Chapter 9–Monday, 12:45PM

Herb shook his head as he drove past the courthouse. The circus had arrived. A dozen vans with giant numbers on their sides and satellite dishes on their tops were positioned in the best parking spots. A cameramen or two had a reporter in their sights. They were getting prelim work done before the big show. Others were scurrying up the front steps, lugging oversized equipment bags.

Herb decided to use the back entrance. Monte, the courthouse’s tomato guard, greeted him with a warm smile as Herb snatched off his stalking cap. “Mighty cold out there, Herb! Mighty cold! But I hear there’s going to be a bit of a warm up come Wednesday. Sure will be nice to see the sun.”

Herb stood stalk still as the pudgy officer passed his wand over his coat and pant legs. No beeps. “You’re free to go, sir,” Monte said as he finished up. “Have a nice day.”

A nice day, Herb thought. Not likely with the media on hand. He marched down the hall to his home away from home, the courthouse’s police office. Central was home to the handful of officers needed to escort prisoners from their cells to the courtroom, keep track of the department’s paper work and protect the public defenders from their clients. A dozen vegetable officers fit neatly into this cubicle-divided dungeon.

Herb felt naked when he pushed through the door. Not because he was unarmed per the mayor’s policy, but because he knew these folks knew what was about to happen upstairs. They knew their chief was in hot soup.

“Hello, Herb. And how are we today?” Herb knew the voice and the man before he turned – Sigmund Frond, the department’s psychologist. The chief hated the shrink. He’d put his office in this hole on purpose. He didn’t want to see the psycho-babbling avocado every day. Their conversations were rarely civil. The two loved playing with each other’s minds. Frond always seemed to come out on top.

“Not today, Frond,” Herb snapped. He walked to his cubicle without a backward glance. Safely in his seat, he pulled out his cheat sheet and went over it once more. He had to be sure he knew his stuff or he’d have peanut butter on his face. Redman would hold nothing back. The ugly finger of blame would be pointed Herb’s way.

Herb came to the last word on the 3"x5" card, tapped it twice on the desk’s oak top, then shoved it back in his pocket, never to be looked at again.

The Chief rose. The clock on the wall near the door read 12:54. Herb gulped. Six minutes. The bright lights and cameras and questions were six minutes away. The clock ticked off another minute. Five. Herb forced his feet to move. He stepped out the door and walked the hall to the elevator in a trance. He punched the call button. The doors slid sideways, allowing entrance. Herb stepped in. They closed. One floor up and the machine spit the chief out. He wished, as he stared at those gathered in the hall, that the box had swallowed him. He walked stiffly to the seat next to the mayor. He knew it was his. It had always been his. The seat next to the executioner. He sat. The politician glanced his way, but offered no greeting. It was 1:00. He had a job to do.

Mayor Redman rose and began. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. I know you have deadlines to meet, so I will be brief. The recent string of choppings has been nerve wracking for the citizens of Garden City. Everyone is, as you know, on edge. This morning’s revelation of a classified law enforcement photo, digitally altered and broadcast for all to see, caused quite a stir in our community. We have all of you and your ‘unnamed source’ to thank for that.” The man was smiling stiffly, his annoyance barely hidden. “All that aside, we were – I think I speak for everyone in town – struck by the similarity between these creatures’ features and those of the composite sketch passed around town over the past few weeks. Our police artist is one of the best.” He paused to clear his throat, then leaned into the mic. “I wish I could say the same for the rest of the force.”

Here it comes, Herb thought.

