Safe In The Lions Den Pt 04

"Lord, why are you doing this to me?" I muttered. "I have nothing against you, I promise. I just want to get her home."

At that point, Karen's husband charged at me in a bullish sort of way; not with professional poise, mind you, but more like a lumbering lunatic.

"Look out, Guy!" Portia hollered at me.

I paused for a split second; finding twisted humor in her warning. It reminded me of Crazy Cora in Quigley Down Under, hollering, "Look out Roy!" to Tom Selleck's character every time he was in danger. I sidestepped the aggressor as he rushed at me, and stuck my foot out; tripping him and sending him crashing headlong into a rack of clothes.

Portia took Sophia under her arm, and they both ducked behind a nearby clothes rack to avoid the cell phones that were certainly recording by now. I could only hope they were trained on the lumbering "Big Jim" and me, instead of the two people I was supposed to be escorting home "under the radar," as Portia had succinctly put it earlier. I was failing miserably in that department, and I was getting pissed. I was letting my personal feelings take precedence over my professional judgment, and it was causing unnecessary issues. If I'd have simply stuck to my original plan, we'd be more than halfway home by now.

So yes, at this point, I was completely pissed. Mostly at myself for allowing this to happen in the first place, but also because this was the third time since noon, that someone was being adversarial against Portia or myself. This was NOT the America that I wanted her and Sophia to experience; yet somehow, I was getting every Karen and Kevin in the state of Virginia fucking with us. This was the final straw, and I was taking it out on this over-sized Pillsbury Dough Boy if he made the mistake of charging at me again.

He untangled himself from the display and stood up; glaring at me with hatred in his eyes. He glanced around and tore a piece of chromed tubing from the clothes rack; advancing slowly.

"Don't do it!" I snarled. "I told you, I'm a federal agent, and given the circumstances, I have every right to shoot you."

"Fuck you!" he exclaimed. "You ain't no cop, dressed like that; with that ponytail and crystal around your neck. You assaulted my wife, and I'm gonna take you out."

"Take me out?!" I asked incredulously. "Are you threatening to kill me?"

He stared at me for a moment, as if actually debating his actions, before slowly advancing toward me again with the metal tubing in his raised hand.

"Are you really going to be dumb enough to come after me again?" I demanded. "Each time you make a move at me, it's an additional charge, and with that pipe in your hand, it's a deadly weapon. You also just threatened to take me out. Don't do it, Dude; final warning."

"I'm gonna take you down." he stated flatly.

That was when I finally had enough with not only this situation, but the entire fucking day as well. I glanced around and confirmed that Portia and Sophia were safely out of sight, when he suddenly charged at me again. My left foot arced around and knocked his arm to the side, and I followed with a right punch to his jaw, stunning him for a second, before he shoved me back and resumed his attack.

I took a defensive position; ready to block his right arm with mine, and then break it with my left arm, when a loud crackling sound rang out and he dropped like a stone. To my left, a uniformed female officer was holding a Taser and focused in his direction.

"Don't move or I'll give you another jolt!" she barked.

As expected, he didn't listen to her either, and got juiced again. This happened three more times before his adrenaline ran out, and he finally stopped resisting.

"Thanks Sister," I said with a grateful smile, "but I had it under control."

"I'm sure you did," she replied with a wink, "but I thought I'd assist you anyway."

She removed the clips from the man's chest and rolled him over, cuffing his hands behind his back.

"You never learn, do you Jethro?" she inquired, as she double locked the cuffs.

"You know him?" I inquired.

"Oh, yeah." she responded. "He and his wife Charlene over there. We all know them both quite well. They've both been in and out of the system for several years, but they always seem to skate serious charges."

"Well they have them now!" I exclaimed. "They have no clue who they assaulted this time. They're looking at State and Federal charges for this."

"I heard the ruckus and immediately headed over." she explained. "I also heard you ID yourself. Can you show me your creds, please?"

I nodded and opened my ID case. Her eyes widened at my title, and she nodded herself.

"I've never heard of 'Presidential Detail' before," she admitted, "but I can see those are real. The Bureau has a field office here. Should they be notified?"

"Yes," I replied, "and please request the agent overseeing the JTTF (Joint Terrorism Task Force). This is serious."

