Time Bomb Town - Chapter Four
North-bound on the 405. It was early afternoon now and traffic was moving at a decent clip over the pass into the San Fernando Valley. Wyatt was in the front seat and Dalton was hanging over from the back. Veronica was quietly seething.
“Put on KROQ,” nudged Dalton to his brother. Wyatt reached towards the stereo but stopped when their mother started speaking.
“This is so typical of your father.”
They waited for more. But nope.
“Uh, Mom, Dad could be in real trouble...” said Dalton.
“Oh, I'm sure of that! I'm sure he's in trouble. The man attracts trouble,” Ronni changed into the left lane and accelerated up the hill. The hills surrounding the Mulholland pass were turning green from the recent early autumn rains.
“Mom...they think he's guilty of some kind of crime,” said Wyatt.
“This isn't my problem anymore. He's not my problem anymore and I don't have to worry about his sorry ass any more. I did it for twenty-six years and I am so damn sick of it! Now he's gotten you two dragged into the F.B.I. It just makes me furious.”
Dalton leaned forward, “I don't think it's Dad's fault we were brought in.”
“Of course it's his fault! It's his fault for doing this stupid job at all. For STILL doing this job when he could have retired by now!”
The boys looked at each other with a sidelong glance. This was an old argument. One they'd heard many times.
The Lexus pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two story home in the foothills of Sherman Oaks. It was their father's home, where Wyatt currently lived and Dalton as well, when he was home from school. Ronni parked, “Hurry up and get what you need. I'll take you to eat and then I'll take Dalton back to school.”
“Me too. My car's at school.”
“Fine. Just hurry. I'm hungry.”
As they approached the door, Wyatt noticed it was hanging open just a crack. He motioned for Dalton to hold up, nodding towards the open door.
“The Feds?” mouthed Dalton silently. Wyatt shrugged. Suddenly their mother was standing behind them. She reached into her purse and pulled out a snub-nosed .38 caliber handgun with the hammer rounded off.
“Why don't you give me the gun, Mom and I'll go check it out,” said Wyatt softly.
“Why don't you shut up and get behind me, Wyatt,” Veronica held the gun ready and moved through the open front door. Wyatt and Dalton were close behind.
What they saw took their breath away. This spacious home had been thoroughly trashed. Books pulled from shelves, couches shredded, even lights ripped from sockets and vents torn from the floor.
Veronica looked around. “Well, your father was always a slob but he seems to have let the place go.”
She followed the boys as they wandered, stunned, into the living room. Wyatt was furious. “I'm gonna kill whoever did this.”
“Doesn't look like they stole anything.” said Dalton as he pushed some books around with his foot.
“They were searching for something,” said their Mother.
Suddenly, they heard a sound behind them. Standing in the hallway was Agent Jack Turner. The agent from the raid in Slab City. He was wild-eyed and disheveled. His clothes and hair were in dirty disarray. With one hand he was pointing a gun at Ronni Vance. In his other hand, he had a stack of papers.
“Drop the gun, lady. I'm F.B.I.”
“HEY JACKASS, DID YOU DO THIS TO MY HOUSE?” yelled Wyatt.
“Wyatt...he's got a gun,” said Dalton.
Turner pointed his gun at Wyatt. “YOU. Do you know where he is? WHERE THAT TRAITOR IS?”
“Who are you talking about?” said Veronica still covering Turner with her snub-nosed pistol.
Turner was getting frantic. “I SAID DROP IT, DROP THE GUN OR I WILL SHOOT ONE OF THESE BOYS.”
Slowly Ronni put the gun down on the coffee table.
“NOW. Where is Agent Vance?”
“We DON'T KNOW, ASSFACE! NOT LIKE WE'D TELL THE CRAZY MAN WITH THE GUN IF WE DID!” Wyatt was enraged.
“I AM AN F.B.I. AGENT, KID, SO YOU BEST SHUT UP.”
“WYATT. Calm down and be quiet,” said Ronni. She looked at Turner. “If you're an agent, I.D yourself. And tell us what you're doing here.”
“Listen to me. Listen to me. I watched it. On all the cameras. He might as well have detonated the bomb himself. HE MAY HAVE DETONATED IT HIMSELF. He's a MURDERER.”
“You can't be talking about Carter Vance,” said Ronni quietly.
“This op was DOUBLE-BLACK. Only Vance, Fielding and I had the operational information. AND MIDAS KNEW. HE KNEW WE WERE COMING. Long enough to build A TUNNEL.”
