hey, where are you?" Al wouldn't know the layout of the den, not very well anyway. He wouldn't know where to go in the dark. McCormick started to crawl over to the other end of the card table. He swallowed hard when, there on the floor, was the slumped body of Al Schmidt. He all but crawled right into him. On the floor was a pool of blood was already forming. He reached his hand over and checked for a pulse. There wasn't one. The bullet that had hit the lamp had been shot through Al first. Mark's head sank into his chest. "Oh damn," he muttered quietly, his voice quivering. "I'm sorry, Al."

Mark kept low to the ground. First, he took Al's gun. Next, he needed to get over to Milt's desk to retrieve a second gun. He knew exactly what these maniacs were capable of doing but he didn't know how many there were. In sheer darkness and deafness, he had no way of knowing if any of the other officers were dead. If they had gotten inside to kill his personal guard, they had undoubtedly taken care of the other five officers on the grounds too. Mark was in this alone right now.

He started to make his way over to the Judge's desk. Two handguns might not do too much in this situation, but maybe he'd get lucky with a shot. If luck was anywhere on his side right now, maybe he could make his way over to the gun rack and get a shotgun. What he'd give to have Hardcastle there right now to watch his back. All the supposition was coming true, this was some sort of highly trained efficient tactical unit and they had one goal -- to kill him.

OOOOO

Gallagher had left, leaving Milt and Frank alone with the six officers for tomorrow's patrol, grumbling and discussing what they might potentially be in store for.

"It's crazy. We don't know who they are, what they look like, how many of them there are or when they're going to attack," Officer Pete Holmen said.

"I want all you guys in full swat gear, you hear that?" Harper said. "Let's get a full detachment up and on alert. Now."

"Yeah, that's fine, but what about the guys there right now?" Officer Steve Jacob said. "Want us to let them know, sir?"

"Milt, why don't you give Big Al a call and tell him to have the guys gear up and keep their eyes peeled. He's inside tonight with Mark right?"

"Yeah, they were playing cribbage when I left." Milt went to the phone on Harper's desk.

"Losing a game of cribbage to Mark, you mean," Frank muttered.

OOOOO

The phone rang, but Mark didn't hear it.

McCormick's eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and he knew his way around the house like the back of his hand. He had easily found Hardcastle's handgun and stuffed it in the front of his pants for now as he crawled across the hardwood floor, Officer Al's gun tucked in the back of his jeans. He had no idea how long the Judge would be down at the police station, and how in the devil was he going to get word to him that World War III was now in session right in his own backyard. He couldn't even pick up the phone to make a call. Stay calm, McCormick. You know this house inside and out. They don't. There are all sorts of places to hide. That's an advantage, right?

He was still crouched behind the Judge's desk, when out of the corner of his eye he saw the front door open and a tall, dark figure slide in. He leaned his head back against the wood and took in as deep a breath as he possible could. His insides were tied in knots. If he shot at the guy and missed, he knew that they'd be on him instantly and he'd be dead, and yet, if he managed to hit the guy, how many others would come a-running? Think McCormick….think!

OOOOO

"What's the matter?" Harper asked Milt, who stood with the phone in his hand.

"I got the answering machine."

"Try it again," Harper's face was full of worry.

OOOOO

McCormick slid himself under the desk and waited. Nothing like playing hide and seek with army men with real guns while sitting in a pile of dust bunnies because there was no way to move the obscenely heavy desk to clean under it. He put his left palm to the ground, where he could feel the movement of anyone coming near him on the wooden floor. His right hand pulled the gun out from his pants, finger on the trigger and he waited.

He didn't hear the phone's vibration that time either.

OOOOO

"No one's picking up Frank." Milt slammed the phone down hard. "Something's going down out there right now."

Harper looked to one of the officers and said, "Let's get that full swat team out to Gulls Way now! And have the desk sergeant keep calling Hardcastle's house and make sure they listen if Mark picks up the phone. Remind them he's deaf, he'll only be able to talk. Let's move people!"

OOOOO

There were two soldiers in the den now. One was busy scanning a layout of the house. He pulled out a penlight to shed some light on it.

Mark had his head down, but suddenly he was alerted to someone in or near the room. Maybe a flashlight? It was gone just as quickly.