“Our chief of police,” the mayor went on, “and those under his command, have failed miserably in their pursuit of the perpetrators of these violent crimes. The department has not uncovered much of anything and does not at this time have a clue where to look for these ‘monsters’ which threaten the stability of our fair city. So I, when it seemed I was left with no other choices, called in a VBI team. They are here in the city right now. They were the ones who produced the photo. Unfortunately, in giving it to our chief, its top-secret classification was compromised. My office is considering a probe into the department’s handling of this situation. I assure you that those responsible for this leak and the poor handling of this case will be disciplined and, possibly, removed from office. Meanwhile, I have full confidence that the VBI will wrap this case up quickly, provided, of course, they receive no further ‘assistance’ from our ‘finest.’” Redman paused, turned to Herb and spoke one final sentence. “Herb, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Herb rose slowly, seething mad. As he stepped to the podium, the glare he cast sideways was not lost on the crowd at hand. It would make more than one newspaper article. “Thank you for those ‘kind’ words, Mayor Redman,” he began. “I’m sure the Bureau appreciates the exposure you’ve given their covert operations team this afternoon. Their excellent undercover work will now be much simpler. Perhaps they would be aided more if you gave out their team leader’s phone number on air so folks could call them with tips.” Herb laughed sardonically. “Better yet,” he continued, “why not give out the address of their base of operations so the choppers can turn themselves in peaceably and we can all breathe a sigh of relief.”

Herb glanced at his nemesis. The mayor’s face was redder than red. Perfect, he thought.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” Herb had their attention now. “Despite the pronouncements of our mayor, the GCPD is making progress on this case. A thorough, and continuing, search is being made for these ‘monsters’ and I have confidence, despite the mayor’s skepticism, that our finest will find and detain them. It is true that the evidential image you aired this morning was produced by the VBI. It is also true that it was handed over to me personally and then shown to all officers at a GCPD briefing yesterday. While we are concerned that this photo was given to you in an unauthorized manner, we believe that this breach may, in fact, aid us.” Herb looked directly at the GNN camera. “We are asking the fine citizens of Garden City to call 911 if they see anyone who resembles these creatures. As to the inquisition the mayor’s office is threatening, it is completely unnecessary, a needless distraction to our ongoing investigative work. Our own internal affairs officers are already working to uncover the leak and deal appropriately with the offender or offenders.”

Finished, Herb sat abruptly. He hadn’t made every point he’d planned to, but he’d dealt with the mayor’s attacks as well as he ever had. He was pleased.

Redman was back at the mic. “Obviously, the chief and I disagree on a matter or two. His unnecessarily caustic comments at the beginning of his remarks show clearly his desperation. He is fighting to keep his job. He knows the incompetence of those under him and his own failings endanger his paycheck and he is afraid.”

Having covered his reddish hide, the mayor turned on the charm. “Now, ladies and gentlemen of the press, are there any questions?”

The man paused, then pointed to Tony Snowpea from GFOX. “Tony.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. Mr. Mayor, can you tell us any more about the VBI’s involvement in this investigation? We were unaware of their presence until you spoke of it.”

“Thank you, Tony. I cannot say more than I have. I called in a team and they are here. That is all. Next?”

The mayor pointed to the woman on the front row – Katie Carrot from GCBS. “Katie.”

“I’d like to address my question to the chief if I may.” The mayor stepped back and to the side as Herb rose and took the podium. “Chief,” Carrot began, “due to the horrific nature of this case and the difficulty you seem to be having in solving it, I’m sure you welcome the VBI’s help. That said, what evidence has your force uncovered and how close do you believe you are to nabbing the culprit or culprits behind this chopping spree?”

Herb thought he saw Miss Carrot wink at the mayor as she seated herself, but he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter anyway. He had a question to answer. “Because of the nature of this investigation – it is ongoing you know? – I cannot comment on the evidence that we have in our possession. As to the VBI’s involvement, they came on their own, covertly, without an invitation from anyone in this town and,” Herb nearly choked on the words, “we are glad for their help.”

“So you’re saying,” Miss Carrot asked, “that Mayor Redman is lying when he says he called them in due to departmental incompetence?”

Herb smiled. He was about to answer when the mayor shoved him away. “Thank you,” the man’s words were crisp as he spoke. “That’s all the time we have for now.” With that he rushed from the room.

Herb shrugged his shoulders, stepped back to the podium and, leaning into the microphone, said, “Yes, Miss Carrot. That’s exactly what I was saying. Thank you. I’ve got work to do.”