Chapter 2
“Could you repeat that, Sweetheart? The reception around here must be really crappy.” Then, he chuckled.
“Sounded like you just said you arrested the president.”
“Well…yeah. I just took President Kleiner-Dieb into custody for a pretty good poker hand worth of violent felonies and misdemeanors.”
“Wait a minute.” Fish was fighting the urge to break into a huge belly laugh here. Fighting it hard. “President Tiny Hands let you slap the bracelets on him, just like that?”
“Well, at the time, the wrist lock I had him in was doing most of the talking, SweetPea.”
“So, where was the Secret Service in all of this?”
“The president threw everybody out of the limo so he and I could have some alone time.”
“Oh…Then what happened?”
“Then, he got my name wrong too many times to count. Told me we were going to have an affair to remember. A beautiful one.”
“Of course,” Fish chortled. “I mean, how could any woman resist that barely noticeable, butterscotch hairpiece and all those teensy little digits?”
“Then he unzipped and pulled out the teeniest little pecker known to medical science and asked if I’d like to wrap my lips around his mighty, blue-veined thumper.
“And when I told him a big resounding NO, he went all Cruella DeVille on me. He’s the president, he screamed…and entitled to it in the Constitution. Then he threatened to call some buddies in Moscow and have me capped.”
“Boy, talk about your dream dates. Where the Hell was this turkey when The Dating Game was still on the air? Then, what happened?”
“Then he pounced on me and tried to give me a pelvic exam through my uniform pants.”
“Ok, listen, Sweetie…I gotta get serious here for a minute. What are you charging him with?”
“Assault and battery on a uniformed police person. Indecent exposure. Attempting to solicit a lewd act from a uniformed police person. Making a terrorist threat to an officer of the law. And attempted rape.”
“Not bad, Shawna. Three of those are felonies. Good work.” He paused for a second, collecting his thoughts.
Then his inner Cousin Vinnie decided to come out and play.
“Now, think real hard, here. Did you read him his rights?”
“Yup.”
“You sure?”
“Positive, Sugar Bear.”
“How can you be s-o-o-o positive about something that may or may not have happened during a stressful and very physical arrest?”
“Because I recorded the entire thing on one of the body cams I just issued to everyone in the department last week. Time and date stamped…the whole nine yards.”
Fish pulled the phone away from his ear, looked up at the ceiling and at the top of his voice yelled, “THANK YOU, GOD! I LOVE THIS WOMAN SO DAMN MUCH!!”
He put the phone back up to his ear, where Shawna was still chuckling.
“…But seriously, SweetPea. How do you really feel about me?”
“Shawna, to say I love you a ton doesn’t even begin to do it justice.”
“Aww…that’s exactly how I feel about you, Baby. How the Hell did I ever get so damn lucky to find you?”
“And to show you what I mean, when we both get home tonight, I’m fixing you the best home cooked meal any chef has ever thought up.”
“I’ve seen you work, Darling. Ought to be epic.”
“Then, I’m gonna treat you to the mother of all blowjobs.”
“See, SweetPea,” she chuckled. “You took the words right out of my mouth…again.”
Fish left her with four instructions before hanging up.
Talk to the prosecutor and make a strong request that bail for the president be denied. With Air Force One parked at an airbase less than twenty miles away, he is an extreme flight risk.
Take the tiny micro memory card out of her body cam rig immediately. Make a crapload of copies and then hide it somewhere safe. Once word of the bust gets out, what’s on that chip will be the only thing on Earth keeping the two of them alive until the president’s felony trial is over.
The president is to be held under the tightest security. No one in to see him, except his attorney and a defense assistant. No family, no visits from Congressional Republicans. No news footage.
Like any other prisoner, the president will have to surrender all personal property, including his cell phone. No exceptions.
****
Fish walked back across the crowded waiting room and took back his old seat on the bench, next to Sonny.
“Everything ok, Cik’ayela Wasichu? That was some high level yelling you were doing back there.”
Sonny was a full-blooded Sioux, who liked to use the tribe’s language whenever possible. And Cik’ayela Wasichu was the Sioux name he’d given Fish years ago. It was a term of endearment that meant “Little White-Eyes”.
