Chapter Fourteen
While MaryAnne, Rosco and company were securing the hallway, Lt. Nevins of the Atlanta P.D. was in the underground parking garage. He watched as a single white bulb lit up, then went out, on a box next to what looked like a service elevator. The heavy set officer walked over to it, looking at the closed door, taking note of the switch box near the light. He leaned to the door, listening, and then looked over to his other officers.
"Preston!" He waved for the officer to come see.
"Yes sir?"
Nevins jerked a thumb to the elevator. "What do you make of this?"
"Looks like a service elevator, sir."
Nevins nodded and pointed. "This light lit up for a moment."
"It was probably moving, either passing the floor. Or it lights up whenever the compartment's in motion."
Nevins nodded. "Meaning Tyler might try to use it to escape...." The severely balding officer paused in thought, looking up in the direction the elevator shaft would be. "Or he's got more tricks he's going to try to pull." He let his gaze drop. "And those damn Coltranes are up on the top floor." He looked at the fellow cop. "You're pretty handy with this kind of stuff. Think you can override this thing for us?"
The young cop gave a nod. "I can give it a shot."
"Go to it."
The officer hastily walked away, went to his cruiser and returned with a few tools. Another officer joined in the operation. In less than a minute, the face plate was removed from the elevator switch box. The officers then went to work on manually opening the door, while Lt. Nevins spoke into his radio to Commander Briggs.
Officer Preston and his partner pulled with everything they had to get the door of the service elevator open. When they finally had it, they shined their flashlights in to the empty shaft, noting the cables and wires. They then both looked in and up, figuring for sure the compartment was up at the top floor.
"It's gonna be a looong way down..." Preston said.
Lt. Nevins looked in the empty shaft and then at his two officers. "Get the sonofabitch down here."
"Yes sir..."
***** ***** *****
MaryAnne looked at Rusty. "I want you, Ace, Bo and Luke to check the other offices on either side here. See if any of them have a door that might connect to this one." She pointed to the door of Tyler's office. "Be quick but be cautious. We've seen already enough of Tyler's dirty tricks."
"Okay, Miss Coltrane." The red-haired thug didn't question the orders. Any remaining chance of getting Tyler rode on Coltrane luck, and he knew it. The four men quickly disbursed through the corridors, keeping close to the walls.
MaryAnne then turned to the accompanying FBI agent, the officer and Rosco. She looked at the Fed.
"You got your warrants?"
"Yes ma'am." He pulled them out of his jacket pocket to display.
"Awright. There's no tellin' what's behind that door. Tyler may be holding Brian just long enough for me and Rosco to get in there and then he finishes us all off." She took a breath. "If something like that happens it's gonna be up to you two and the Dukes and the other gentlemen there to make sure them damn things are at least served, ya understand?"
"Perfectly."
She nodded. "Awright...Rosco--"
Suddenly MaryAnne's radio crackled. "Briggs to MaryAnne."
She lifted the radio. "Go ahead."
"We've discovered a service elevator that apparently was in motion just a moment ago. We don't know what floor it stopped on, but we're guessin' it's the one you're on. We have no idea what, if anything, is inside. But we're figuring Tyler may try to use that to escape. The best we can do is attempt to disable it from here."
"Affirmative, Captain. Thanks for the tip." MaryAnne pocketed the radio and looked at the three lawmen. "Y'all catch that?"
They nodded.
"All right..." she motioned for the Fed and the cop to stand on one side of the door, while she and Rosco stood on the other. She nodded to the Fed.
The Fed raised his hand and knocked loudly on the door. "Mr. Tyler, this is the FBI! We have warrants for your arrest and to search the premises! You are advised to comply!"
Inside the office, Brian gave thought to yelling a warning. A prod from Tyler's gun in his back kept him from voicing it.
"Not a sound from you," Tyler said behind Brian. "Not a sound..."
The Big Man's unnatural calm was that of a man on the brink of complete victory...or insanity. Brian shut his eyes in an eleventh-hour prayer.
The Fed knocked again and repeated his reason for being there.
Silence.
"Hey Frankie, c'mon! I know yer in there big guy! Don't ya wanna see old friends again??" MaryAnne shouted.
"RUN, MARYAN -" It was Brian's voice through the door, abruptly cut off.
MaryAnne stiffened, but Brian's clipped warning was confirmation enough. They're in there...
She quickly looked towards the corridors, wondering where the hell Rusty and the boys were.
Brian's voice had been heard by more than MaryAnne. The sound of it had brought Rusty, Ace, and the Dukes hurrying back towards the rest of the group. Luke spoke up first.
"This place is like a rat maze," Luke whispered in frustration. "It'd take three days for us to figure it out! Near as I can tell, though, Tyler's office runs almost half the length of this floor. Some of the office doors up here don't even have hinges, they were never meant to open."
"But this one's real," Rusty said lowly. "It seems like the only way in and out of Tyler's office." He shook his head in bewilderment. "It's not like the Big Man to corner himself."
"He doesn't realize he's cornered himself," MaryAnne said. "They noticed downstairs a service elevator moving earlier. I'm willing to bet that compartment is sitting on this floor and behind this door right now. They're working on disabling it...Tyler ain't goin' anywhere."
She looked at the door and knocked on it again. "Ya know runnin' ain't half a bad idea. Whattya say Frankie?? Why don't you come on out and give yerself up? Yer done, man..."
Tyler's voice, sounding smooth, calm and unperturbed, came through the door. "You may be right, MaryAnne. Come in, and we'll negotiate."
MaryAnne chuckled. "What's wrong with out here in the hall?"
"I prefer my office," Tyler said reasonably. "However, if you haven't the nerve to face me, then send in another one of your cousins. I'd enjoy seeing Rosco again, one last time."
"Is Brian in there with you?"
"Not for much longer, I'm afraid. It seems he and Rico had a slight disagreement."
"Yeah, I guessed as much..." She looked at Rosco, silently asking the question. Do we go in?
His look replied in question. Do we have much choice now?
MaryAnne looked at the others. Their looks were all saying the same thing. Don't go in there...
Even Rosco seemed torn by the options. Go in...stay out. Let Tyler finish Brian...let Tyler finish all three of them.
"Brian's in there..." MaryAnne said softly and looked up at Rosco. "Tyler wants all three of us. Why don't we go in there and give him one hell of a fight?"
"MaryAnne--" Luke started to say and was quickly silenced with a look from the young deputy.
"It ends here, Luke," she said simply. "We're out of time, we're out of options..." She paused, a slow grin coming to her face. "Besides, I'll be damned if Brian's gonna die in there without hearing one more smart-mouth comment from me..." She looked to Rosco, who smiled despite the situation.
"I'm gunna die in a blaze of glory, is that it?" Rosco said.
"Not as long as the boys here are right by the door," she said and looked to each of them, knowing she had their commitment long before this moment anyway. She looked at Rosco and nodded towards the door. He nodded back.
MaryAnne reached in for her radio and handed it to Luke. She then grabbed the door handle and turned it, pushing the door open.
She peered around the door and into the Frankie's office. "Hey Big Man, long time no see huh?" Rosco was still obscured by the door.
"Do come in, MaryAnne. You and Rosco both," Tyler said cordially. He stood near the back wall of his office, near his desk and his back to the door to the service elevator. Brian, still at gunpoint, was standing slightly in front of him and to the side, giving MaryAnne a look that clearly said get the hell outta here.
MaryAnne ignored her cousin's cautious expression. She smiled at Tyler. "Wow, this is quite a spread you got here..." She slowly stepped into the office. "Tho', not quite as fancy as what ya had a few years back..."
Rosco now peered in around the door, and noted where Tyler and Brian were standing. It was clear the standoff was already in progress.
Tyler smiled indulgently at MaryAnne, then waved Rosco in. "Join us, Sheriff." It was an invitation not to be refused. "Shut the door behind you. No one else follows."
Out of the corner of his eye, Rosco saw Bo and Luke move up towards the door. They would stand guard, bust in if they had too. The Sheriff took another step into the office, leaving the security of the door. Luke quickly pulled his knife out of the pouch on his belt, pulled it open and held the blade over the door latch, allowing the door to close, but not the latch to click into place with the other door. He held the handle on the door to keep it from drifting open, and he and Bo listened, with the lawmen and Syndicate huddled around.
Rosco looked around the office and stood near MaryAnne, protectively flanking her.
Frankie Tyler smiled coldly. "I presume that both of you are armed. Remove your weapons and put them on my desk. Move slowly. If either of you make a wrong move, then Brian will die ahead of schedule."
Brian, looking as if he'd already lost enough blood to die where he stood, gave MaryAnne and Rosco an imperceptible shake of his head. His dark, pained eyes spoke warning to his cousins. Don't listen to him...
It was a little hard to hide hunting rifles. MaryAnne drew hers out from behind her back, showed it in plain view for Tyler to see. If Brian wasn't so close, and if Tyler didn't have a gun to her cousin's back, the rifle would have been put to use. Instead this card had to be turned in for something different from the dealer.
