Man of the Cloth...revised

Chapter One

              Steven Kelly sits on the long wooden bench at the brand new Main Street Garden Park. The black briefcase sits on the ground to his left, just as he was instructed to do.  He is relaxed, sitting with his legs crossed, enjoying the sights and sounds of the downtown Dallas park.  Dogs are running around trying to show each other who is in charge on the large grass area in the middle.  Brownish green is the color now, same as the trees that line the grey concrete path that circles the park.  Everything is turning colors getting ready for winter, except for the magnolia trees; they are still dark green with their sweet fragrance filling the warm air in the light breeze. 

              He was told to meet here at eleven am by his contact. He’s not sure who it will be this time and it doesn’t really matter to him anymore. Looking West over the park the clock on top of The Merc building reads eleven fourteen, they’re late again.

              People walking by look at him and smile, they say good morning and he smiles back and says the same to them. He reaches up to scratch his neck and feels the stiff collar. He forgets sometimes that he is a Priest, dressed in the familiar black suit with white collar. Becoming a Priest wasn’t his idea and he’s still uncomfortable with it but the rest of this operation he’s done hundreds of times. 

              A tall, skinny, blonde haired man in his early twenties nervously sits down in the empty seat next to him. He places a black briefcase next to Father Kelly’s and picks up the middle-aged Priests briefcase, waits a few seconds then gets up and quickly walks West through the park. The young man walks directly through the large grass area, not taking the concrete pathway. The large dogs run up to him sniffing the briefcase thinking it’s a treat for them, the owners carefully watch him, wondering what a tall man in a dark suit is doing with a briefcase walking through the dog area. As Father Kelly watches the disastrous show of blending in he shakes his head and laughs a little out loud.

              Can he be any more obvious? You think no one noticed what we just did?  How much more attention can he bring to us? He uncrosses his legs, calmly stands up and grabs the new briefcase. He walks North on Harwood crossing Main St. to the parking garage. He enters the ten story building through the driveway leading up to the second floor where he is parked. After securing the briefcase in the trunk under the spare tire he walks across to the other side and takes the stairs down to street level. He exits the double glass doors and heads West on Elm Street past the Majestic Theater on his way to his next meeting.
         They were late to the drop off then I can be late to the face to face, that’s what she gets.  This is the fourth drop off in this operation and they can’t ever be on time. He crosses St. Paul Street and on past Ervay, glancing at the fine art and fancy clothes in the windows of the expensive stores, which are snuggled in between boarded up stores with broken glass and trash scattered inside. He continues strolling down the street racing through his thoughts.
This is not how I ran this operation. I’ve put in too many years at this job to keep having it ruined by a no good, lying, back stabbing Special Agent in Charge.

                Father Kelly picks up his pace, weaving in and out of people on the crowded side walk. There is no way I’m going to let The Kings escape this time because she screwed up again. We’ve been searching for them for almost two years since that night and I’ve worked too hard to find them and get this close.

                Kelly realizes that he is almost jogging and talking out loud to no one. He slows his pace back to a walk, takes a couple deep breathes to clam himself and returns his blood pressure back to high instead of hypertension.
As he approaches Field Street he sees the black van parked on the opposite side from the restaurant. He laughs out loud again, blood back to boiling.

                He walks into Enchilada’s restaurant and takes his seat at the bar next to a woman; she’s in her mid thirties dressed in a blue skirt with matching jacket and a white blouse, very attractive and all business.

                “Did they really park right there? Do they have to be right out in plain sight where everyone can see? They might as well paint F.B.I on the side in big white letters,” he says.

                “Father Kelly,” she says. “It’s never a pleasure seeing you.”

                  “That’s nice Christina, I see you’ve already started eating without me, thanks for waiting,” he says.

                “Brisket tacos, they are amazing!”

                  “You guys were fourteen minutes late, I can’t be sitting around waiting for you and the rest of your team to get your shit together.”

                  “We had a problem with the new guy; it’s handled and won’t happen again.”

                  “See that it doesn’t, I don’t like you and I don’t like meeting with you, I’ve got more important things to be doing right now.”

                  “What like saying Mass or hearing Confessions?” 

                  “Something along those lines, yes.”

                  “You know you’re not supposed to be doing that, are you?”

                    “Don’t be absurd, what do you think?”

                    “I think you’re enjoying your assignment a little too much and you need to remember why you are here and what you need to be doing, which is focus on this case and keep your personal feelings about me to yourself.”

                    “Don’t lecture me!”

                    “I can and I will. You will do what I ask when I ask you to do it, no questions. Never forget who you work for, Father.”

                    “I know exactly who I work for and when I was in charge of this undercover operation I didn’t just half-ass it like you’re doing. If you can’t be in charge then you better speak up so I can have you replaced.”

                    “Replaced? He personally put me in charge; you’re not running the show anymore. If you don’t like it then you can take it up with your old buddy, The Director. Since you lost somebody the last time you were in charge I’m pretty sure he’ll have my back on this one. The twenty years you have under your belt doesn’t mean shit to me. You’re the undercover agent and I’m the Special Agent in Charge. All I care about is bringing down The Kings, not your opinions of me and what I did that night.”

                    “You think I don’t want them dead too, after what they did to you. I’ve been chasing them a lot longer than you have and I’m closer now than anyone at the Bureau has ever been. Look at my briefcase, I’ve got three names in there and those guys are The Kings.”

                    “You have names on The Kings?”

                      “Yes, but we can’t move on them just yet, I need more time. These guys are masters at not being directly involved in anything, so stay off my ass and out of my way. I don’t need you or the skinny blonde punk teenager out there in the van screwing it all up. I will contact you and I will let you know when you can meet me again. Finish your lunch; it’s always a pleasure, Special Agent Hernandez.”

                      Father Kelly gets up and calmly struts out the door, waves and smiles to the agents in the van across the street and heads back to his car.