recognized us immediately, and guided us to a small room at the back of the restaurant. As early as it was, the place hadn't really gotten busy yet, so there weren't many people to see us.
The door between us and the main dining area had barely closed when Muddy came in, asking me 'Boomer, what the hell have you gotten us into this time?'
'What do you mean 'us'? You got a mouse in your pocket?' I answered.
'Dammit, you think I'm gonna get a call from the FBI, asking if I've got a room for you and these ladies without knowing you're in some kind of trouble? I KNOW you're not stupid enough to think that you're gonna get in trouble without me wanting to help out!'
I sighed, and said 'Ah, HELL. Okay, Muddy, here's the deal. I've been in town helping Lucy figure out what's been going on out at TechnoDynamics. Seems a couple of the execs liberated some of the company's money, and I helped figure out the who and when and where. Tolerable chunk of change, three hundred million and up. Company Lucy works for wants to put them in jail, and see if they can get their money back. Well, the money went to out of state banks, which brings in the FBI. FBI lady tells us that there's maybe quote organized crime unquote involved. They get kind of nervous, and all of a sudden, we've got protection. Well, Lucy and the girls, more than me.'
He frowned at me, and said 'Well, you want some help, you know where to find me. I can get hold of some of the other guys, too, if you want. Just say the word.'
'Nah, don't need any of that. It's just the FBI being paranoid, is all, I think. Anyway, we're not going to be in town that much longer.'
He gave me the fisheye, but didn't say anything, other than 'Well, don't be opening that door too fast, or you'll likely scare the fellas sitting at the table outside it.'
Then he turned to Lucy and the girls, smiling broadly as he asked them how they were, and if they'd had a nice time during their last visit. All three hastened to assure him they were fine, and had enjoyed the place tremendously.
He asked us what we were hungry for, and the four of us just shared a look before Robyn said, 'Those steaks last time were great, but I'm actually kind of in the mood for just a cheeseburger', apologetically. Lucy and Sandra nodded in agreement.
When he looked at me, I told him 'Sound pretty good, to me too, actually.
Besides, I know this is kind of a rush job, Muddy.'
He smiled again, and said, 'If the lady wants a cheeseburger, then it's a cheeseburger she'll have. Won't be 'just' a cheeseburger, though.'
When he left, I went over to the door to the main dining area, and knocked before opening it a crack. I found an agent standing there, and quickly invited him in. I asked his name, and he told me that he was Special Agent Wilson. I asked him if I could speak to whoever was in charge of the detail, and he said that Agent Gallery would be with me in a moment, before slipping out the door.
A couple minutes later, I heard a discrete knock at the door, and told the other person to come on in – I was standing to the side, ready to drop whoever it was. A man in a suit came in, and quickly identified himself as Agent Gallery. We shook hands, and I thanked him for his help. He thanked me for working with them, and I told him that if he didn't mind, I'd like to make arrangements for the people with us to get a decent meal – that if he accepted, I'd get Muddy with him to work out who got to eat when, and so on. He readily agreed, and I told him that we'd be happy to stay there a little extra time so his people could eat, if he wanted. He assured me that wasn't necessary, saying that the last ones to eat would be those going off shift. He also handed me a sheet of paper with directions to a gun store, saying that the owner was a retired FBI agent, and would be agreeable to me taking my weapon with me. I thanked him, again, and he assured me he was glad to be able to help. In short order, we'd made arrangements to be able to contact each other easily, and he went back into the dining area.
A couple minutes later, Muddy came in with our salads, and I asked him if he had some chow to spare – I wanted to make sure the FBI people didn't go hungry.
He said he had enough to fix them up with about anything they wanted. I told him that I wanted to pay for it, and the argument began. I wanted to pay because it was Lucy and the girls they were protecting. Muddy wanted to do it because it was me asking. We finally settled it so that he covered the FBI people, and I paid for the meals for the rest of us. A poor compromise, but the best I could get out of him. That settled, I gave him Agent Gallery's name, and he headed off to make the arrangements.
About the time we finished our salads, Ricky, from our previous visit, came in with our cheeseburgers. He presented them to us as though they weren't anything less than the steaks we'd had last time – and after each of us took a bite, we had to agree with him: the same delicious flavor, only in a sandwich. Each of us also had a portion of crispy, golden french-fries, and fresh toppings for our burgers. We took our time, savoring each bite, even chatting with Muddy when he came in to join us. Having Muddy there, telling stories as we ate, did wonders to distract Lucy and the girls from why we were there in the first place.
When we'd finished that part of our meal, Muddy headed off again, reappearing a short time later with bowls of ice cream for us all. None of us thought anything of it, until we'd taken a bite – then realized just how good this ice cream was! Muddy chuckled, and told us 'That's*fresh* ice cream folks. It's just plain old vanilla, made just
We took our time with the ice cream, too – it was simply too good to hurry.
Finally, though, it was gone – and after Ricky had cleared the bowls from the table, another waiter brought in cups of coffee for me, and Lucy, and hot chocolate for Sandra and Robyn. We all sat around, listening as Muddy told stories and joked with us. Finally, though it was time to go. As we were leaving, Muddy pulled me aside and said 'If it's really the Mob involved, you might want to look up Guido. He's here in town.'
I looked at Muddy in surprise, and he let me know 'Nah, he's not in the family business; everything I hear, he's stayed out of it completely. But it's still HIS family, y'know? Might be he has something to say.'
I thanked him, and he clapped me on the shoulder, almost breaking it, before escorting us to the front door – nearly surrounded by pleased-looking FBI agents. I think he shook up one agent when he told the man 'Those folks are my *friends*, Mister FBI. You watch after 'em GOOD, you hear?' The agent just nodded his head, and got while the getting was good.
From the Caf,, we went to the gun store Agent Gallery had told me about. The girls, wanted to see what it looked like; Lucy went with us to keep an eye on them. Inside, I found what could only have been the owner – a somewhat grizzled older man, with eyes that missed nothing, and a look that said he was the sorrier for what he'd seen. Right behind us came Agent Gallery, and a couple of his people – more to reassure the owner, than for protection, I thought.
I introduced myself, and he looked me over before saying 'Yup. Been expecting you. Glad to see you've got company. Guess you're in kind of a fix?'
I smiled wryly, and said, 'Some might think so. Seems some folks think I need to carry, again.'
'You looking for anything in particular?'
'I got kinda fond of the.45, some time ago.'
He looked at me again, and said 'Military?'
'Army. Special Forces.'
He nodded, and said, 'These kids today, they all like those little nine millimeter popguns. Me, I like something that makes bigger holes, and will knock someone down so they don't get up again. I've got something over here you might be interested in. A customer special ordered a long-slide.45, paid the deposit for it, but never came in to collect it. Had it laying around here for a couple months.' I'd followed him over to where it was, and he opened the case up to let me look it over – and gave a grudging nod of approval as I carefully checked to make sure it wasn't loaded. I racked the slide a couple of times, holding the hammer with my thumb as I checked the trigger; I saw approval in his eyes that I wasn't letting the hammer drop.
I was looking at the grips when he told me 'That's some fancy new rubber kind of stuff; won't slip in your hand, no matter how wet it is. Seems to work pretty good.'
I hefted it, and checked how it felt when I held it out – nice and solid, but not 'heavy'. When I set it back on the counter, I asked him 'How much?' He looked me over, and asked 'What the boys tell me, about why they're on you – that true?'
'Yup.'
He looked over to where Lucy and the girls were examining a display of shotguns, then looked back at me