She never looked at Brian, and just held her gaze with Tyler's, his eyes simmering with something of a cross between gloating...and lunacy. The rifle rested on his desk.
Rosco, however, wasn't so giving. He held the rifle out, but made no haste in placing it out of his hands.
"Set it down," Tyler ordered. "Slow and easy."
"Sure...if you put yours down as well..." The rifle remained in Rosco's grip and the look in his steel blue eyes reinforced his decision to hang on to the weapon.
"Out of the question, Sheriff. Apparently the thought of sacrificing one of your cousins doesn't disturb you. Very well, then..."
Tyler moved slightly, so that he was shielded entirely by Brian. He prodded the young man’s back with the gun, turning him to face Rosco directly. Tyler spoke again, with the same, irrational calm. "There, Sheriff. Take your shot. You can still get me at this range, but unfortunately the bullet must pass through Brian first. Then again, it might simply lodge in his body and allow me to shoot both of you in response. Nasty problem..."
"Yeah it is," Rosco replied, but showed no disappointment or air of defeat. "Of course, we can stand here all night, Brian there will eventually pass out leavin' you wide open. Then I guess we either shoot each other down, or you can try to hit MaryAnne and I take you out...when ya come right down to it, yer only gonna nail one of us before we get you."
"You've lost, Frankie," MaryAnne said, as she was hit with a sudden urge to action. "Sorry pal...the game's over..." As she finished her sentence, MaryAnne grabbed the gold-plated, marble paperweight off Frankie's desk and heaved it at his head, then took a flying lunge over his desk to attack him. The paperweight hit Tyler in the face and MaryAnne grabbed his arm, managing to force the gun away from Brian's back just as it discharged. The bullet missed Brian's body, but ripped through the side of his jacket, going off into the office. MaryAnne had all she could do to knock the Big Man to the floor.
It was the riskiest goddamn thing MaryAnne had ever done, but the standoff had angered her, the urge to finish everything took over…and the concern for her own life was replaced with absolute, all-out lust for revenge.
She ignored the warning pains from her still healing-wounds, and fought with all she had to knock the gun out of Frankie's grip. She had no idea where Brian was, where Rosco was. She only concentrated on finishing the job that should have been finished when she was a rookie cop. She slammed Tyler’s hand against the floor a few times, disrupting any future attempt at using the weapon. But Frankie Tyler was a good 150 pounds heavier than MaryAnne, and he used his girth to his advantage, pushing the young woman away from him.
Tyler’s hand hurt like hell and holding the gun was useless. But he would finish MaryAnne...no matter what, no matter how.
Rosco hadn't figured on MaryAnne pulling a stunt like she had. He reacted when he saw his cousin diving over the desk and suddenly had the urge to seek some kind of shelter. His instinct proved right, not that it did him any good. The bullet that missed Brian by inches, knocked Rosco to the floor.
Rosco rolled hard on to his side, fighting the burning pain he felt there, ignoring the instinct to see where the bullet had taken him. There were bigger things at stake. There was a violent struggle going on behind the desk between MaryAnne and Tyler. Rosco then spared a quick glance at Brian; his cousin was still standing, but there was movement behind him, the opening of the service elevator doors…
The hiss of the opening elevator suddenly had Brian's attention. He had just turned to try and help MaryAnne, when the service elevator gaped open to reveal Frankie Tyler's remaining cards.
Ketterhagen, along with two of the lesser-wounded of Tyler's gang, stood in the elevator with automatic weapons. They saw Rosco looking helpless on the floor, Brian standing unsteadily with his own injuries, and MaryAnne grappling madly with their boss.
Ketterhagen leveled his automatic rifle at MaryAnne, while his fellow henchmen raised their guns towards Brian and Rosco. There was no time to think, only to react.
Brian used the one weapon he had remaining, that being the knife trapped in his body. He clenched his teeth and yanked the knife free with a savage pull of his right hand, and threw the blade overhand with all his might.
It landed squarely in Ketterhagen's chest. Brian saw his enemy sag, slumping over to fall.
The loss of his own blood, streaming freely from the reopened wound, prevented Brian from seeing anything else. His legs collapsed out from underneath him, and he fell heavily to the floor.
Outside the office, Bo and Luke were suddenly being pushed into the office by Rusty and Ace. The sight that greeted them offered them no time to think. Rosco and Brian were on the floor, the service elevator was wide open with two of Frankie's men standing with their guns aimed now at the commotion going on behind the desk. The Duke boys, the Syndicate boys, and the two accompanying lawmen, quickly took cover and took aim.
Rosco managed to get to his knees and held on to his rifle. He saw Brian down. The Sheriff grimly lifted the rifle to bear.
One of the thugs in the service elevator looked over at the Sheriff, and upon seeing that Rosco was offering threat, took aim at him.
The rifle seemed heavier now, but Rosco tried to pull it into position as fast as he could. He didn't need it though. One of the Duke boys reddish-orange colored arrows suddenly flew over the desk, impaling itself into the man's arm, sending him reeling back into the compartment of the elevator.
The last remaining of Tyler's three aces realized he was in a lot of trouble. Ketterhagen was down. His partner was down. But MaryAnne was right there...
She was on her knees, struggling with Tyler to keep his big hands away from her neck. She hit, she slapped, she did whatever she could to stay on the offensive, oblivious to the gun pointing at her from the service elevator.
Tyler’s thug started to take aim, his finger rested on the trigger. He had her clean in his sights.
Rusty took aim this time and was about to pop off a shot when the service elevator started to move. Tyler’s last gunman looked at Rusty in wide-eyed surprise as the floor of the elevator dropped beneath him briefly…and when the rest of him caught up to the sudden jolt, he realized the entire compartment was falling fast.
Tyler heard the horrific scream as the elevator plummeted. He turned his head briefly, and even MaryAnne stopped to look. She then reached for her semi-automatic weapon from her back waistband and pistol-whipped Tyler on the side of the head.
The Big Man didn't quite go down for the count. The hit stunned him but didn't stop him. He turned back to MaryAnne and started to grab for her. MaryAnne lifted the gun in her hand and pulled the trigger, unable to think of anything else to do in the immediate threat of the situation.
Tyler stopped this time, the expensive white shirt he wore soaking up the red that seeped from his wound. He looked at her, his cold eyes never changing. He clutched at the wound and tried to claw at her gun with his other hand. MaryAnne pulled it away and scrambled back as Tyler fell face down to the floor, staining the expensive carpet.
MaryAnne stood up, stumbling backwards as she realized what she had done. The gun dropped from her hand and she kept stepping backwards, bringing a hand to her face and covering her mouth. She stopped when she backed into somebody.
She gasped and swung around to face Rusty. She looked at the red-headed thug, her eyes wild with shock, her limbs shaking. MaryAnne had been in all kinds of scary situations before...but never had she shot someone at close range.
Rusty put his hands on her arms to steady her. "You got him," he said quietly. "It's over."
It's all over... MaryAnne couldn't find her voice and she still shook. She dropped her gaze from Rusty and looked over at Rosco, who was still conscious and struggling to rise, against better judgment. But he was clearly hurt.
Bo was attempting to tend to the wounded Sheriff, who had no concern for his own injuries at the moment.
Luke was a few feet away, pressing a torn, bundled cloth into Brian, attempting to stop the bleeding knife wound.
Rosco's blue eyes found MaryAnne’s and he looked at his cousin with gentleness. She had done what she had to do. "MaryAnne..." he said in a labored breath, finally letting go of his rifle. He held his hand out to her.
Without a word, she walked towards Rosco and kneeled down, giving him a hug, careful of the wound that saturated his side. "It's awright, sweetheart...it's awright," he repeated softly, hearing her start to sob.
She cried a moment, then looked over to Brian. She left Rosco momentarily, and crawled over to her fallen cousin. Both of them hurt…both of them…
Luke looked at MaryAnne, seeing the silent question in her tear-rimmed eyes. "I think he'll make it MaryAnne," Luke said, "if we hurry up and git him and Rosco outta here."
MaryAnne nodded and pointed to the radio Luke had clipped to his belt. The elder Duke cousin put the call in to the law officers that were down stairs.
It was quickly answered. By this time, the police and Federal agents were no longer concealing themselves. Frankie's troops, for the most part, had either been wounded beyond resistance, or had surrendered, or had died...though a few resourceful criminals inevitably snuck out of the chaos to make an escape. The latter group, not representing Tyler's most loyal stock, fled the scene.
The light of dawn slowly touched the glass windows of Tyler's office building. The night's battle was giving way to a day's carnage, and every ambulance in Atlanta had found itself called to duty. Frank Mayson and Roger Kelley directed emergency personnel to the most critically wounded, without prejudice. When Luke's call for a paramedic crackled through the radio, Mayson heard it, and heard the details about the wounded on the top floor of the office building. The names of two of the wounded were no surprise to him…Coltrane.
He made sure that the call was responded to. Especially since the early casualty reports were listing Frankie Tyler among the dead. The Big Man had probably tried to take a few people with him. Mayson thought of his choice for this assignment, MaryAnne Coltrane, and remembered his words of advice to her at the beginning. Something about great personal cost…
He hoped that she hadn't paid too dearly in the pursuit of her duty.
