Lateral Gains

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

Chapter 1

The late night’s humid air rushing in through the moving vehicle’s partially opened window, carried a lot more than just the occasional familiar sounds of the areas sparse passing traffic. Along with it came other telltale information that the car’s owner had at first been trained, but now came instinctively, to detect. To him it was obvious that somewhere in the neighborhood trailing behind him, someone with possibly a green thumb was in all likelihood just switching off the eleven o’clock news. And just as probable, was the chance that they had every intention of taking their own dog-tired body and putting it to bed in an air conditioned bedroom.

But right now that was only for the fortunate, those lucky enough to be putting their days end to rest. For others, those not so blessed, they in all probability still had miles to go before even considering or looking forward to any such pleasant ending. And now, one such day worn individual and the same vehicles lone occupant honestly believed that his very own mattress was growing within reach with each passing mile. In fact he had already repeatedly promised his youthful lean body that it could soon stretch toss and turn over every square inch of its soft and at times hypnotic surface, right up until the alarm clock once more stole him away from its rejuvenating sanctuary.

With an irregular hum in his throat while his thumbs tapped in unison on the leather bound steering wheel within his grip, he half-heartedly tried to keep in unison with the voice of one the last decades’ rock and roll singers now floating up out of the car’s radio. If music were indeed the reputed help for soothing the weary to the blissfulness of sleep - then he was obviously no Elvis. But then with the speculation of an up and coming comeback tour, he was glad to hear as they say - the ‘King’ was going to be ‘back in the building’.

The last sixteen hours of a more hectic then usual day had cut into time he usually promised himself for restocking his bachelor bare pantry. It was also for this reason alone that he was heading for the closest 24 hour shopping plaza. His mind, while his body also instinctively maneuvered the tiny sports car, reasoned to itself that with any luck he could scoop up groceries and still make it home in time to catch the last half of his favorite late night ‘Carson’s’ talk show - often from a location at times he also found to be the very bed still lingering in his thoughts.

The front wheels of his small English sports car jumped slightly as they passed up and over the sidewalk ramp leading into the supermarket, something that also jogged his line of thinking back to where he really was. It took only one brief quick scan at the amount of vehicles parked in front of the store to tell him that he by far wasn’t the suburbs only late night shopper. Then, as had become habit since purchasing his little six cylinder hearts desire, he deliberately parked in an area that would hopefully remain free of any other vehicles strangely ‘magnetically’ abusive contact.

Rolling up and securing the half-lowered windows on both sides of the car, he then gave the vehicles motor one last little heart-tingling ‘rev’ - before shutting it off. And as his male ego basted in the small pleasing emphasized late night roar, he couldn’t help smiling softly to himself at how well his little part in the unusually energetic world was presently treating him.

His right hand then scooped up from the leather bucket seat beside him an expensive new camera, an almost second companion he always tried to keep within arms reach. Since the tiny area between the car’s sporty seats and floorboards hadn’t been designed or allowed for the piece of equipment or its bulky case, acquired wisdom knew it needed a better and much safer hiding place. Thanks to his profession, the very reason for having the expensive piece of photographing unit with him, he also knew that the city’s present high crime rate didn’t allow for very attractive pawn-able items to be left just anywhere within sight of such unsavory humans.

After depositing it in the M.G.’s trunk, he hesitated long enough to take a deep pull of the evenings hopefully rejuvenating damp air, before making his way into the brightly illuminated building close by. A brief short detour off the grocery stores main aisle furnished him with one of the food chain’s shiny chrome plated carts. Then, while pushing the newer and sometimes more dangerous type of land vehicle for others in front of him, he used one hand to fish through his pants pocket for the short grocery list he had deposited there earlier.

With first one row of pallet pleasing consumables passing behind him, and then into another, he gradually started to lift some of the items listed on the out-held paper in front of him. Placing them carefully into the cart, without even glancing in the buggies direction after one of it wheels had brushed against a sign advertising that there was a special on ‘peas’ this week, he wasn’t even aware that the tune last heard on the car’s radio was still bouncing around inside of his head. And as he moved on in search of the next item, his mind made a silent comment to itself on how shopping this late at night did seem to have at least one very noticeable and appreciable side benefit. That side benefit, also being one of the biggest to his present tired condition, was that there didn’t seem to be any wild noisy unrestricted children running around loose to bother him or any of the store’s other late night shoppers.

