Chapter 17: Miles & Madigan

Summer 2023

The job in Sullivan Springs was a larger project than most of those I had already worked on. The spreadsheets were smoking by the time I got through with them. When I contacted Ballantine in two weeks, it was only to tell him I was still working the project. Unlike some of my other jobs, in this one I didn’t have a single answer already packaged. In my other jobs the chief or sheriff already knew what he wanted to do and simply needed an outsider to give him a third-party blessing. This was different. I needed to outline a series of choices, some of which overlapped. Likewise, where previously I simply was presenting the results to the guy ordering up the study, in this one it was a lock that I would be presenting the results to the money people, the county, state, and federal people who were providing the grants.

I began by sending him a status report on what he already had, focusing on the tactical abilities of the office. It might seem to be simply feeding him back what he already knew, but the format I put it in was the same format I would use to build the upgraded capability packages. Additionally, by showing an understanding of their system, it assuaged any concerns and allowed me to continue billing them for those proposed packages. By the end of March, I had the packages built, along with costing and manpower requirements, and drove down to present them. I saw Ballantine first, leaving him with a package about an inch thick, along with the spreadsheets and reports on a thumb drive. I also gave him the next bill. We talked for a while, and he initialed the bill and tossed it in a mailbin on his desk. “This is good work, Grim. I’m not quite sure what I was expecting, but this looks very thorough. I’m going to have to go through this, but so far it looks good.”

“Where do you see this going next?’ I asked.

He shrugged and sighed. “Now I run it up the flagpole and see who salutes. Something like that, anyway. Some of the proposals in here will need approval from the county. I don’t know about your county, but Sullivan County is not known for efficiency and productivity.” I smiled at that, and he continued, “Best guess, I meet with the county exec in the next few weeks and let him know what’s going on. I’ll probably be talking to the full county board by the end of the month. After that, who knows. In a perfect world, they approve everything, and I submit everything to Georgia and Homeland Security, and they immediately write me very large checks.”

“This ain’t no perfect world, Dom,” I commented.

“You’ve noticed.” He shrugged again and said, “No it’s not a perfect world, but we can probably figure a few things out. The county council knows about this. I mean they signed off on getting the study done, but that doesn’t mean they are going to agree to everything. Figure that the soup isn’t done until everybody gets a chance to pee in it. There’s something in here they won’t go along with. What that something is, I don’t know yet, but you have to know there will be something that somebody is going to want to screw with. Once that gets sorted out, we take it to the state and the feds. They won’t screw with it that much, but they won’t cough up the money immediately, either. We’ll be lucky to get some of this started by the end of the year.”

“Understood, Dom. Just make sure to let them know that there are time constraints in all of this. We’re not talking about moving people off Patrol and onto SWAT, just rearranging the deck chairs. You put a dozen guys into SWAT, you’ll need to hire a dozen guys for Patrol. The SWAT guys will all need to go to Forsyth for training, along with the sergeants in charge. It all takes time, Dom,” I replied.

He nodded. “Understood, Grim. Even under the best of circumstances, we couldn’t move on it until this summer. Don’t sweat it. I’ll let you know when you need to come back for the dog and pony show. It probably won’t be until April. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

That was the end of the meeting. I said my goodbyes and shook hands with Dom and some of the other people I had met on the force, and I took off. He was right about how long it would take. Government takes forever, and the police are part of government. I believed him when he said he wanted to increase their capabilities, and he understood the costs. Whether the county council agreed was a separate question. Either way, I thought my work had been good and would hold up under inspection. It was out of my hands.

I smiled as I left, though. My contract with Sullivan County had been fulfilled, but it was open for the future. When it came time for me to come back for the presentation to the county council, the dog and pony show, I would bill for my time, and if they implemented my suggestions, the odds were that I would be called back and hired to help the implementation. Think of the billable hours!

I spent the next two weeks reviewing Slave Patrols and doing the final tweaks. Then I sent it off to Simon & Schuster. They would do their edits and send it back for me to re-edit it. The back and forth would go on for a month or two, and then they would either be happy or shitcan it. I expected them to be happy, because they could push it as a history book by one of their bestselling police historian authors. Granted, it was a very small pool, but so what? If Sharpton signed off and wrote the foreword, it was a lock for at least as many sales as Protect and Serve.

At the end of April, I got a call that was totally unexpected. The phone rang Monday morning the last week of the month and I could tell by the ringtone that it was for RSC. “Reaper Security Consulting. How can we help you?”

“I’d like to speak to Doctor Graham Reaper. Is he available?”

“Speaking.”

