ANGEL OF THE LORD (PART 5)

PREVIOUSLY


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“Fuck’, the forbidden expletive escaped Jason Burke’s lips like a betrayer. “There goes the holy man pose”, he agonized reproaching himself. His erstwhile tormentor at Special Forces boot camp, Tracy loomed largely at the back of his thought. “I knew it you motherfucker. I told you can’t hack it undercover. You goddam wear your sympathies on your front lapel!”

A hard boot jammed his kidney side and yanked Jason sharply to the present action. His reactions flowed instinctively like ingrained and drilled second nature. The six foot frame dressed innocuously in austere black pants and white shirt with matching school tie, made more unspoiled by the short cropped auburn locks, didn’t belong to the clutch of the hot dusty street. The lanky wiry frame symbolized an all American goodness; if not by goodwill reflect to all the calmness of golden wheat fields of his hometown Indiana.

America hatches men of war, not sissies or hemorrhaging do-gooders. That’s why it has stayed imperial for so long. Jason made sure that message was sent even now. He rolled hard with shoving force to his left to ram the form on top of him like a stiff log against the anchored foot of his aggressor. The wide bodied thug-like escort lost his footing. The pitch to the ground unnerved him so much he accidentally squeezed off a round. The crack report made all bystanders scamper farther away.

Mike was running full speed at this point. He had dropped the backpack a while back. He crouched low according to the rituals of his Karate discipline. He paid no heed to the gunshot. He swore when he was young that he will confront injustice without delay at any peril. This was borne from a traumatic experience during childhood that forever troubled his psyche. His nanny bled to death in his arms from stab wounds while the neighbors all dilly dallied to help out of terror. Mike prayed his pact of courage with his avowed Warrior God of Israel. “You are my strength Almighty Father. Please fight by my side. If I should fall take me to Your home for Angels where brave men go.”

The obesity in a black vinyl jacket, made incongruous by the humid climate fell on top of his two way radio, which clattered on the asphalt.. His gun was pointedly raised upwards to prevent another accidental firing. The third strongarm goon-cop guarding the perimeter over by the curb came racing to the middle with his 9mm Beretta aimed at Jason Burke’s reddening face as he strove to lift himself up. Mike went airborne and wheezed over Jason who was hunched on all fours. His left foot met squarely the upper arm on the gun hand of the surprised enforcer. The sidearm flew off uselessly.

This strange confrontation unfolded right in front of the NBI headquarters. Like the FBI the agents inside were professional criminologists. Most of them were lawyers and CPA’s while the others were graduates of Criminology Colleges. These goons creating a scandal outside were civilian agents recruited in a northern province with a lingering leftist insurgency problem. As such they behaved like a terror squad as part of the intimidation tactics employed in their area of operation. They were in the Capital to escort their boss who was being promoted to Deputy Director after leading them to record strides in law enforcement investigation and solved crimes. Most of the time the suspects got shot while fleeing or owed up after getting beat up in the attempt to escape. The future Deputy Director was a well trained lawyer. He wouldn’t brook this kind of abusive behavior in the central district. Only problem was he was at lunch at a nearby restaurant where his convoy dropped him off.


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