***** ***** *****
MaryAnne was
wondering that herself as she watched the organized commotion in Tyler’s
office. She sat alone on the black leather couch, watching the paramedics
as they tended to Brian and Rosco, applying dressings to wounds and
preparing IV's for the trip to the hospital.
When asked if she required of any medical attention, she simply
shook her head, no.
"Just
help them," she had said, her voice thick, her eyes ignoring the
scene over behind the desk and instead focusing on a point on the carpet
between where Brian and Rosco were.
Somewhere
in the shock of what she had just done, was the expected concern for
her kin. Anger, however, was knocking at the door. She had told them
not to come to Atlanta, she had told them not to follow, she had told
them not to get involved.
Goddamn stubborn, bullheaded...
She
sighed heavily. You're pretty
bullheaded sometimes too... a voice reminded her.
She
didn't need to be reminded. She knew. She also knew that things could
have turned out worse...they could have all died tonight, or one of
them could have died...or two of the three.
You're pretty bullheaded
sometimes too...you insisted...you were gonna finish this...you were
gonna bring him down. Well, ya did and look what it nearly cost you...
MaryAnne
propped her elbow on the arm rest of the couch and covered her hand
over her face. She couldn't even cry. She felt sick, exhausted...maybe
even relieved but that was hard to tell with all the other stuff swirling
around.
I told them not to follow
me...
MaryAnne
closed her eyes, pushing the thought away. It wouldn't have settled
well with them at all, she knew. That's why they had followed her to
Atlanta in the first place.
"...yeah
we're gonna move him..." MaryAnne looked up, seeing the paramedics
getting Brian ready to be moved first. She slowly stood up and walked
over to them.
"He
gonna be all right?" she asked.
"He's
lost a lot of blood," the paramedic answered. "But he's hanging in there. As long as there's not internal
hemorrhaging, he should make it alright."
MaryAnne
nodded. "Thank you." She stepped back to let the paramedic
back to his work and to allow room for Brian to be carried out. They
lifted the young Don and headed to the door. The gold ring, she couldn’t
help but notice on his hand, was stained in blood.
She
turned away, and saw the paramedics were already picking Rosco up to
be carried out next. The Sheriff's eyes were still open, but MaryAnne
could see that whatever they had flowing into the IV had Rosco very
relaxed. He did manage to look at her, giving enough of a grin to show
he was okay otherwise.
MaryAnne
returned the expression and the urge to cry was there…but the tears
wouldn't come.
Somebody
put his arm around her shoulders. MaryAnne turned to see Luke, with
Bo beside him. "It's gonna be all right, MaryAnne," he said.
"They'll be all right."
MaryAnne
nodded. Am I gonna be all right?
she wondered.
"Watch
out..." Bo said softly, prompting MaryAnne and Luke to move. Frankie
Tyler, along with Ketterhagen and one of the other men that had been
in the elevator, were now being removed from the office. MaryAnne stared
at the white sheet-covered form of Tyler’s body as it passed.
"I
ain't never killed nobody in my life..." she said.
Luke
heard the inner turmoil in her voice and even identified with it. He
had heard it before and had counseled a few soldiers after battle,
finding it was never an easy task. Even when the situation was self-defense...like
MaryAnne had just been through. "He
was gonna kill you," he reminded her. "He'd wanted to for
years, MaryAnne. But you beat him..." Luke glanced at the procession.
"Unfortunately, it as the only way you could..."
"I
know...all my training, all my years...you kill somebody as the absolute
last resort..."
Luke
turned her to face him. "MaryAnne, this was his game and you had to play by his
rules, even tho' I know you didn't want to.
Tyler didn't give a damn about your years as a cop. To him,
you were the enemy and he wanted to destroy you, along with Rosco and
Brian and even our cousin Daisy, just because she had been mistaken
for you. You had way too much at stake to loose...to be honest, you
had more at stake than he did."
"That's
right," Bo agreed. "The only law guys like him know is the
open end of a gun..."
"Don't
mourn it, MaryAnne," Luke continued. "You've probably saved
far more people than you've hurt."
"And
ya ain't hurt nobody."
"Just
my kin," she said, looking each of the boys in the eye. "I
hurt them."
Bo
and Luke exchanged an uneasy glance. They’d seen what Rosco and Brian
had been going through in Hazzard, long before the trip to Atlanta
and the ensuing battles. "Uh…well, you didn’t hurt ‘em physically,"
Bo said, fishing for something to say, and then realizing he should
have kept his mouth shut.
"You
don't call being stabbed and shot, physically hurt?" She dropped
her gaze a moment. "I told them not to come here."
"Their
comin' here was their choice,"
Luke said. "Me and Bo came here because we wanted to. We wanted to help you because we knew Daisy's life
was at stake too, along with all you Coltranes. Brian and Rosco came
here because your life was at stake. They didn't
want to see anything happen to you without them saying something about
it first!"
"Is
it so terrible that they care about you?" Bo asked.
"After
what I've put them through?! It could be--"
Another
voice spoke up. “MaryAnne?" The
discussion came to a sudden halt when Commander Mayson interrupted.
MaryAnne looked at him and attempted to maintain her cop demeanor.
"Yes
sir?"
"The
area is secure," he told MaryAnne.
"We're doing a final sweep of the building, but it sounds
like your mission was a success."
He smiled at her, wearily.
MaryAnne
gave a nod. "That's good to hear, sir. Thank you." Her voice
was about as weary as his smile.
In
the back of the room, Rusty, Ace, Tony, and a couple of their wounded
comrades were eying Mayson with wariness. The sight of the earlier
cop and the agent with MaryAnne hadn't upset them, as they were too
glad for the assistance to wonder at it's source.
But now, as Federal agents and cops seemed to be crawling out
of every wall, the standing Syndicate was at a loss.
For
lack of anything else, they gathered quietly behind MaryAnne. She was
still one of them.
Mayson
paid them no heed. He was more
concerned about his agent. MaryAnne
was standing tall and had her usual, professional stance, but her eyes
looked dull, lifeless. "Are
you alright, Agent Coltrane? I heard the casualty reports..."
MaryAnne
swallowed and gave a half-hearted nod. "I'll be alright, Commander..."
Mayson
saw the film of moisture over her eyes.
She was too good of an officer to let her emotion overwhelm
her. There were many kinds of courage, and Mayson had witnessed them
all in MaryAnne.
He
needed her courage for a little while longer.
He cleared his throat and acknowledged her shadows, taking in
both the Dukes and the Syndicate with a glance.
"Agent Coltrane, there's a few...details...that will need
to be covered in your report. I
was hoping to give you a chance to catch your breath, but the D.A.
himself is going to be looking to talk to you.
If you're not up to it right now, I can stall him."
MaryAnne
had started to nod and then suddenly looked at Mayson, her eyes more
alive than at any other point. "Right now? You mean...right now?? He wants to talk to me tonight??"
Mayson
dropped his voice. "It’s
now ‘this morning’, actually…but yes, he's on the premises. Once he
caught wind of the police dispatches, ambulance requests and the call
for the city coroner, wild horses couldn't keep him away.
I'm afraid that he heard the name "Coltrane" and drew
some early conclusions. You
know how popular your family is with him."
MaryAnne
bristled. "Thanks for reminding me."
MaryAnne
wasn't the only one bristling. Behind
her, the Syndicate had been getting the whole earful. Hearing things like Agent
Coltrane had given them the big picture, and seeing the Commander
of the Atlanta Bureau blocking their exit was bad enough. But knowing that the D.A. would soon see their faces directly
was cause for panic. There
was a slow, hesitant reaching for weapons.
Rusty
moved forward and faced MaryAnne.
"Agent Coltrane..."
he sounded heartbroken.
"Hold
on, Rusty it ain't like ya think. Y'all ain't gonna be in any trouble
with the DA because..um..technically y'all are working for the FBI
at the moment..."
Rusty
looked quickly from MaryAnne to Mayson, who didn't seem to dispute
this tidbit of alarming news. He
was just about to give his unedited opinion of the FBI when Agent Kelley
rushed in.
"Commander,
sir! The D.A. is on his way up, thought you'd want to know."
Mayson
sighed. "Thank you, Kelley."
He looked over towards the Syndicate. "I don't think I
need to tell you boys to be on your absolute best behavior..."
There
was a quick shaking of heads and a fast put-away of weapons. Sensing a need for decorum, they fell
back and let the Dukes and MaryAnne take the forefront. Before anyone really felt ready for it, including Mayson,
an elevator dinged from somewhere on the top floor. The most effective prosecuting attorney in the entire South
was on the scent of another career opportunity, and he marched into
Tyler's office with his usual grim expression.
He
stopped, took one long look around the damaged office with it's tell-tale
stains on the carpet, then rested his hawkish glare on MaryAnne. "Why am I not surprised to find
a Coltrane standing in the middle of this?"
