The Summer Job - 58. Fox vs. Hounds

Jack Murphy was stunned. No suspect had ever called him minutes before an entry. He had to think on his feet and asked, “How can I help you Mr. Farmer?”

Farmer replied, “I believe we want the same thing: for none of our boys to get hurt. Let’s start there and see if we can accomplish it.”

Murphy asked, “Are you offering to surrender sir?”

“No Detective. I’m not”, Farmer said with a determination that brooked no argument. “I’m not a young man and have no intention of living out my life in prison. No Detective, I’m not planning on surviving this. I’m warning you that the house is wired, and I’m sitting on the trigger.”

Hostage and barricade scenarios played out in Murphy’s mind. They did not have a designated negotiator, but Murphy had taken the course. Murphy asked carefully, “How are we to meet our mutual goals?”

Farmer replied quite reasonably, “I am going to give you several gifts. First, my alarm system is currently off. The front, back and garage doors are unlocked. You will be able to walk right in. Second, all the kids and their... admirers are currently in the living room on the first floor. Third, Jerry Quinn’s drugs are all in the trunk of his car. Finally, in my pantry off the kitchen is a pile of four banker’s boxes with records and evidence you will need. There is an index in a red binder in the box labeled #1. I think your investigators will find it fascinating reading.”

“You should be able to get in and get them out easily. That’s what I want you to do. Once you are done, get away from the house. A song will start playing over the intercom. Once the song is over, the bomb in the basement will go off and, I will no longer be a problem for our fair city.”

Murphy was about to try to negotiate when the line went dead. Then he got on his radio and began issuing orders, “Delta Mike to Team 1 and Team 2. We have a change of plans. Our subject just called on the phone. He wants us to evacuate his house. The alarm is off and the front and back doors are unlocked. Team 1: all the subjects are in the living room on the first floor. Go in, secure them and get them out. Team 2, verify that explosives are present, block the retreat of any runners and retrieve four banker’s boxes from the pantry off the kitchen.”

“Team 1 to Delta Mike: what about Farmer?”

“He’s not coming. He’s in the basement with a bomb. If you hear music start playing, get the hell out.”

Farmer listened to Delta Mike issuing orders over his scanner. It was showtime, and he did a last-minute check to make sure everything was in order. The C4 charges were set, the blasting caps were wired to a box to insure their detonation sequence was correct and everything was tested.

He could see the boys and their admirers partying through some wireless cameras he had discretely placed to keep tabs on things. He checked his personal gear for the last time and dropped the duffle he was carrying down the escape chute in the floor of the armory.

His last step would wait until the very last minute.

Team 1’s two SWAT vans pulled into the circle in front of Farmer’s house precisely at twelve-thirty and Jack Murphy gave the order: “Go, go, go!” Four armed members exited each van and rushed to the front door.

The nine men and one dog of Team 2 moved into the backyard and made entry into the back door. Boom-Boom the bomb dog immediately indicated explosives were in the basement.

Surprise in the living room was complete. The kids and their admirers didn’t have time to panic and do something stupid. They were shocked and awed. They were almost immediately handcuffed and marched outside... except for boys who needed their shorts. Those boys were allowed to put them on before they were marched outside.

The men from Team 2 exited out the front door with the banker’s boxes and went behind the two SWAT vans.

Detective Murphy did a quick count and saw that he had eight boys and five suspects. Then, from the house he heard:

Crazy
I'm crazy for feeling so lonely
I'm crazy
Crazy for feeling so blue…

Murphy realized that Farmer's threat to blow himself up was serious.

He yelled, “Get everybody behind cover. The house is going to blow at the end of that song.”

He pulled out his radio and called, “Dispatch, this is Delta Mike. We’re going to need the fire department out here...”

No one would recognize Farmer in his field kit. He was clothed in all black and the material absorbed infrared. Nothing on him would reflect light.

Farmer watched the SWAT team very professionally clear the house. He smiled broadly when he saw that Team 2 had exited through the front. When he was satisfied that the house was clear, he lowered himself through the escape hatch in the floor, closed it and began shoving the duffle bag in front of him down the escape tunnel. He needed to get well away from the house. The charges wouldn’t cause a large explosion, but there was no need to take chances with the tunnel collapsing.

He flipped on the light he had mounted on his head and soon had a rhythm: shove the duffle, crawl, shove the duffle, crawl.

He surprised himself by starting to sing:

I’m back in the shit again,
Back in Injun country with no friends,
Best to walk away,
Because you’ll die if you stay,
I’m back in the shit again...

Crazy
For thinking that my love could hold you
I'm crazy for trying
And crazy for crying
And I'm crazy for loving you

Detective Murphy heard the last lines of the song and yelled, “Cover! Everybody take cover!”

There were a series of pops and the north-east wall of the house collapsed. Then bright flashes started and an acrid smoke began to rise for the rubble.

Carefully, Murphy moved around the side of the house to get a better look. It looked like a controlled demolition had taken down the side of the house. That was exactly what it was. A fire had started in the rubble which Murphy immediately recognized as Thermite.

He thought to himself Holy shit. He really meant it.

The Thermite would burn for days. The fire department could only hope to keep it from spreading. A Thermite fire would burn until the fuel was exhausted. It would burn hot enough to melt metal and even some stone.

If they even found traces of a body in that inferno, it would be miraculous.

Farmer felt the pops of the C4 transmitted through the ground. Dust fell from the drain pipe and settled. The clock was running. They would eventually find his escape hatch and figure it out, but that was eventually. It would be at least Tuesday, maybe Wednesday or Thursday before the Thermite had cooled enough for anyone to go through the rubble. Even then, so much metal and stone would be fused... he did not envy the forensics guys.

He continued to push the duffle in front of him. It took some time to make it to the point where his escape tunnel intersected a drain pipe. He dropped his duffle down and then crawled into the drain pipe and continued to move.

Soon he began to hear running water and knew he was close. He arrived at a storm drain grate and pulled out a crowbar he had brought for the task. It was rusty but popped open with force.

The big storm drain was dark and full of slow-running water at the bottom. Thankfully, there were raised concrete walks on either side. Farmer lower himself into the large storm drain and replaced the grate.

He turned his light from bright white to red and began heading up the storm drain. A snake slithered through the water making Farmer a little paranoid.

The storm drain ended inside Grissom Park where a stream disappeared into it. There was a locked grate that would allow him to exit. Farmer took out a bolt cutter, cut off the lock, turned off this head lamp and then stood still listening for twenty minutes.

A fire truck had arrived and men of the fire department simply stood by to make sure the Thermite fire didn’t spread.

Ray Daniels took charge of the juveniles and a detective from the Sheriff’s department took charge of the adult prisoners. They transported everyone to the county jail for processing, and it would be a long night for all concerned.

Murphy did what he could to secure the site. Cars with uniformed cops arrived to surround the crime scene. A picked team of six forensics techs from the city police and county Sheriff’s office began to process the scene.

After Farmer was satisfied that no one was nearby, he slipped out of the storm grate, closed it and replaced the lock. Mindful that the police had a drone, he began going west carefully and quietly using as much overhead cover as possible.

It was slow-going, but he was inside Quinn’s house by two-thirty.

He found Doug upstairs doing exactly as he had been instructed: curled up and snoring softly on the couch in Quinn’s man cave.