Chapter 19

Bob navigated the streets and highways and Beth followed. He kept his speed about 10 MPH over what the other traffic was doing, as he and Tommy watched closely for tails and suspicious traffic. Nia and Skye kept a lookout as well.
As the little 2 car convoy approached the Sheriff’s office complex, Tommy called Tom.

“Hey bud, we’re almost there.”

(pause)

“Yeah. I was thinking. Do you have a sally port?”

(pause)

“Good deal. We’ll drive straight in.”

(pause)

“Okay. See you in a few.”

And he hung up.

They entered the parking lot and drove around back. As they approached, the roll-up door to the sally port started up.

Once inside, they waited until the door was closed again before exiting the vehicles.

A steel door at the far end, lacking any knobs or handles in the port, swung open.

A young deputy waved to them and they entered the building into a hallway.

Down the halls, a few turns, and they were shown into a rather large office. It looked to be about 20 by 20 feet square.
Tom stood as they entered.

Tommy was VERY jealous now.

“Nice digs.” Tommy said. “Sorry we’re late. Unexpected delays at the hotel.”

Tom smiled knowingly.

“Just glad you made it.”

“Any problems? Tails? Funny looking people?”

Bob shook his hand, “Only the funny looking guy I’m looking at.” He said with a laugh.

Tom chuckled.

“Okay. A few things you might want to know.” Tom said.

“The room is video and audio recorded. And it has a little invention that my electronics tech installed. It blocks any video or audio recording that is not done through the wired system.”

“Nice.” Bob commented.

Tom continued, “These ‘agents’ will be brought in the long way, through the booking area. State law requires that they will have to pass through the metal detectors, and have all bags searched. There is also a camera that will record their faces and we can run them through the National facial recognition system.”

“Their weapons will be secured in the locker boxes prior to entering.” He grinned.

“What about us?” Nia asked.

Tom stepped to the door on the far wall and opened it. “Right this way pretty lady.”

The group walked into a conference room with a large oval table in it. The door to Tom’s office was on one wall, the ‘main’ entry door was on the opposite wall.

Tommy sat his hat on the table about center of the table, claiming a seat where his back would be against the wall. Bob took the one beside him to his right.

Nia and Skye sat beside their husbands, Beth and Lisa were seated on the far end.

Two young deputies wheeled in a cart.

Bottles of Dasani water were placed on nice napkins imprinted with the Sheriff’s logo in front of each member of the group. And a big box of assorted crispy-creme donuts was opened on the cart, which was parked on their side of the table, in the corner near Beth and Lisa.

On the opposite side of the table, the deputies placed a tray with a dozen bottles of room temperature store brand water, and a roll of brown paper towels from the bathroom dispenser.

Tommy chuckled at this psychological tactic.

At 10:45, there was a knock and a female deputy opened the main door to the room.

Two women and six men were directed inside.

Tommy and Bob didn’t rise or greet them, and the others followed the example.

The newcomers opened a large plastic file box, several notepads, and set up an audio recorder.

One man set up a tripod and video camera.

Tom stood at the end of the table to Tommy’s left, an amused smirk on his face.

Tommy had just leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and waited.

The ‘agents’ then sat down.

Tom spoke. “Welcome to the Bexar County Sheriff’s complex. I am Sheriff Tom Jenkins.”

He looked to the ‘agents’ and said, “One of you is Agent Riley I presume?”

A younger guy, about 29, stood and began.

“We’re here today to take the statement of Thomas Jefferson Gunn.”

He looked at every man in the room, except Tommy, and asked, “Is Mister Gunn here?”

Tommy flipped his index finger up toward the ceiling.

The guy nodded, opened a thick file folder, and continued.

“Mister Gunn. We have received information, and a copy of a complaint, outlining that you had an altercation with Doctor Bill Yates. Now deceased.”

Tommy just raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘So?’ and encourage the guy to continue. He was watching the other ‘agents’ and appeared to almost be ignoring Riley.

He flipped a page in the folder, “On the night in question, witnesses state that you assaulted Dr. Yates in a local restaurant, breaking his nose, causing facial injuries, and inflicting injury to his groin area.”

“A threat against his life was also reported.”