MaryAnne
withheld her retort of It's a
gift and maintained her professional cop mode. She met his glare
with her own reserved one, and waited for the DA to ask her a question
that expected more of an answer.
He
gave her one. He was disappointed that Tyler wasn't able to stand trial
and couldn't quite hide it. "Do
you understand what it means to use 'minimal force', Agent Coltrane?"
"Yes,
I do, but Frankie Tyler didn't. We did everything we could, Councilor,
to detain him within reasonable means but Mr. Tyler had absolutely
no intention of being detained and arrested."
The
D.A. looked her in the eye. He
knew it was the truth.
"I
would have preferred methods that required less in the way of sheer
destruction," he said with reduced antagonism. "Though with
the cache of weapons I've seen in that warehouse, Frankie Tyler was
capable of taking over a small country."
"It's
my belief that he had every intention of using those weapons right
here in Atlanta just to start, then probably the whole state for a
warm up, and Lord knows what would have followed after that."
She paused. "Sorry you couldn't fry him in court...but had he
had his way...I probably wouldn't be talking to you right now."
The
D.A. gave the wasted office another look.
"I believe you. However, I still require the basis for
your reasoning to be detailed in your report."
"It
will be."
"Good. Then we'll..." The D.A. broke off
his words, staring at the small group of thugs who where trying to
look invisible behind the Dukes. His
thin face added more creases as he frowned.
"I thought this building was secure," he snapped. "But here I find suspects at large!"
The
D.A. waved at a couple of cops who were putting Frankie's gun in an evidence bag. "You officers, there! Arrest these men," he said,
pointing behind the Dukes.
"Hold
it, Councilor, you can't have these men arrested," MaryAnne said,
holding her hand up. She shook her head to the cops, who stopped from
proceeding to detain the remaining Syndicate. MaryAnne then looked
at the D.A. "These men were working under Brian's command as the
Syndicate Don. Brian was working as an agent under my command."
Her expression invited dispute. "Technically...all were workin'
for the FBI."
The
D.A.'s face blanched, and his eyes widened as round as silver dollars.
The
Syndicate let out a groan of utter disbelief. It was hard to tell who
received MaryAnne's statement with the most distress.
The
D.A.'s displeasure was made known in short order. "Technically? Technically?" He tried to articulate the rest of his
thoughts but failed. He was
too busy processing MaryAnne's words, none of which belonged together.
He finally spat them back out. "Brian
Coltrane, being the Syndicate Don and
an agent under your command, with...with...”
"These
hoodlums!" he said with
a bark at Rusty and the boys. The
Dukes stepped away, not wanting any part of the D.A's wrath.
"You
mean those hoodlums," Bo said mildly, pointing at them. He and Luke didn't look too different
from the Syndicate since they were also dressed in black, and there
was no sense taking chances with the D.A.'s mercies.
The
D.A, fuming, turned angrily to Commander Mayson, Roger Kelley, and
MaryAnne. "You recruited
criminals? Can the standards of the Atlanta Bureau fall any lower?"
"We
didn't recruit anybody,"
MaryAnne growled. "This buncha hoodlums and the FBI just happened
to have the same objective. I can tell you right now, the city of Atlanta
is better off having this rag tag bunch running amok than Frankie Tyler!"
MaryAnne pointed to Rusty, et. all and then turned that same finger
to the D.A.
"You
understand what I'm sayin', Councilor? Would you rather have liquor,
girls and gaming tables...or Frankie Tyler buying off every city councilman,
deputy chief and anybody else he could get into his pocket? Tyler would
have turned Atlanta into his own personal playground...hell, he probably
would have tried to make you an offer you couldn't refuse, and if'n
ya did refuse, he'd have removed you from the political landscape
mighty quick."
MaryAnne
glanced at Commander Mayson and then back to the D.A. "You should
be thanking the Commander here. You should be thanking them too!"
She gestured back to Rusty. "But you can't say thank you can you?
You're mad because you wanted to prosecute Tyler. You wanted your name
and face on the front page of the paper, another feather in the cap
of your career. Do you honestly think sending Tyler up would have really
solved anything?? You really think jail bars would have stopped his
reach?? Do ya??"
She
looked at the few remaining Syndicate members. And it was just that.
A few. MaryAnne knew she was losing her cool, and she really didn't
care at this point. "Goddammit, I don't know what you're so upset
about," she said, glaring back at the D.A. "Half their ranks
got wiped out just trying to get up to this freakin' office! Or did
you not happen to notice that every goddamn ambulance in this town
is parked outside?? Whatever your problem with it is, get over it.
Commander Mayson here's got it noted in the case file. I was undercover
for the FBI and the Dukes here, along with Rosco and Brian, were acting
as agents under my command. Yes, and all the Syndicate boys
here fought pretty damn bravely against Tyler and his henchmen. That's
the way it stands, Councilor. Sorry it's not packaged all pretty just
for you."
The
D.A. stared at MaryAnne with open disapproval.
He included Commander Mayson in his milk-curdling glare. "Your
methods of justice are questionable," he said with restrained
temper. "It pains me to admit that they worked to some degree. But it pains me more that the City of Atlanta lost an opportunity today to eliminate
organized crime as we know it."
With
a final, meaningful glance at the Syndicate, the D.A. turned and marched
for the exit. "Have those
reports sent to my office in twenty-four hours," he growled on
his way out. "Make them damn good."
MaryAnne's
own glare remained intact even after the D.A. disappeared out the door.
"Oh they will be, Councilor..." she muttered. After all she
had been through, MaryAnne figured she had one more button left to
be pushed before she snapped. But she held herself in check, gave Mayson
a look that said, I really don't like that guy and
then she looked at Rusty and the Syndicate.
She
wasn't sure why it bothered her, but there she was, exposed as an undercover
cop to them, and all she could think was that they were looking at
her as some kind of traitor. Maybe they were...maybe they would always.
Maybe they'd hate her forever. Maybe they'd never trust a Coltrane
again...Maybe there would be more contracts with her name on it...
Maybe this whole damn
thing will never end until I'm dead...
There
was a million things she wanted to say to them, but it all came out
one way. "I'm sorry, fellas..."
Rusty
looked back at MaryAnne without saying anything. His expression was a cross between heartbreak and admiration,
between respect and disappointment.
She wasn't who he thought she was.
She was both more...and less.
Rusty
turned to Ace, and with a glance, held a silence conference with the
blonde hitman. With Brian temporarily out of action, the two thugs
represented the leadership of the Syndicate.
The complex order of underworld loyalty was considered against
MaryAnne's federal badge...
And
after a long moment, Ace nodded once to Rusty.
Stone-faced, the rest of the Syndicate watched, understanding
which way the decision had fallen before a word was spoken. The group of criminals turned their eyes to MaryAnne as Rusty
spoke for them all.
"You're
still one of us, Miss Coltrane," he said quietly.
MaryAnne's
sorrowful look brightened. She read Rusty's eyes and those of the remaining
thugs behind him. They were sincere, and she appreciated it more than
words could express. So she smiled and gave a nod.
Commander
Mayson watched and couldn't help but feel pride for his agent. She
already had the respect of her fellow law officers, now she had the
respect of the underworld. Not many cops could claim that on
their resumes.
"You
boys won't have to be worrying about the D.A," Mayson said. He
then smiled. "At least...for now."
Slow
smiles crept into the faces of the Syndicate, and Rusty chuckled aloud. "Seeing Frankie Tyler go down paid
for everything we'd lost," he said.
"But pulling a big one over on the D.A…that's something
special."
The
Syndicate boys snickered in agreement.
Ace gave Bo a friendly slap on the back, startling the blonde
Duke, who grinned back in recovery.
The idea that they'd won against Frankie Tyler, even though
it took the help of the law, was starting to take hold.
Rusty, caught up in the feeling, offered an invitation to Commander
Mayson.
"I
can't speak for the Don," he said politely, "But I don't
think the rest of the boys would mind if y'all stopped by the Jigsaw
later."
The
Commander smiled, admitted vocally that it was a tempting offer, but
had to politely decline the invite. "The D.A.'s already mad enough
to pull my badge I think..." Mayson chuckled. "Although the
idea of an FBI commander drinking a few brews with the local Syndicate
would send him into orbit and would be entertaining to watch…I can't
take the risk. I must maintain on something of civil terms with him."
MaryAnne
laughed. "You could always go...undercover."
Rusty
and the boys echoed MaryAnne's laughter. They liked her sense of humor.
"Okay, man," Rusty answered Mayson. "Take a raincheck.
So long as you don't have a warrant in your hand, you and your boys
can stop over anytime."
Rusty
started to edge towards the door, the rest of the Syndicate following
suit. "We'd best get out
of your way now," he said, catching sight of more police officers
filing into the room.
Mayson
nodded and then turned to MaryAnne. With a grin he said, "Agent
Coltrane, see to it that these boys are escorted out of the building."
MaryAnne
nodded. "Will do." She smiled at Rusty and then followed
the Syndicate boys out of the room.