“Doctor Reaper, my name is Bob Jenkins and I’m a senior vice-president with Miles & Madigan Consulting. Have you heard of us?”

I’m glad I was on the phone, because my eyebrows went up. I didn’t have time to waste wondering what was going on, though. “Yes, sir, of course. I think everyone in our business knows Miles & Madigan.”

I heard a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Probably so, Doctor. The reason that I’m calling is that I plan to be in Atlanta later this week and I’d like to sit down with you for a bit. Do you think that would be possible?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not. I just finished a couple of large projects and haven’t started a new one, yet. What did you have in mind?”

“I’d rather not get into it just yet, but I want to discuss something with you. Are you busy Wednesday? Maybe we could meet in the afternoon and then have dinner?”

“Certainly. Name the time and place and I’ll be there with bells on,” I replied.

“You know, I’ve heard that expression many times, but I have no idea where it ever came from. I just can’t imagine you wearing bells.” I laughed at that, and he continued, “Anyway, give me your email address and my assistant will firm some things up and send you the details.”

“Perfect.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Doctor Reaper.”

“Same to you, Mister Jenkins.”

I hit the End button on the phone and sat back in my chair. That was not a call I ever expected to take. Miles & Madigan Consulting was a national firm that specialized in police and security consulting, and arguably one of the larger firms. They were like Kroll or Hillard Heintze or Booz Allen Hamilton in that they offered consulting services on just about anything related to security and law enforcement. They would happily tell you how to restructure your department, whether it be a small department like the MPD, or something a little bigger. I had seen in one of the trade journals that they had a consulting contract with the Chicago Police Department to streamline and modernize them; the CPD has almost fifteen thousand cops. Anything security-related was fair game, too. You want to run the Olympics in your city? They had a package to offer you. They would also provide training, and public relations help if the training failed.

I googled them and was stunned by the breadth of what they did. It wasn’t just police consulting. They would do background investigations, not just for security guards at the mall, but for people heading billion-dollar companies. They could run in-house investigations in case a whistleblower claimed somebody was stealing or committing harassment or some other potential crime or public relations nightmare. They wouldn’t just come up with a solution to your police problem, they would bring in everything needed to fix your problem. If it involved anything related to security, they probably had a division doing something with it. They even were into cybersecurity, defending against whatever foreign governments or criminals were up to.

Miles & Madigan started in the 19^th Century when a pair of detectives named James Miles and Robert Madigan started tracking bank and train robbers. They stayed in the private investigation business for about a hundred years but by the second half of the 20^th Century they began to branch out. They weren’t necessarily the biggest consultancy, but they were up there. The big question was what did an 800-pound gorilla want to talk to me about?

I mentioned it to Kelly while making dinner that night. “So, this is unusual?” she asked.

“How would these guys even have heard about me?” I replied. “Granted, I’m an all-around wonderful fellow, but I am so far down the line from what these guys deal with that they would need a telescope to find me.”

“Who says you’re wonderful, Dad?” asked Seamus, wandering through the kitchen.

I gave Kelly a dry look, and then turned to my son and answered, “All right-thinking adults who know me and approve of barnacle inspecting.”

Seamus rolled his eyes. “I’m not buying it, Dad.”

I turned to face him and crossed my arms. “You want me to have your mother get the door while I take care of the rest?”

He just laughed and scooted out of reach. As he headed down the hall I heard, “Hey, Riley, guess what Dad just said?”

I looked over at Kelly and quietly said, “You know, I just wanted a blowjob that night.”

Kelly squawked and laughed. “Just remember what your mother says, grandchildren are a grandparent’s revenge. Wait until he has kids. We’ll get ours back then.”

“I wonder what Dad and Uncle Dave did to my grandparents that Jack, Bobbie Joe, and I were needed as karmic balance?”

“Frightening thought, isn’t it?” Then she changed subjects and said, “So did you ask this guy why he wanted to see you?”

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t say. I guess I’ll find out on Wednesday.”

“And this is a big company.”

“It’s sort of like you getting a call from a department head at MIT, asking for a meeting and dinner,” I commented.

That got me a smile. “I’ve had meetings with a department head at MIT. It wasn’t all that big a deal.”

“Now you’re just bragging.”

Wednesday afternoon I drove into Atlanta. Our meeting was at the St. Regis, probably one of Atlanta’s more expensive hotels. If he was trying to impress me, it worked. I drove up to the front entrance and turned my car over to a valet. From there I went inside and went to the registration desk. A call was made, and I was told Jenkins would be down in five minutes. I sat down on a very pleasant seat to the side of the lobby and waited. It was actually four minutes before two men came from the direction of the elevators. They walked over to the registration desk and were pointed towards me. I stood as they approached.