"Yes Sir." she acknowledged, pressing the button on her mic. "Central, this is Jenkins. Off duty and requesting backup at Wally World, along with the assistance of the Bureau on this one. Please be advised a federal agent has also requested Special Agent Simmons. He says he needs the JTTF involved in this."

"10-4; hang tight." a voice replied.

I turned to face about a dozen people, all with their phones trained on me.

"Turn your phones off." I instructed. "I'm going to need them for evidence. If anyone is live streaming this, cut the feed NOW."

To my surprise, everyone complied. Then I noticed him; a young guy wearing a face diaper and hanging back, with his phone still trained on me. I immediately recognized his behavior as that of a self-proclaimed "auditor," hell bent on causing trouble in some way, shape or form.

"Turn it off!" I barked.

"First Amendment rights!" he exclaimed in a muffled voice, refusing to end the stream. "You can't stop me from filming in public!"

"You're not in public, you dumb ass!" I retorted. "This is private property and now, you are under arrest for obstruction. I told you to turn that thing off. You Sir, get an 'F.'"

With that, I grabbed the phone from his hand and turned it back on him, as Jenkins Mirandized him. The last thing his fans saw before the feed ended, was him being handcuffed and told to sit on floor.

"I want to see your supervisor!" he demanded. "I'm going to sue you and your department for false arrest."

I squatted next to him, grabbing him by the collar and putting my mouth to his ear.

"My supervisor is the President of the United States," I hissed in a sharp whisper, "and the FBI is en route to take care of those two ass clowns over there. One more word out of you, and you will find yourself accompanying them to a heavily fortified Cuban beach. You have no idea what you have just done."

"The public has a right to know!" he protested. "Police brutality needs to stop!"

"You should have minded your own business." I said quietly. "What you just did, may qualify for additional charges under the Federal Espionage Act. You were fine, up until the point where I told you to turn it off. When you continued to broadcast, you could have been sending it to the Russians, Chinese, Iranians, the Norks or even Hezbollah, and that is when you crossed the line."

"You were beating up an innocent woman!" he stated authoritatively. "It was my duty and my right, to film it."

"Your ignorance of the situation is not my problem," I said sternly. "You have no clue what led up to this. There are two sides to every story, and you have just broadcast a very misshapen side of the coin. I told you to stop and you didn't. I told you to keep your mouth shut, but you just had to get the last word in, even after having been Mirandized. So now, you are suspected of conspiring with the two suspected terrorists over there, and per our prior conversation a few minutes ago, you will also be joining them on their all expenses paid trip to Cuba; just as I promised."

He stared at me with a blank look on his face. I stood up and looked him square in the eye.

"You little buttercup!" I snarled. "You think you're out here doing the Lord's work? You have no fucking clue what it's like to defend your country. People die every day, so that you and your ilk can protest against them. They die for you, and all you can do is protest them?

"You post your videos on FaceSpace and Me2b and get hits and probably a monetized channel, just to get some recognition; maybe a few bucks a month on top of it. You don't have a fucking clue what it's like, to actually defend your country and put your life at risk, to defend the likes of you."

His look suddenly got condescending.

"And you do?" he mocked. "I love that ponytail, Soldier Boy. Where did you serve, Faghanistan? Queeraq? Maybe over in South Queerea?"

"I took three bullets for the man who is now the president of the United States." I replied, turning around and lifting my shirt up. "So I think I have a pretty good clue as to what it means to be willing to die for someone - or something else in your case - more important than myself.

"And now, thanks to you, I have to interrupt my plans and split out of here like a bolt of lightning before the Press shows up. You have no idea the damage you may have caused."

"That would make you Lightning Jack, then." a vaguely familiar voice said from behind me, with a tinge of amusement to his voice. "I see you're back in the Game."

I whirled around to see my old case agent standing behind me. Now it made sense; Simmons, of course! He was the special agent who oversaw the JTTF for the local field office back in North Carolina, and had recruited me per John's request. But why was he here? I could have sworn he had retired a few years ago.

"Pat!" I exclaimed, as I shook his hand and clasped him on the back. "How have you been? I thought you would be back in sunny Scottsdale by now. Weren't you going to retire a few years back, yourself?"