Tommy had now found his mark. The mid-40’s brunette woman in the Killary Klinton power suit.

“Dr. Yates was treated at a local hospital, then released that same night. He then found that his automobile had been ‘misplaced’, and that you had made slanderous accusations about him to his spouse. The latter resulting in her filing for divorce.”

Tommy shrugged and said flatly. “About 1% of it.”

Riley continued, “This week, Dr. Yates was found murdered. His body mutilated. There is strong evidence he was brutally tortured before dying.”

Tommy didn’t flinch or change his facial expression.

Riley spoke a little louder and addressed Tommy, “Mister Gunn ... Are you paying attention to these charges? This is a formal interview to ascertain if you will be detained or charged in this case.”

“Do you have anything you want to say?”

Tommy stood.

The eyes of every one of these ‘agents’ fixated on his weapon in the custom holster.

Tommy picked up his opened water bottle, then casually walked to the cart and popped a donut hole in his mouth. Chewing as he walked back to his seat.

Bob stood, also reveling that he was armed, “Dammit Tommy, you flung a cravin on me now. You know I’m on a diet.”

Beth stood and picked up the box, then handed it across to Bob.

Everyone sat back down and Tommy spoke.

“I have plenty to say. But I’m just waiting for your boss here to ask me a question that isn’t anything more than a lie filled accusation against me.”

He stared at the woman, “Hi, I’m Tommy Gunn. And you are?”

Her eyes flicked to Riley, but only slightly.

Riley ‘plopped’ the folder on the table across from Tommy and sat down hard in his chair.

“Senior Agent Margret Sheffield.” The woman spoke. “And you still haven’t answered the question.”

Tommy stood. He had snatched up the folder before anyone could even flinch, other than Riley, who recoiled back into his chair with his arms up in front of his chest.

“Mister Gunn!” Riley said as he stood and reached toward Tommy. “That folder contains sensitive and classified information about this case.”

Tommy pressed the folder back against himself and fixed Riley with a cold glare.

“Sit your ass down! Shut up.” He said loudly.

He stood and addressed the whole bunch.

“You waltzed in here with your high and mighty attitudes, and didn’t even identify yourselves.”

He motioned the young Deputy over.

“Please, make three copies of these documents for me sir. Treat it like evidence. Stand there and watch. Any jams or misprints go into the shredder immediately. Nobody views the contents except you.”

“Bring them back to ME when you are finished.”

Turning to the ‘agents’, Tommy said, “You know who we are, now who are you?”

“Present your credentials so we can examine them.”

He spoke as they dug out ID holders and badges.

“You will address me as SPECIAL AGENT GUNN. That’s my title. I earned it by actually doing my job, in the field, at great risk.”

“There is NOTHING in this file above my security clearance ... for a FACT. Something you would already know if you were any kind if ‘investigators’.”

Bob nodded and Tommy gestured to him.

“This is SENIOR Agent Robert Barnes. He is our unit supervisor. You will address him as such.”

“Down there,” He pointed at Beth, “Is Deputy Elizabeth McMaster. She goes by ‘Deputy McMaster’. Address her properly as well.”

Tommy looked at Agent Sheffield.

“You come in here and outright accuse me of murder, without even asking me any real questions.”

“You don’t even take time to ask if I was in SA, or at home, or on the damned moon.”

“Federal Bureau of Investigations ... Staffed by incompetents who can’t even investigate simple shit properly.” He laughed.

“Yes, I was at the restaurant. No, I did not lay a finger on Yates, nor did I have any confrontation with him. AT ALL.”

Riley snorted, “We have sworn statements to the contrary.”

“I’m sure you do.” Tommy told him. “And I have credible witnesses to back what I say.”

“Who are these witnesses?” Sheffield asked.

“Me ... For a start.” Tom said loudly. “And of course the surveillance video at the steak house, Dr. Yates’ victim, His victim’s Niece, Mrs. Yates, and my own wife.”

Tom added, “And several deputies, police officers, and the EMS crew that heard him ranting about his victim and his wife assaulting him.”

“Not one time did he claim a man, or specifically Tommy, had assaulted him.”

“And we have the body camera video in the file.”

