Family Ties
771 Words
While Julian poured everything into the drug case, Sebastian Crowe’s mind was elsewhere. The ultimate pragmatist was scheming how to make second-class officer.
…
Outside Security Team One office, Sebastian carried two gift bags, nerves showing. He knocked.
“Come in!”
Sebastian pushed the door, big grin, bowing slightly. “Captain Ryan—busy?”
Desk inside, Ryan Smith looked up. Heavy body hair, overweight, always sweating. He adjusted black-rimmed glasses. “Sebastian? Come in.”
“Just checking on you.”
Ryan glanced. “Meeting soon. Straight to it.”
Sebastian wiped sweaty palms on his thighs discreetly, set the bags beside the desk. “Friends brought fresh beef jerky, steaks from Las Vegas. Try them.”
Ryan frowned at the bags. “No games. Talk.”
Sebastian stood awkwardly. “You and Captain Vale are close… could put in a word? Second-class officer. My seniority, performance—all there. Just need someone to speak up.”
Ryan scribbled reports, no eye contact. “Ten slots. You were in. Team Four’s Shaw put his brother-in-law up. Vale and I couldn’t block it. Wait—next round I’ll push you.”
Sebastian froze. “Captain—Shaw’s brother-in-law’s been here less than five months!”
“Less than five. But his brother-in-law’s Shaw.” Ryan helpless smile. “Wait. Yielding builds friends.”
Sebastian clenched fists, pressed. “Captain—I need second-class. Mom’s sick—monthly meds…”
“Who climbing doesn’t have reasons?” Ryan flat.
“But it was mine. Waited almost a year.”
Ryan nudged the bags. “Jerky, steaks… nice stuff.” Low mutter. “Sebastian—how about this: I give you two cases red wine, ten grand cash. You talk to Chief Vaughn—get me office post.”
Sebastian stunned.
“Opportunities are real now. No money waits for money. Money waits for power…” Ryan pushed steaks back. “Take them. Wait.”
Sebastian lips tight, silent long. “I’ll wait.”
“Take the stuff.”
“Keep it. Steaks good.” Sebastian left.
Ryan silent, back to work.
Sebastian reached door, saw foul-smelling dirty clothes on rack. Turned back. “Clothes dirty—I’ll wash.”
Ryan no look. “Yeah.”
“Shoes too—I’ll clean.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll go.”
“Yeah.”
“…”
Sebastian left with pile.
Minutes later, Ryan tossed gifts to office woman. “Steaks—take home.”
“You don’t want?”
“Frozen who-knows-how-long. My dog wouldn’t eat.” Ryan straightened uniform, left.
Laundry room.
Sebastian sleeves rolled, scrubbing shoes, phone to ear. “This month’s meds—I’ll get money… yeah, yeah. I’ll send.”
…
Team Three office.
Julian clapped. “Zabby—sign weapons, gear. No one leaves before eight tonight. Possible action.”
Caleb Frost—leg wound from Julian’s knife still fresh—grumbled. “Boss—me too?”
“Short bodies—you drive.”
“Fine.” Caleb no argument, nodded.
Four p.m. Late dinner cafeteria, then gear, weapons back to dorm.
Sebastian entered, saw rare automatic rifles. “What—who we grabbing? Big setup.”
“Low-level cracked,” Julian checked watch. “Big supplier for Cross family possibly in Salt Lake City. Tailed a core member—might pay off.”
“Ah.” Sebastian nodded, thought, pulled Julian aside. “I need home quick—okay?”
Julian paused, helpless low. “Dodging front-line again? Manpower short—if scared, drive. Deal?”
“Not dodging,” Sebastian frowned. “Must go. Mom bad—meds. Little sister blind, young… no me, no food. Hospital check today.”
Julian figured Sebastian too cowardly to lie about family. Thought. “Back before action?”
“Call—I’ll rush.”
“Fine. Go.”
“…Boss—sorry trouble.” Sebastian polite nod.
“No problem. Hard for everyone. Help each other.” Julian patted shoulder. “Call before action.”
“Got it.” Sebastian left.
…
Past seven p.m.
Ashmire poor district.
Elias Cross stepped from vehicle, scanned, military coat tight, head low into stinking alley.
“Who?” voice from dark.
“Silas Hart.”
“Mr. Cross?” Young man approached smiling.
“Inside?”
“Yeah.” Youth low. “Mr. Cross—arms up. Procedure.”
Elias raised arms, let search.
Inside, scruffy Silas Hart sat on bed, toying with a grenade.
…
Meanwhile.
Marcus Vale in office, phone to ear, walked to window. “Brother—urgent pulling me back? Yeah, handling. Fine—later.”
- Writer