Not
a Fed agent or city officer stopped them. They looked at the group...but
they didn't stop them. They already knew they didn't have to. MaryAnne escorted Rusty and the boys
down to the ground floor and out of the building. Once on the sidewalk,
she hung back a bit watching the Syndicate head towards their cars.
"Rusty?"
He
stopped, turning to face her. "Yes, Miss Coltrane?"
She
looked at him for a moment. "Thanks," she said and smiled,
her eyes showing that her appreciation was for more than just getting
through the battle with Frankie Tyler.
Rusty
smiled, though a little sadly. He
knew, without her saying so, that MaryAnne wouldn't be coming back
to the Jigsaw to stay...and he'd gotten used to seeing her.
He kept his private loss inside and forced the smile to stay
on his face. "You're welcome,
Miss Coltrane."
MaryAnne
saw the sadness that tinged Rusty's smile. She watched him as he turned
to leave and wondered, with some surprise, if perhaps she left as much
of lasting impression on Rusty and the Syndicate, as they had on her.
She was one of them...she had survived her
mission and saw to it the end of Frankie Tyler. The revving engines
from the Syndicate cars stirred her own feeling of victory that now
finally was starting to creep over her, like the rising sun over the
top of the Atlanta skyline. It was too soon to tell what the future
held, there were wounds, physical and emotional, that still needed
to be healed, and there was her kin that she had to make sure were
ok and the rift between them she had to repair.
But
perhaps one day, Rusty and the boys would see her again.
***** ***** *****
Later
that day, as the news bulletins announced the overnight raid of Tyler's
holdings, Atlanta Memorial Hospital was beginning to recover from it's
business boom.
The
medical staff in the E.R. had rallied to the occassion, and saw to
the survival of those wounded in battle.
A few patients who had arrived at the hospital had been already
beyond medical care. The rest,
who had made it to the hospital with vital signs intact, had good chances.
Two
of these patients were returning to consciousness with only mild resistance.
Brian
opened his eyes and saw neither heaven nor hell. Instead, the low-tiled ceiling in his hospital room hung over
him, along with the smell of antiseptic.
The
last thing he remembered was Rosco diving for the floor, and Ketterhagen
taking aim at MaryAnne. He
remembered throwing the knife, thought it had found it's mark...but
then nothing more.
Brian
was about to ring for the nurse. He had to know what happened to his
cousins...even if it was the worst, he had to know. Now.
A
sudden groan came from somewhere to his left, behind a dividing curtain. Apparently Brian didn't have the room
all to himself. There was something
familiar about the sound of complaint, and he strained to listen.
When
Rosco had awoke, he tried to turn onto his side because his back was
killing him. Defeated in the attempt, he remained on his back, too
damn tired to pull himself onto his side to begin with.
"Judas
priest..." Rosco managed to say softly, not bothering with the
rest of his signature curse.
There
was one person Brian knew who cussed like that. "Rosco?"
Rosco
had closed his eyes and now opened them again. He stared up at the
ceiling, not sure he had heard the voice from the other side of the
curtain. "Brian?"
In
answer, Brian reached over and swept the curtain back, grimacing a
little with the pain under his bandages. "Rosco!" he said
with a grin. "Dammit, they let anybody in this place, don't they?"
Rosco
smiled despite his exhaustion. "Looks like they do, cousin! Khee!"
"You
look like hell, Sheriff," Brian said.
It was his way of saying Thank
God you made it, and the thought was obvious in his brown eyes.
Rosco
grinned. "Thanks. Yer lookin' quite dapper yerself." The
lawman's blue eyes showed his genuine relief at seeing his young cousin
again.
Brian
smiled back. He and Rosco said nothing else for a moment, each taking
a minute to bask in the fact that they were still alive. Then Brian voiced the one troubling thought that was shadowing
his relief.
"What
about MaryAnne?" he said tentively. "Is she..."
"She's
all right. Well...she's alive at least, I ain't sure about completely
all right..."
"What
happened?"
Rosco
looked up at the ceiling. "She was fightin' with Tyler...and she
got 'em." Rosco looked at Brian and repeated softly, "She
got 'em..."
"He's...dead?" Brian couldn't believe it.
Rosco
nodded. "I think it was either him...or her."
"Not
that I'm gonna mourn Tyler," Brian said with a frown, "But...that
ain't how MaryAnne planned on takin' him down..."
"I
know," Rosco concurred. "It shook her up pretty bad too..."
Brian
fell silent, thinking about how determined MaryAnne had been to accomplish
her mission. He also knew how
determined Tyler had been to make an end of them all.
"I suppose," he said, thinking aloud, "That it
woulda ended like this, one way or the other...tho' I wish MaryAnne
had never taken this damn mission, Rosco.
I really wish she hadn't..."
"That
makes two of us." The Sheriff sighed heavily and closed his eyes.
"But she felt she had to. That she had a duty to." He opened
his eyes. "She dang near lost everything in the process...including
her own life."
"I
just hope those damn Feds are finally satisfied...and that they'll
stop asking for Coltrane blood."
Brian felt anger simmer in his veins. "Even now, I bet
they got MaryAnne runnin' back and forth like a crazy woman, takin'
care of the dirty details. Hell, I'd be surprised if they gave her
up, after this."
Brian
sat up as far as he could, a thought in his rambling causing him new
worry. "What if she stays
a Fed?"
Rosco
looked at Brian, his expression clear that he didn't know the answer
to that question. He answered verbally with this: "What if she
decides to give up the badge completely?"
"Lord,
I never thought of that," Brian answered softly. "I'd rather see her as a Fed...than without a badge at
all. It's who she is, Rosco...she was born a cop..."
"I
know..." Rosco's tone was reminiscent. "I dunno what's gonna
happen after all this, Brian. I can't even venture a guess at what
she'll do." He paused. "And that's what bothers me..."
***** ***** *****
The
Federal Building in Atlanta was a flurry of activity. Reporters, city councilmen, attorneys by the dozen, were pressing
to speak to the agents involved in the Tyler sting operation.
The
news broadcasts had contained quotes by the District Attorney's office,
saying that the covert mission had been carefully planned for months,
and involved the clandestine support of some private citizens in Atlanta. Mayson heard the broadcast on the radio
and shook his head. The D.A.
would find a way into the governor’s mansion yet, though he must have
choked while describing the Syndicate as "private citizens."
Mayson
didn't care what the D.A. took credit for, so long as he stayed the
hell away from the Federal Building at the moment.
The place was a zoo.
The
cataloging of evidence was turning out to be an enormous job. At least there was plenty of it, and
enough of it to show what a time bomb the city of Atlanta had been
sitting on. The D.C. headquarters of the FBI was
initially a little cool about Mayson's methods in this case, but upon
learning of Tyler's cache of weapons and drugs, found the Commander's
methods to be "appropriate."
Now
if only MaryAnne would understand that her own methods had been appropriate.
She hadn't had much choice.
Mayson
left his own desk to check on the agent in question. He hadn't seen
MaryAnne in hours. She had returned to the Bureau to work on her reports,
and had sequestered herself immediately in an office, asking not to
be disturbed.
Her
office door was still closed. As
the Commander, Mayson could have walked in without knocking. But he chose to rap on the office door
politely. "Agent Coltrane?"
MaryAnne
looked up from the second draft of her report and at the door. "Come
in, Commander."
"You
should take a break," he said, scanning the reams of paper on
her desk. "You haven't slept in at least twenty-four hours."
"Yeah,
I know," she said with as sigh and rested the report on her lap.
"But I can't...ain't so sure I'm gonna be able to sleep well again
anyway."
"You
did what you had to do. You know that, MaryAnne. You've been a cop
long enough to know that there's times when it's necessary to fire
on a suspect. And Tyler was much more that a suspect...he
was the man who orchestrated the demise of several of my best agents. You got him, MaryAnne, and I'm grateful
for that."
MaryAnne
nodded and looked up at the Commander. "I know...I've shot suspects
before, Commander, but I ain't never killed nobody." She paused.
"You ever kill anybody in the line of duty?"
Mayson
sighed. "No, I haven't. I've been fortunate in that respect. So
I can't say I know what you're going through. I can only say that you
performed admirably under the most extreme situations." He paused, building up to a question that he saw no reason
to postpone.
"Agent
Coltrane, I'm putting a commendation in your file. You've served the United States Government with honor and
courage, and your track record as an officer speaks for itself."
Mayson
let that sink in before he announced his offer. "I'd like you
to stay on board with the Atlanta Bureau. I'd be honored to retain
you as an agent."
MaryAnne
looked at the Commander, hesitantly. "I appreciate that sir...but
to be perfectly honest, I ain't sure what I'm gonna do now." She
stopped short of admitting that maybe she didn't want to wear a badge
anymore. She needed time...maybe some time away from law enforcement.
A vacation from dodging bullets and from traffic violators. "I
think...I need some time off first."
The
answer gave Mayson hope, and he smiled at her. "Understandable."
When
MaryAnne didn't look up from her report again, Mayson knew he had his
cue to leave. She was either
the most focused officer in the world when it came to paperwork, or
she was keeping herself busy in order to forget Tyler's face.
