Danny’s friend, Chief Petty Officer Lucy Vandegraaf, was assigned to the Shore Police. The CPO Club at the Air Station was not exactly within her unit’s area of responsibility. It didn’t matter. The uniform would gain her admittance to the premises and that’s all she needed. Danny, with Billy as his guest, strolled in behind her and took a booth across the room from the bar. From that point they had Brattan in view. That is they did if the man seated on a stool midway down its length was in fact him. Billy glanced at the photo spread he had and nodded. The next step would be initiated by Lucy. She draped her jacket over her arm and sidled up to Brattan.
“Say, Chief,” she said, “you’re new here aren’t you?” She waved to the bartender and ordered a beer. A light one.
“You drink that piss?” Brattan asked. “Here, belay that order and bring the lady a real drink. She’ll have a sidecar with something that isn’t colored water.”
“I’m good with this, Chief. Thanks anyway.”
Brattan should have known better. This would not be the first mangled pick-up in his career. Unfortunately, like many men of his age and inclinations, he harbored the moronic notion that he was a desirable commodity where women were concerned. He was wrong, of course, but at that moment, the possibility of a sexual conquest short-circuited any cognitive functioning and, as they say, his brains migrated south.
“Little lady, I need to teach you some lessons. Like, when a man offers you a real drink, you say, ‘Thank you’ and jump at the chance to learn from a master.”
“Do they? Gracious! What sort of a thing are you a master at, besides baiting, of course?”
“Huh?”
“Sorry, you remind me of my ex and that sometimes makes me grumpy. So what’s your name there, Chief?”
Brattan had to think. After three bourbons, neat, remembering his alias did not come easily to him. Then he had it. “Bart…Bart Hallihan. What’s yours, Sweet Cheeks?”
“Lucy Shirpoleze. You on leave?”
“TDY, waiting for reassignment to a destroyer.”
“Which one?”
“Umm…not sure yet.”
“So, you’re a senior chief waiting for a tin can. Wow. I don’t meet too many of them in a month. Where were you stationed before?”
“Here and there. Say, you ready for another? A real one this time?”
“Not yet. Where, ‘here and there’?”
“You ask a lot of questions for a skirt.”
“For a skirt? Yeah, I just love that. Let’s just say before I start any kind of a relationship with a guy I need some background. Like where he’s from, what he does, where he’s been, stuff like that. Don’t you agree that’s important?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I say drink up and see what happens.”
“Right. So, your ribbons. Top three, right?”
“Right. There’s more where these came from, Honey. You could come by my place and see them if you want.”
“Tempting. Maybe later. There’s just one thing. If those are the top three, what have you been doing for the last fifteen, twenty years, Chief, lying in a coma somewhere?”
“What?”
“The latest ribbon you’re showing looks like Desert Storm era. A lot has gone down since then.”
Brattan slid off his stool and stepped back to put some distance between them. “Who the hell are you?”
Lucy slipped on her jacket— blouse, actually—which displayed her badge. “I told you, I’m Lucy, Shore Police. Did I not make that clear? Sometimes I mumble, sorry about that. I need to see some ID, mister, and a copy of your orders.”
Brattan pushed away from the bar and started to leave. “Screw you. You ain’t getting nothing from me tonight or ever, cop-bitch.”
Lucy nodded to Billy and his brother who stood and started toward Brattan. He saw them, guessed why they were heading his way, turned on his heel, and ducked toward the side exit. It was blocked by two beefy SEALS.
“Make a hole,” he yelled. Nobody moved. “Get out of my way, sailor, or…”
“Or what, old man? You ain’t going nowhere but to jail, I’m thinking.”
Brattan pivoted and headed back into the club. He found himself surrounded. “Who are you guys? Let me by.”
Billy stepped up and poked Brattan in the chest with his index finger and grinned.
“Jack Brattan. I have a warrant for your arrest pursuant of a BOLO issued by the Sheriff’s Office, Picketsville, Virginia. You are the prime suspect in the shooting death of Police Deputy Thomas Frieze, Rockbridge County Sheriff’s Department. Under the rules regulating ‘hot pursuit,’ I am arresting you. If you have problem with that, Chief Petty Officer Navy Policewoman Vandegraaf will book you into the brig for identity theft. If that don’t work, we’ll think of something else. In any case, you’re busted, Brattan and I’m thinking there’s a whole lot of folks who want to have a chat with you and your buddies out at the old Five One Star ranch. You up for that? Don’t even look cross-eyed at me, dirt bag. You are a cop killer and I’m one second from hoping you make a break for it so I can shoot you right here and now. So, we are going quietly, right? And after you’ve had a think, you will fall over yourself to help us because otherwise we might just cut you loose and let your friends have a go at you.”
“You don’t know what you’re yammering about. I’m, uh…Senior Chief Bart Hallihan and you better get the f—”
“Shut up, you idiot. You’re going to the nearest set of cells I can find and good luck getting a lawyer this time of night. ’Specially since we’ll start you in the drunk tank where you won’t be offered the opportunity until tomorrow a.m. After that, a couple of hours marinating in cuffs and shackles in the backseat of a police cruiser and then, maybe, we’ll let you call your lawyer. Only I ain’t so sure you want to do that right now. You remember what happened to the last Fifty-first Star employee who was in custody? Hell, we always did have problems protecting our cell windows. So, you might think twice about letting anybody know where you’re at. Okay, police person Lucy, let me Mirandize this mook and then we’ll haul his ass off to your brig.”
***
Nothing good ever comes from a call received after midnight. Consequently Charlie made a habit of putting his phone on silent and disconnecting his land line except during those times when staying connected seemed truly important. Unfortunately, that occurred more often than not. It was after two when he received the call from his man in Norfolk. The police, he heard, had picked up Brattan. It was less clear which police had made the arrest. On the one hand the local Shore Police seemed to be involved with the initial apprehension, but then a civilian cop took over. He’s emailed a picture of the event. Did Charlie need him to step in?
Charlie opened the attachment, recognized Billy, and smiled.
“No worries, Harry. Shut it down and come home tomorrow. The right people got our man.” Charlie rubbed his eyes and figured the time difference between DC and Idaho and hoped Ike would not mind a midnight call. Ike was still up.
“We have Jack Brattan.”
“Who?”
“Oh yeah, we haven’t had time to discuss the other half of this operation. He’s the guy we think killed the cop who set you up so the bomb could be put in your car.”
“Short fat guy? County cop?”
“That’s the one.”
“I wondered about that. So you got his killer and you’re hoping he can finger Pangborn?”
“I do and he can. The question is, will he? Actually, it’s your deputy who has him. Somehow your people guessed, as did we, that Brattan would go to ground at a Naval facility. Billy Sutherlin has him in custody. I have to hand it to you, your people are good, Ike.”
“They are.”
“Are you ready at your end?”
“We’ll know in the morning. The tape is rolling and either something will show up there, or we’re stuck with Brattan if we want to bring Pangborn to trial. I’m not happy with that prospect, by the way.”
“Where’s my drone?”
“On its way.”
“Will you need any more help?”
“I want to erase you and your people from this op, Charlie. You have enough tsoris already for helping us. You can stand by, though. I might need some help persuading the local State Police into running a raid on the ranch if I’m right about what they’re up to.”
“I can ask the director to call. Governor, or go directly to the police?”
“I don’t know. Protocol would suggest the governor first. He could then push on the State Police, but if he doesn’t…”
“Maybe both?”
“Governor first. If that doesn’t work, tell him the FBI will be notified. I’d guess he would not want the Feds messing in his sand pile and then call the state cops anyway.”
“Okay, that’s it until tomorrow.”