James Born - Shock Wave

He’d paused just after the blue Ranger had driven past. He didn’t know why, but the lone vehicle gave him a funny feeling. He had seen that it hadn’t come from the house they were watching but didn’t understand why it made him uneasy. He shrugged it off, like so many other odd feelings cops get, and went back to the task at hand. The little Honda was now covered with black plastic. Tasker could walk away now, but he wanted to see Jimmy Lail’s reaction. He carefully parted the strips of plastic so he could open the passenger door. Pulling the handle in steps took over a full minute. Once it was opened a crack, Tasker realized that the music Jimmy had been listening to was much louder than the car had let on and had masked all of Tasker’s activity. He slid into the seat and pulled the door shut, allowing the plastic from outside to fall into place on his window, too. The interior was surprisingly dark. Little cracks of light slipped in here and there, giving him just enough light to make out the snoring form of Jimmy Lail. Drool ran down the corner of his open mouth as air rushed past his apparently swollen adenoids.

Tasker was going to enjoy this.

Daniel Wells was a couple blocks down the road before the eerie feeling that he had just avoided danger passed. He took Krome all the way into Homestead, then turned east toward the racetrack. He kept his speed down, remembering the officious Homestead cop who’d written him for speeding in the Toyota a few weeks earlier.

Arriving at the little dirt turnoff, he turned south, toward one of the canals that cooled the giant nuclear reactor over at the power plant. No one would notice the disturbed dirt and lime where the box was buried, but if you knew where it was, it was obvious. He pulled right next to it and took out a small army-surplus folding shovel from behind the seat of his Ranger pickup. A minute of scraping the dirt from the box gave him good access. He opened it and was relieved to see it was still watertight and in good order. He threw in the gun, cash and map and pulled out some of the TATP he had stashed. In a matter of three minutes, he was on the road again without anyone knowing where the box was hidden.

He headed back to his duplex to finish up his van.

Tasker smiled to himself as he knocked lightly on the dashboard. Jimmy Lail stirred but didn’t wake. What was it with this guy? Tasker pounded a little harder. No response. This was impressive dereliction of duty. Finally, Tasker smacked the dash and yelped, “Jimmy!”

Jimmy didn’t spring awake, at least not at first. He stirred, then opened his eyes, then hissed, “Shit!” and looked at his watch, hitting the illuminate button. He studied it, not even noticing Tasker until he looked up at the dark windows again and turned toward the FDLE agent laughing in the seat next to him.

“What the fuck!” It came out in a Texas twang. “You think that’s funny?”

Tasker could only nod as he laughed and gasped for air. Tears started to run down the corners of his eyes.

“Shithead, you coulda got shot.”

“When? After you had your coffee?”

“What is this shit, anyway?” He started to calm down and tried to roll down his window.

”Relax there, Mr. Surveillance. It’s just plastic.”

Jimmy pulled the handle, then shoved open his door, ripping the plastic. Tasker followed his lead. In thirty seconds, they had all the plastic off the Honda, then Tasker followed Jimmy to the shade of the old market’s overhang.

Jimmy sighed and said, “That was pretty funny. I always heard you didn’t have much of a sense of humor.”

“I didn’t have time with your guys on my back. But I couldn’t pass this up.”

Jimmy nodded, taking a deep breath. “I musta just dozed off. You’re pretty stealthy.”

“You just dozed off like Adams was just president. You were out for a while.”

Jimmy just glared at him. “Long night. You seen my squeeze.”

Tasker nodded. He’d seen her up close. He looked down the road toward the house. “Anything happen? At least while you were awake?”

“Not much, but I bet we give this a few days and our man will show.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Dunno, just do.”

Just when Tasker was getting used to his almost pleasant Texas drawl, Jimmy added, “I’ll leave it with you, aiiight? I got other peeps to check out.”

Tasker just nodded, then asked, “You ever check with Sal Bolini on any info on Wells?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Why?”

“He’s always yappin’ about his great sources. I thought he might come up with something. Probably just all talk.”

“No, man, he’s for real. He made a couple of solid terror cases. The man grabbed the two Jordanians who were going to blow up Turkey Point.”

“That was Bolini’s?”

“For true. He also stopped some homegrown terror boys when some local Nazi tried to destroy a Metro bus.”

Tasker nodded. “No shit, I remember that, too. Guess I just thought Bolini was another empty FBI suit.” He looked up at Jimmy, forgetting for a second who he was talking to. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Tasker watched as Jimmy Lail slowly started for his car in silence. “Hey,” Tasker called out. “That’s a good surveillance car.”

That stopped him. “Seizure. No one else wanted it. Can you believe it?”

“You’re a lucky man.” Tasker watched him squeal out of the lot and head north up Krome. He looked up at the sun and stretched. It was going to be a long Saturday.

Jimmy Lail kicked his little supercharged Honda in the ass and shot north on the turnpike extension toward Pembroke Pines. A quick, surprise booty call on Camy might be just the trick to straighten out her attitude. He decided not to mention Tasker’s prank. He got the feeling that Tasker didn’t do shit like that to brag, just for his own entertainment. He’d find out on Monday.

He cranked up the bass on his DMX CD and eased back into the seat. He hit the fifth speed dial on his cell phone, barely able to hear the numbers beep over the thump of the bass.

“Hello.” The male voice was short and to the point.

“Hey, it’s working like you said.”

“What?”

He raised his voice. “I said, it’s working.”

“Jimmy, cut that rap bullshit off if you want to talk to me.”

Jimmy hit the mute button on his stereo, shocked by the sudden silence. He spoke back into the phone. “I said, it’s working.”

“Told you. Sorry you have to do it but we need the time.”

“No sizzle off my shinizzle.”

The phone went dead as the man hung up.

Jimmy shrugged and hit the number-one speed dial.

“Hello,” a female voice said.

“Hey, my lady. Just finished my five-O duty and thought we might share some lunch.” He laughed, then said, “And then eat.”

“Who’s this?”

Jimmy sat up straighter. “Whatchu mean? Camy, it’s me, Jimmy.”

Her giggle carried over the phone. “Really. How was I supposed to know that?”

Jimmy relaxed. “Everyone’s in a funny mood today.”

“Anything happen on surveillance?” she asked.

“Wells didn’t show yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Tasker is on it the rest of the day and night.”

“That was nice of him to take two weekend shifts.”

“Why not? Whole thing’s his fault.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Check it out, awright. I arrested Wells and he sprang him.”

“You didn’t arrest him for the bombing. We arrested him for something he didn’t do.”

Jimmy sighed. “That’s just work, baby. What about it? I’ll be to your crib in thirty minutes.”

“Sorry, Jimmy. I can’t see you today. Got too much going on.”