“Depends on how you look at it, Sonny. Shawna has either just pulled off something for the Guinness World Records people…or triggered the biggest clusterfuck in American history.”
He looked around the room and noticed several of the waiting were now paying more attention to him and what he was saying than they were five minutes ago.
“But, not here, man. Let’s wait ‘til we get outside.”
Sonny shrugged his agreement.
“Sonny Matoska,” the deputy called out from the window that protected the Harmony PD’s clerks from the perps’ friends, bail bondsmen, relatives and defense attorneys waiting to enter the lockup.
“Ought to bring you with me more often, Fish. Looks like you’re my good luck charm for this place.”
“Lucky me.”
Sonny walked up to the window and passed the arrest warrant through the slot. The clerk took one look, lifted her phone off its cradle and called over to the holding area, to make sure there was a Timothy Mikkelsdottir in custody.
When the deputy on the other end of the line answered in the affirmative, she picked up a large rubber stamp and marked the warrant sheet, “APPREHENDED AND IN CUSTODY, HSDPD.”
Then she slid the stamped paperwork back to Sonny.
****
“So, what’s our little force of nature gone and done now?”
“You won’t believe this one, Sonny.”
“I’ve seen her in action, Cik’ayela Wasichu. Trust me, I’ll believe anything you tell me.”
“Ok then, who – right now – is the most hated man in American history? I’ll give you a little hint, man. My nickname for him is our Child Rapist in Chief.”
Sonny tried to stifle a chuckle.
“But that’s nothing, man. His own Secret Service detail hates his freakin’ guts. You know what they call him when he’s not around?
All Sonny could do was shrug.
“SCROTUS, Sonny. So-Called Ruler Of The US.”
Matoska broke up. “So, what’s the So-Called Ruler Of The US got to do with Shawna?”
“You’ll never guess whose bulletproof limo she called me from. Or which of our most unpopular presidents she’d just slapped the cuffs on for pitching three violent felonies and a couple of high-grade misdemeanors her way. Or who had gotten the whole damn thing on video with her body cam…”
“You two got any idea the size or the magnitude of the shit storm that’s headed your way?”
Fish nodded silently. The thought had occurred to him.
“She called you from inside the president’s spankin’ new limo?” Sonny shook his head and chuckled.
“Where is it now? And what about the Secret Service?”
Fish pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and speed dialed Shawna.
“She says they’re parked on the midway at the State Fair grounds.” He listened for another few seconds. “The Secret Service detail is all outside the car. Our Crotch Grabber in Chief tossed them all out so he could have some alone time with Shawna.
“Once she got him cuffed, she locked all the doors from the inside. So, now they’re all running around outside a flameproof, bulletproof limo…with their Glocks hanging out.”
“Ask her if she’s had a chance to identify herself with the Secret Service.”
The Big Dog got the question halfway out of his mouth, when Shawna’s voice came flooding out of the speaker on his cell phone, drowning him out.
“ATTENTION, THIS IS THE PINE CREEK RESERVATION POLICE. I AM POLICE CHIEF SHAWNA KRETSCHMAN…”
****
Over in front of the dais, a couple of the video news camera crews had noticed the confusion going on around the presidential limousine. And a couple had loaded fresh batteries into their video cameras and were moseying in that direction, to see whether whatever was going on was worth covering.
“NOW, THE MAN WITH ME IN THE LIMO IS PRESIDENT DWAYNE KLEINER-DIEB. AND HE IS MY PRISONER. I SAY AGAIN, HE IS MY PRISONER. HE IS UNDER ARREST FOR ASSAULT AND BATTERY ON A UNIFORMED POLICE PERSON. INDECENT EXPOSURE. ATTEMPTING TO SOLICIT A LEWD ACT FROM A UNIFORMED POLICE PERSON. MAKING A TERRORIST THREAT TO AN OFFICER OF THE LAW. AND ATTEMPTED RAPE.”
The news camera crews lounging over by the dais were now breaking land speed records trying to hot-foot it to the presidential limo as quickly as possible.
