'My name is Mr. Willison.'
'Pleased to meet you,' she said politely. Willison turned when the officer checking their IDs offered them back. 'Oooo,' the girl said when she noticed the badge holders. 'Are you a police officer?'
'Yes, we are.'
'How exciting,' she said. She reached for his ID as he was putting it back in his jacket. 'Can I see?'
'Not now,' Willison said curtly. The girl looked perturbed. Willison went over to the guard window. 'Hey, what's the story with the kid?'
'That's Kelsey.'
'So I heard. What's she doing here?'
'Her mom is one of the owners. She comes here every now and then. The dog is her bodyguard.'
'A bodyguard? Inside the compound?'
'Everywhere she goes, I guess. She has class-C access.'
'How in hell did a little kid-?'
'Hey, mister?' the girl asked. She was back again, a look of determination in her eyes. 'Can I please see your badge?'
'No, you cannot,' Willison replied.
'But I said 'please.' My mommy said I have to be more polite, and when I'm more polite, I get more things.'
'She's right, but you still can't see my badge,'-AVillison said sternly.
'But I said 'please.' '
'I said no.'
'Pul-leese?' She stopped asking and was whining now.
'No!' Willison barked. His kids were grown, but when they were even younger than this girl, they learned respect. 'Now go sit down over there.'
'You can't make me. You can't tell me what to do. You're not the boss of me!'
Willison turned again to the guard. 'Where's her mother?'
'Somewhere in the facility. She goes with her kid when they're getting ready to leave, but then she usually gets waylaid and sends the kid on ahead. We usually end up picking her up in the break room and escorting her here.'
'My mom won't like you telling me what to do,' the girl said.
'I don't care. Now go sit down.'
'Just let me please see your badge? I promise I won't hurt it or get it dirty.'
'For the fourth time, I said no.'
Suddenly the girl reached over and actually tried to pull the badge case from his inside jacket pocket. Willison practically leapt backward in surprise. The other agents were suppressing amused snickers at the girl's persistence and Willison's mounting aggravation. The girl actually managed to get two little fingers on the badge holder and was pulling it out of his breast pocket. Willison heard a faint ripping and realized she was taking most of his breast pocket with her. 'Hey! Watch it!' he shouted, louder than he intended.
He may have pushed her a tiny bit, just because he was surprised at her quick move and to keep his pocket from ripping right off. If he did, he didn't put any force behind it. But whatever he did, suddenly the little girl yelped in pain and flew backward as if she had been body-slammed by a WWF wrestler. She hit the linoleum floor hard. She lay on the floor, staring straight up; at first, Willison thought-no, prayed-that she wasn't hurt. But he knew kids better than that. Seconds later, the little girl let out an earsplitting scream so loud that he thought for sure she had cracked open her skull or fallen on an ax or something.
The only reason they stopped being concerned for the child's welfare was that they were more concerned about their own-because now Sasha the Doberman was all teeth, hair, and eyeballs. None of them had ever seen a more vicious-looking animal in their lives. They instinctively backed away and reached for side arms before realizing they no longer carried them.
'Get that animal away from us!' Willison shouted. The girl screamed even louder. Finally one of the guards behind the counter, a younger one with kids, was able to pick her up, and he carried her to a chair and let her cry on his shoulder for a while until the security guard waved the FBI agents through. The dog watched them, snarling, facing them the entire time. By then, the girl was over her crying, and she watched silently, tearlessly. With one word from the little girl, the Doberman stopped snarling and sat down, impassively watching the door close behind them.
'For Christ sake, Larry,' one of the other agents admonished him, going over to the little girl. 'What'd you do?'
'I didn't do anything!' Willison protested. 'She came at me, and I-'
'She 'came at you'? Who'd you think she was-Freddie Krueger? Hannibal Lecter?'
'Her mom probably makes more dough than all of us combined,' another agent said over the now ear-piercing screams.
'I hear the new office in Greenland needs a janitor,' another joked.
'Har har.' Willison looked mad enough to chew the chain-link fence as he walked through an X-ray machine, then submitted to a pat-down search. 'What in hell is a little kid like that hanging around this facility, anyway?' he grumbled. 'I'm going to look into that next. This place is not a day-care center. And what the hell is it with that dog? I thought we were goners!'
'Let it go, Larry,' one of the other agents said as they emerged through yet another chain-link entrapment area into the street behind the hangar complexes. The? saw the assistant security director, Landow, just emerging from a hangar, coming to meet them. 'You just forgot how to handle little kids, that's all.'
'Hey, we're here on business, not to entertain some rich bitch's kid.' He looked around. 'Masters is still nowhere to be found. I want some butts here today, gentlemen. Nothing goes by us. I don't put up with this shit from anyone, especially not from some snot-nosed egghead. I want-' Just then, he heard a high-pitched whine-the unmistakable sound of heavy jet engines spooling up. 'What the hell?' He shouted at Landow, pointing in the direction of the noise. 'I thought I ordered no engine starts! What in hell is that? '
At that moment, over the growing roar of jet engines not far away, they heard, 'Freeze! Hands in the air! No one move!' In the blink of an eye, heavily armed security officers with M-16 rifles leveled at them surrounded the FBI agents.
Willison casually reached for his ID inside his jacket. 'Put your guns down, boys. We're FB-'
'I said hands in the fucking air!' Before they knew it, the officers pounced, using their rifles as pugil sticks to knock the agents to the asphalt. They spread-eagled the stunned FBI agents and began patting them down. To thenimmense shock, Sasha the Doberman was back, her jaws just inches away, snarling and growling louder and meaner than ever.
'What in hell are you doing?' Willison shouted. 'We're FBI, dammit! We just got clearance inside!' The dog snapped its jaws, and Willison felt the gush of its breath on the back of his hand-he thought his bladder was going to let go.
'Don't move!' The guards secured their hands with nylon handcuffs, then continued pat-searching them.
John Landow strolled over to them a few moments later. 'Landow! You tell them who we are, right now' Willison shouted.
'I suggest you stay quiet and cooperate, whoever you are,' Landow said. 'You're in serious trouble.'
'What are you talking about?'
'Got one,' one of the guards said.
'I got one too,' another said, who had been searching the younger agent who had picked Kelsey off the floor.
Both guards brought small devices, resembling small ballpoint pens with wires attached to them, over to Landow. Landow examined them, then stooped down beside Willison so he could see what he had in his hands. 'Where did you get these, Special Agent?' he asked.
'Get what?' He looked at the objects Landow had in his hand. 'I never saw those things before in my life.'
'We'd better read you your rights,' Landow said. 'I advise you right now not to say another word.'
'What are you talking about? What are they?'