The young deputy returned. Tommy directed him to give the original to Riley and the copies to himself, Bob, and Tom.

Tommy turned to Sheffield and asked, “Wanna know where I was a couple nights ago when ‘Doctor sex-predator’ got executed?”

She nodded.

“I was at home with my wife.” Tommy said. “And my ‘PayEx’ app on my phone will show me there. You know, the app that we use to log on and off duty for payroll? The one with the tracking that pinpoints us within 50 feet?”

“And if that’s not enough, I have time stamped video showing me arriving at my home that afternoon and not leaving until 7:30 the next morning. And my cameras see the house 360 degrees, non-stop recording.”

‘Agent’ Sheffield just nodded. “I want to apologize if we seemed to be leaning toward you as our main suspect. That isn’t exactly what our intention was.”

“Then just what ARE your intentions.” Tommy asked her. “Because this whole shit show is highly irregular. Just the inconsistencies and strange departures from normal procedure alone is highly suspect.”

There was a knock on the door to Tom’s office.

Tom opened it, and the ‘local’ FBI team entered the room. Six in total, armed and wearing their vests and ID’s.

Stepping into the room, the lead man had a short conversation with Tom and then strode over to ‘Agent’ Sheffield.

Handing her a manila envelope, he spoke, “I am Special agent-in-charge (SAC) Andrew Anderson, San Antonio field office. I am here to ascertain the nature of your investigation and activities in this section.”

“Please present your credentials and pass them down to the end of the table.”

Tom stepped over and handed the copied file folder to Anderson.

“This is a copy of the file they are working from in this meeting.” He told him.

“Good.” Anderson handed the file off to a studious looking female Agent who had taken a seat at the end of the table and was setting up a laptop and a portable document scanner.

She booted the machine and within minutes was feeding the sheets into the scanner.

Looking at Sheffield he said flatly and pointedly, “Agent Simons here will require copies of any other documents you might have, as well as all field reports and case materials.” He gestured to the female Agent with the computer who was typing in the information from their ID’s.

When Sheffield nor any of her personnel made an effort to move he just stared at her, cocked his head sideways, and arched an eyebrow.

She began to reply, “Anderson, I think we need to confer in private. My team has operational...”

“HAD operational authority.” He cut her off. “And you WILL refer to me as Special agent-in-charge (SAC) Anderson.”

He pointed to the manila envelope and then looked at the Agent to his right.

“Agent Ricker ... if you please?”

The Agent opened a black leather folder and read;

“ ... all operations and investigations, former or current, being pursued in the San Antonio Field Office area of operations, by any Agent or Investigative Team of the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation, from the date of this directive forward, shall be at and by the personal direction and oversight of Special agent-in-charge (SAC) Andrew J. Anderson.”

“All Agency personnel operating... (snip) ... shall report directly to, and act in accordance with, the directives of Special agent-in-charge (SAC) Andrew J. Anderson.”

“Signed by ... FBI Director...”

Anderson gave her a wry smile, “That means ALL Agents in this Section work UNDER ME now. You don’t so much as make a phone call or knock on a door without prior approval and authorization from ME personally.”

“And before you do anything that might affect your future in the Bureau, let me advise you that I am a hard ass about ‘Chain of Command’. I don’t tolerate anyone who attempts to circumvent established channels by ‘going over my head’.”

“Is this clear people?” He asked the group.

They all nodded solemnly.

He looked at her again, “Am I clear Agent Sheffield?”

“Crystal.” She replied, with no lack of apparent distaste.

“Good.” Anderson declared. “Now. What are the main goals of this little gathering?”

Tommy spoke up.

“Well, sir, it seems that a witness ... or asset ... that was under the umbrella of Agent Sheffield’s team was murdered. And for some reason, I was ‘summoned’ to sit here and answer questions about my knowledge of the individual and my whereabouts when he was tortured and killed.”

Anderson nodded. “Okay. And your answer to those inquiries is?”

Tommy shrugged, “At the time of the murder, I was at home, in bed with my wife, in SilverSpur.”

“I have witnesses, and up-linked security video, that show this to be fact.”

Anderson nodded.