And a few of the Secret Service detail had their side arms leveled at the bulletproof presidential low-rider of State.
“OK, THIS IS HOW THIS WHOLE THING IS GOING TO PLAY OUT. THE PRESIDENT IS IN MY CUSTODY. HE’S UNDER ARREST FOR MULTIPLE VIOLENT FELONIES, AND I AM GOING TO TRANSPORT HIM TO THE RESERVATION JUSTICE CENTER FOR INTAKE, PROCESSING AND BOOKING. NOW, YOU ALL ALREADY KNOW HOW INDESTRUCTIBLE THIS VEHICLE IS, SO PLEASE…NO DUMBSHIT HEROICS. GOT IT?
“THIS IS A LEGAL ARREST MADE ON RESERVATION LAND, WHICH MAKES IT AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT. ANYONE WHO INTERFERES WITH ME OR THE TIMELY TRANSFER OF MY PRISONER WILL BE LOOKING AT A L-O-O-O-N-G STRETCH DECKED OUT IN PRISON ORANGE.”
Shawna switched off the car’s P.A. system and then climbed through the central divider.
All the news crews were beating cheeks back for their news vans, scrambling to stay with the presidential limo. While a couple of dozen Secret Service members stood rooted in place, scratching their heads and screaming into their overcoat sleeves for instructions.
Because, even though they constantly trained in order to safely get the president through every possible Point A to Point B scenario, Shawna Kretschman was the one eventuality their play book never anticipated.
The keys were still in the ignition, and she spent about a minute adjusting the seat and mirror, and getting familiar with the car’s controls.
As Shawna sat idling, she suddenly became aware of a loud, throaty rumble, like someone had started up a huge piece of machinery next to the limo.
And the ground was definitely starting to vibrate.
She looked through every window she could reach, but all she could see was desert-themed camo paint.
Her cell phone rang.
“How’s my favorite delivery driver?”
“Fish…something’s going on here…and I’m not sure what…”
“You got a ton of noise and vibration?”
“Uh huh. What is it?”
“That’s why I was calling, Sweetheart. Sonny made a couple of calls. You’re gonna be shuffling off with half a dozen Bradley Fighting Vehicles that belong to the tribe, to keep you company.”
“Aww…Thanks! Tell him I’m really touched, SweetPea.”
“Just wanted you to know that somebody cares, Darlin’.”
“Yup…nothin’ says lovin’ like a twenty-five mil rapid fire cannon, thirty millimeters of composite armor and a handful of TOW missiles.”
“And, you’ve got a whole six pack of ‘em, Sweetheart.”
He blew her a kiss.
“Ok, you and your prom date oughta hit it. We’ll catch up with you at the Justice Center. Now, no cruising around town in that contraption, young lady. And I don’t want to hear you’ve been drag racing your friends. Got it?”
“Yes, Dad,” Shawna laughed. “God, I love you.”
“Just see that you do, young missy. Or, no spanking for you tonight…” He let out a long chuckle. “I love you, too.”
****
“That you, Norman?” Even though Shawna had her cell phone set on Hands-Free, she still held it close to her face while she piloted the bullet proof, presidential hoopdie down the highway. The sun had moved closer to the horizon, darkness was just about an hour away and she was just itching to hit the limo’s siren and mash the gas pedal through the floor.
But that would mean leaving her heavily armed and armored escort behind. Because there was no way in Hell a half dozen tracked troop carriers would be able to keep up with her.
“Yeah, Chief,” Norman’s voice crackled over the cell phone’s speaker. Up until a couple of months ago, he had been the tribe’s Chief of Police.
And actively trying to find someone good to replace him, so he could retire.
Then Shawna and Fish showed up for the yearly Biker rally, in nearby Sturgis. And within a week, Norman knew exactly who he wanted to take over his slot.
Now, he was just hanging around for a couple of more months. Until his new boss got her sea legs. “What’s up?”
“Ok, we’ve got a lot to do and not much time to get it done. I’m on my way back to the Justice Center, with all of the Bradley’s. And I’ve got a prisoner. Arrested a guy for a bunch of violent felonies, and I need you to get ahold of the reservation’s prosecutor and have her meet me there.