Mayson knew it was the latter, and figured leaving her alone
might be the best thing for now. "Make
sure you get some rest soon," he suggested as he opened the door
to leave. "That's an order."
MaryAnne
quickly glanced at the departing head agent. "Yes, sir."
Mayson
nodded and gave a brief, encouraging smile, then shut the door and
left MaryAnne to her thoughts.
Which
came either all jumbled or not at all. At the forefront was the underlying
worry for her kin, mixed with the dread of facing them again. Maybe
she had gone to far with this mission...
Of course I went too
far, I blew Tyler away didn't I??
She
opened her eyes and looked down at the report on her lap. No, it wasn't.
It was real, it really happened. Frankie Tyler was dead. And she put
him in his grave.
"You
sonofabitch..." she muttered softly to herself. "You goddamn
sonofabitch!" She slammed her hand down on the stack of papers
of her report and looked up at the far wall of the office.
I got you...I didn't
wanna do it that way but you gave me no choice! I hope you enjoy burning
in hell. Meanwhile, I find no damn satisfaction with any of it. But at least you won't be huntin' for
my hide anymore, or that of my kin.
It
was going to take time to remember that that same living being wanted
to dispatch her and a few other folks. The value of human life meant
little to Frankie Tyler, but it always meant something to MaryAnne.
The
young federal agent put her report aside and stood up. She walked over
to the window of the office and looked down to the street below, seeing
the news cameras and reporters camped on the front step of the Federal
building.
It's interesting when
people die...give us dirty laundry...
Was
she glad she had become a cop?
Yes... The answer came without
hesitation. But maybe now I need
to take the badge off for awhile...
***** ***** *****
While
MaryAnne was up to her neck in paperwork, Brian and Rosco were busy
handling a few other details. Their
hospital room at Atlanta Memorial was holding it's capacity in visitors.
The
Syndicate's working girls had dropped by the hospital, and upon finding
Rosco, had swarmed around him with a show of fuss that pleasantly embarrassed
the seasoned lawman.
Brian
watched the girls coo over Rosco for a few minutes, then tapped his
gold ring loudly against the metal bed railing. "Ahem...ladies...I
think the Sheriff still needs to breathe. Try not to bury him alive
in gratitude, will ya?"
Rosco
couldn't help his gloat, but he hid it with an embarrassed smile, which
Brian saw right through. The Sheriff couldn't deny he was enjoying
the attention. "Jit jit..uh...khee!"
"Jit
Jit khee yerself...." Brian grumbled, feeling just a little
jealous. "Hey, girls, I've got a nice scar too ya know..."
A
few of the girls detached themselves from Rosco and immediately began
to placate Brian, remarking on his courage and good looks as they mussed
up his hair and tugged playfully at his bandages.
"Ow!"
The
Sheriff grinned. "Tough bein' a hero, huh Brian?"
Brian
couldn't answer at the moment, as he was literally being smothered
with attention. He was saved
from near-suffocation when another visitor knocked on the door.
MaryAnne
slowly pushed the door open and peered in. She couldn't help but grin
at the sight of the Syndicate girls fussing over her cousins. "Hmm...y'all
are busy. I can come back later."
The
working girls giggled and started to disburse, letting both Brian and
Rosco come up for air. "They
were just makin' sure we were...uh...healthy enough," Brian said
sheepishly.
"Of
course," MaryAnne said and stepped into the room. She smiled.
"Judging by the redness of yer cheeks, I’d say y'all are lookin'
quite healthy."
The
Sheriff's embarrassment was nearly brutal by this point. "Uh...ahem,
well it's better than how we could
be right now."
"Good
point." The young ex-deputy
walked further into the room, snaking around the different girls and
coming to stand between the two beds. MaryAnne looked at the girls.
"These boys fought very bravely ya know."
"We
know," one of the girls answered, the sobriety in her voice causing
more serious expressions around the room. "Some of our boys can't
be thanked in person anymore..."
"I
know," MaryAnne replied. "And I'm sorry for that. But all
the boys fought bravely. Their efforts were not in vain."
"We
heard..." The girls looked at MaryAnne with mixed expressions.
None of them were fond of Frankie Tyler, but they had heard enough
about the battle to know two things:
Tyler was killed by a Federal Agent...and that agent was MaryAnne
Coltrane.
With
polite good-byes, the girls filtered from the room, leaving MaryAnne
and her cousins to face one another.
MaryAnne
cleared her throat. "It
is good to see you two again..."she said softly, looking to
each cousin as she spoke.
Rosco
nodded and read his young cousin's expression. It was clear she was
exhausted, but her eyes were clouded over with indecision. Something
beside Frankie Tyler's end was bothering her. "It's good to see
you," he said. "You awright?"
She
nodded. "I'm awright."
"You
sure?" Brian asked.
MaryAnne
looked at him. She shrugged and chuckled sadly. "Not really. I
guess I'm as well as can be expected."
"Rosco
told me what happened," Brian said. "And I can't say I feel
sorry for Frankie Tyler." He paused, looking at MaryAnne closely. "But you didn't expect your mission
to end like this...did ya."
MaryAnne's
head shook slightly. "No..." She sighed. "There's a
lot things that happened on this damn mission that I didn't expect..."
Brian
looked over at Rosco as if to say that
makes three of us. Then
he sighed and rested his dark eyes back on MaryAnne.
"Look, cousin. The
important thing is that Tyler's out of action for good, and we're all
okay...so don't be too hard on yourself.
Once that Fed badge is out of your pocket and that Deputy badge
is back on, you'll feel better."
Her
expression faltered a bit. "Yeah...maybe yer right." She
glanced at Rosco and realized she couldn't bring herself to admit that
maybe she wouldn't be taking the deputy badge back.
I just need time to think
about it...I need sleep...I need...
MaryAnne
took a step and her eyes started to brim with tears. Her vision was
completely blurred by the time she leaned into Rosco's shoulder. "Rosco..."
Her voice caught and she drew in a ragged breath. "Rosco, I --"
The rest of what she thought she could say was cut off with a silent
sob.
"Shhhh,
sweetheart...hush now," Rosco murmured as he wrapped his arm around
her. He leaned his head to
rest lightly on hers, holding MaryAnne with gentle, reassuring strength. Her tears tore his heart out, made him
feel like crying himself. His own injuries meant nothing compared to
the pain he felt coming from MaryAnne's soul.
MaryAnne
cried quietly for a few moments then her voice finally came out. "I
don't think I can do it," she cried. "I can't put a badge
on again after this...all I've done, what happened to you two...I can't
do it..."
"Hush,"
Rosco repeated softly, his own voice straining. "You're just tired, wore out..."
Brian
listened silently, his own face turned away to afford them what privacy
he could. The sound of MaryAnne's
weeping, along with Rosco's troubled voice, was bringing Brian's own
emotion to a crest, and he blinked it away.
Rosco's
voice, steady and soft, continued.
"It's gonna be okay...."
MaryAnne
lifted her head and straightened up a bit to look Rosco in the eye,
her head shaking 'no'. "I
ain't so sure," she said, her voice rough. "How can you even
look at me after all this? Look at you and Brian, in a hospital again
after nearly gettin' killed. I wanted to take Tyler down to prevent
him from comin' after us again, but I nearly lost
y'all in the process! I took the damn mission and put a hunk of
tin before my family!"
Neither
man knew what to say to that. They
had nearly lost her, too...and if they had, no comfort would have came
from the sight of a badge. Rosco felt his eyes sting.
He wanted to argue with her, but it still hurt...he could remember
the near-lifeless weight of her body in his arms when he had carried
her from the Jigsaw.
He
could remember what he thought of a badge, and of any mission behind
it, right at that moment. Looking
at her then, he didn't see an officer...he saw the dearest thing in
his life dying in his arms.
Rosco
shut his eyes tightly, the tears spilling.
He said nothing, but his grip on her tightened. He wasn't willing to lose her...ever.
"We
took our own risks," he said thickly.
"Just like you took yours. Ain't nothin' for you to be
sorry for, sweetheart..."
MaryAnne
blinked, trickling new tears down her cheeks. With a trembling hand
she reached to her older cousin's weary face, touching his cheek with
her fingers and looking at his tear-filled blue eyes. A gesture that
held so much. An apology, a seeking of forgiveness and a plea for help.
She'd fought Tyler's gang, Tyler himself, and now the toughest battle
was taking place within her own heart. Without a word, she leaned back
to him, hugging him as best she could and unable to stop her crying.
"Hush..."
Rosco whispered. "Hush
now..."
Neither
of them did. The more MaryAnne
cried, the more Rosco found it impossible to keep his own composure. He'd never seen her like this...
...and
he grieved with her, for everything.
Eventually, he gathered command of his emotions and forced his
tears back, forced his fears to recede.
He took her hand and squeezed it, and looked at her through
his glassy blue eyes, swallowing as he spoke. "Sweetheart...whatever
you decide...I'll stand behind you...."
