Nowhere to Run - Chapter 18

Ned Janerone arrived at the police station at 6:30pm.  Word had come through that a set of fingerprints matching Dimitri Michaels were sent in from some no name town in West Virginia. He had hopped the first little prop plane he could get and landed twenty minutes ago. His hands itching to get around the throat of Dimitri Michaels. He was never going to live down being found trussed up like a Christmas pig in his last run in with Dimitri. The gloves are off now, no more Mr. Nice Guy.

     "Who’s in charge here?" Janerone demanded as he entered the station house.

     Lifting his nose from a Hunting & Fishing magazine, Officer White looked over the man that just entered.

     "Well?" Janerone walked over to the desk. "Who’s in charge?"

     Officer White decided he wasn't going to like this man. He hated Yankees that walked in like they owned the place. Throwing down the magazine, he stood up to face the man.

     "You need some help?"

     "Are you in charge?" Janerone barked.

     The man swaggered a bit, resting his hands on his gun belt. "I am. You got a problem?
     "I'm here for Dimitri Michaels. We got a report you have him in your lock up."

     The officer picked up the clipboard from the nail on the wall and took his time looking it over. When he finally looked back at Janerone, he was shaking his head.

     "Who wants to know?"

     Janerone leaned in, resisting the urge to grab the man by that skinny little neck, “Government anti-terrorist unit, you putz, you got him or not?"

     White was wary now.  He looked at Janerone with renewed interest. "Anti-terrorist?"

     "Dimitri Michaels is one of the most dangerous terrorists in the nation. We got a fingerprint check you ran says you arrested him this morning. Where is he?"

     The adam's apple in Whites neck bobbed repeatedly as he swallowed hard. "There has to be some mistake…."

    "No mistake. I saw a copy of his prints myself." He was through being jerked around by this simpleton, "Let’s go. I want him now."

     White licked his lips and nervously turned the clipboard in his hands.  "C-can I see some ID, sir?"

     Janerone's face turned red as he retrieved his badge from an inside pocket. Thrusting it in the man's face he grabbed Officer White’s tie and pulled him into it.

     "Hey!" White fumbled for his gun.

     "Don't!" Janerone had his weapon out before White had the snap off his holster. "We have to come to some sort of an understanding now, Officer…?"

     "White, Officer White." He answered, visibly trembling.

     "Good, now you just take me to Dimitri. I'll sign any papers you need and we'll be on our way."

     White nodded and Janerone released him.

     "Now," Janerone ordered.

     "W-w-we d-don't have him. I don’t know who you are talking about."

     Janerone's eyes narrowed and White could see the heat rising in his face once more, a flare of red moving up from the collar of his white shirt. He hastened to explain.
     "Look!" He said holding up the clipboard. "There is no one here by that name."

     Janerone took the clipboard and quickly scanned it. "You ran his prints!"

     "We didn't. We only ran…" The realization dawned on White then and he paled. The car thief that he arrested this morning.

     "Only ran what?" demanded Janerone pounding his fist on the desk. He couldn't believe he was loosing Michaels again!

     "Ah, we, ah, there was this one guy in here this morning. His sister said he was intellectually challenged and…"

Janerone swore loudly and pulled two photographs from his shirt pocket. He thrust them in the man's face, barely containing his rage. "Was this them?"

     White took the pictures and held them down where he could see them. "Yep, that’s him. His sister said he was in an accident a few years back and has the mind of a six year old now."

     "And the other photo?"

     "Oh, that’s his sister." White studied the picture, "but she was a whole lot prettier than this here picture."

     "And you let them go?" Janerone hissed his rage mounting at the man’s stupidity.

     "Well…" White flipped the page on his clipboard and pointed, "She signed for him and everything."

     Janerone grabbed the clipboard and read the name. Nancy Janerone signed for Mickey Janerone. Now they were mocking him. His rage rose another notch.

     "You idiot!” He spat out, “You ran a fingerprint check! Weren't you going to wait for that to come back? What was the point of running the check to begin with?"

     White shrugged. “Well, his sister said—“

     "What kind of office are you running here? You let international terrorists come and go as they please? Why didn't you wait? You should have held him until the prints came back."

     "Well," White fumbled for an answer, "She was, I mean, he didn’t have any ID on him and.."

     "Didn't you think that was strange?"

     "At first, but then his sister came in and said.."

     "He doesn't have a sister! That woman was his accomplice. You let two known terrorists escape right out from under your damn nose!"

     Janerone looked ready to kill and White was shifting back and forth uncomfortably.  Not knowing what else to do he tried to explain.

     “She seemed so nice. She was only concerned for her brother and she said he watched judge shows.”

     “Judge shows?”

     Janerone knew if he didn't get out of this office soon he was going to have to shoot this man. What a screw up. Dimitri and his little girlfriend had both been here and he missed them by hours. Shoving the clipboard off the desk he turned to go. He was halfway to the door when Officer White spoke up again.

     "Oh! Sir, wait! She gave me her phone number!" He proudly waved the small scrap of paper back and forth.

Janerone went out the door with out turning around.

"Moron,” he muttered.

Once on the street, Janerone flipped open his cell phone and called in to the headquarters. "Michaels is gone."

He held the phone away from his ear as the director raged, letting loose a torrent of foul language and threats. Then finally he asked, "What the Hell happened?"

Janerone answered as briefly as he could. Placing all the blame on the sheriff.

"We'll take his job." Swore the director, "Idiots shouldn't be allowed to wear badges!"

"Yes, sir.” Janerone answered, grateful the director's wrath was aimed else where for the moment. Before he could add anything else the line went dead.

“Great, just great.” Janerone walked over to his rented Jeep Cherokee and slammed his fist down on the trunk. The curses he spat forth made everyone with in earshot turn around. One young mother covered her son's ears and hustled him away.

To be so close, again, and to not have Dimitri Michaels in custody. It was driving him crazy. He didn't know how much longer he could stand being one step behind and one day too late. Or like today, only hours late. He pounded the jeep’s hood once more before he opened the door and got in. He didn’t know how he was going to explain the dent on the hood to the rental company and he didn't care. Janerone could feel his own position within the Team was slipping into jeopardy. And it was all Dimitri Michaels’ fault. First the fiasco at the safe house and now this.

     Well, it wasn't going to happen again, he decided. There was no way he was going to send his career down the crapper for Dimitri Michaels.  He would get him one way or the other if it took every last breath in his body.  And when he finally caught up to him, he was personally going to choke the life out of him with his bare hands. He gunned the engine and headed back to the airport.