“I want this numb-nuts, booked and processed in, EXACTLY by the book. Then tomorrow, at his bail hearing, I want bail denied, so I need to talk with her about that. This clown is a major league flight risk. If he gets bail, we’ll never see him again.”
“Got it, Mother Storm. What else?”
“I need you to witness me placing something into evidence, and then locking it in the vault. No way in Hell are we gonna lose this clown on something as stupid as chain of evidence.”
“With you so far, Chief. Anything else I can do?”
“Yeah, One more thing. We’ve got what, twenty people on the force? What about the reserves?”
“Another ten, maybe fifteen.”
“Ok, Norman. I need you to call in everybody. Full riot gear. And you issue loaded weapons…both M4’s and side arms. And make sure everyone’s got at least a hundred rounds for each.”
“Consider it done, Chief. Jeez, who the Hell are you bringing in? And what makes this perp such a flight risk?”
“Because his plane is parked on the runway at that Air Force base about twenty miles from the fairgrounds.”
“Must be some plane, Mother Storm.”
“Uh huh. Air Force One.”
****
Kenny was perched on Shawna’s front steps, watching the clouds pile up against the Black Hills in the distance.
Not only did he make it through the era of sex, drugs and Grand Funk Railroad with a goodly number of brain synapses still un-fried.
But the day after Fish told the management committee at Uptight, Rigid, Repressed and Lipshitz to use their partnership offer letter to relieve that burning rectal itch, he also became Fish’s first official bail enforcement assignment.
Then, that afternoon, Fish’s first legal client.
Then, the first entry on the payroll ledger at Big Dog Recoveries.
And after a couple of rounds of promotions, The Big Dog even presented Kenny with his own company business cards. Which carried his new title of “senior vice president in charge of all things w-a-a-a-y gnarly and epic”.
Kenny’s jeans suddenly started serenading him with Weird Al’s cover of an old Joan Jett song. Still seated on the steps, he was having trouble getting his front pocket to part company with the communication device.
While his ringtone kept endlessly repeating, “I love Rocky Road…”
He finally freed the phone from his clothing and held it up to his ear.
“Hey, Kenny…wassup?”
“D-u-u-de!”
“Einstein around?”
“Not sure, Brah. You want I should go and like, take a peek?”
“Now, why the hell didn’t I think of that?” Fish chuckled. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“No worries, Brah. Lemme go and like, check.”
Kenny quietly put the phone down on the floor, then turned toward the front door.
“HEY, EINSTEIN!!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. “DUDE…YOU LIKE, HERE?”
After a couple of seconds of silence, he picked the phone back up.
“Sorry, Brah. But he says he’s like, not here.”
“You mean that’s what his silence told you…”
“Fer sure, Brah. I mean, Dude...how could the dude like, tell me if he wasn’t here to like, make the noise?”
“Kenny, I just love it when you go all Zen like that…” Then he got serious. “Listen, man…can you give Einstein a message for me?”
“Fer sure…”
“Ok, tell him to call me the minute you see him. It’s important. Now, while you’re waiting, I want you to grab all of our fugitive apprehension playthings, and toss them in the trunk of the car. Got it?”
“Uh huh. What about like, my paintball gun?”
“Yeah, sure. Bring it, man. You never know.”
“Whoa! Dude…you like, never want me to bring my heater. Whatever’s like, goin’ down, it’s gotta be like, totally gnar..!”
“You could say that, Kenny.”
“Wull…like, what’s it all about?”
“Ok, Sonny and I are heading back to the reservation. Shawna just arrested somebody and she’s transporting them there. We’re all gonna meet her at the Justice Center and help make sure this clown doesn’t get away…or get busted out by his friends.”
“Whoa..! This is like, seriously aggro! The dude she busted…is he like, some kind of like, big shot?”
“Well, he sure as Hell thinks he is.”
“Like, who? You like, gotta tell me, Brah. Who is it?”
“The president.”
“Whoa..!” Kenny was just ever so slightly gob-smacked. “Uhh…the president of like, what, Brah?”