MaryAnne
sniffled and nodded. She wrestled with her tears, trying to regain
control of herself and drew in a deep breath. "Okay..." She
looked over at Brian and managed something of a smile as she put her
hand out to him.
"What
Rosco said...goes for me too," Brian told her, clasping a hand
to hers. "You're a good cop, a damn good one...but most important…you’re
my cousin…"
The
words stuck in Brian's throat, and he substituted a sad smile for the
rest.
MaryAnne
nodded and gave a gentle squeeze of both cousin's hands. She fought
back the last of her tears and even managed a chuckle. "Well,
this damn good cop just finished writing the most brutally honest,
no holds barred report that's gonna be submitted to the DA...."
She looked at her kin. "Oh yeah, y'all missed our buddy. He showed
up at Tyler's office building early this morning."
Brian
let go of MaryAnne's hand. He
sat up straight in the hospital bed, now looking ready to jump out
the window. "The D.A.? Aw, no..."
"Aw,
he can't touch any of us anyway. Seein' as all three of us were workin'
for the Feds--" MaryAnne stopped, realizing what she had just
said. She looked at Brian, waiting to see how he was going to take
it.
Brian's
pulse monitor went up a blip. The dark eyes narrowed. "Seein' as all who
of us were workin' for the Feds??"
"All
three of us. Me...Rosco...you..."
She held a hand up, and let go of Rosco's. "I didn't tell you
because of that exact expression that's on your face right now. If
you had known you were an "in-the-field" Fed ya never woulda
made a very good Don."
"In
the field?? Try in the hospital!!"
Brian's voice was climbing.
"So far as the Feds are concerned, Coltranes are good for
one thing - givin' blood!
Now that they've got what they wanted, they'll forget all about
us again! And I, for one, have given enough to the damn Feds to last
a lifetime!"
Brian
paused in his tirade, took a breath, and summed it up on a personal
level. "You kept that from me, onconna
the damn mission, didn't ya. You
had my cooperation, you had the Syndicate's, and all for an affordable
price...sell our souls to the Feds."
"I
never originally asked for
your cooperation," MaryAnne replied evenly.
"You two just came waltzin' right in and Spade handed you
that damn ring. I didn't sell nothin'
to the Feds. I just figured you're so goddamn allergic to cops that
if you knew you were one you'd freak. I didn't even have to tell Mayson
that you were under my command, I only did it to save your ass from
the DA when this was all over, seein' as I couldn't
get the two of you outta town!" MaryAnne paused, drawing a deep
breath. "Awright, so I did a lot of stupid shit for this mission,
Brian. You wanna sit there and list it off? Go right ahead, but I ain't
gonna listen to it."
MaryAnne
started to leave the room.
"MaryAnne!"
Rosco hissed.
She
stopped and turned back towards the room. She looked at Rosco. "I
don't have to listen to it!" She then looked at Brian, thinking
of more to say. "What the hell do
you want from the Feds, Brian? You want them to pin a nice shiny badge
on me permanent like? They've already offered and I've already declined
for your information. You want a medal? You want 'em to leave us alone??
Maybe we're just so goddamn tough that it took us
to do what they couldn't. And we did.
Maybe someday we'll realize that. Someday when I can stop seeing myself
blowing Frankie Tyler away...." She looked at both cousins with
quick glances and then finally just turned away and walked out of the
room.
"MARYANNE!"
Brian yelled at her back, but it was too late. Her boot steps echoed
down the hall and were gone.
With
a growl of frustration, Brian sunk back down into the hospital bed. He was angry at MaryAnne for not being
open about the mission from the beginning.
Her decision to keep his "Fed" status from him was
just the frosting on the cake. Not
that it mattered...
He
knew that any such status was temporary and for the government's convenience
only. Meanwhile, MaryAnne had
been made a liar, a thief, a killer...all in the pursuit of duty. All in the name of justice.
Brian
turned his head, and looked at Rosco.
The Sheriff was still staring out the door that MaryAnne had
departed through. At the expression
on his eldest cousin's face, Brian sighed.
"Sorry, Rosco...she just got to me. It all just got to
me…"
Rosco
didn't answer right away. He neither accepted nor declined Brian's
apology. It wasn't to Rosco that Brian should have been apologizing
anyway. "We've all given enough to the Feds to last a life time,
Brian. But I'm afraid MaryAnne...gave everything."
"I
know." Brian leaned back
in the pillow and shut his eyes. So
I’m a jackass. Put it in the report.
"Ah,
hell…I dunno. Maybe. I guess I hate the fact that she still kept somethin'
from me, after everything else we been through."
"True...but...you
held out on her too a little bit…didn't ya?" Rosco himself wondered about that Syndicate ledger.
Brian
opened his eyes, narrowed them. "Can you blame me?"
"Can
you blame her?"
"I'm
tryin' to...but it ain't workin'.” Brian exhaled in defeat.
“Dammit Rosco...I don't know what
to say to her anymore. It's
as if the MaryAnne I knew is...gone. And I don’t know how to get along
with this one.”
"I
know...I've felt the same way sometimes. But she's not gone, Brian,
she's still there...I know she is." Rosco paused. "We just
gotta find her again..."
"I'd
help if I could..." Brian said quietly.
Then he changed the subject. "I don't know about you, but
I'm feelin' kinda tired...'suppose we'd better get some rest, huh?"
Rosco
sighed and nodded. "I suppose..."
Brian
feigned a yawn and turned away, leaving the Sheriff to ponder his own
thoughts in silence.
***** ***** *****
It
was time to go home. MaryAnne had had enough of Atlanta and wanted
nothing more than to get the hell out of the city and back home to
Hazzard. To be left alone to fight her own inner demons, and try to
rebuild what she had for a life, before she went and agreed to all
this craziness. She wondered if folks back home would recognize her...
With
this thought in mind, she marched down the hall towards Commander Mayson's
office. She dropped off her report, her decline letter and asked only
for Mayson to sign the form allowing her to get Maverick released from
the Atlanta PD. "I'm headin' home," she told him. "If
ya need me for anything regarding this case, I'll be in Hazzard. You've
got the number."
Mayson
stood from his desk, and took a step towards her. "I'd ask you to reconsider - though I have a feeling
it wouldn't do any good."
"Nope.
As I said in the letter there, I'm honored but...I just gotta git outta
here."
"I
understand." Mayson held
out a handshake. "Thank
you for serving both your country and the City of Atlanta, MaryAnne. Your bravery won't be forgotten in this bureau."
MaryAnne
shook Mayson's hand. "You're welcome, sir. Umm..thank you."
She turned and started to leave and then stopped. "Oh..."
She turned back to the Commander. "Rosco had a car, and I think
the pups were still in it last night. Any idea where that car is now?
Or the dogs?"
"Back
at the Jigsaw, from what I understand.
I believe your friends, the Dukes, are there as well. If you prefer, I can send an off-duty
agent to collect them..."
"Naw,
that's okay. I'll pick 'em up after I get Maverick." She held
up the release form. "Thanks again. Take care, Commander."
She turned and was out the door.
MaryAnne
exited the Federal building through the back exit, avoiding the reporters
that were still camped out front. She walked the less-than one mile
distance between the Federal building and police station, thinking
of her present, remembering her past and contemplating her future.
She caught her reflection in a window and paused to look.
She
was still dressed in black and the face that looked back at her was
half of the woman she remembered, mixed with exhaustion and clouded
with a haunted memory .
She
turned away and continued on her trek to the police station. A change of clothes appealed to her.
Get her car, get the dogs...go home, get out of this damn outfit and
get some sleep.
A
wolf whistle broke her thoughts. She looked at the man standing in
the doorway of a shop that watched her as she walked down the sidewalk.
"Stuff
it," she said, flashing him a death look. Apparently it was convincing
enough, the man stayed put.
A
few minutes later she arrived at the police station, and was greeted
enthusiastically by her fellow officers. She took it in stride, politely
smiled and nodded and listened to their accolades, giving thanks when
appropriate. Somebody called out to fetch Captain Briggs, but by the
time the Captain made it down to the squad room on the first floor,
MaryAnne had slipped out to find the Sergeant in charge of the impounds.
"It's
in the 6th Street impound," he said with apology.
"Ugh...that's
two miles from here. I just walked from the Federal building."
"No
problem, I'll get an officer to give ya a ride."
MaryAnne
nodded. "Thanks." Within a few minutes, the Sergeant found
an officer to drive MaryAnne over to the 6th Street impound and had
signed the department's release form. MaryAnne scribbled her own signature
on the form and waited for the officer to show up.
"MaryAnne?"
She
looked up and gave a smile of recognition to Officer Franklin. "Hey,
Mark, how ya been?"
"Better,
now that I see you're okay. It's
been an honor to serve with you again, Officer Coltrane. You were undercover the whole time, weren't you."
"Yeah,
I was." She stood up. "Now I'm done, I'm goin' home."
Franklin
looked disappointed. "I
was hoping you'd spare some time for an off-duty cup of coffee. A few
of the boys and I were looking forward to hearing how you pulled it
all off..."