Slowly, no doubt thanks to his unfamiliarity with such a relaxed shopping environment, the vast rows of everyday items gradually approached, passed - and then disappeared behind him. And even though his mind was preoccupying itself between the grocery list and the tune roaming around inside of his head, some small instinctive spark in the back of it warned him that something was wrong. It was the inner extra sense that he had developed since beginning his career as a newspaper reporter that had started tweaking just enough to let him know something close-by wasn’t quite just right. As the sensation grew, it caused the hair at the base of his neck to react exactly like the proverbially hairs standing up end when being unexpectedly surprised or excited.

Cautious and deliberately, as if seeming to search for some undetectable item on his shopping list, he used his fingers like eyes to scan some of the other still preoccupied shoppers in the immediate vicinity. And while the mostly elderly patrons continued with what they were also there for, he continued searching visually for anything - something the evasive but not so obvious he thought just shouldn’t be there.

Then, most unsuspecting normal people would have missed what his vision eventually passed over - he spotted something that told him ‘peas’ weren’t the only thing presently being advertised in the store. But even the short years of experience of looking for things to happen or blend in with the obvious allowed him to catch a tiny human form that was overly trying to conceal itself behind a large display of washing detergent. Only someone who had been watching too much television, or had developed a very suspicious nature, someone like himself would have detected the young man’s poorly camouflaged strange actions.

Now, his mind and body reacting like the reporter he was, he carefully repositioned himself so that he could observe the males movements from a vantage point that would have him almost undetectable at first glance. Curiously he watched the more boyish than man’s body for a full minute before being totally convinced that ‘something’ - something very dangerous was apparently about to unfold.

Inconspicuously as possible he started to make his way back to the front of the store. And just as casually he deposited his partially filled buggy alongside of a brother - by one of the store’s many displays before making his way back out of the building through the same door he had earlier entered through.

Even though he had been involved in situations far more definite and serious than what was at hand, he still had to force himself not to run as his eyes scanned the area around the large plaza. Fortunately, one of the things that his racing thoughts had hoped to detect was only a few feet away. And as he pulled the phone booth’s door closed behind him, its means of overhead illumination destroyed no doubt by someone’s immaturity, his vision continued to roam the sparsely occupied parking lot. The closed-in cubicle managed to block out most of the faint surrounding noise as his fingers quickly tapped out a series of numbers mounted on the phone’s emergency faceplate mounted directly in front of him. In the passing seconds, while he waited for his call to be acknowledged, it seemed like a small eternity - as his thoughts continued to race ahead. And even the fingers of the hand not holding the phones mouth piece to his ear, started to tap impatiently in rhythm to the combination of building adrenaline fueled blood pressure.

Finally a voice at the other end of the line, in a tone that indicated that the pride associated with its position had long since diminished, snapped him back to the reality of where he was.

Station Sixty-Three, Sergeant Kelly speaking.

Don’t talk Sergeant! We don’t have the time, - just listen! My name’s Shawn Serrel! And I work for the Sheriton Post!

Every emphasized word out of his mouth dripped with an indication that somehow its owner was no doubt upset about something, something the Sergeant should be receptive to.

You can verify who I am after I hang up! But right now I’m at Fortny’s 24-Hour Supermarket, in the Conway Plaza, and my reporters instincts tell me I’ve got good reason to believe that there’s possibly a potential robbery in progress - ‘now’!

For one short second the police officer, his voice and tone still noticeably unchanged, made a brief effort to cut into the for some seemingly strange reason half whispered words coming in his direction - but was just as quickly cut off.

Never mind the ‘how’ Sergeant! - ‘Just’ believe me! You better get a couple of patrol cars over here - and ‘fast’!