“Could you repeat that, Sweetheart? The reception around here must be really crappy.” Then, he chuckled.
“Sounded like you just said you arrested the president.”
“Well…yeah. I just took President Kleiner-Dieb into custody for a pretty good poker hand worth of violent felonies and misdemeanors.”
“Wait a minute.” Fish was fighting the urge to break into a huge belly laugh here. Fighting it hard. “President Tiny Hands let you slap the bracelets on him, just like that?”
“Well, at the time, the wrist lock I had him in was doing most of the talking, SweetPea.”
“So, where was the Secret Service in all of this?”
“The president threw everybody out of the limo so he and I could have some alone time.”
“Oh…Then what happened?”
“Then, he got my name wrong too many times to count. Told me we were going to have an affair to remember. A beautiful one.”
“Of course,” Fish chortled. “I mean, how could any woman resist that barely noticeable, butterscotch hairpiece and all those teensy little digits?”
“Then he unzipped and pulled out the teeniest little pecker known to medical science and asked if I’d like to wrap my lips around his mighty, blue-veined thumper.
“And when I told him a big resounding NO, he went all Cruella DeVille on me. He’s the president, he screamed…and entitled to it in the Constitution. Then he threatened to call some buddies in Moscow and have me capped.”
“Boy, talk about your dream dates. Where the Hell was this turkey when The Dating Game was still on the air? Then, what happened?”
“Then he pounced on me and tried to give me a pelvic exam through my uniform pants.”
“Ok, listen, Sweetie…I gotta get serious here for a minute. What are you charging him with?”
“Assault and battery on a uniformed police person. Indecent exposure. Attempting to solicit a lewd act from a uniformed police person. Making a terrorist threat to an officer of the law. And attempted rape.”
“Not bad, Shawna. Three of those are felonies. Good work.” He paused for a second, collecting his thoughts.
Then his inner Cousin Vinnie decided to come out and play.
“Now, think real hard, here. Did you read him his rights?”
“Yup.”
“You sure?”
“Positive, Sugar Bear.”
“How can you be s-o-o-o positive about something that may or may not have happened during a stressful and very physical arrest?”
“Because I recorded the entire thing on one of the body cams I just issued to everyone in the department last week. Time and date stamped…the whole nine yards.”
Fish pulled the phone away from his ear, looked up at the ceiling and at the top of his voice yelled, “THANK YOU, GOD! I LOVE THIS WOMAN SO DAMN MUCH!!”
He put the phone back up to his ear, where Shawna was still chuckling.
“…But seriously, SweetPea. How do you really feel about me?”
“Shawna, to say I love you a ton doesn’t even begin to do it justice.”
“Aww…that’s exactly how I feel about you, Baby. How the Hell did I ever get so damn lucky to find you?”
“And to show you what I mean, when we both get home tonight, I’m fixing you the best home cooked meal any chef has ever thought up.”
“I’ve seen you work, Darling. Ought to be epic.”
“Then, I’m gonna treat you to the mother of all blowjobs.”
“See, SweetPea,” she chuckled. “You took the words right out of my mouth…again.”
Fish left her with four instructions before hanging up.
Talk to the prosecutor and make a strong request that bail for the president be denied. With Air Force One parked at an airbase less than twenty miles away, he is an extreme flight risk.
Take the tiny micro memory card out of her body cam rig immediately. Make a crapload of copies and then hide it somewhere safe. Once word of the bust gets out, what’s on that chip will be the only thing on Earth keeping the two of them alive until the president’s felony trial is over.
The president is to be held under the tightest security. No one in to see him, except his attorney and a defense assistant. No family, no visits from Congressional Republicans. No news footage.
Like any other prisoner, the president will have to surrender all personal property, including his cell phone. No exceptions.
****
Fish walked back across the crowded waiting room and took back his old seat on the bench, next to Sonny.
“Everything ok, Cik’ayela Wasichu? That was some high level yelling you were doing back there.”
Sonny was a full-blooded Sioux, who liked to use the tribe’s language whenever possible. And Cik’ayela Wasichu was the Sioux name he’d given Fish years ago. It was a term of endearment that meant “Little White-Eyes”.