MaryAnne
smiled sadly. "Maybe another time. To be honest...I just wanna
sleep."
"I
hear that. I've worked at least double-shift myself." Franklin let it drop and walked to the
patrol car, opening the passenger door for MaryAnne. He drove her to the 6th street impound yard without asking
further questions.
"Thanks,
Mark," MaryAnne said after they arrived. "We'll take a rain
check on that coffee."
"Okay.
You take care of yourself, MaryAnne. Stop by the station next time
you're in town."
MaryAnne
nodded. "I will. See ya later." She closed the passenger
door on the patrol car and headed to the impound office.
Five
minutes later, the blue '78 Firebird was driving out of the impound
yard and heading downtown to the Jigsaw.
*****
***** *****
Unaware
of their impending visitor, the Syndicate was licking it's wounds and
slowly recovering itself. There
was no party taking place, but a mood of optimism prevailed, even among
the wounded. Several of Frankie Tyler's less-loyal
gang members had taken sanctuary within the old criminal stronghold,
and Rusty tolerated them, knowing that it would be up to Brian to accept
them into the Syndicate...or dismiss them in a very permanent manner.
The
Dukes watched from the sidelines, helping out where they could, staying
out of what business they knew better to involve themselves with. The Syndicate was unconcerned about them
- Bo and Luke had proven themselves and fought at their sides. Only Flash and Bandit seemed ill at ease
with the mix of bodies milling around the Jigsaw, their hackles raised
slightly at the scent of stale blood.
Outside,
MaryAnne drove up and parked behind the General Lee. The sedan Rosco
had driven was parked in front of the General. She checked the car,
found no dogs and marched to the front door.
The
second-floor guards had alerted the Jigsaw to MaryAnne's approach. She walked in to a warm reception, Rusty
meeting her the moment she stepped inside.
"Miss Coltrane! I was hoping you'd show up."
Flash
and Bandit surrounded MaryAnne's feet, finally glad to be near someone
familiar. "Hey, Rusty," she greeted. "I uh...I'm not
stayin' long, I'm just gonna pick up my stuff and the dogs here and
head back to Hazzard."
"Not
gonna stay and help us celebrate? You're the whole reason any of us
are still here..." Rusty gestured around the Jigsaw.
From
the second-floor balcony, the working girls were watching, dressed
in their finest. They waved
at MaryAnne as if to say thank
you. The game room was clicking and ringing
with the sound of dice, chips, and slot machines, and a few gamblers
held up their cards in salute.
In
the bar area itself, the pool tables were surrounded by thugs of both
factions...the Syndicate and the defectors from Tyler's gang, all getting
along amicably enough now that the war was over.
Collectively, they saluted MaryAnne with their pool cues.
And
around the bar and the jukebox, the rest of the patrons, whether they
wore Syndicate black or were in civilian clothes, raised their beers,
their hands, and finally their voices, in tribute.
She
had joined them...proven her worth...fought with them...and she had
won them over more completely than any Federal agent could have accomplished
with badge alone.
"MARYANNE!
MARYANNE! MARYANNE! MARYANNE!" The voices
chanted. It wasn't the wild,
carefree yell of her first acceptance, but rather a sober, heartfelt
shout holding respect and farewell.
Even
the dogs got into it. With Flash and Bandit howling at her feet, MaryAnne
took a step forward and looked towards each part of the Jigsaw as the
chant continued. The sound rocked her, her emotions hitched in her
chest. She raised a hand in acknowledgement and in appreciation, giving
them her best smile. You're welcome...
After
a few minutes spent gathering up her things and taking a final look
around the room, MaryAnne stepped out carrying her two duffle bags.
Bo and Luke immediately stepped up and eased the two duffles off her
shoulders.
"We'll
take these for ya," Bo said.
MaryAnne
smiled. "Thanks, fellas."
The three walked down the stairs and paused in the main lobby
of the Jigsaw.
There,
MaryAnne beheld a sight that she hadn't been able to witness before. The Syndicate had gathered themselves
in rows along the lobby, forming an honor guard.
The last time she'd been honored this way, she had been unconscious
in Rosco's arms, unable to appreciate the gesture. Now, however, she could see every face, every eye, looking
directly at her. At a signal
from Rusty, both rows took a step back and gave way before her.
She
was one of theirs.
MaryAnne
walked slowly towards the front door of the Jigsaw, looking at every
face as she passed. She nodded to each, respectful of the honor they
were bestowing upon her. When she got to the door, she paused and turned
back to face the Syndicate.
She was one of theirs... MaryAnne had no idea
what to think, only that in an odd way, she was grateful. She was leaving
Atlanta practically a hero. The FBI, the Atlanta PD and the Syndicate
all hailed her in respect and appreciation for what she had done. And
the name of Coltrane would never be doubted or
laughed at again...
She
looked over at Rusty and gave the red-headed thug a serious nod. She
then smiled and winked.
He
winked back, adding a lazy salute with his right hand. Get
outta here, his smile seemed to say.
"Y'all
behave huh?" She chuckled and saluted him back and then stepped
out of the Jigsaw with Flash, Bandit and the Duke boys following.
"Hey,
ya got Maverick back," Luke said.
"Yep."
MaryAnne opened the trunk and the boys deposited the two duffle bags.
"You boys headin' home too or what?"
"We'd
better. Uncle Jesse n' Daisy are probably tired of doin' our share
of the chores," Luke answered.
"That's
for sure," Bo agreed. He patted MaryAnne's shoulder. "You
gonna remember your way back to Hazzard?"
MaryAnne
laughed. "Yeah, I think so." She opened the door to let the
dogs into the back seat of the Firebird. She then looked at the boys.
"Listen, uh...I wanna thank ya for your help. Ya'll took a big
risk in stickin' this out with me."
"Just
don't try and take on the world yourself, 'cause we'll always horn
in," Luke told her. He
pulled MaryAnne into a hug. Having
her alive and well was thanks enough for their help.
Luke
had no sooner let go of MaryAnne, than when Bo scooped her up. "That's right, and there ain't no
gettin' away from us Dukes," he said cheerfully, squeezing her
until she let out a cough for air.
"Now can you get to Hazzard without us callin' the National
Guard for backup?"
"Bo..."
She chuckled. "Yes, I will make it to Hazzard just fine, thank
you." She smiled at them both and then glanced at the other sedan,
remembering something. "Oh, y'all better bring that thing back
to Hazzard too. I know Rosco's got it all packed up with stuff, might
as well take it home."
"You
got it." Luke took a set
of keys from MaryAnne. "We'll
drop the car off at Cooter's. We
gotta stop there on the way home and get the General repainted, or
Enos isn't gonna recognize us."
MaryAnne
smiled. "You ain't kiddin' there. He won't recognize you two dressed
like that either." She looked down at herself. "Or me for
that matter!"
"Uncle
Jesse would take one look at us all and think the farm's bein' burglarized,"
Bo agreed. "C'mon, Luke,
we can change clothes at Cooter's."
The
Dukes gave MaryAnne another smile, and then headed towards the cars. "Last one to the Boar's Nest is
buyin'," Luke called out as they pulled away.
MaryAnne
laughed and got into Maverick. She watched the General and the sedan
pull away. Bandit poked his head between the bucket seats.
"Looks
like I'm gonna be buyin'..."
***** ***** *****
MaryAnne
certainly didn't forget her way back to Hazzard. Once she left the
city limits of Atlanta, she pushed Maverick for everything the Firebird
was worth. It felt good to be driving her own car again.
She
was alive. The Dukes were alive. Her kin were alive. The FBI had expressed
it's sincere gratitude. The Atlanta PD, the Syndicate...they all expressed
gratitude towards her. They respected her, were honored by what she
had done and thankful she had done it.
So
why was she so hard on herself?
Perhaps
because there was on important piece of the victory that was still
incomplete. Her kin. Her cousins. Rosco seemed willing to forgive...but
would Brian?
Could
he? Should he? Would anything ever be the same again?
Where
did she need to start?
Stop blamin' them for
showin' up, for starters.
Had
she even said thank you? Or I'm sorry? No...not really…
And
why not? Was it really that hard to say it? Would it make much of a
difference now anyway?
Interstate
highway faded to country road as MaryAnne contemplated the answers
to those questions. She spotted
the turnoff she wanted and took it.
Rosco seemed willing
to forgive...but would Brian?
Maverick
crossed the county line and after a few minutes drive, she turned off
the road and down the crumbling asphalt that led to Hazzard's Old North
Cemetery. The rumbling exhaust mixed with the birdsong,
and she stopped the car near the gate.
It
was not the first time she had come to seek solace at this place, but
it had been a long time to say the least. She stepped out of the car,
let Bandit and Flash out as well and she walked down the path, knowing
exactly where the gravesite she was looking for was located.
Flash
and Bandit followed, if for nothing more, than for company.
She
found the headstone and paused at it.
Eli James Coltrane 1918
- 1984 and his wife SarahMae 1921- 1962.
"I
think I blew it Papa..." She sighed heavily. "I really think
I blew it..."