Ation Novel, Chapter Two

         There is no better drug than survival.  You literally feel alive.  Colors become vibrant.  They look alive and crisp.  Food has never tasted so delicious.  Sex becomes an act of defiance against death.  Living through stressful situations can make a person extremely lascivious.  In other words, after beating god at his own game, all you want is to screw like a springtime jackrabbit. 
I hate bringing innocents into a mess like this, and both Maxine and Officer Dalton are innocent.  It took both of them a while to calm down after what they had been through.  Maxine was using my shower and Dalton sat on my couch, wondering about what he had just been through. He had that 1000 yard stare.  I am sure he was thinking about his family, and how he could have very easily never seen them again, that is, if he had any family.
I would rather see him like this, for now.  Earlier, angry and confused about what was happening, he took a swing at me. 
“You damn Feds!” he shouted in my face.  “You can’t go around playing games with people’s lives.  You think you are so high and mighty.”
Maxine even got in on the fun.  She accused me of putting her life in danger.  She said she wished she had never met me.  She called me a liar, began to cry, and sunk into my shoulder.  She was right.  I put my arm around her and we both collapsed on the floor.  She had cried uncontrollably and I just stared at the dead man on the floor, thinking of how easily that body could have been me or Maxine.  All that ran through my mind was the question “Why?”
After all of that crying, I really wanted to pounce on Maxine and show her how great survival can feel when you propagate the species.  Thinking better of it, I didn’t interrupt her shower.  I sat on my couch next to Officer Dalton. 
Dalton had called his chief and made his “Invisible Sword” report.  The Chief obviously was not too happy about being left in the dark about the cause of the biggest shootout his little town had seen.  But like all Police Chiefs, they are not only cops, they are politicians too.  The news of a Homeland Security Director visiting his town was enough to get him off of our back.
I lit up a cigarette and offered one to Dalton.  His hands were shaking.
“I don’t smoke,” he stated. “Those things are bad for you.”
“So are bullets.”
“Good point.  But I am still not taking one.”
“Suit yourself, do you have any family?  You know, like a wife or kids?”
“I have a wife.”
“You should go to her.  Tell her that you are okay but you are going on a trip. Tell her it’s an emergency, work related.  Tell her that you will be gone for a couple weeks, but afterwards you will have a whole year off, together.  Then pack some clothes.  I’ll call you when we should meet.”
“Okay, but why me?  I didn’t want to get involved in this.”
“Neither did I.”
“I am afraid I don’t understand.  Still, the question is why me?”
“I didn’t exactly volunteer for this operation myself.  That ambush this morning was meant for me.  I would like to think I saved your life.  But when you wanted to take me in it was either you become involved, or I shoot you; and I am not partial to killing cops.  Plus, I think Director Markos wants to give me a babysitter.”
“So what is all this about anyway?”
“Which part?”
“Why were people trying to kill you this morning?’
“I wish I knew.  But it has something to do with the Vicenziee Brothers.”
“That is so weird; the paper this morning said one of them had been killed.”
“Yeah, and I think that is how they got my name, from the dead one.”
“Why would someone need to get your name from the Vicenziees?”
“It’s complicated.”
“So you know the Vicenziees?”
“Sort of.”
“Do you have any ideas about who did it?”
“No, but I wanted to get a second look at those bodies at the morgue.” 
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“What can you do?  I never have a problem getting in the morgue.  You just have to pay admission.”
Giving a knowing smile Dalton replied “a consultant to the investigation doesn’t have to pay admission.”  He made the quote sign with his fingers as he said admission.
“Great, here, take this.”  I handed Dalton a cell phone.  “It’s clean, there is one number in it, mine.  I will call you later tonight to rendezvous.  Maybe we can have something to tell Director Markos when she shows up.”
“Before I go, I have one more question.  What is with the window treatments?” He asked referring to my armored windows.
“It keeps the birds out.”
He laughed uncomfortably.  Obviously my sense of humor was catching on to him.  Dalton walked out the door and I watched him drive away.  I pulled out my laptop and followed him home via the GPS signal in the phone and some really handy government software.  I liked Dalton, but I wasn’t so quick to trust people.
Maxi walked out of the shower.  She had her soggy long red hair wrapped up in a towel and she was wearing my terrycloth bathrobe that was twice her size.  She looked great.  She always looked great.  She sat down on the couch with me and took a cigarette out of my pack on the table.
“So, you’re like a spy or something.”  She accused me.