“Depends on how you look at it, Sonny. Shawna has either just pulled off something for the Guinness World Records people…or triggered the biggest clusterfuck in American history.”
He looked around the room and noticed several of the waiting were now paying more attention to him and what he was saying than they were five minutes ago.
“But, not here, man. Let’s wait ‘til we get outside.”
Sonny shrugged his agreement.
“Sonny Matoska,” the deputy called out from the window that protected the Harmony PD’s clerks from the perps’ friends, bail bondsmen, relatives and defense attorneys waiting to enter the lockup.
“Ought to bring you with me more often, Fish. Looks like you’re my good luck charm for this place.”
“Lucky me.”
Sonny walked up to the window and passed the arrest warrant through the slot. The clerk took one look, lifted her phone off its cradle and called over to the holding area, to make sure there was a Timothy Mikkelsdottir in custody.
When the deputy on the other end of the line answered in the affirmative, she picked up a large rubber stamp and marked the warrant sheet, “APPREHENDED AND IN CUSTODY, HSDPD.”
Then she slid the stamped paperwork back to Sonny.
****
“So, what’s our little force of nature gone and done now?”
“You won’t believe this one, Sonny.”
“I’ve seen her in action, Cik’ayela Wasichu. Trust me, I’ll believe anything you tell me.”
“Ok then, who – right now – is the most hated man in American history? I’ll give you a little hint, man. My nickname for him is our Child Rapist in Chief.”
Sonny tried to stifle a chuckle.
“But that’s nothing, man. His own Secret Service detail hates his freakin’ guts. You know what they call him when he’s not around?
All Sonny could do was shrug.
“SCROTUS, Sonny. So-Called Ruler Of The US.”
Matoska broke up. “So, what’s the So-Called Ruler Of The US got to do with Shawna?”
“You’ll never guess whose bulletproof limo she called me from. Or which of our most unpopular presidents she’d just slapped the cuffs on for pitching three violent felonies and a couple of high-grade misdemeanors her way. Or who had gotten the whole damn thing on video with her body cam…”
“You two got any idea the size or the magnitude of the shit storm that’s headed your way?”
Fish nodded silently. The thought had occurred to him.
“She called you from inside the president’s spankin’ new limo?” Sonny shook his head and chuckled.
“Where is it now? And what about the Secret Service?”
Fish pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and speed dialed Shawna.
“She says they’re parked on the midway at the State Fair grounds.” He listened for another few seconds. “The Secret Service detail is all outside the car. Our Crotch Grabber in Chief tossed them all out so he could have some alone time with Shawna.
“Once she got him cuffed, she locked all the doors from the inside. So, now they’re all running around outside a flameproof, bulletproof limo…with their Glocks hanging out.”
“Ask her if she’s had a chance to identify herself with the Secret Service.”
The Big Dog got the question halfway out of his mouth, when Shawna’s voice came flooding out of the speaker on his cell phone, drowning him out.
“ATTENTION, THIS IS THE PINE CREEK RESERVATION POLICE. I AM POLICE CHIEF SHAWNA KRETSCHMAN…”
****
Over in front of the dais, a couple of the video news camera crews had noticed the confusion going on around the presidential limousine. And a couple had loaded fresh batteries into their video cameras and were moseying in that direction, to see whether whatever was going on was worth covering.
“NOW, THE MAN WITH ME IN THE LIMO IS PRESIDENT DWAYNE KLEINER-DIEB. AND HE IS MY PRISONER. I SAY AGAIN, HE IS MY PRISONER. HE IS UNDER ARREST FOR ASSAULT AND BATTERY ON A UNIFORMED POLICE PERSON. INDECENT EXPOSURE. ATTEMPTING TO SOLICIT A LEWD ACT FROM A UNIFORMED POLICE PERSON. MAKING A TERRORIST THREAT TO AN OFFICER OF THE LAW. AND ATTEMPTED RAPE.”
The news camera crews lounging over by the dais were now breaking land speed records trying to hot-foot it to the presidential limo as quickly as possible.
