The Guardians

It always seems to rain at funerals. In that regard, the homegoing service of Jose Vargas was no different. Attended by nearly one hundred fellow officers and at least as many mourners. The tiny non denominational church barely contained the throng. Elbow room was just a rumor.
Eric Craig sat halfway back in the church, his eyes and ears intently on the service. Craig had known Vargas, although they had only worked together a handful of times. Craig knew that Vargas had a young wife and two sons. Craig's mind wandered to thoughts about who would care for the family now.
Among the mourners Craig noticed an older man dressed immaculately in military attire. Craig immediately recognized the wings. "Air Force", Craig muttered, drawing a dirty look from the seventy something woman seated next to him. The military man acknowledged Craig's notice with a polite nod.
The funeral seemed to drone on endlessly, or maybe Craig just didn't want to be there. It was well after three o'clock when the assembled mourners left the church. Craig made small talk with the few Vargas family members he knew, then headed for his car to start the twenty minute trip home.
Outside the church, Craig again noticed the Air Force man lingering.
"Waiting for someone? Craig asked in passing.
The Air Force man nodded. "Yeah, waiting for you."
Craig's eyes widened and he pointed to himself.
"You are Eric Craig,right?"
"Yep. Don't know why the military would want me though. I'm too old to enlist."
The military man laughed and extended his hand. "Captain Robert Deuce, United States Air Force. And I'm not here to recruit you."
Finally, a name for the face, not that it cleared up any of Craig's confusion.
Deuce continued. "We need to talk, but I don't think this is an appropriate time." He handed Craig a business card. "Give me a call in a couple of days and we'll get together."
Confusion was giving way to paranoia. "Can I get some idead what this is all about? I don't have Air Force personnel question me every day. Especially a big shot captain."
"Well, it is official business. That's all I can say here."
"Sounds cryptic." Craig shrugged. "Okay, sure. Give me a day or two and I'll get back to you."
"Fine. Talk to you soon." Deuce gave another firm handshake and disappeared into the remaining Vargas family and friends.
Craig took a few minutes to offer his sympathies to Vargas' aged mother. By the time he looked around, Deuce was gone, taking the mystery of the Air Force visit to a small denominational church with him.

By the time Friday rolled around,Craig's thoughts of Air Force men and their missions had been replaced by the more mundane thoughts of everyday life. He was on a mission of his own today. The mission called for him to return to his old precinct. Carefully navigating his late model Jeep Eagle through the pothole riddled lot, Craig found a parking space not far from the station's entrance. After a brief debate with himself, Craig finally shut the engine off and headed for the doors to the precinct.
This being Friday, the crime weekend was off to a quick start. Most of the officres were busy with criminals, victims and witnesses. Other officers assisted their comrades. Craig recognized some of the criminals.
"Some things never change," he muttered.
Craig's entrance barely drew much notice. Of the handful of officers who had taken notice, some frowned disapprovingly, others shook their heads in disbelief, still others gave a thumbs up or a nod of approval. None of this mattered to Craig. He was here on business. Making his way through the increasingly ripe squad room, Craig found a familiar desk. The desk looked like it had been there since the Eisenhower administration. Just as Craig remembered. At the desk sat Frank Mirrelli. Again, just as Craig remembered.
Craig walked up behind Mirrelli and slapped the detective on his shoulder. "Aren't you ever gonna retire?"
Mirrelli smiled, rose and clasped Craig's hand. "Not if the wife has anything to say about it. Besides, who'd babysit Stewart?"
Ahh, Stewart. The fact she was still here made him feel good inside.
Mirrelli added, "Good to see you again, Eric."
"I'm not back. Not really. Not yet, anyway."
Mirrelli turned dead serious. "Sure could use you here, Eric."
Before Craig could respond, an arm wrapped around him. Though he didn't have to guess whom the arm belonged to, he was happy to turn and look into the soft brown eyes of Officer Candace Stewart.
"How are you, Eric?"
"Better now," Eric responded with a grin.
Mirrelli took that as his cue to leave. "I'll just leave you two alone." With that, the veteran officer turned back toward his desk and the irritated looking elderly woman waiting for him there.
Now, it was Stewrat who wore the sly grin. "Welcome to the madhouse, Eric. What brings you back here?"
"Besides the obvious, I have some business here."
