*****
“Listen, captain, I appreciate you two gentlemen being here today. Honestly, I really do. However, we've done hundreds of raids like this before and I promise you we don't require your assistance down there. If you were to go in just the sight of your police cruiser would have them running for the hills before we could even get off the bus,” Agent Sazera said, with his hands firmly planted on his hips.
“We did a roundup just last Friday and picked up over a hundred illegal immigrants without a shot being fired or any police presence, whatsoever. It's just not usually needed, unless they have gang connections or serious criminal elements. Our intelligence report on this raid says to expect fewer than eighty illegal immigrants down there and according to the files none of them have much of a criminal record.”
Sazera consulted the paperwork on his clipboard and continued, “All we've got on them are a few fistfights and a couple drunk and disorderly charges. In short, there's nothing to justify your going down there with us. You know this is just a political roundup anyway. And all because some jerk lost his workers due to some kind of labor disagreement. Unfortunately, this kind of crap happens all the time.
Those people down there are just trying to get by. They're not really even considered criminals in some parts of the country. When I worked out of the San Francisco office that fact was made very clear. They are just people. They're not some kind of monsters and they will not be treated like dangerous rabid dogs.
You and your deputy should stay up here on top of the valley and catch any they may try to escape the raid. That’s about the extent of our needing you here today.”
Captain Wyatt had patiently listened while leaning against the trunk of the cruiser for the last several minutes.
Deputy Holmes looked uncomfortable as he stood off a few feet and stared at Agent Sazera.
Sazera was a very big muscular man with a black mop of curly hair with dashes of gray in it. He was wearing a black uniform with knee pads, arm pads, and a bullet proof vest that covered both his chest and back with the large white letters I-C-E prominently printed on both sides.
The other members of the ICE unit had stayed on the bus.
It was Holmes’ first assignment working with the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency and he had no idea what to make of Sazera's speech.
Wyatt nodded and seemed to be receptive throughout the address, but he'd actually only been waiting for Sazera to shut up. He'd heard a variation of this speech from other federal agents before and it never ceased to make him madder than a boiled cat. He always listened politely before explaining how things worked when he was on the job.
“Agent Sazera, it sounds like you've been giving that sermon for a long time. I understand you guys have your own way of doing things and I respect that. But let me assure you that my deputy and I will be going down into that trailer park with your people this morning for three reasons,” Wyatt said, taking a step toward the much younger, taller, and physically intimidating agent.
Although Sazera stood almost a foot taller than Wyatt, he backed up a step as the captain continued. “One: We've been ordered to go down there- not to interfere- but to provide assistance if needed. I got my orders from the Sheriff personally. If you have a problem with those orders feel free to give him a call after we get done here today.
Two: Communications have always been difficult in the valleys and canyons hereabouts. An hour ago I tried phoning Mrs. Phyllis Remlap, the owner of the park, from the station house and got a message saying the call could not be completed as dialed. It probably doesn't mean anything. However, I do not take unnecessary chances. If something was going on down there, while my deputy and I stayed up here picking our noses, and the shit hit the fan we'd be unemployed before nightfall. And I don't know if you've been keeping up with the job market lately but it sucks hairy syphilitic donkey balls, in my humble opinion.”
Sazera tried to interrupt and Wyatt held up his meaty right hand in a stop gesture while he walked forward another step. Now within kissing distance (and even though he was forced to look up at the much taller agent) Wyatt shoved three fingers in front of Sazera's face. “And the third reason we are going down there is,” he paused and pushed the agent back a step with his other hand. Sazera caught his balance and stood uncertainly as Captain Wyatt continued, “Because, quite frankly, you pissed me off. I am a captain in this sheriff's department, damn it! I've busted my butt for nearly twenty years dealing with the scum of the earth. I've been shot at more times than you can imagine and managed to live to tell the tale. So, don't you fucking dare come down here and tell me to sit on the sideline. This is my home. I live and breathe the oath to protect and serve.
Maybe the cops in San Francisco are different. Maybe they don't mind cheering you on from the sidelines, like a bunch of pansy-ass cheerleaders. Maybe you think your shit don't stink and the sun shines out of your hairy ass, but I will not play by your rules. Whether you want us to stay up here or not does not matter in the slightest to me because we're heading down there this morning. Feel free to join us.”
Deputy Thomas looked away grinning as he heard Sazera start to speak, but before he could begin Wyatt turned and opened the squad car door saying, “Come on, deputy. Let’s get it done.”
After climbing behind the wheel the captain revved the engine.
When Thomas got inside the cruiser he burst out laughing when he saw Wyatt smiling from ear to ear while putting the car in gear and pulled in front of the bus. “You should be a politician, Wyatt. You have a great way of communicating with assholes,” Thomas said, as he lit a cigarette and leaned back in the passenger seat.
“If that giant, smart-ass, gorilla had taken a swing at me back there you would have backed me up, right? Damn bastard must be six and a half foot tall,” Wyatt said, wiping at his forehead with a handkerchief. “For a second I thought I might have pushed him too far,” he added with a smile.
“Fear not, I had my stun gun ready if he started to kick your ass. Would you mind if I write down those exact words, you used? I live and breathe the oath to protect and serve,” Thomas asked, before finishing off the last of his cold coffee.
“You caught that, huh? Yeah, I know it sounded corny but I was on a roll. I couldn't help myself,” Wyatt said, blushing slightly.
“It's nothing to be embarrassed about. To be honest, I thought it was kind of inspiring. I was thinking about having it printed up on a shirt. Just wish I had a chance to zap that guy with my stun gun.”