Not wasting anymore time on the still unemotional objecting voice once more protesting, let alone a goodbye, he re-cradled the phones hand piece. An acquired familiar warm rush was now quite at home at the base of his neck as he quickly headed for his car.

Once there, his fingers briefly fumbled with the vehicle’s trunk key, no doubt in anticipation of what was about to possibly happen. Then, with the aid of a few appropriate mumbled obscenities, the resisting obstruction finally popped open. Removing the camera from its leather case, now just as if he were on any other assignment, honed reflexes expertly attached a special telescopic photo night lens.

In his profession he had learned very early that the unbiased resting camera, and in a sense a main part of his meal ticket, should never hold anything but an unexposed film - especially whenever having finished earning its last exposure. Scanning the open area around him, the odd distant departing customer passing briefly in front of his vision, it didn’t take long to pick out an old and noticeably abused Ford van sitting with the exhaust from its idling motor floating up and around the tired vehicle’s frame. Its cigarette puffing seemingly lone inhabitant, very noticeably nervous even from as far away where he was standing, was apparently occupied - with his eyes ‘glued’ watching the big food store’s rear exit. And if he’d been even a tiny bit psychic or a fraction of second earlier, he’d have been in time to also see the mans nose in action looking for the still evasive gas leak that had come with the truck.

A soft barely detectable "whir’ from the camera’s mechanical innards instantly joined him in the night’s cool air as he quickly trapped a few thousand word memories of whatever it was that was going on. It only took four exposures to capture the magnified images of the vehicles occupant along with its battered license plate. Illumination from the stores interior had not only aided him with his mission, it also assisted him even more while removing the special lens. Dropping it into his coat pocket, he then tucked the camera inside of his Spring-jacket before once again heading back into the store. Making sure not to glance in the van’s direction, he mentally told himself to calm down and let his trained reflexes do what his career had taught him so far, the need for sleep was no longer anywhere in his thoughts.

Retrieving his partially filled grocery cart from its last involved location, he carefully concealed the ‘Kodak’ in among its contents of cereal and other lonely ‘bachelor’ stereotyped labeled easy meals.

Lady Luck seemed to be still favoring his new mission. It was almost perfect timing when he reached the same location where he had first spotted the suspicious looking figure, while what he was about to become involved with - started to happen. Also now from far in the distance, the sounds of an approaching police siren was starting to make them as its quite probable next location.

A quick glance at the people shopping around him instantly reminded him just how accustomed society was succumbing to the sounds of possible close-by violence. Not one of the patrons faltered briefly with their preoccupied movements at the growing sound of the siren. To him it was quite obvious that the older generation had become either to involved in their own little worlds, or were now so seasoned enough as to not care anymore.

Turning his full attention back to the young man still hiding behind the display of detergent, it was easy to see that the pulsating approaching low whine was not having quite the same calm psychological reaction on him. One hand was pulling nervously at the bottom corner of his black leather jacket, while the other one was poking inside of it at some unseen hidden object. The youth’s worried facial expressions were going unnoticed by everyone else close-by, all that is except him. And as the young mans eyes darted searching around some area out of view from his location he was briefly tempted to risk a quick peek as to what was nervously occupying the youths’ attention.

Using the surrounding shelving arrangements to continue as cover, after once more quickly making sure that others there were still not interested in his own strange behavior, in one smooth motion he lifted the camera free from its hiding place. Snapping off three quick intimidating shots of the unsuspecting nervous youth he then slid the Kodak back under its previous sanctuary. The potential criminal was now swaying slightly as the police sirens grew in volume, and he was starting to get careless as one of his hands exposed the handle of a weapon that had up until now only been suspected of as existing. And the youths agitated emotions were even starting to prove contagious, as he sensed his very own bodies emotions start to accelerate.

Watching the now sweaty expressions on his quarry’s face start to lead towards what he knew could only be eventual panic - he took in a few quick deep breaths in an effort to help regain his own soon to be tested composure.

It didn’t take any expert to tell him that the now jerky movements unfolding before him were an advertisement by the youth that something or someone was coming - as well as whatever this was all about was also about to show itself.