"I was," he confirmed, as we casually walked away from the small throng of people that had been been temporarily detained by Officer Jenkins, "but John offered me a sweet promotion if I relocated, and I agreed to stay on until he leaves office. You know him; king of the deals and all. So, what's going on? I was advised that a federal agent had requested me."

"That would be me." I replied, showing him my sweet new credentials and shiny rhodium-plated badge.

"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed. "Presidential Detail! That's inner, INNER circle! Jack, what's the situation?"

I glanced over at the clothes rack, where Portia and Sophia were still mostly out of sight. I made eye contact with Portia; shading my eyes and dropping my head, and motioned for them to come over to me. Pat stared in amazement, as they approached us, and Portia removed her sunglasses.

"Portia, Sophia; I'd like you meet Special Agent Pat Simmons. He's the only Fed in the world that I trust. Pat, this is Prime Minister Portia Leoni, and her charming daughter Sophia. John asked me to look after them while this whole fiasco over there plays out."

They shook hands, and Pat looked back at me.

"What the hell were you thinking, bringing them into Wally World?" he inquired. "You know that isn't protocol."

"I know," I admitted, "but I've always operated outside of the bureaucracy. I'm not going to treat them like prisoners, and we needed some stuff. I didn't think anyone would recognize them and I was right. How the hell was I supposed to know that she'd run into some screeching Karen?

"Anyway, I probably shouldn't have brought them here, but I thought everything would be okay. And it would have been too, if not for those meddling kids and their dog."

Pat snickered at the reference to a Scooby Doo episode.

"That's why there's protocols that we follow." he pointed out.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." I responded. "I know that, but I've always done things differently. "I think that's why John asked me to do this."

"It wasn't just his decision." Portia interrupted. "I asked him for some stuff that my daughter and I needed. He needed a cooler and some ice too. If I'm not mistaken, isn't he technically under my orders?"

"That's a tough one." Pat admitted. "I'm not really sure who-"

"Oh shit, our food!" I burst out. "The ice and cooler!"

"Oh no!" Sophia wailed. "It'll go bad and it was so good!"

"It WAS good." Portia agreed. "We really need that ice and cooler."

Pat sighed.

"Of course you do." he muttered. "Forget the international incident unfolding before us. Your dinner must prevail."

"It was fried chicken and meatloaf, with peach cobbler." I explained. "They'd never had it before, and we're all looking forward to finishing the leftovers for dinner."

"You have the weirdest of priorities!" Pat said exasperatedly. "You never do anything like anyone else."

"That's why I never joined the military." I pointed out.

He turned to Portia.

"You know how he used to go undercover? As himself! Yep, he used to go in as of all things, a cop!"

"It worked too." I said stoically. "You'd have to be either crazy or stupid to attend a meeting with the Russian mafia as a cop. Besides, there was too much info on the Internet about me. It was just easier to be myself with a chip on my shoulder."

"You're not stupid, Guy." Portia said pointedly. "A little crazy maybe. How did you come up with that?"

"By accident." I admitted. "I forgot to take my belt buckle off that had a mini version of my badge on it. The American asked me if I was a deputy sheriff. I thought really quick, and explained what I did as a reserve constable, and that it was a mock-up of my badge. I then opened my wallet and laid it on the table. He shrugged and nodded, and slid it across the table. The Russian looked at it, and gave one of those sideways nods and gave it back to me. We continued our conversation."

"And they never questioned it." Pat observed. "Jack is one of those guys that can make any situation work. You know, the kind that can tell an ethnic joke to someone who it would normally offend, and make them laugh."

"Is that so?" Portia inquired, looking at me with her now familiar, closed mouth smirk of amusement. "Why don't you tell me an Italian joke, Jack?"

"I'd rather not." I replied.

"Oh no, I insist." she, well... insisted, rather sardonically. "I want to see you get yourself out of this one, Guy. C'mon, tell me an Italian joke and give it your best shot."

"Okay." I said grudgingly. "So I bought this old Jeep, and the tires had boots all over them."

"You mean, like those wheel locks?" she inquired.

"No, I mean real boots. For extra traction I guess. Anyway, I asked the guy about them, and he told me they were called Dago tires."

"Dago tires, really?" Portia said, rolling her eyes. "Just because they had boots on them? That's the dumbest joke I've ever heard."