“Doctor Reaper? I’m Bob Jenkins.”

“Mister Jenkins. Pleased to meet you,” I said. Jenkins was in his early forties, my height but slimmer, fit and trim, with a full head of brown hair.

“Call me Bob. This is Mike Forrester. He’s another senior vice-president at Miles & Madigan. When I mentioned I would be meeting you, he asked to come along.”

Forrester was an older version of Jenkins, though his hair was beginning to gray. “Call me Mike, Doctor. It’s a real pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming.” I got the impression that Forrester was Jenkins’ boss.

“Bob, Mike, nice to meet you. Call me Grim.”

Forrester smiled. “I’ve heard about the nickname. That must have been fun growing up.”

I smiled. “The question was whether I got angry at my brother for not being able to speak my name or angry at my grandfather for having Graham as a middle name.”

“Well, you probably couldn’t do a whole lot about either one, could you?” laughed Jenkins.

“No, not really. Grandpa could have whipped my butt, and if I did anything to Bobbie Joe I’d have to answer to my mother, and she’s even scarier.”

That got laughter all around. Then Jenkins said, “I’ve booked a small room off the lounge. We can have a drink and talk. Later we can either eat here or go out to a restaurant, your choice.”

I nodded. My choice? I wasn’t sure what these guys wanted, but I was curious. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”

Forrester led the way and I followed them into the lounge, the St. Regis Bar. We were directed to a small room to the side, with a few low tables and armchairs. We settled in and an African-American barman came up to us. “Welcome, gentlemen, to the St. Regis Bar. Can I start you off with a cocktail? May I suggest a West Paces Mary? It’s our signature drink.”

“What is it?” asked Jenkins.

“It’s basically a Bloody Mary, though with our own version of spices. It’s very popular.”

Forrester looked at me and Jenkins. We both nodded so he ordered three and the barman took off, leaving us with menus for appetizers and bar food. “I’m curious about how their Bloody Mary is different from everyone else’s Bloody Mary,” he said.

“Sorry, can’t help you. I’ve never dined here before,” I answered.

“Well, we’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, let’s talk a bit. How do you find the consulting business, Grim?”

I smiled and gave a quick laugh. “It’s interesting, that’s for sure. I’m glad my wife has a steady paycheck. Consulting is paying well, but it sure isn’t steady.”

“What does your wife do, Grim, if I can ask,” said Jenkins.

“She’s head of the Computer Science department at Matucket State College. She got her doctorate long before I did, and she’ll be happy to tell you that.”

That got a few smiles. “Does she do any consulting? I’ve known a lot of college professors who do.”

“Some. To be honest, her consulting is on advanced math, and I have no idea what she’s talking about most of the time.” That was true. What was also true was that a lot of her consulting involved a Top-Secret security clearance with the Department of Defense and the National Security Agency. I couldn’t even mention that to these guys.

“I would bet you are curious why we asked to meet with you,” said Jenkins.

I nodded. “I am.”

“How much do you know about Miles & Madigan?” asked Forrester.

I gave him the textbook answer about police and security consulting. It didn’t cover everything I knew, but it showed that I knew about them. They nodded and murmured at appropriate times. I finished with, “So how does that involve me?”

Forrester answered, “Bob here is our Senior Vice-President for Development for the Southeast. He’s been telling me about a young police consultant who has been involved in several projects we had been interested in and who is making a name for himself writing books and going on television. Then he started looking into your background. You’ve got a most impressive resume, Doctor Reaper.”

“At the time it just seemed like it was happening,” I said.

“How so, Grim? I can understand that you hadn’t planned to be at Outpost Whiskey, but what about your other choices? Becoming a policeman, going SWAT, getting your degrees in History, and becoming a consultant.”

“Some of those choices seemed to be the best for me at the time. When I came home from Iraq, I just wanted to stay home for the rest of my life. I wanted to marry my fiancée, settle down, and go fishing. It just happened that the first serious offer I had that didn’t involve asking people if they wanted fries was the police. After Iraq, the police sounded quiet and peaceful.”

Jenkins smiled and commented, “I assume you learned it wasn’t always quiet and peaceful.”

I nodded. “Yes and no. Combat is a very Darwinian process. Yes, I learned that police work can be dangerous, but by that time I already knew that my skills were sufficient to handle it. And I liked it, all of it, SWAT included. If my leg wasn’t messed up, I’d still be a cop. That wasn’t the way it worked out. I had to move on. So far, I think I’ve made the right decision.”