The sudden sounds of tires braking to a screeching halt outside of the big store instantly seemed to have the same effect as if someone had just dropped a metal serving tray on the floor. Only now that the whaling police sirens and pulsating window penetrating blue and red flashing lights were directly in front of the store did any of the late nights shoppers finally start to take notice.

Wisely, he instead kept his eyes fixed on the first suspected but now obvious hoodlum who was seemingly ready to explode. And when his eyes fell next on the gun now in the younger mans hand, he expertly managed to secure two more incriminating photos.

All of the late night shoppers who at this time had drifted towards the commotion at the front of the store failed completely to see the trio of young men appear suddenly at the side of the member of their gang - who had more than apparent to him now been their lookout.

Only his eyes were left to pick up on one of the robber’s hands clamped firmly over the terrified mouth of what gave every indication as being one of the stores late night skinny stock boys. The trembling youths eyes were busy darting back and forth, no doubt in an effort of trying to locate some hope that the menacing sawed off short-barreled weapon now pushing upwards between his chin and Adam’s apple wasn’t really there.

The rest of the group, obviously gang related by appearance and association, were wearing almost identical jackets and clothing as that worn by the youth already trapped on the camera films surface. And from their almost comical ‘Three Stooges’ like heated antics, their whispers and actions said that they were presently having an obvious point of disagreement about what their apparently unrehearsed unprepared next move should be taking them in.

Outside of the store the already nervous young man in the idling van - panicked. Letting the old vehicles rear tires spin, intentionally or not, he started for the closest of one of the huge parking lots many potential escape routes - equally spaced patches of hot black rubber announcing as well as marking his exit.

His hasty sudden choice of departure did not go unnoticed by one of the two police officers now cautiously making their way into the reported crime scene. And as the potential meaning of the speeding vehicles squealing tires registered in the officer’s thoughts, he started to run in its direction - one hand pulling at the revolver on his hip. His loud ensuing shouts of ‘Halt!’ - ‘Stop!’ echoing into the night’s surrounding activity, only seemed to serve as more fuel to enhance the hoodlum’s enhanced desperate need to escape.

Inside of the van the driver, his already stretched jittery nerves were escalated even more - by the gun in hand menacing officer now running in his direction. And as his vision remained a fraction of a second too long on the approaching law enforcer, shopping carts that had been left haphazardly around the lot by those too lazy to deliver them to areas allotted - were sent flying in a variety of crazy ‘gravity defying’ directions. Still focusing on an appealing exit sign now less than hundred yards away, his brief sensation of freedom was dashed as two newly arriving whaling police cars now filled its much needed cavity. Their attention, no doubt from past experience, was instantly drawn to the closing speeding blue van suddenly swerving wildly in an effort to dodge their approach.

In his agitated sudden last second maneuver to avoid the menacing police vehicles he failed to detect the group of shopping carts presently being gathered by one of the store’s employees. He was also far too late to react to the new collection of obstacles now blocking his new unwisely selected escape route. But the choice was not his when the right front fender of his escalating vehicle caught the first of the gathered carts. And as the youth on foot responsible for their collection dove to safety, the front end of the van seemingly slowly started to climb the now abandoned line of empty buggies. Then, as if still in slow motion, the uncontrollable vehicle started to wobble unnaturally on its two left tires. Not being prepared or professionally trained to steer any motorized vehicle in such a manner, it was only natural that the van should travel on for about another forty feet before flopping over onto its side - much like a lazy old tired dog.

Instantly a trail of broken sparks not unlike those on a child’s sparkler on fire cracker day followed in behind its sliding frame - all blending in with the echoing loud thud that had resulted when it had landed. And as it continued to move across the flat pavement the hands of the young man trapped inside instinctively went up to protect his face - when his eye popping vision detected the approaching light abutment now directly in front of him.