“Yeah, it’s something like that.”  I didn’t want to lie to her, but the truth is uglier and stranger than fiction.  She would have a real hard time swallowing it.  If I had a choice, I wouldn’t work for the government in any capacity. 
“Well, you’re either one or you are not.”
“The Department of Homeland Security is not like the old CIA.  They don’t play spy games anymore.”
“So what do you do?”
“Same thing the department does.  I infiltrate.”  I crept slowly across the couch towards Maxi.  “I get in places.”  I continued.  My face was now only inches from hers.  I looked deep into her green Irish eyes.  The scent of soap from her recent shower bubbled up to my nose.  “I take care of things.”  I said, placing my hand on her leg.  Maxi closed her eyes and let out sigh.  I embraced her and we kissed, her hands pawing at my chest.  My heart sped up and my head became dizzy.  She pulled her head back eyes narrowed and looked me in the eyes.
“I love you, Mitchell Morris.  Do you know that?”  She whispered.
“Yes, I know.”  I whispered back.
“Is that even your real name?”
“Maybe, just kiss me.”
***






Upon discovering the bullet shaped hole in the radiator of my car, I called Dalton to come and pick me up.  He seemed more than glad to.  I could hear his wife yelling in the background.  She seemed like she was not happy about his new assignment.  I had a feeling she wouldn’t mind when it was all over and he spent all his time with her.
Officially, Dalton was still an Antioch Police Officer.  Unofficially, he was the newest recruit in the “War on Terror.”  Naturally, he had a lot of questions.  I told him to wait and we can play show and tell later. 
First we took Maxi home to her duplex, a cute little home on Lake Antioch.  Then we drove the cruiser over the Wisconsin border to a little farmhouse.  It was a short trip, about ten minutes.  Back when I had money, I paid the farmer to let me store one of those large shipping containers in an unused barn.  Dalton was still full of questions.
         “So, why are we here?” pushed Dalton as we walked to the barn.
         “We need supplies.”
         “What kind?”
         “Ones that go boom.” I quipped.
         Night was just approaching.  We walked into the old barn.  It was near ready to collapse which is why the farmer had stopped using it for anything.  Ancient animal manure was caked on the concrete floor creating a carpet of dried fecal matter, old straw bedding, and new grass.  Grass had begun to grow in the sun exposed areas of the manure floor. 
         We approached my container.  I unlocked the two locks on the swinging doors with a key and a combination, another symptom of my paranoia.  I took a fishhook off of a screw to prevent a shotgun from blowing my head off.  I threw open the doors and took a flashlight off of the door and handed one to Dalton.  He stood back and watched in awe.
         “I gather were going to have to stay away from Antioch for a while.  We need to gather some supplies and get out of Dodge, okay?”
         “Okay,” Dalton responded distractedly as he looked at the contents of the cube.  I noticed this and thought I might as well give him the guided tour.
         “This is sort of like my base of operations, or more like a supply dump.  I have everything here we should need, including an emergency supply of cash, here.”  I handed him an envelope containing one thousand dollars in small bills.
         “Holy shit!” exclaimed Dalton.
         “Use it for emergencies.  Not for fun.  We don’t want to leave an electronic trail of transactions, so we need to use cash.”
         I grabbed a few of my ready to go kits.  I set some clothes, food, water, guns, ammo, computer and surveillance equipment next to the cruiser and took some keys off of a peg in the cube.
         “What’s with the shotgun?” pointed Dalton. The shotgun was hanging over the door.
         “That’s my security system.”
         “Oh, okay.  Umm, is this everything we need then?  Here, let me load it in the car.”
         “No, that’s fine.  I have my own ride.” I teased, dangling the keys.  “Leave the car here no one will mess with it.”  I didn’t wait for a response.  I walked out of and around the barn.  Hidden in about a year’s worth of overgrowth was my old Buick.  She had started to rust.  I prayed that it would start.  I had taken good care of it, even while in storage.  I would drop by every now and then just to run the car for a while.
         I sat down in the car.  The faux leather smelled of summer sun, dust, age, and neglect.  Heat permeated off of the dashboard.  I turned the key and prayed.  The beast started right up.  I pulled the car around, picked up Dalton and my stuff and we took off down the road heading southeast. 
         “So what is with all the stuff?  I mean it’s a fuckin’ arsenal in there.  Are you planning a revolution or something?”
         “And if I was?”  I joked.
         “Huh?”
         “Have you ever been a Boy Scout?  The motto is, be prepared.”
         “What the hell were you preparing for?”
         “This.”
         “Oh,” Dalton paused.  “Well, what are we doing then?  Who is the enemy?”