And a few of the Secret Service detail had their side arms leveled at the bulletproof presidential low-rider of State.
“OK, THIS IS HOW THIS WHOLE THING IS GOING TO PLAY OUT. THE PRESIDENT IS IN MY CUSTODY. HE’S UNDER ARREST FOR MULTIPLE VIOLENT FELONIES, AND I AM GOING TO TRANSPORT HIM TO THE RESERVATION JUSTICE CENTER FOR INTAKE, PROCESSING AND BOOKING. NOW, YOU ALL ALREADY KNOW HOW INDESTRUCTIBLE THIS VEHICLE IS, SO PLEASE…NO DUMBSHIT HEROICS. GOT IT?
“THIS IS A LEGAL ARREST MADE ON RESERVATION LAND, WHICH MAKES IT AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT. ANYONE WHO INTERFERES WITH ME OR THE TIMELY TRANSFER OF MY PRISONER WILL BE LOOKING AT A L-O-O-O-N-G STRETCH DECKED OUT IN PRISON ORANGE.”
Shawna switched off the car’s P.A. system and then climbed through the central divider.
All the news crews were beating cheeks back for their news vans, scrambling to stay with the presidential limo. While a couple of dozen Secret Service members stood rooted in place, scratching their heads and screaming into their overcoat sleeves for instructions.
Because, even though they constantly trained in order to safely get the president through every possible Point A to Point B scenario, Shawna Kretschman was the one eventuality their play book never anticipated.
The keys were still in the ignition, and she spent about a minute adjusting the seat and mirror, and getting familiar with the car’s controls.
As Shawna sat idling, she suddenly became aware of a loud, throaty rumble, like someone had started up a huge piece of machinery next to the limo.
And the ground was definitely starting to vibrate.
She looked through every window she could reach, but all she could see was desert-themed camo paint.
Her cell phone rang.
“How’s my favorite delivery driver?”
“Fish…something’s going on here…and I’m not sure what…”
“You got a ton of noise and vibration?”
“Uh huh. What is it?”
“That’s why I was calling, Sweetheart. Sonny made a couple of calls. You’re gonna be shuffling off with half a dozen Bradley Fighting Vehicles that belong to the tribe, to keep you company.”
“Aww…Thanks! Tell him I’m really touched, SweetPea.”
“Just wanted you to know that somebody cares, Darlin’.”
“Yup…nothin’ says lovin’ like a twenty-five mil rapid fire cannon, thirty millimeters of composite armor and a handful of TOW missiles.”
“And, you’ve got a whole six pack of ‘em, Sweetheart.”
He blew her a kiss.
“Ok, you and your prom date oughta hit it. We’ll catch up with you at the Justice Center. Now, no cruising around town in that contraption, young lady. And I don’t want to hear you’ve been drag racing your friends. Got it?”
“Yes, Dad,” Shawna laughed. “God, I love you.”
“Just see that you do, young missy. Or, no spanking for you tonight…” He let out a long chuckle. “I love you, too.”
****
“That you, Norman?” Even though Shawna had her cell phone set on Hands-Free, she still held it close to her face while she piloted the bullet proof, presidential hoopdie down the highway. The sun had moved closer to the horizon, darkness was just about an hour away and she was just itching to hit the limo’s siren and mash the gas pedal through the floor.
But that would mean leaving her heavily armed and armored escort behind. Because there was no way in Hell a half dozen tracked troop carriers would be able to keep up with her.
“Yeah, Chief,” Norman’s voice crackled over the cell phone’s speaker. Up until a couple of months ago, he had been the tribe’s Chief of Police.
And actively trying to find someone good to replace him, so he could retire.
Then Shawna and Fish showed up for the yearly Biker rally, in nearby Sturgis. And within a week, Norman knew exactly who he wanted to take over his slot.
Now, he was just hanging around for a couple of more months. Until his new boss got her sea legs. “What’s up?”
“Ok, we’ve got a lot to do and not much time to get it done. I’m on my way back to the Justice Center, with all of the Bradley’s. And I’ve got a prisoner. Arrested a guy for a bunch of violent felonies, and I need you to get ahold of the reservation’s prosecutor and have her meet me there.
