“End of five and you know what that means… It’s time to flush out the Clogger. Annnnnnd here he comes… taking a wide sweep of the Stadium… the Clogger’s in special form tonight… and he heads for the center of the Stadium…”
Sterling did his trademark long pause. It was the longest and most dramatic pause I ever went through.
“… annnnnnnd Clogger cans it!”
And then we waited. The Foursome, Kelley, Singh and his men, the girls, the cops-everyone was silent and holding their breath.
And nothing happened.
Clogger literally flew off to the horizon on his way to Staten Island. A spontaneous cheer rang out in the parking lot. There were high-fives all around. I exhaled as hard as I can ever remember exhaling and slid down the side of Kelley’s car. I was exhausted in every way you can be exhausted.
All at once I remembered Al. That dog had saved my life twice tonight and took a bullet in the head for me. I had remembered hearing something about how animals will go off alone when they know they’re going to die and my tears just came. That dog had given everything for me. Everything. The whole fucking month seemed to collapse on me right there, especially the loss of Al. I cried so hard it was hard to breathe, and I sat with my head in my hands as the exhaustion hit me.
I was reaching the point of not being able to cry anymore when I heard Jerry Number One say something.
“What the hell is that noise?”
“What noise?” Rocco said.
“Listen…” Jerry Number Two hushed everyone.
From deep in the woods beyond the halfway house there was a commotion that was hard to make out. I got up and headed toward the woods. I could barely walk but I headed for the tree line about a quarter-mile away.
Singh and his men were behind me with the Foursome and Kelley. As I got closer, the racket became clearer. I stopped to make it out.
“DAT, WOOOF, DAT, WOOOF, DAT, grrrrr. Shit… excuse me. DAT, AHOOOOO, DAT, SHIT!!!.. excuse me DAT, DAT, WOOF, DAT, grrrrrrr, shit
… excuse me.”
It was.
I sprinted as hard as I could with everyone behind me.
“DAT, WOOF, WOOF, DAT, DAT, grrrrrrrrr… shit, excuse me.” It was loud and it was beautiful.
There, about twenty-five feet into the woods, was Gabbibb, pressed against a big oak tree, shaking. His Yankees’ jersey was in shreds and underneath was a Red Sox T-shirt that said “The Yankees Suck.” Gabbibb was doing his “DAT, DAT, DAT” routine like he had overdosed on Sudafed. In front of him, five feet away was Al, teeth bared. A howling, barking, growling machine.
Between his legs was a slightly chewed cell phone.
Al stopped his noise long enough to see me. His tail went into overdrive and he grabbed the cell phone between his teeth and ran as fast as he could toward me. Gabbibb took off into the woods.
“The dog has got the phone. He could set off an automatic call,” Singh yelled and crouched in a shooter’s position, aiming at Al.
Rocco was right next to him and as Al sprinted toward me with the cell phone in his mouth, Singh pulled back the hammer. As Singh was aiming, Rocco-crazy-ass bastard-hound-loving old Rocco-delivered the most perfect elbow strike I had ever seen to a man’s already broken nose.
I watched from the corner of my eye as Singh’s legs went out and he crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain and holding his nose. Al was so happy to see me, he went airborne. Ears flapping, tail wagging, he flew to greet me, crashing as hard into my nuts as he ever had and spitting out the cell phone. It bounced harmlessly to the grass.
Al crushed my nuts and the pain went through my entire nervous system as he walked the length of me to lick my face. It felt wonderful.
“Assalaamu alaikum, my brother,” I said to the best friend a man ever had.
Al barked right back at me.
On top of his head was some dried blood from where Espidera’s bullet had only grazed him.
38
I got patched up at the hospital; they gave me some blood and took some x-rays. The x-rays came back and it was clear that I had gotten my ass kicked, that some ribs were cracked but nothing was seriously messed up. The gunshot was a flesh wound, and though it stung like a bastard, it wasn’t going to cause any permanent problems.
I spent about three hours telling various detectives and FBI agents what had happened. They wrote it all down and each and every one of them told me that I had acted inappropriately and could’ve been killed. I thanked them for the advice.
Toward the end of their questioning, around three in the morning, Kelley came in with Al. He lifted Al onto the bed and this man’s best friend proceeded to lap my face. Kelley had a hint of a smile going.
“Duff, you’re fuckin’ nuts,” Kelley said.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“All right, how’s this? The FBI just confiscated a dirty bomb from Clogger’s plane. It was large enough to kill thousands and render Yankee Stadium and the surrounding area uninhabitable for decades.”
“What happened to Gabbibb?” I asked.
“He went with the FBI Homeland Security guys. They’re trying to figure if he was with the other hospital employees or if he acted independently. How’s this for weird? When they were putting him in the car and taking him away, in between all his DAT, DAT shit, he was cursing about the Yankees.”
“You don’t think this was all about destroying the Yankees and the stadium?”
“Hey-you ever been to Fenway? You know what those assholes are like. Anyway, the FBI will look into everything and we may never know.”
“Are you going to be in any trouble?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. Even cops sometimes realize there are things more important than procedures sometimes. I’ve got some other good news.”
“What’s that?” I said.
“The DA says they don’t plan to charge you in Dunston’s death or me in Tyrone’s.”
“Holy shit, I forgot about that. What’s it say when you forgot that you killed a man?”
“That the piece-of-shit that you killed wasn’t worth giving any thought,” Kelley said.
I didn’t say anything and the room got quiet. Kelley and I were a lot alike and a lot different. I killed a man tonight, and I wasn’t convinced that killing a man like Dunston was wrong, but I also wasn’t convinced that killing him was my job.
“What was the deal with those Homeland Security guys? Are they regular FBI?” I asked.
“Way I understand it-yes and no. I know they don’t have many rules to follow,” Kelley said.
“Yeah, that’s for sure. I gotta tell you the blond guy froze when I went after Singh. I attacked his partner and he couldn’t shoot.”
“Says a lot about security, doesn’t it?”
The nurse came in and told me that my vitals were good, that they thought I was dehydrated and my blood count or something was approaching normal. They also told Kelley he’d have to leave and that the dog wasn’t allowed. The nurse moved on to the next room.
“No dogs? That seals it. I’m out of here. Give me a ride to AJ’s,” I said.
“I know better than to say ‘no’ to you,” Kelley said.
The nurses at the desk threw a bit of a fit and they made me sign a bunch of forms, but they knew they couldn’t keep me. I was moving a bit slow and so was Al, but we were moving and we were moving right out of the