Tommy continued, “The doctor formerly treated Skye,” he pointed her out, “and sought an inappropriate relationship with her. Subsequent to a fiasco at the Westin Hotel, she clocked him a good one at a local restaurant. The Sheriff, his wife, myself, my wife, the doctor’s wife, and a throng of patrons saw the exchange. As well as the vicious foot impacts of Mrs. Yates on his... ‘manhood’ ... prior to his EMS transport to the ER and detainment in the county jail.”

Tommy chuckled, “This little pow wow is just an expensive overnight excursion on the governments’ tab that could have been handled by an email or Skype session.”

Anderson said thoughtfully, “I see.”

“And has your statement been duly recorded?”

“Yes.” Tommy said. “Just prior to your arrival.”

“Very well.” Anderson said. “I guess that settles the matter as far as your involvement is concerned. Thank you for your cooperation.”

He winked at Tommy. “You’re free to go if you desire.”

“I think we’ll stick around.” Tommy said. “This whole mess is tied together by ongoing investigations and cases our Agency is working, as well as yours.”

“It’s time for some of that ‘inter-agency co-operation’ that was supposed to be implemented after 9/11.”

Agent Simons cleared her throat and motioned Anderson over.

He looked at her computer screen a few moments, then stood upright and removed a card from his pocket and spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I need you to pay really close attention to the following please.”

He gave a signal and his Agents moved back to the perimeter of the room.

“Given the information we have at this time, you are all under arrest for suspicion of impersonating FBI personnel.”

“Please remain seated until you are instructed to do otherwise.”

Reading from the card in a loud voice, he began, “You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to waive this right, anything and everything you say will be used against you in court proceedings. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be assigned to you at little or no cost.”

“Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you? And given this information, are any of you willing to speak to myself or my Agents at this time?”

Sheffield was absolutely seething and vibrating in her chair.

She stood and demanded, “SAC Anderson! I insist that you and I speak in private!”

“No.” Anderson said flatly.

“Anyone else?” He asked.

Sheffield spoke again. “We are legitimate National Security Agents. You can’t do this.”

“You have identified yourselves as FBI Agents, and presented false credentials Lady. You are in violation of Federal and State laws.” Anderson told her.

“You are INDEED under arrest, and you will be booked and locked up in this very facility. This will occur immediately if you don’t wish to waive your rights and talk to me.”

“The choice is yours.”

“My team is a mix of legitimate DEA, ATF, and NSA Agents.” She said.

“For gods sake, we’re on the same team and working toward the same goal.”

“Bingo, sir.” Simons said aloud. “CIA. All of them.”

“Confirmed.”

He walked over and looked at her screen again.

Stepping back toward Sheffield, he told Simons, “Bag the badges and ID’s. They won’t be needing them.”

“I’m going to refer this to the US Attorney’s office. You’ll be detained here until we get an answer.” He told Sheffield. “The CIA operating on US soil is a HUGE no-no. You know this. And it still doesn’t excuse you impersonating FBI Agents.”

Nia, Skye, Lisa, and Beth were just watching the exchange with wide eyed wonder

Tommy and Bob were used to these pissing matches, and laughed frequently.

Anderson kept on at the fake Agents, taunting them almost. Every so often a ‘nugget’ of information would be revealed. He was very convincing that he intended to both book and jail them, and blow the lid off their activities. Maybe even go public in the media.

Agent Simons kept busy, scanning every document available. She had about half the plastic file box done when Sheffield finally broke.

“Fine Anderson,” Sheffield finally said. “If you won’t listen to reason and abandon this fixation with creating a big inter-agency stink, then we have no choice.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything?” He told her. “Like Tommy said, full disclosure and cooperation.”

The story she told was interesting. All the way up to where she admitted leaking the hotel information where Tommy’s group were staying. That made Tommy’s blood boil, and she almost caught a fist when she flippantly said it wasn’t a big deal since none of Tommy’s crew or the Deputies got hurt.

Tom was pissed. It was his Deputies that were put into harms way. He was about to tear into this pompous bitch when Bob suddenly lurched sideways and grabbed Tommy’s arm and wrist.

He almost shouted, “No Tommy! She’s not worth it!”

Sheffield recoiled. At the sudden and loud action.