Stewart liked that answer. At least the first part. "What kind of business?" Her soft voice belied the fact she could be a tough cop. Craig had personally witnessed the five foot four Stewart wrestle down thugs twice her size. Her ability to take care of herself had earned her respect on the streets. Few hoods wanted to tangle with a tough female cop.
"Gotta meet with the captain today."
Stewart grimaced. "You sure that's a good idea?" Her look implied she wasn't sure.
"Probably not, but I have to try."
Stewart exhaled audibly, then shrugged in resignation. "Good luck."
A pregnant teen called out from behind, drawing Stewart's attention.
"I'd better get back to work." She flashed that killer smile again. "You know, you could come see a sister sometimes."
With that, she turned and walked toward the teen, the smile never leaving her face.
Craig watch her body move through the crowd. "I will come see you, sister. Bet on it," he whispered.
Now, it was time for Craig to get down to business. The captain's door was closed and no sound could be heard coming from within. Cautiously at first, Craig approached the glass door. Remembering the captain's open door policy, Craig decided to test that policy. He knocked once loudly, then entered without waiting for a response.
Captain Joe Tilghan was on the phone. His eyes narrowed to slits when Craig entered the room.
Same pot belly, same bad toupee. Yep, this was Joe Tilghan.
Tilghan quickly ended his phone call and turned his attention toward Craig.
"What do you want? As if I need to ask?"
"Same offer."
Tilghan shook his head. "Figures. Then you get the same response. No and get the hell out."
Craig wouldn't be put off easily. "You need help. I can give you some help."
Tilghan's head shook again, the toupee moving about unnaturally. "We don't need your help. We employ actual cops here."
"Well, your 'actual cops' are struggling."
"We're fine." Tilghan was lying, but he felt obliged to.
"You can't bring in officers from the academy quickly enough to stay ahead of the ones quitting, leaving their posts or being executed by the East Side Posse."
The mere mention of the posse made Tilghan explode.
"Listen to me, you little bastard. The Posse is being handled. We sure as hell don't need some Dirty Harry wannabe screwing up our case."
"What case?"
"Okay, that's it." He pointed to the door. "Get out. Now."
Craig shook his head. "You never learn, Tilghan. How many more officers have to die before you let go of your ego and let me in?"
Tilghan seemed unaffected by the question. "I will never, ever need or even want your so called 'help'."
"Fine," Craig muttered, letting himself out of the now very warm room.
Seeking an escape from the idiotic Tilghan, Craig made a beeline for the door. He was interrupted by Stewart halfway there.
She didn't need a degree from Yale to figure out what had happened.
"Sorry, Eric." She laid a soft hand on his shoulder. "We don't all feel that way. Some of us got your back."
Suddenly, Craig felt better. Still, it was small consolation considering why he'd come in the first place.
"Thanks, Candy."
She nodded. "I get off at 6. Let's have coffee."
"Yeah," Craig said before heading out the door.
Stewart sighed and shot a dirty look toward the captain's door. If looks could kill, Captain Joe Tilghan's funeral would have been the next cop funeral.
Back in the car, Craig sat fuming for several minutes.
Fumbling through his pockets for keys, he pulled out a crumpled business card.
Craig looked at the card thoughtfully. "Why not?"
The next captain he would speak to would be Robert Deuce.


Eric Craig and Robert Deuce agreed to meet at one of Detroit's top Italian restaurants. Since it was nearly three o'clock when Craig got to the restaurant, it wasn't quite the busy time yet.
Craig immediately spotted Deuce seated in a booth toward the back of the restaurant. With him were two women, but Deuce hadn't mentioned anything about company. One of the women was a tall blonde. Craig's cop instincts told him she couldn't have been older than early twenties. The other woman was Asian, smaller and older than the blonde.
Craig approached the booth, not sure what to make of this.
"Ahh, Eric," Deuce greeted him. "Have a seat. We haven't ordered yet."
Craig did as he was told. "Umm," he stammered, "you didn't mention this was a date."
Deuce nodded. The ladies smiled. "Not quite a date." He pointed to the blonde first.
"This is Katie Winters. We call her Kat. You'll find out why later."
Kat gave Craig a long look. "Hello." That was the extent of her initial conversation.
Deuce then introduced the Asian woman. "This is Yoriko Tanatsu. You can call her, well, Yoriko."
Yoriko nodded. "Nice to meet you." Her accent was quite apparent. "Robert has told us alot about you."
At a loss, Craig found himself stammering again. "Umm, I don't know anything about you at all."