         “The enemy is the same as they say on TV:  terrorists, gangs, drugs, and violence.  It is all linked.  Don’t forget that.  Now to answer your question about what we are doing.  We are going to investigate what is going on, meet with Director Marcos tomorrow, brief her on what we find, and solve the problem.”
         “Okay, but what about all of the guns?  Are we going to really need all of that firepower?”
         “That’s how we solve the problem.”
         “This shit is way over my head.  I haven’t been trained for stuff like this. What the hell am I supposed to do?  I’m not an agent like you.” 
         I stopped the car, pulled over, and looked Dalton right in the face.  Calmly I said, “Let me get something straight here.  I didn’t volunteer for this and I am not an agent.  I am an informant.  My cooperation guarantees my freedom and immunity.  I have certain valuable skills that Homeland Security likes to utilize from time to time.  I take care of problems for the Vicenziees.  I take their money.  Then I inform on the Vicenziees for the DHS.  Then, when the government needs my services, they get it at a cut rate because they can hold that immunity over my head.”
         “Holy shit, I didn’t realize.”
         “This is the new age of National Defense.  The threat is unconventional, and so is the response.”
         “I guess, so you get a long with cops then?”
         “Not really.”
         “Have you ever, you know… shot a cop?”
         “Never, well, maybe if he was crooked.  The way I see it is that the underworld is always going to be killing each other and it is a lucrative business.  If I off one gangster punk that tried to screw the Vicenziees, that is one less punk you cops have to deal with.  I don’t do the good guys.  They don’t deserve it.  Why do you think I helped you today?  That firefight would have been the perfect distraction for me to get out of there.”  I hoped that would end the argument.  It turns out I was wrong.
         “So what do the Vicenziees have to do with that shooting this morning?”
***

Morgues really are not that creepy to me. Here, at the Lake County morgue, all I see is empty shells left behind.  Like when a clam dies and his shell ends up on the beach for years.  The life is gone but something physical still remains.  Dead bodies don’t scare me.  Dalton on the other hand, he looked terrified.  Dalton is beginning to show his usefulness, though.  I was going to bribe the pathologist’s assistant to let us in, but Dalton just showed his badge and he just signed us in on the visitors’ clipboard.  Apparently I am a “consultant.”  He acted nonchalant about it, like he had been here a million times before.  But I could tell he hadn’t.
“Are you all right?”  I asked Dalton.
“Umm, yeah, I’ll be fine.” He said while swallowing his bile.
“Okay, come over here and tell me what you see.”
“It’s a black male, approximately twenty five years of age.”
“Do you see anything else?”
“Yeah, I guess.  Half of his head is missing and he reeks.”
“Well, yeah, they smell a lot better when they are embalmed, cleaned up, and dressed nice.”  I could see that Dalton was about ready to throw up.  The child in me wanted to push him over the edge, but there was work to be done.
“Just breathe trough your mouth buddy.  You will loose your bowels when you die too.  Let’s see what we have here.”  I opened the zipper on the second attacker’s body bag.  Dalton was now becoming physically ill.  He couldn’t even look at the body.  “Okay, why don’t you go check out the personal effects?  I will only be a few minutes.
“Good idea.”  He immediately left the room.
         I began to examine the body.  This black male nearly had the build of a basketball player.  He had the height right, but he was significantly lacking muscle mass.  He had several needle sticks in his arms.  This was most likely from heroine use, which would explain the loss of muscle mass.  The man had several tattoos, but one was of particular interest.  The tattoo was of a Star of David with GD1 tattooed inside.  I understood it was a gang tattoo.  I needed to know which gang.  I took a picture of the tattoo with my digital camera and closed the bag.  I checked the other body, the one from the roof, and he too had an identical tattoo.  I told the pathologist’s assistant that I was done and met Dalton in the lobby. 
         “Have you ever seen a gang symbol like this?” I asked Dalton, showing him the digital picture.
         “Yeah, that is the Gangster Disciples, from Chicago.  The number one is used in place of the letter A, meaning assassin.”
         “The Gangster Disciples have assassins?” 
         “Sort of, they are more like their version of special ops.  They usually do drive bys and back alley beatings.  This really came off of our guy?”
         “Yeah, they both had the same tattoo.”
         “This really isn’t their standard M.O.  It’s too well planned.”
         “You are telling me.  After all of my precautions these gang bangers found me.”
         “They’re after you.”
         “Well, that is obvious now.”
         “What did you do?”
         “To them, I did nothing.”