By now all eyes within the area were locked onto the drama unfolding before them, as the grating sounds of the sliding vehicle echoed into the night - before it slammed into the massive illuminating structure. Instantly, the abrasive noise was altered into a massive roar of bright fluctuating light, as the van’s grating along the ground exposed gas tank lid ruptured. In the same twinkling of an eye it then instantly exploded straight upward, as a can would react if a giant firecracker had been place beneath it on the same celebration mentioned earlier. And after gravity had done its job and sucked the flaming inferno back down earthward, the next seconds for some as yet unknown reason were filled with a series of short sounding soft pop pops.

The van’s burning illumination, magnified against the dark overhead sky, had drowned out the braking squeals from more halting police vehicles. And as the van gave off one last explosive shudder, its now dead occupant would never know that he alone was responsible for the series of tiny fender benders presently underway on the roadways adjacent to the plaza.

Back inside the food mart, people who had gathered near the store’s giant window automatically jumped backwards as their eyes reacted to the sudden blinding flash in front of them. The deep rumbling sound from the loud explosion followed the bright illumination by only a fraction of a split second, while those inside the store could not only hear and see the display - but also feel it.

Even the reporter, who had been following the robbery groups’ panicky movements, lost his line of concentration, and was disturbed momentarily by the loud eruption.

Naturally it was more than enough to set the already obviously rattled and confused robbers into a complete panic. Two of the men carrying apparent rewards of their efforts dropped a bag each, before pulling out weapons that had been concealed by their jackets also. The robber holding his gun under the totally panic-stricken stock boy’s chin slid his remaining arm around the youth’s waist. Deliberately, he then tried to use the boy’ trembling skinny framework as a shield.

The original youth, his job as lookout now finished, stopped to retrieve one of the discarded cloth bags of money before falling in behind the moving group. Police, who had entered in through the front of the store, were having trouble pushing their way through the crowd of excited people now naturally trying to force their bodies’ foreword out through the tiny automatic doorways.

The first officer managing to break through the confused crowd, drew his gun, and started to run searchingly across the open ends of the long aisles. And it was only quick reactions honed by years of experience that narrowly saved him when one of the panicking robbers shot at his figure, instead claiming a display of cereal as its victim when he dove for safety.

The short bark from the fired weapon was magnified inside the store’s enclosed walls, and it caused the sound to momentarily echo through the building. Next - screams from people frightened by the gunshot so close-by sent those still in the store in all directions, hopefully away from the present danger. Some, not uncommon under these circumstances, were so disorientated that they even unintentionally ran directly into the robbers intended escape path.

By now, the police weren’t the only ones trying to get closer to the fleeing group, as the reporter’s eyes trailed their every hasty move. And the idea of it being luck over opportunity never entered his head at first, not even when the hostage closer to the direction of his chosen vantage point briefly looked both directly and pleadingly at him.

The frightened and confused crooks, now aware of the police officer’s location, while dodging a few misguided fleeing patrons, hastily made their way towards where they knew the store’s rear entrance to be. Meanwhile, without intending or realizing it, a small plan was forming itself at the back of the reporter’s thoughts, as he paced his movements to that of the robbers.

Newly arrived police outside of the store, alerted by the shot from inside the store used their vehicles for protection. As they crouched behind them, their weapons drawn, waited for what was yet to come. Behind them the flames of the still burning van threw an eerie wall of distorted shadows dancing across the lots recently scarred surface.

Cautiously, while watching as much of the store as his vantage point would allow, one of the officers doing his job propped his body up behind his vehicle. Holding a megaphone out in front of him within inches of his lips, his other hand tightly gripped the link between the only real present decisions of life over death. His greatly magnified voice seemed to intimidate a few of the stores close-by patrons, as it easily penetrated deep inside the building. Its loud warning was aimed strictly at the robbers, as it bellowed out - The store is completely surrounded! - Drop your weapons and come out with your hands in the air!

This was exactly the type of temporary distraction the reporter had hoped for. Instinctively each of the hoodlums had turned their weapons and attention in the direction of the now repeating warning. And while each gang member stood with their back to him, his soft-bottomed sneakers silently gripped the terrazzo floor firmly beneath them, as his running form raced towards their preoccupied location.