"I got another dead cop over here. It's not the deaf guy in the picture. This guy is bald, the deaf guy has curly hair," the first soldier into the room whispered. "That's everyone then. Six dead cops. All we need is the deaf guy and the old man. Surprise, surprise gentlemen. Next time think twice about stepping in places you don't belong."

"There's no need to whisper. He's deaf, remember? He couldn't have gotten out of the house. We got in quick," Commando two said from the top of the entry way. "He's somewhere around here. Start looking and quit yammering. He might be upstairs."

"If he's as smart as it says he in his file, he could be anywhere."

The phone began to ring again.

With Mark's back leaning against the inside of the desk, he could feel the vibration trembling through the wood. Another one of those heightened senses kicking in? At first he wondered what it was. It vibrated for about 5 seconds, then stopped, then the same thing again. He figured it took four rings for him to know it was the phone. After five rings, the answering machine must have clicked in because a solid rumbling occurred for about thirty seconds, he thought someone was leaving a message. Please let it be Hardcase. Then the vibrating stopped.

OOOOO

"Dispatch isn't getting an answer at the house," Milt said as Frank sped down the PCH. "They called the next door neighbors. Drinkwater said everything's dark. That means the power's out."

"Or cut," Frank said.

OOOOO

"This is easier than picking tomatoes in August," Commando one said. "All we do is kill the deaf kid, then wait for the old man to come in with his police escort and finish them all off. What's the big deal with these guys? They're a couple of locals. To think they flew us in from Pakistan for this? Ain't there any local talent to finish this job?"

"Did you read the file? They've tried three times to kill these guys, and they all failed. These two have managed to capture over a hundred criminals who eluded local, state and federal prosecution. They know what they're doing."

"The dude is deaf, Morris! There ain't much of a challenge to that."

"Yeah, well, did you find him yet, smart ass? Look around down here, I'm going upstairs. This is Commando two to grounds, come in?"

"We hear ya, Sarge. Nothing going on out here. You're clear to go."

"Roger that."

The phone started ringing again.

OOOOO

Mark knew it had to be Hardcastle calling, but why? Why the repeated calls? He knew that Mark wouldn't have known the phone was ringing, had they captured the judge already? Were they holding him as a prisoner maybe for some ransom? Were the good guys trying to see if the bad guys would answer? He had no clue. What if it was the bad guys trying to locate him just in case he DID pick up the phone? And if he picked up the phone, whoever was in the house would know he was still in there. They'd be sure to find him. What good would picking it up do anyway? Stone deaf. Although he could pick it up and start talking, Hardcastle would know right away that there was a problem or the bad guys would realize he was there. No, he couldn't chance it. There had to be another way.

OOOOO

"Just a couple of more minutes, Milt," Frank said in between calls on the radio.

"We might already be too late," the judge told him. "Can't this car go any faster?"

"This ain't the Coyote. We're almost there now."

OOOOO

The phone rang again.

Mark kept his left palm on the floor and suddenly felt something move toward the desk.

"What are you doing?" Commando two asked, asked from the entry way

"This phone is driving me nuts. I'm going pick it up." Commando one had moved toward the desk.

If Mark reached out he could have tripped him.

"Leave it alone. You heard the message already, Hardcastle is checking up on him and if you pick up the phone, it'll be a dead giveaway. I know you're not that stupid."

"We gotta find this guy and kill him, Morris, before the old guy comes back."

"We will find him. Did you bother to check in here yet?"

"Yeah, the area's clear."

"Then quit worrying about the damn phone and keep looking for him. Go check the rooms down stairs. I'm gonna check the attic. Regroup here 'cause if he is in here and he tries to leave, he'll have to come through this room. We've got him."

Mark saw that the man stepped away from the desk and he let out a silent sigh of relief. He knew this was a long way from being over.

OOOOO

Gulls Way was just in front of them.

"How many are coming with us, Frank?"

"I've got twenty five men en route, but if the Greater Good dumped off fifty men, I don't know what to tell you. We'll clearly be overwhelmed."

"Do you really think they'd send that many men to take out me and McCormick?"

"After everything you two have survived on this case, I don't know what to think at all anymore."

OOOOO

They pulled up about a half mile from the front gate.