"Um, no." I responded. "You see, apparently dago 'tru mud, dago 'tru snow, dago tru just about anyding, but when dago flat, dago 'wop-wop-wop-wop-wop'!"

Portia stared at me with her mouth hanging open, and Sophia immediately started to giggle uncontrollably.

"You sounded just like a flat tire when you did that, too!" she chortled. "That was funny, Jack!"

"Yeah, I guess it was." Portia acknowledged grudgingly. "Okay, I'll admit, that was funny."

"If I may so bold as to break up this most jocular of moments," Pat cut in, "I'd like to wind this up."

As if on cue, Jenkins strode over.

"I've looked at all of the recordings from the witness's phones." she said. "It's abundantly clear that Charlene attacked your friend, and her husband came after you multiple times as well."

"Does anything show her face?" I inquired nervously.

"No." she confirmed, to my relief. "The first recording started after Charlene started screaming about the dress, but the angle was from behind. It just shows a woman and a girl from behind, and then you coming in. YOU on the other hand, are probably blowing up the Internet by now."

Not showing Portia's or Sophia's faces was a bit of relief for me, but as if things couldn't get worse, my phone rang. Not MY phone mind you, but the one that John had given me, and the incoming caller ID was from none other than Archangel himself.

"Hey John." I answered with one of those falsely comfortable tones of voice. "I was just fixing to call you."

"Hey, what's going on?" he responded. "One of my aides just showed me a clip of you defending -- I'm hoping -- Portia and Sophia. What happened? Where are you, and why is she shopping at Wally World?"

"We stopped to get some lunch, and then I got her a pair of glasses to help change her looks, and we all needed some stuff, so I took them to Wally World." I replied. "I didn't figure anyone would recognize her and I was right. She got attacked by some crazy-ass, random Karen, so I did what I'm supposed to; I protected her and took the Karen down. Maybe I should have been a little more discreet. I don't know. Look, if you want to take me off of this, then I understand."

"But why even take her out in public at all?" John inquired.

"Because they are under my protection," I explained, "they are NOT my prisoners. There's a big difference. We all needed some stuff and we came to a mutual decision."

At this point, Portia opened and closed her hand several times in a "gimme" gesture, indicating she wanted the phone.

"Hang on a sec." I said, as I caught her gaze. "She wants to talk to you."

I handed her the phone, and her entire demeanor changed. Out came the sweet and charming lady, but also with an air of authority, as she greeted the president.

"No, everything is fine." she stated; politely but firmly. "He's been great. He was there when I needed him. Not at all. Look, I, how do you say, 'twisted his arm.' Very much so. He's interesting, to say the least. Yes."

She handed the phone back to me.

"She says she trusts you and doesn't want a detail, so you're off the hook on this one, but do me a favor, and stay in touch okay? Check in every couple of hours and let me know how things are going, okay?"

"Yipper." I replied. "Sorry. By the way, Pat Simmons is here."

"Tell him I said hi, and don't be." he responded. "I wanted you to do this because no one else thinks like you. You're completely unpredictable and you're right. She's your guest; not your prisoner. Just try and keep it a little less intense, okay? My staff will figure something out to smooth this over."

I gave a slight gigglesnort at the request to keep it less intense. That was way beyond my control.

"They wanted to take the scenic route." I continued. "We'll be in less hostile territory soon. I'll give you a shout when we base for the night, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan." he replied. "Jack, be careful."

"Nimble and quick too." I said with a smile. "Out."

"John sends his best." I said to Pat, as I closed the phone.

"I think we've got it from here." he responded. "We'll take all three in for an 'interview' they won't soon forget. Bonny and Clyde are looking at serious time for the assaults, but I don't think we can really hold the influencer."

"He wouldn't stop filming when I told him to." I explained. "He could have been sending that to Hamas or something. All three of them need the shit scared out of them. A little time in Guantanamo Bay would teach them a lesson they wouldn't soon forget."

"We have a mock-up of it in Quantico." he replied. "We use it for training from our perspective, but I'll bet they'd never know the difference. I'll see what I can do. If I need you to testify, I'll let you know."

I glanced over, as the manager approached us.

"I'm so sorry for your inconvenience." he apologized. "We have a register in the back for ringing up Christmas layaways. I can ring you up there. Is there anything else you need?"