         “Maybe you did something to an allied gang, perhaps?”
         “Perhaps,” I conceded.  I had never done anything against the Gangster Disciples, but maybe I wasn’t aware.
         “What bothers me is that the attack was too well planned.  There is someone behind this, a professional.”
         “It’s possible, the Gangster Disciples are in business with some pretty nasty people.”
         I had an epiphany.  “Folks, Gangster Disciples are Folks.”
         “What are you talking about?”
         “There is a divide among gangs across the upper Midwest.  You are either Folks or People.  It’s like a higher gang affiliation.  In L.A. you have the Crips and Bloods.  The Gangster Disciples are Folks.  I just need to know what Folks I have pissed off.”
         “Oh, I remember hearing about this.  The six pointed star means Folks and the five means People.”
         “Right, now we are ready to talk to Mr. Vicenzie.”
         “But, I thought he was dead?”
         “His brother is dead. They only killed the one.”
         “I thought they killed him and his whole family.”
         “No, they killed just the one brothers’ whole family.”
         “Okay, so do you think he is the next target?”
         “I am pretty sure that I am still the target.  But they might try to use Gordon Vicenzie to get at me.”
         “If we don’t contain this, it will only get worse.”
         “What do you mean?”  I inquired.
         “Think about it, the old mobs versus the new gangs.  Things could get very messy.”  I was beginning to feel like I was hearing Nostradamus making prophecy. 
***

         With twelve hours remaining until Director Markos shows up, we arrived in the vicinity of Gordon Vicenzie’s Lake Michigan home in Lake Bluff near midnight.  We drove through the neighborhood looking for anything suspicious.  Nothing seemed out of place in the picturesque neighborhood.  The home of the surviving Vicenzie brother seemed the epitome of the American Dream.  Professionally landscaped flower gardens line brick paved driveways and a cool breeze from Lake Michigan cut through the July heat. 
This home has a view that must be worth millions.  The Victorian era mansion home looks east across the aptly named Sunrise Park which borders Lake Michigan.  This must truly be a place to see a magnificent sunrise. 
         Finding nothing out of the ordinary in the neighborhood, Dalton and I parked about a block away.  I made sure Dalton left his badge behind but took his gun with.  We approached the back door via the neighbor’s yard.  There were no lights on.  They were probably sleeping at this time of the night.  The strange thing is, you would expect a couple of goons playing cards and guarding the place. 
         I approached the door and rang the bell.  I waited a little bit and rang again.  No sound escaped from inside.  The lights didn’t turn on either.  Frustrated and worried, I rang obsessively like a kid with a burning bag of feces. 
         “You know how to clear a house, right?”  I asked Dalton.
         “Yeah,” he replied knowingly.  He withdrew a flashlight from his pocket and the handgun from his shoulder.  I followed suit. 
         We put our backs to the wall.  I looked Dalton in the eyes and he gave a nod.  I checked the doorknob.
         “Unlocked,” I whispered.  Dalton nodded. 
Slowly I opened the door, feeling for resistance.  I had the door open barely a crack.  I inserted my hand into the crack and felt for wires or shotguns attached to wires waiting to blow my head off when I open the door.  Lucky for me, there wasn’t one.  I opened the door.  It screamed with the need for oil.  Squeaky hinges are worse than alarms.  It is too bad I told Mr. Vicenzie that.  Unluckily for me, he had heeded my advice. 
I stepped inside and shuffled to the left, gun and flashlight pointed ahead.  Dalton followed suit.  In complete silence we swept the dining room and kitchen area, flashlights blipping, seeking to silhouette an enemy before he can shoot us.
         Immediately I noticed that the house looked looted.  It looked like somebody was looking for something.  Not only were they looking for something, but they took the valuables too.  One was a crime of intent.  The other was a crime of opportunity.  This situation was becoming stranger with every revelation. 
         Suddenly from the front door area there was a loud creaking. Either someone was coming in or going out.  Dalton and I bolted for the front porch.
         Foolishly Dalton yelled “Stop, police!”  The police training must be hard to kick, but I would have to kick him for it later.
         “Get on the ground!”  I yelled, playing along.  We rushed to the front porch area.  Whoever it was, they were walking in, heard us, then turned and tried to run.  Dalton and I were too quick, young, and powerful for the intruder.  We tackled the surprisingly obese intruder quickly and I slipped plastic ties over his hands before he could reach for a gun. 
         “Fuck you, you bastards!”  Yelled the plump prisoner.  I immediately recognized the voice.  It was Gordon Vicenzie.