Page 170 of Nearly Roadkill
From:Henderson, Enforcement
Subj:Assignment
I don’t know how you wormed your way back onto this case, but don’t get your hopes up. I’m keeping you as far away from them as I can.
What I wanna know is who or what tipped you to the National Emergency clause. You got a friend upstairs who knew that’d get you back on the case? Well I got friends upstairs, too, so keep your nose clean.
—Henderson
He looks up from his laptop.
“I don’t know how you managed that, Shel, but I’m grateful.”
Shelly laughs lightly and punches him gently on his arm.
“Stick with me, gumshoe. We’ll go places.”
And indeed, thanks to that little National Emergency subparagraph, the entire staff of the Bureau has been sent around the country to stake out nodes that hadn’t shut down yet. One of those nodes would lead them to Scratch and Winc, went the reasoning. Except, of course, no one else knows about the office in Manhattan.
One by one, the commercial, public, and private enterprises have gone offline. It wouldn’t be cynical to assume that this decision was made in an effort to hold onto customers.
It’s well past midnight when Lieutenant Budge looks out the window at the crowds of people waiting to get on board the train.Damn! If this strike is gettin’ to crowds of folks in Trenton, it’s got a reach. Izzat why everyone is so damned cheerful? In the background, an endless series of announcers from the National Public Radio Network are going on about how many nodes have shut down, how many people are estimated to have signed off already. Jesus, they might pull this off. But I know where you are now, and here I come.
A faltering voice from just behind him pulls Wally out of his reverie.
“Lieutenant Budge?”
He swivels his head to find himself inches from the face of some kid in his early twenties.
“Who wants to know?” he asks gruffly. Ever since his “television debut” at the Coney Island debacle, people have come up to him on the street to say hello.
The young man goes beet-red. “It’s me, sir. Francis Norton.”
Wally’s puzzled. Shelly leans in close and whispers, “Your communications chief, Lieutenant.”
Wally nods but continues to stare at the nervous young man. “What was your job before this assignment, Norton?”
“Hard copy routing and expediting, sir.”
Wally blinks. “You work in the mail room?”
The young man’s wince is painful to watch.
“Yessir. But we don’t call it that anymore, sir.”
“What is it you want, Agent Norton?”
The young man’s face flushes with shy pride at the lieutenant’s use of the title.
“Well, sir, you asked me to tell you when we were halfway there.
“We are, sir.
“Halfway there.”
It was a near parody of earnestness.
“Thank you, Agent Norton. Carry on.”