“Who the hell is Midas?” said Wyatt.
“He's a drug dealer. A meth dealer your father has been investigating for years,” said Veronica.
“YOU KNOW ABOUT MIDAS? HE'S CARTER'S BOSS. CARTER VANCE IS A TRAITOR.”
“Now I know you're nuts. Carter would never, ever work with a drug dealer. He couldn't even stand being married to one.”
“Oh yeah?” Turner waved the papers he had in his hand. “Oh yeah? Then what's this? I found these and a flash drive in his office. It's all the evidence I need to take him down and get the death penalty.”
Turner threw the stack of papers at their feet. Dalton picked them up and shuffled them back into some kind of order, carefully studying them. As he read each sheet, he handed it to Wyatt.
“This...this can't be....it just can't be.” Dalton's face was distraught as he flipped through the pages, reading as he moved towards Agent Turner. “Does this really say what I think it says?”
Turner, overcome with tension, wiped the sweat off his face and relaxed. “Yeah. I'm sorry. Carter went renegade. You all need to come with me.”
“Now that I see it, in black and white.... Of course we'll cooperate,” said Dalton. He was very close to the agent, still looking down at the pages, engrossed in them. Turner stepped forward and lowered his weapon. He wiped the sweat from his forehead again.
“It was a shock to me too.”
Wyatt struck first, blindsiding the agent. Dalton followed up, hitting the man fast and hard from the other side. Turner's neck snapped in two different directions and the man went down, out cold. Wyatt took the agent's gun and set it on the coffee table next to his mother's. He pulled Turner's handcuffs off the man's belt and cuffed him.
Their mother stood over them as they went through the unconscious man's pockets. “What was in those papers?”
Dalton looked up at his mother. “I don't have the slightest idea, Mom. It's some kind of spreadsheet.” He was searching Turner's pockets when he found a couple of flash drives. “These must be what he took from dad's desk.”
Dalton pocketed the drives.
Wyatt pulled out Agent Turner's badge and flipped it open. F.B.I. He showed it to Dalton with a somewhat bemused look.
“Oh great. He really is an agent,” said Dalton.
“Hey, now we've committed an actual crime.”
Veronica took the badge from Wyatt. “You boys get out of here. Take your dad's convertible and go back to school. Leave Agent...” she looked at his badge, “...Jack Turner, to me.”
“Put on KROQ,” nudged Dalton to his brother. Wyatt reached towards the stereo but stopped when their mother started speaking.
“This is so typical of your father.”
They waited for more. But nope.
“Uh, Mom, Dad could be in real trouble...” said Dalton.
“Oh, I'm sure of that! I'm sure he's in trouble. The man attracts trouble,” Ronni changed into the left lane and accelerated up the hill. The hills surrounding the Mulholland pass were turning green from the recent early autumn rains.
“Mom...they think he's guilty of some kind of crime,” said Wyatt.
“This isn't my problem anymore. He's not my problem anymore and I don't have to worry about his sorry ass any more. I did it for twenty-six years and I am so damn sick of it! Now he's gotten you two dragged into the F.B.I. It just makes me furious.”
Dalton leaned forward, “I don't think it's Dad's fault we were brought in.”
“Of course it's his fault! It's his fault for doing this stupid job at all. For STILL doing this job when he could have retired by now!”
The boys looked at each other with a sidelong glance. This was an old argument. One they'd heard many times.
The Lexus pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two story home in the foothills of Sherman Oaks. It was their father's home, where Wyatt currently lived and Dalton as well, when he was home from school. Ronni parked, “Hurry up and get what you need. I'll take you to eat and then I'll take Dalton back to school.”
“Me too. My car's at school.”
“Fine. Just hurry. I'm hungry.”
As they approached the door, Wyatt noticed it was hanging open just a crack. He motioned for Dalton to hold up, nodding towards the open door.
“The Feds?” mouthed Dalton silently. Wyatt shrugged. Suddenly their mother was standing behind them. She reached into her purse and pulled out a snub-nosed .38 caliber handgun with the hammer rounded off.
“Why don't you give me the gun, Mom and I'll go check it out,” said Wyatt softly.
“Why don't you shut up and get behind me, Wyatt,” Veronica held the gun ready and moved through the open front door. Wyatt and Dalton were close behind.
What they saw took their breath away. This spacious home had been thoroughly trashed. Books pulled from shelves, couches shredded, even lights ripped from sockets and vents torn from the floor.