Catching on quickly, Tommy said back to Bob, “This bitch and her little cuck boys here put our wives and families in danger. They would’ve been killed by those cartel scumbags if not for Tom’s SWAT team exterminating the vermin.”

“You think they’d even care? Really?”

“All they care about is the Federal funding for their little black-bag games.”

“She’s no better than that shitbag Riveras I’ve been hunting for these past years, and these other fucks are just as bad as the bastards who attacked my home.”

Tommy turned his gaze and just glared at her for a long moment before he stood and faced Bob and Anderson. He then extended his left arm and pointed his finger with pinpoint accuracy at the tip of her nose without even looking.

Had it been a pistol, the shot would have been balls dead accurate.

He half growled and half hissed at the two men, his face red and his eyes wild with anger.

“No way she lives to walk out of this room. No way. She dies right here. I know you’ll kill me, but that can’t stop me.”

“No they won’t.” Bob said.

He slid a look across the room, “I’m with you, brother.”

“You know that I got your back.” Nia said.

“Me too.” Beth added ... Quickly followed by Lisa’s “And me.”

Tom almost ‘announced’ from the other end of the room, “I’m with Gunn too ... I owe him a life. Nobody better try to harm a hair on his head.”

Sheffield blanched white and looked like she might puke.

“Wait! Just hold it! Everyone just calm down!”

“Yes, we knew! We didn’t set you guys up to get hurt! We didn’t give up the Westin to them, just tipped them to the fake motel rooms! The decoys!”

“Why?” Tommy asked her, without looking at her. Keeping his eyes on Anderson’s Agents. “What purpose did it serve? Why put Tom’s deputies at risk?”

She spoke almost too fast, “It was a setup, to get rid of the cartel hit-men! The ones that tortured and murdered our asset, Dr. Yates.”

Sheffield’s people were sitting stone still and wide eyed, not sure if they should choose fight or flight to try and save their sorry asses.

Anderson’s Agents looked like they weren’t sure if they should take Tommy down or not, as they stood at the ready and watched. Several kept glancing at Anderson.

Bob raised his voice and said with un-hidden disgust, “Whose asset? We don’t even know who you people are. Why should we believe anything you have to say.”

Sheffield almost pleaded, “I told you the truth. I swear.”

“We’re a special unit that was put together under the last Presidential Administration. An anti-cartel task force.”

“Our mandate is to create as much chaos, and destroy as much of the cartel infrastructure, as possible.”

“Bullshit!” Tommy shouted. “Fabricated bullshit.”

“I guess this is where you tell us that your group is so ‘top secret’ that there’s no possible way to prove any of your claims?”

Sheffield picked up a pen and scribbled down a name and a phone number. She added a 6 digit alphanumeric code underneath.

“Tell the person who answers that code, and that Margaret Williams gave it to you. Tell them what you want to know. Ask whatever questions you need to.”

She added, “We all have alias identities. It protects both us, and our real life families and friends.”

Tom hooked his thumb toward his office and made a ‘phone sign’ to the young deputy, who stepped in and brought back a landline phone on a long cord.

He placed it beside Agent Simons, who was busy running the phone number and the name ‘Margaret Williams’.

“Sir,” She said to Anderson, “Sheffield is Margaret Williams.” She paused as she typed.

“That phone number is assigned to Langley. It’s legit.”

Anderson dialed as the room watched and listened.

He explained the detention, the charges he was willing to file, and gave a brief description of the current situation.

It took about 15 minutes, but he was evidently getting answers.

“Yes sir, I understand fully and I consider this to be highly sensitive information. We just need to know if these people are who they claim to be.”

He listened for a few minutes, then said, “Thank you for your help.”

After he hung up, he said, “They’re legit Tommy.”

Tommy laughed and replied, “Thanks Andy ... Now maybe we can actually get somewhere.”

Tommy sat down and told ‘Sheffield’ in a calm tone, “See how easy that was? We could have just STARTED there and skipped the theatrics.”

She looked at him, with his almost instantly changed demeanor, and just shook her head.

“It was all a bluff?”

“Yep.” Bob said. “Except for the part where we said if you try to harm Tommy you’ll have us all to contend with.”