Over the radio came a call from Swat Unit number one, "Lieutenant, two of our men are down at the front entrance. Not sure if they're wounded or dead, but they don't appear to be moving. It doesn't look good. We spotted them as we drove past. It looks like they've got one man on the perimeter gate out front there. George is using the night goggles to see who else is on the grounds. Can we block transmission on every radio channel besides ours till this is over?"

"Copy that one," Frank said, quickly radioing the station and asking for the radio scramble.

Another unit radioed in. "We've got one man on the beach below the house, holding an automatic weapon. We can see a watercraft just down the shoreline. We can take him out with one shot."

Harper picked up his radio, "Proceed and intercept. Let me know if you guys get anything out of him or if you find any sort of ID."

"10-4."

The desk sergeant called in as well to report he still had not gotten an answer on Hardcastle's phone as of yet.

"Keep trying," was Harper's response.

"Lieutenant, we've spotted two on the exterior, one by the front gate and one out back, but it looks like there's two more of our guys down, one by the back gate and another right out by the fountain. There's no sign of Nate or Big Al yet."

Frank shook his head in despair. "Damn, how many of them are there?"

"We've got direct lines on both of them, sir. Permission to eliminate two more?" he let it hang as a question.

"Wound one of them. Drag him out here for questioning. I want to know how many are inside. Feds said we can shoot on sight."

"Correction, Lieutenant, we've got Nate down by the pool. He's moving a little bit, so we think he's alive. Right now, he's of no use to us. We'll need an ambulance. Still no sign of Big Al or McCormick."

"Copy that." Frank looked over at Milt. Only his years as a police officer kept the judge from running out of the car and into the house to see what was going on.

"Lieutenant, I've got one up on the roof and I have him in my sights, permission to fire."

"Go ahead unit 3," Frank said.

"That's four guys already, Frank," Milt said. "Maybe they already got McCormick, and they're waiting for me?"

"Don't even think about it, Milt. We're not letting you go in there," Frank was quick to respond. "They obviously came out of nowhere and surprised the hell out of everyone," he sneered, "Payback is gonna be hell."

"Mark might still be alive in there," the judge whispered.

"He is, Milt. I can feel it. We'll get him out of there, don't worry." Frank Harper had his own mission in mind. "I've had it with all this crap."

"Lieutenant, the suspect on the beach is down and we have him in our custody. He's not saying anything yet though."

"10-4, unit 1"

"Ah, Lieutenant, Unit 1 again. We have company, another boat on the beach. It appears to be the Feds, including that guy that was in your office, Gallagher?"

"Either he's late to the party or he decided to miss his plane," Frank said to Milt.

"Unless he's got some manpower we can use, I could care less, Unit 1," Harper squawked back over the radio.

"Yes, sir, he's got about 40 men with him, and he's got our man down here on the beach. He's sending up about 35 men to your location now."

"10-4 Unit 1." Frank looked over at Milt. "We just lost our one possible informant to Gallagher."

"Yeah, but we gained an army to get McCormick out of there alive," Milt said.

OOOOO

"There's no sign of this guy anywhere, Morris. It's useless. Maybe we should smoke him out of here?" Commando one reentered the den.

"No smoke till we get the old guy too. He'll never know what hit him when he comes through the front door, then, if we still haven't found our deaf friend, then yeah, we'll torch the place. Commando Two to grounds, how's it look out there?"

There was no immediate answer from Commando grounds.

The phone was still ringing, and Commando one had enough of it. He was itching to get this mission finished. He walked right up to it and ripped the cord from the wall and took the phone and threw it across the room. He ended up standing just inches from McCormick again. Mark saw the phone break against the wall.

"What the bloody blazes are you doing?" Morris shouted at him. He bounded up toward the desk. There they were, both within striking distance for Mark. Was this his chance? The phone had been ringing endlessly for the past twenty minutes now. Hardcastle had to be on his way.

"That phone is making me crazy. If the guy is deaf, how the hell do they expect him to hear a phone?"

"You're a real idiot, Bookman. They probably want to know we're in here. Your ass is back on the plane tomorrow. Pakistan is too good for you," Morris said. "I should have left you out there in the god-forsaken desert when I could."

Mark made up his mind to go for a sweep of their legs with his left hand and then he would attempt to put a bullet into each of them to slow them down. Maybe he could make some sort of a run. And he was hoping by now that Hardcastle and Harper were somewhere in the vicinity.