Not even the object of his attention, the stock-boy, was prepared for his sudden brazen attack. The robber’s grip around the bewildered hostage had slackened slightly during the extra confusion, and it was as the reporter had hoped, just enough to allow the nervous form to be yanked free from his grip. With as much force and momentum as his own young fit body could deliver, he threw his arms in a flying tackling gesture, around the stock boy and carried both of them in his new objectives direction.

Far down the aisle a crouching police officer watched as a strange new figure sailed through the air and grabbed that of the young hostage’s. In a matter of another rushed split second his eyes watched as the two moving forms then completely disappeared down one of the stores scattered distributing conveyor chutes.

The four young robbers, startled by the surprising temporary intrusion, were so confused by it that their following actions had an almost comical affect - when their bodies briefly once more Stooge’ like bumped into each others. One of them, when finally realizing what had just happened, fired his weapon blindly into the dark gaping hole where the two figures had disappeared into only seconds earlier. It was a strange futile gesture that seemed necessary to instantly motivate all of the police into action.

Deep inside the store’s bowels, two tangled human forms unwound and rolled off the pile of empty crushed cardboard cartons that had cushioned their fall. Their reactions were hurried by the sounds of brief gunfire from over their heads, which was instantly followed by more short bursts of loud roaring blasts. Then thumping sounds, as if from running feet, could be faintly detected blending in with the sounds of shouting voices. Curiously the two men’s faces stared up at the underside of the floor over their heads, as if somehow expecting to be able to magically see through it.

The reporter, as quickly as his new surroundings would permit, rushed over-to and then up the huge storage area’s stairwell. He was vaguely aware of the stock-boy’s trailing feet on the stairs behind him when he pushed his way through a swinging door at the top. His ears had told him that there was no more gunfire, and he was just in time to see handcuffs being forced onto the wrists of three of the captured crooks. Instinctively first his feet, then his hands, retrieved the hidden camera, before making his way towards the growing group of not only now courageous but also deeply curious spectators.

At first, as he captured another sharp image of the crime scene, he momentarily forgot that there had been four hoodlums. But then as he used the camera to focus on more priceless memory’s to be drawn from later, his eyes finely settled on what was left of the missing robber - spatters of blood marking the area and his dormant form.

Someone in the group had tried to hide most of the motionless body now lying spread-eagled backwards, about fifty feet away on the floor. But what they couldn’t conceal was the growing large red puddle leaking out from under the coat dropped over the dead man’s face and upper torso. Even anyone with a little bit of reasoning could connect the loud explosion sounds heard earlier together with the shotgun still cradled in one of the police officer’s hands, to come up with the logical conclusion that the dead individual would not be a very pretty sight for any unprepared or unseasoned eyes.

The rest of the commotion in the store was also going briefly unnoticed, as the reporter once again expertly started to snap off picture after picture of the body and its background. Round holes and blood irregularly spread, as if outlining part of a human form, peppered the wall close to the fallen thief. And as the camera continued to capture scene after event filled scene within its memory of the foiled bloody holdup - his eyes and ears failed to pick up on the object pointing in his direction.

The still noticeably nervous stock-boy, holding a shaky finger out in the reporter’s direction, excitedly explained to a police officer as to how the stranger in front of them had no doubt saved his life. While still writing, with a slight nod of his head, the police officer he was taking to motioned one of the junior men to his side. After whispering something into the officers’ ear, he returned his attention to continue copying the nervous young mans explanation of his involuntary involvement in the violent robbery.

The young officer who had just been given the whispered order had to tug on the preoccupied busy reporter’s arm twice before his presence was recognized. Curious people close enough to hear the two men’s possible conversation, the human trait of curiosity ever present, moved in closer at the sound of the policeman’s not yet hardened voice.

Excuse me. - My Captain would like to talk to you - sir.