Veronica looked around. “Well, your father was always a slob but he seems to have let the place go.”
She followed the boys as they wandered, stunned, into the living room. Wyatt was furious. “I'm gonna kill whoever did this.”
“Doesn't look like they stole anything.” said Dalton as he pushed some books around with his foot.
“They were searching for something,” said their Mother.
Suddenly, they heard a sound behind them. Standing in the hallway was Agent Jack Turner. The agent from the raid in Slab City. He was wild-eyed and disheveled. His clothes and hair were in dirty disarray. With one hand he was pointing a gun at Ronni Vance. In his other hand, he had a stack of papers.
“Drop the gun, lady. I'm F.B.I.”
“HEY JACKASS, DID YOU DO THIS TO MY HOUSE?” yelled Wyatt.
“Wyatt...he's got a gun,” said Dalton.
Turner pointed his gun at Wyatt. “YOU. Do you know where he is? WHERE THAT TRAITOR IS?”
“Who are you talking about?” said Veronica still covering Turner with her snub-nosed pistol.
Turner was getting frantic. “I SAID DROP IT, DROP THE GUN OR I WILL SHOOT ONE OF THESE BOYS.”
Slowly Ronni put the gun down on the coffee table.
“NOW. Where is Agent Vance?”
“We DON'T KNOW, ASSFACE! NOT LIKE WE'D TELL THE CRAZY MAN WITH THE GUN IF WE DID!” Wyatt was enraged.
“I AM AN F.B.I. AGENT, KID, SO YOU BEST SHUT UP.”
“WYATT. Calm down and be quiet,” said Ronni. She looked at Turner. “If you're an agent, I.D yourself. And tell us what you're doing here.”
“Listen to me. Listen to me. I watched it. On all the cameras. He might as well have detonated the bomb himself. HE MAY HAVE DETONATED IT HIMSELF. He's a MURDERER.”
“You can't be talking about Carter Vance,” said Ronni quietly.
“This op was DOUBLE-BLACK. Only Vance, Fielding and I had the operational information. AND MIDAS KNEW. HE KNEW WE WERE COMING. Long enough to build A TUNNEL.”
“Who the hell is Midas?” said Wyatt.
“He's a drug dealer. A meth dealer your father has been investigating for years,” said Veronica.
“YOU KNOW ABOUT MIDAS? HE'S CARTER'S BOSS. CARTER VANCE IS A TRAITOR.”
“Now I know you're nuts. Carter would never, ever work with a drug dealer. He couldn't even stand being married to one.”
“Oh yeah?” Turner waved the papers he had in his hand. “Oh yeah? Then what's this? I found these and a flash drive in his office. It's all the evidence I need to take him down and get the death penalty.”
Turner threw the stack of papers at their feet. Dalton picked them up and shuffled them back into some kind of order, carefully studying them. As he read each sheet, he handed it to Wyatt.
“This...this can't be....it just can't be.” Dalton's face was distraught as he flipped through the pages, reading as he moved towards Agent Turner. “Does this really say what I think it says?”
Turner, overcome with tension, wiped the sweat off his face and relaxed. “Yeah. I'm sorry. Carter went renegade. You all need to come with me.”
“Now that I see it, in black and white.... Of course we'll cooperate,” said Dalton. He was very close to the agent, still looking down at the pages, engrossed in them. Turner stepped forward and lowered his weapon. He wiped the sweat from his forehead again.
“It was a shock to me too.”
Wyatt struck first, blindsiding the agent. Dalton followed up, hitting the man fast and hard from the other side. Turner's neck snapped in two different directions and the man went down, out cold. Wyatt took the agent's gun and set it on the coffee table next to his mother's. He pulled Turner's handcuffs off the man's belt and cuffed him.
Their mother stood over them as they went through the unconscious man's pockets. “What was in those papers?”
Dalton looked up at his mother. “I don't have the slightest idea, Mom. It's some kind of spreadsheet.” He was searching Turner's pockets when he found a couple of flash drives. “These must be what he took from dad's desk.”
Dalton pocketed the drives.
Wyatt pulled out Agent Turner's badge and flipped it open. F.B.I. He showed it to Dalton with a somewhat bemused look.
“Oh great. He really is an agent,” said Dalton.
“Hey, now we've committed an actual crime.”
Veronica took the badge from Wyatt. “You boys get out of here. Take your dad's convertible and go back to school. Leave Agent...” she looked at his badge, “...Jack Turner, to me.”
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