“I don’t care if it takes us to retirement, we’re fixing that gun,” Andy said determinedly. He was referring to a shotgun that had broken during practice. Andy and Johnson had disassembled the entire thing trying to fix it. They hadn’t accomplished much.
Johnson took a bite of his sandwich. A plain, white-bread turkey-and-lettuce sandwich. Andy wondered how Johnson could eat something so dry. At least add a bit of mayo or butter, he thought.
Once he swallowed, Johnson said, “You’re saying that you can get Steve Jablonsky on your cell phone, correct?” Andy tried to see though Johnson’s shades to find out if there was any mirth in the statement. Even though it was night and they were off, both agents still wore their shades and suits.
Andy determined it was impossible to see through the shades. Besides, Johnson never showed mirth anyway. “I can get Steve Jablonsky,” he said shortly.
“What about John Williams?” Johnson asked before taking another bite of his sandwich.
Andy set the spoon down into his soup bowl. “John Williams too.”
“Bernard Herrmann?”
“Bernard Herrmann,” Andy answered emotionlessly. Their interaction was like one from the original Dragnet series. Cold, emotionless, quick.
Andy enjoyed the Fourth of July celebration he and Johnson had every year. They’d come to this diner, sit at this booth, eat soup and a sandwich, talk, and leave. A good tradition.
Andy picked up his sandwich. He thought he heard yelling outside. Must’ve been some happy patriots looking at fireworks. He watched Johnson take another small bite of his turkey.
Then the yelling grew very loud and a hoard of people passed by the booth’s window. The primarily male crowd was screaming and knocking over newspaper dispensers and hot dog stands.
Both agents paused mid-bite when the crowd passed. Andy contemplated whether or not he should pursue for a moment.
Then Johnson stood up and threw a bill on the table. Andy stood up and grabbed his suit coat. Then the two raced outside, ignoring the strange look from the waitress.
***
“Agent Frink, we have a four-twenty-two. Rioters appear to be heading up Chicago Avenue from the Summerfest grounds. Please notify local law enforcement. Agent Johnson out,” Johnson said, knowing Frink would be listening to the earpiece transmissions box. Johnson and Andy had been running after the riotous group, reluctant to pull out their weapons.
Agent Andy ran toward a vehicle that had been forced to swerve onto the sidewalk by the crowd. Andy pulled out his badge and yelled, “Federal agent!” to the confused driver. The woman got out and the agents got in.
Andy pulled the car onto the street and turned it around. He nearly hit a FedEx truck, but he managed to avoid even scratching the paint. He was soon in pursuit of the destructive crowd.
“Turn left,” Johnson ordered as they came upon an intersection. Andy looked to the right and saw cars blocking the street, so he obeyed Johnson. At the next intersection, Johnson commanded Andy to turn right. Andy saw Johnson’s plan and sped up, avoiding civilian traffic with ease. He could hear sirens nearby.
This street was clearer, and they would be ahead of the rioters in a few seconds. Then they just had to turn back onto Chicago Avenue and they would be able to block the crowd’s path.
Andy turned right again soon and saw the crowd blocking downtown traffic again. They seemed to be huddled around a small park which held a statue of the soldiers erecting the flag at Iwo Jima.
They seemed to be saluting it.
***
“So, I hear you and Andy rained on a parade,” Frink said back at the office. Johnson was filing paperwork nearby. “You guys really are downers.”
“It was merely a group of overactive patriots,” Johnson replied as he stapled some papers.
“I see. Well, hopefully it didn’t ruin your tradition.”
Johnson placed a pile of papers on a letter tray. “You can fold these, put them in an envelope, and mail them to the police station. It’s my official report as a supposed FBI agent of the event.”
“Mr. Specific, eh?” Frink stated as Johnson got up. Frink sighed. “We really need a bureaucrat to do this for us. I think they’re on sale at Administrators Central today.” Johnson gave Frink a blank-face sardonic look.
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