Content that he had secured more than enough of the self descriptive images of the botched holdup attempt, the reporter smiled silently at the man he estimated to be no more than about his own age. And even though the desire for sleep had long been extinguished by the adrenaline now pulsating through his veins he strangely felt good about the request. Following in behind the officer now leading them towards a group of people also looking in their approaching direction, his instincts told him that his night was about to become more, if possible, more involved. Behind them, the three captured robbers were being vocally objective about being rough handled and hurried out through the store’s rear entrance towards a security wagon that had now arrived, their vulgar angry threatening words trailing them. And if a look of hatred from anger filled eyes alone could kill, the reporter would now be just as dead as their companions - one outside in the flame engulfed get-away vehicle - and the other on the floor only feet away now.

Upon seeing the reporter’s presence now beside him the still excited stock-boy’s trembling hands eagerly reached out and wrapped themselves around those of the hero who in his mind had no doubt just given him back his life. And while his youthful pulsating excited voice stumbled repeatedly over words of gratitude Thank you! - Oh my ‘God’ - thank you! his arms started to pump those of the smiling reporter’s.

It only took about fifteen seconds of such treatment, as his sense of humor told him that his bladder couldn’t take much more abuse before it would be giving up its liquid contents - the reporter had to pry his hands free of the young man’s emotionally provoked strong grip, while explain that he had only done what any other person would have done.

The Captain with a smile now on his face also when seeing the reporter’s predicament, silently motioned again for the same young officer to take the nervous stock-boy somewhere he might possibly get anything that would help him relax.

Now, almost totally alone with the reporter, the Sergeant’s hand came out to shake the hand of an obvious hero’s - while introducing himself. The name’s Captain Knox. And from what I’ve been told - yours - must be …………?

Anyone old enough to hold an intelligent conversation would realize that the long pause at the end of the officers’ words was a request for him to fill in the missing blank. And fill it he did - happily. Serrel, Sir. - Shawn - Shawn Serrel, - reporter for the Sheriton Post.

Taking the offered gesture Shawn could feel strength flow through the Police official’s strong shaking grip, as he returned its friendly gesture while continuing to answer the more statement than question.

I see your people got my call Captain. Any chance I can ask for a favor - in return?

After glancing around at the crowd of curious spectators the officer took him by the elbow and started to walk out of earshot of the small gathering, before replying, From what the overly hyperventilating stock-boy just told me, you definitely deserve something. So - if you’ll pardon the obviously bad pun, go ahead - shoot!

Lifting the camera up to where the Captain could see it, Shawn started to extract the no doubt priceless evidence - as he spoke.

I’d sure as Hell like to get this film and story into my paper as exclusively and quickly as possible, if it’s all right with your people.

The still grinning officer paused only briefly before answering. And the first half of his reply seemed to be directed more at himself than the reporter.

This looks like a pretty routine robbery attempt gone bad, and everyone important seems to be accounted for. So - I don’t for-see any objections. But, I’m going to need a full statement from you on your total involvement. Along with it I’m also going to need a full copy of everything you’ve got on that film.

Pausing long enough to give their surroundings one more quick visual scan, he then continued with a smile, But I think we can hold off on your statement until you’ve had a chance to phone in your story. That is - if you hurry - in both directions. Oh - and a little bit more info you no doubt might use. There’s no apparent history on the guy outside presently throwing a barbecue. The so called leader of this comedy of errors let it slip that he was just someone they happened to pick up in a bar, a ‘no-one’ wanting to be a ‘some-one’, who offered to drive after overhearing them boast about how easy the robbery was going to be.

Shawn’s smile said far more than the thanks he had time for, when he started to head off in search of a telephone.

His movements were just as quickly temporarily halted by the Captain’s voice behind him. Here’s another a little something extra for your help. I’d say you’ve earned it.

His face was puzzled at first as he reached out and took the tiny piece of paper being offered in his direction. A quick glance showed that on it were not only the names and statistics of the robbers, but also a few others involved in the hold-up attempt. He then smiled silently to himself when continuing on his way, as his eyes detected his own name on the sheet.