“Yes sir, Deputy Holmes you are my hero. If the rest of this morning is just half as much fun as that was it's going to be a great day.”
Sazera turned and walked back to the bus.
The door squeaked as it opened and he climbed the steps and paused to pat Lieutenant Shoemaker, who was in the driver’s seat, on the shoulder. He faced the six member squad and announced, “I have chosen to allow the local police to assist us here today. Let's get the assignments out of the way.
My squad will consist of Dudley,” he nodded at the youngest and newest member of the team.
Dudley smiled and nodded back. He seemed to be looking at his commander while in reality he was looking over Sazera's shoulder into the big mirror mounted above the windshield. Through the mirror, he stared at Amy Crawford sitting on the other side of the bus. She was simply adorable and he couldn't stop staring at her fox-like face. Possessing the cutest nose and prettiest smile (when she sometimes let it shine through) Dudley could rarely spend an evening making love to his wife without fantasizing it was actually Crawford under him instead of his grumpy frumpy wife. The only problem was sometimes in bed with his wife he had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting out Amy's name. He smiled at her in the mirror hoping his wife never found out about his crush on Amy.
Wives just never understand some things, Dudley thought as Sazera continued babbling.
“Gilmer, you'll be on the lookout for anything hinky this morning,” Sazera said, nodding at the
second oldest member of the squad.
In his late fifties yet still tougher than some of the younger squad members, he was a retired Army Ranger that had proven himself reliable on those rare occasions when someone decided to try shooting their way out of being deported. When things got boring he would sometimes share stories (usually quite long rambling ones) about his days of jumping out of airplanes and dealing with everything from covert ops in South America to his early days spent serving in Vietnam.
Gilmer nodded back when his name was called but was busy thinking about his dog Barnie. He’d seemed a bit listless lately and Gilmer decided he'd take him running this afternoon when the roundup was over.
“Crawford you get to wear your team's helmet camera today,” Sazera said, and winked at her.
She nodded back while watching Dudley from the corner of her eye. He looked like he was panting at her through the mirror. She sighed softly and looked out the window and wondered how she had ended up out here- in the middle of nowhere. Secretly, she was glad the police were coming along. Hardly able to sleep last night, she repressed a yawn while trying not to remember the nightmares that had plagued her sleep.
They were repetitive short dreams of her being chased by a gang of crazy men. The worst part was how realistically vivid they were. It was almost like watching a horror movie. Waking up each time the dream ended, she found herself out of breath and unaccountably terrified until managing to fall back asleep.
Putting her hand on the pistol strapped on her hip, Amy felt reassured as she ignored the leering stare Dudley was giving her in the mirror.
Shoemaker looked over his shoulder and saw he got stuck with 'The Three Stooges' again.
Hadden was playing with his new fancy smart phone sending a text message to his wife, reminding her that the twins had an appointment at the pediatrician today at noon.
Shoemaker learned never to ask Hadden how his family was after learning all about the fascinating world of twin kids and the differences in their poop based on what they had eaten the day before. If he wasn't blathering about his kid's bowel movements there was always the internet pod casts he loved to host for anyone stupid or bored enough to listen.
Overall, he wasn't a bad agent but his constant rambling about his two little kids or the internet was something Shoemaker had grown sick of.
Glancing at Puckett, Shoemaker felt mildly ill.
Puckett had his index finger deep in his left nostril and was either scratching at his brain or digging for buried treasure. While not the stupidest bastard he'd ever worked with, Puckett had to be somewhere in the top three.
Puckett had his earphones in and was bobbing his head to whatever modern crap he called music.
Shoemaker had tried to explain to him a few times that popular music made him almost as queasy as hearing about Hadden's kids. And yet inevitably the next day Puckett would be talking about some crappy new song he found on the internet. His only redeeming characteristic was that he was generally in a pretty good mood.
Looking at the last of his trio, Shoemaker just shook his head.
Minarges was an idiot who always wanted to talk about his deep appreciation for role playing games he was involved with. Plus, he had a weird habit of laughing extremely loudly if anyone ever said anything even slightly funny; sometimes even if he himself was the one who said it.
It was a tossup, really, who was more disappointing to have been stuck with Minarges or Puckett. But ultimately he trusted the latter a lot more when things sometimes got dangerous.
Matt Minarges even told him just a few days ago how he almost got arrested going to his apartment after work. There had been a police checkpoint at the entrance to his apartment complex. They were checking driver’s identification or something and he said the dumbest thing Shoemaker had ever heard of. Looking up from his car, Minarges told the officer, “You don't have to check my trunk. I don't have any drugs hidden in there.”
Of course, they called for backup with a drug sniffing dog and spent two hours going over every square inch of his car. Even after he showed his federal credentials they kept checking, because who would be dumb enough to say something like that... really?
“We're going in clean as white sheets after the laundry kids. Leave the big guns in the storage locker, we won't need them. We can handle things with just side arms, pepper spray, clubs, and stun guns. These people are going to be taken into custody with professionalism and courtesy. Make sure each of you has at least a dozen zip ties for handcuffing.
Minarges, you get to wear the other camera helmet today. Also, everyone keep an eye on those hick cops. I don't trust them. Later on I'll be checking the video footage so no one do anything stupid out there this morning,” Sazera said, staring intently at Puckett who did not seem to have heard anything he'd said but was instead admiring something he had dug out of his nose.
Sazera sat down behind Shoemaker, his partner for the last five years, and patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s get this party started.”
The bus pulled in behind the captain's squad car and cruised past the partly fallen sign that read Albuquerque Springs Trailer Park.