This story is part of an ongoing series.
The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography.
Feedback and
constructive
criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.
This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.
Part 30 - Orange Is The New Order, Continued
(
Author's note: This is another of those 'bridge' stories, interlude-type stories that give information and set the table with groundwork, as well as a case to solve. Thanks for your patience, and enjoy the sex and the rest of the story.
)
The MCD room erupted with cheers and congratulations. Mary Milton ran over and hugged her husband.
"Please?" I simply said, getting Myron moving to the door to the hallway. He began walking, as if in a dream, guided by Cindy. As I followed the applauding group, I turned to them and winked. They applauded some more.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
(
Author's note: the full Orange Order ceremonial and initiation are described in 'Case of the Paper Trail', Ch. 03.
)
Chief Moynahan and Myron Milton were taken to the Main Conference Room. Cindy went to tell Mary that obviously Myron would not be home that night while most of us were rounding up the rest of the TCPD to the Main Auditorium. My universal message went out, and phones all over the place were chirping or chiming in receipt.
Ten minutes later, we had just about everyone in the auditorium. I came in the side door and took the stage.
"Well, everyone," I said, "since it's only me up here, I'm sure you Detectives can figure out who at least one of the inductees is going to be." There was laughter and applause; everyone knew the Chief normally used this gathering to address everyone. For him to not be here meant he had an evening of 'patrollin' to do.
"On behalf of the Council, the Sheriff, and the Chief, I want to congratulate you on yet another outstanding year." I said. "We've had some tough challenges, particularly in front of television cameras and crews that are extremely hostile to you, and you've handled those challenges with distinction and professionalism. As always, I caution you to remember that loddy-doddy-everybody has a smartphone with a camera, and believes themselves to be the next journalist about to break a big story, at your expense, or they're trying to get paid for footage of you doing something wrong. So keep doing what you're doing, and let's see if we can get through the rest of this year and next year without any Purple Orders."
After the mostly polite applause died down, I said "Now it's time to meet this year's Class of Initiates into the Orange Order. First, your Police Chief, Sean Moynahan." The Officers were standing as they applauded loudly as the Chief came up.
"And Data Supervisor Myron Milton!" I announced. The room erupted into even louder applause as Myron came up. The TCPD had heard that Myron had stood up to the FBI, and had maintained his professionalism even after his father was kidnapped and beaten nearly to death, as well as all Myron had done to help us solve crimes and defeat thugs. This was a well-deserved recognition.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the Junction Station Depot, the Chief and Myron were put through the initiation. They both remembered to take their lanterns to the potty break. That won me $60, as only three people bet against me when I said they both would remember.
We began the Patrol of Honor. The initiates and their guides were let out at the southwest corner of Courthouse Square and began walking around the inside of it, while Police barricades kept people on the outside side of the streets. There were people lined up to watch, and many turned on their iPhone lights or had cigarette lighters, creating a sparkling sea of pinpoints of light.
Normally the group would circle Courthouse Square three times. This time, they only went around once, then headed south on Riverside Drive, past the Police Station and entrance to the fairgrounds. We were going to get the west-to-east walk down MLK Jr. Avenue out of the way quickly, then we would not be seen on the southside again until nearly dawn.
We usually have a Patrol cruiser ahead of us, clearing traffic and closing the street if necessary, and a Patrol cruiser and SUV behind. My radio was tuned to Channel 5 encrypted radio, and I heard it crackle.
"Alpha Point to Commander Troy." said the radio.
"Go ahead, Alpha Point." I replied.
"We've got a group of people in red shirts beginning to mass near the Cub Club parking lot." said the radio.
"Shit." said Chief Griswold, who was riding shotgun with me.
"Roger that, Alpha Point." I said into the radio. "Be advised to steer the walkers into the street as they approach. Lt. Irwin, are you there?"
"Roger that, Commander." said Lt. Irwin.
"Get armored Officers onto the sidewalks there." I said. "Form a barricade."
"Roger---" started Irwin, who then said "Commander, be advised that the red shirts are already moving to block the street...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chief Griswold was driving my SUV. I'd gotten out and brought Cindy with me. We were slowly approaching the line of red-shirted persons, nearly all black, some with chains with bicycle locks fastened to them, some with baseball bats, and some with what looked like crowbars. How dare they, I thought to myself. How dare they. We shall see who is really willing to use a crowbar, here.
I came up to Precinct Captain Thompson, who was in his robes, leading the others. Teresa was bringing up the rear. I knew both were authorized to be armed with multiple firearms. "Just follow me through them, Captain." I said. Thompson nodded silently.
I had my orange crowbar at 'port arms', ready to use it as I approached the line of red-shirted thugs, and I could clearly see the logo on the shirts of someone planting a pennant on a hilltop. It was an ANTIFA logo, carefully copied from the Nazi propaganda groups of the 1930s. I thought of my great-grandmother and of Dr. Heinz, and did not stop walking as I came right up to the line.
There weren't really very many of them. Some were still arriving at the scorched-out Cub Club site. Some were caught behind Police lines trying to get there. We had caught them unawares, they had been expecting us at least half an hour to an hour later.
I was the only Officer without a helmet on. I wanted the Enemy to see who was coming, and they did know. Everyone on my side was ready for the fight to begin. I figured I'd get at least four of them before they could get to me...
It didn't happen. The red line broke open. The Red Sea, such as it was, parted. I walked right through, followed by Thompson, Moynahan, Milton, and Croyle. Cindy Ross brought up the rear, ready to use her crowbar and martial arts skills to wipe out as many of them as she could if they attacked.
We walked on down MLK Jr. Drive to near T-Square's 'Rhythms & Rap' club, which was busy. People were watching from the parking lot, but there were no red-shirts and no problems. Cindy and I dropped out of the line as it patrolled on.
Behind us, the red-shirted thugs began running in every direction, pursued by some very angry TCPD SWAT personnel as well as heavily armored 2d Precinct Officers. Six arrests were made.
Part 31 - Section 31
The rest of the night went well. We stayed near Courthouse Square and the streets around us, seeing more friendly crowds watching. They began petering out, and eventually the whole Town began to quieten down as people went home and went to bed.
At 3:30am, I woke up Chief Griswold and we went to Courthouse Square. The initiates were making a circle after having taken a potty break and eaten some warm soup at Police HQ. I pulled alongside the group.
"Captain Croyle!" I called out the window of my Police SUV. "Come with us, please." I stopped the vehicle and Teresa climbed into the backseat. We headed to the Junction Station Depot.
Teresa hung her orange-glassed lantern on the hook outside the door and came in with us. She was stunned to see the Depot room in all red lights. Chief Griswold, Zoe Singer, Efram Elliott, as well as Rudistan, Hicks, and Kirkpatrick were all there, wearing monk-like robes. I came around from behind Teresa, also wearing a monk-like robe.
Chief Griswold and Efram Elliot did the explaining: "Captain Croyle," said Griswold, "we are brothers and sisters of a very special part of the Orange Order and the Fire Chief's Order of Distinction. There are others of us among the Police and Fire Departments, and our mission is to protect the Citizens and our good brethren from those that would destroy us. At this point, I must ask you to commit to an oath of secrecy, which will not commit you to join us. If you do not wish to go further, you may leave with no hard feelings nor retribution."
"I agree." said Teresa, looking over at me as if for guidance.
"Yes, Ms. Croyle," said Chief Griswold, seeing her look, "it was Commander Troy who nominated you for this, inclusion into the 'Blood Order'. He has told us that he considers your loyalty and bravery to be above reproach, and coming from