Only now was he aware of the mild pain stabbing at the top of his head, and when his fingertips prodded the area they detected a slightly sticky bit of moisture. A quick visual inspection showed the reason for both sensations, as his own blood slightly covered the very tips of his fingers. An uneasy sensation, now that he was having a chance to slow down and think about what had happened, settled in his stomach. And the images now inside of his head told him that the injury had in all probability happened when he had landed on the cardboard boxes at the bottom of the delivery chute earlier. But it was only a slight inconvenience that failed to slow his steps, once his eyes cornered the quarry he was hunting.

Once inside the room, undoubtedly a small makeshift office, it took a few whispered words from his smiling lips into the ear of a young woman seated near the office phone to get her to vacate her chair. Ironically he had also managed to find the location where the officer and stock-boy had disappeared too. Once more returning their smiles he lowered his tired form into the still warm, as well as now noticeably scented, recently vacated seat. Allowing his eyes the brief pleasure of watching the shapely figure of the chairs previous owner now leaving the room – they, possibly due fatigue, childishly provoked a brief mental image of how she might look in a bikini.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts - his attention quickly returned to the still cradled reason for him being there. Scooping it from its resting place, his other hand tapped out his News Papers private line. And as he suddenly realized that some of the blood on his fingertips had ended up on the phones numbered keys, his connection slowly clicking through, he made a mental note to remember to wipe them clean before leaving.

Miles away a familiar voice he instantly recognized - finally acknowledged his page with a routine line that was more a habit then necessary.

Sheriton Post. - Ted Williams speaking.

Hi Teddy - it’s Shawn! he instantly started. You better record this. It’s a hot one! But first contact the mobile unit and send it out to where I am as fast as possible, just in case they haven’t picked it up on the police scanner yet. I’m inside the Conway Plaza and by now there must be a lot of action going on outside. This thing’s happened pretty fast and since I’m involved - in all probability the police are not going to let me go much further without me giving them a statement first. So let’s get into it!

This time the voice at the other end of the line, after a few brief seconds of silence no doubt used to contact the requested company’s mobile unit, sounded even friendlier and direct when it cut back in. Okay - ready when you are Shawn. - Hit it!

After you wake up the ‘Chief’ - I want a courier dispatched to Fortnys 24-Hr. Supermarket in the same location I just gave you - immediately! There’s been a badly bungled robbery attempt, and I’ve got exclusive shots on everything inside - and some of what led up to it from outside. Tell whoever’s on call tonight, Gene or Ken, he’s only to see me personally. Then, once you’ve got the film, I want an exact duplicate set of blown up prints, along with a copy of the story’s byline hand delivered to the Sixty Third Precinct in care of one Captain Knox.

Tell him he’s to give them to Mister Knox only, and if the Captain is not there he’s to wait until he does show up - then place them into his hands only! Good contact routes into the police department are hard to come-by, and this one we don’t want to loose. Besides - he’s the one who opened the door and gave me some of the facts we’re about to use. Put a rush on everything and as soon as they’re ready - I re-iterate - ‘hand delivered’!

Now then Teddy - here comes what makes it the news. Earlier tonight, five of this city’s young hoodlums at gunpoint attempted to rob Fortney’s 24 Hour Market - in the Conway Plaza. One - Tony L Tazier resident of 334 Sherbrook Road paid for that mistake with the ultimate penalty - the forfeit of his life. But where there is the potential for a lurking death - the same potential for a full yet to be lived life cannot be too far away, as was evident when stock-boy Bob Summers was snatched from deaths door by one of the late-night shopper’s heroic actions. A young reporter from this very paper, a man showing us that in times of a life threatening situation without hesitation instantly responded as we believe all humans are born to - by willing to risk his own …….

He spoke for at least fifteen minutes nonstop, making sure that he had mentioned every know detail, sordid or not, in his report. And twice during his statement his ears picked up on a low whistle coming from the lips of the man on the other end of the line.

Now, as he continued, he glanced at the watch on his wrist - before adding its time into the phone’s mouthpiece. Almost two hours had passed since he had first, already weary, entered through the store’s front door.

"That’s all of it at this time on this end Teddy. I still have to give my statement to the police, but I’ll wait until I get