Craig looked to Deuce, waiting for an explanation. As usual, Deuce seemed ready for it.
"These two ladies will be your partners, if you choose to work with us."
Hmm, Craig thought, point for the Captain. But his mind came back quickly.
"Work with you?"
Deuce smiled. It was now showtime. "I know all about your career as a cop, Eric. I also know all about the cop killings going on in Detroit." He paused for a second, giving Craig a chance to digest the first taste of his offer.
Then Deuce looked intently into Craig's face and asked, "How would you like to be able to do something about those murders?"
Craig sat bolt upright in his chair. Nah, this couldn't be happening. Had he died and gone to heaven? The ladies certainly could pass for angels.
"Eric?" Yoriko prodded.
"Yeah, I'd love to, but there's a huge issue with that."
Deuce sat back and listened, as if drawing the story out of Craig.
Craig forced the words out. "I'm not exactly a cop anymore." He wrung his hands nervously as he spoke.
Deuce seem unfazed. "So what's the problem?"
Craig was mystified by the question. "I'm not in a position to do anything about these crimes."
Katie chuckled as if she knew something Craig didn't.
Deuce commented, "You're not in a position to do anything officially about it. Key word offically."
The trio was interrupted by their waiter. While the ladies ordered salads, Deuce reccomended the rack of lamb. After some thought and more stammering, Craig settled for the salmon steak. The waiter, an older, polite man nodded happily and disappeared.
Craig needed more information. "So how can I help you, Captain? I'm not seeing the connection."
Deuce waved him off. "We help each other. That's the way it works here. I can put you in a position to stop the people behind these assassinations."
Craig looked to the ladies imploringly, but they remained silent.
"You work with us, you'll see some results."
"So, what's the catch?"
Deuce also appeared to anticipate this question. "You're nature is as a cop, Eric. I know you're not on the force any more, but cop work is in your blood. It's an itch you need to scratch. You can't walk away from the department any more than I could walk away from the military. And that's never going to happen."
Damn, he was good. Deuce had done his homework. It was like he was inside Craig's head.
Craig sat in awe and listened.
"You were a good cop by all standards, even your bosses said so. You left because you were tired of the system. I can give you a chance to become the system."
Craig nodded in Yoriko's direction. "What about her?"
Deuce smiled. "Yoriko is already on the team. So is Katie. But we could use one more."
"What does this 'team' do actually?"
"We do the same thing you've been doing for years. Serve and protect. Only we play by a different set of rules."
The waiter appeared again, bearing gifts of food and drink.
The foursome ate their meals in nearly total silence. There was small talk through which Craig learned Katie had played guitar in a band at one time and that Yoriko had been born and raised in Japan. Mostly, Craig's mind pondered this entire scenario. He'd love to get his hands on the East Side Posse, but they'd been nearly untouchable up to now. He wasn't sure this motley crew could change that.
"Got plans for this weekend, Eric?" Katie asked.
It sounded like an invitation. Craig shook his head mutely.
"Good," Deuce answered, "Then we can get deeper into this." He paused, staring right at Craig. 'That is, if you're interested."
Craig still waivered a bit.
"Maybe he's not ready, Captain," Yoriko said "Maybe we should go."
Deuce added. "If we go away, we never come back and this offer never gets repeated, Eric. In other words, if we leave, your city may fall to the Posse. Face it, after they eliminate the cops, who's to stop them from taking the city completely?"
He had a point. Craig looked at his potential partners, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"
Deuce smiled. Satisfaction.
"Let's get out of here, then," Deuce concluded. "You up for a road trip?"
The question was obviously meant for Craig.
"Uhh, when and for how long? I have to meet someone later tonight."
Deuce smiled knowingly. "I guess Miss Stewart can be sated tonight. We'll get going in the morning. We'll return in a week."
"You know about Officer Stewart?"
Deuce nodded. "I do my homework, Eric. O-Seven hundred sound okay to you?"
Craig grunted something that sounded affirmative, still uncomfortable about the captain's knowledge of Shea. How much did he know? For that matter, how much did Katie or Yoriko know? If the ladies knew anything about Shea, their reactions to her name didn't show it. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe.
Deuce broke the uneasy silence. "Okay then, it's settled. Tomorrow at O-Seven hundred hours."
Craig nodded and watched the group head out of the restaurant.
Somewhere in his head a voice screamed, "Finally, an ally."