“I want this numb-nuts, booked and processed in, EXACTLY by the book. Then tomorrow, at his bail hearing, I want bail denied, so I need to talk with her about that. This clown is a major league flight risk. If he gets bail, we’ll never see him again.”
“Got it, Mother Storm. What else?”
“I need you to witness me placing something into evidence, and then locking it in the vault. No way in Hell are we gonna lose this clown on something as stupid as chain of evidence.”
“With you so far, Chief. Anything else I can do?”
“Yeah, One more thing. We’ve got what, twenty people on the force? What about the reserves?”
“Another ten, maybe fifteen.”
“Ok, Norman. I need you to call in everybody. Full riot gear. And you issue loaded weapons…both M4’s and side arms. And make sure everyone’s got at least a hundred rounds for each.”
“Consider it done, Chief. Jeez, who the Hell are you bringing in? And what makes this perp such a flight risk?”
“Because his plane is parked on the runway at that Air Force base about twenty miles from the fairgrounds.”
“Must be some plane, Mother Storm.”
“Uh huh. Air Force One.”
****
Kenny was perched on Shawna’s front steps, watching the clouds pile up against the Black Hills in the distance.
Not only did he make it through the era of sex, drugs and Grand Funk Railroad with a goodly number of brain synapses still un-fried.
But the day after Fish told the management committee at Uptight, Rigid, Repressed and Lipshitz to use their partnership offer letter to relieve that burning rectal itch, he also became Fish’s first official bail enforcement assignment.
Then, that afternoon, Fish’s first legal client.
Then, the first entry on the payroll ledger at Big Dog Recoveries.
And after a couple of rounds of promotions, The Big Dog even presented Kenny with his own company business cards. Which carried his new title of “senior vice president in charge of all things w-a-a-a-y gnarly and epic”.
Kenny’s jeans suddenly started serenading him with Weird Al’s cover of an old Joan Jett song. Still seated on the steps, he was having trouble getting his front pocket to part company with the communication device.
While his ringtone kept endlessly repeating, “I love Rocky Road…”
He finally freed the phone from his clothing and held it up to his ear.
“Hey, Kenny…wassup?”
“D-u-u-de!”
“Einstein around?”
“Not sure, Brah. You want I should go and like, take a peek?”
“Now, why the hell didn’t I think of that?” Fish chuckled. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“No worries, Brah. Lemme go and like, check.”
Kenny quietly put the phone down on the floor, then turned toward the front door.
“HEY, EINSTEIN!!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. “DUDE…YOU LIKE, HERE?”
After a couple of seconds of silence, he picked the phone back up.
“Sorry, Brah. But he says he’s like, not here.”
“You mean that’s what his silence told you…”
“Fer sure, Brah. I mean, Dude...how could the dude like, tell me if he wasn’t here to like, make the noise?”
“Kenny, I just love it when you go all Zen like that…” Then he got serious. “Listen, man…can you give Einstein a message for me?”
“Fer sure…”
“Ok, tell him to call me the minute you see him. It’s important. Now, while you’re waiting, I want you to grab all of our fugitive apprehension playthings, and toss them in the trunk of the car. Got it?”
“Uh huh. What about like, my paintball gun?”
“Yeah, sure. Bring it, man. You never know.”
“Whoa! Dude…you like, never want me to bring my heater. Whatever’s like, goin’ down, it’s gotta be like, totally gnar..!”
“You could say that, Kenny.”
“Wull…like, what’s it all about?”
“Ok, Sonny and I are heading back to the reservation. Shawna just arrested somebody and she’s transporting them there. We’re all gonna meet her at the Justice Center and help make sure this clown doesn’t get away…or get busted out by his friends.”
“Whoa..! This is like, seriously aggro! The dude she busted…is he like, some kind of like, big shot?”
“Well, he sure as Hell thinks he is.”
“Like, who? You like, gotta tell me, Brah. Who is it?”
“The president.”
“Whoa..!” Kenny was just ever so slightly gob-smacked. “Uhh…the president of like, what, Brah?”