“We deal with people who only understand unrelenting force and brutality. If we show any sign of not being serious, it could mean the difference in extracting the information we need and failure.”

“We need lessons.” Riley said to nobody in particular.

“So we don’t get to shoot them for what they did?” Lisa asked.

Tommy shot her a harsh look. She just laughed. “I’m just kidding ... Sheesh.”

“So who are you?” Riley asked. “No way you guys are regular CBP.”

Bob looked at him and told him, tight lipped, “That’s classified.”

“We are authorized and funded through the same Executive Orders that you guys are.”

“And we don’t have a super secret phone number to call, or a mysterious leader to talk to, if things go wrong for us.”

“And yes, we are CBP. For all intents and purposes. But our unit doesn’t do the ‘regular stuff’ as you put it. We’re tasked with stopping the trafficking of drugs and humans across the border, period. Without the usual hoops and red tape.”

“Holy shit, it was a simple question. What does all that even mean anyway?” Riley asked.

Tommy spoke, “It means we are who we say we are. No aliases or alternative identities. My name really is Thomas Jefferson Gunn, and this lady really is my wife, Nia Gunn.”

“It means if we fuck up, or if someone sells us out, our lives and the lives of our families and friends are placed in danger.”

“Operationally? It means that the people we deal with often wind up in Guantanamo, or just dead. It also means that we have access to, and the clearance to do, a lot of neat things ... like tasking an armed Predator to identify and track you guys from your little strip mall office to here this morning.”

Riley looked surprised.

Bob just laughed.

Tommy told the group, “This is the only flaw I have found in the creation of our units. Other than the real possibility of some lefty politicians discovering our units and sending US to Gitmo. Nobody in the units they created even knows who each other are, or how many units actually exist, and nobody can share information or resources in an effective manner.”

“I get that they intended for us to have autonomy and complete security, the cartels are too good at buying information. But I have to also think it was to give themselves deniability.”

He shrugged.

“I don’t really care what names you call yourselves, or what your unit is called. I don’t even care what your actual tasking parameters are. But investigating and clashing with each other is a plan for failure, and I won’t fail in my mission.”

“As long as we can move forward with some good common sense, and work together as much as we can from now on, I say we turn this little inquisition around and try to put together a plan that accomplished the goals of BOTH our units.”

“Not suggesting we violate our security protocols, just communicating our findings to the other units a little better than we have been.”

“I’m for that.” Said Sheffield. “All this could have been avoided if we had known who you actually were.”

“Just one thing,” Tommy said to her. “I can’t abide placing the lives and well being of any Law Enforcement officers or innocent citizens in danger. You still don’t get a full pass on your methods. Using us as even potential bait was dead wrong.”

“The end results don’t always justify the means of getting there. You’ll find that our entire unit holds those same beliefs.”

Anderson spoke up at that point, “Since I’m the guy who has the authority to make these type decisions, I guess I still get to be the asshole.”

He picked up the FBI credentials, still in an evidence bag.

“You guys are no longer FBI. Choose another agency. I have to protect my actual Agents from any blow-back that might arise from your activities.”

“Understood.” Sheffield said.

The group took a break to enjoy some food from the little BBQ shack not far from Tom’s office.

The rest of the afternoon was spent comparing and sharing.

Tom and his staff returned to their normal daily routine, and he only stepped in when the ‘Feds’ wanted his input on something.

Their personal cell phones were once again brought out and turned on.

Beth, Lisa, Skye, and Nia piled into her patrol car and went into town.

Once past the initial ‘getting to know each other’ phase, the two units and FBI team were able to use their combined knowledge of the cartel activities and structure to great benefit.

Each Agency did indeed have something to share that the others didn’t know about.

One of the surprising facts shared was that Dr. Yates had been treating the wife of Riveras’ immediate boss. He had been flying down to see her for almost a year.

But instead of the expected ‘honorable’ status one would expect him to receive, he was working under threat. The woman had told her husband about Yates’ flirtatious ways, and an instance of actually coming on to her, and the doctor had been set straight.

Yates had been told, with specific and graphic clarity, what the fate of he and his wife would be if he ever crossed the boss again. In any manner.