A Tommy Logan Story Read online

  I arrived at the Agency to see ol’ Gus working the entry booth. We kept him on through the week when the streets were busiest to maintain a visual presence. On the weekends, our ID’s allowed us entry through the gate. I pulled up and rolled my window down to see Gus grinning ear to ear. I held up my ID. “Morning, Gus.”

  “Mornin’ Mr. Logan, I know it’s you a mile before you get here. Ain’t heard a car in all my days that sounds as good as yours.”

  Gus was an older fellow, late sixties or seventies. Good guy, I’d usually sit around and chat for a few minutes. No one else cared to, but I genuinely liked the guy. “You tell me the same thing every morning, Gus.”

  “And ever mornin’ you smile ear to ear. Ain’t many of your kind left, lovin’ cars like you do.”

  “A shame, ain’t it?”

  “Sure is.” Gus gave a sly smile. He knew what was going on, why I was late coming in. “How’s that lady friend doin’? I figure mighty well since this is the second time you’ve showed up a bit later than usual.”

  “I’m still early, Gus.”

  “That you are, Mr. Logan. Hell, be another hour before I open these gates back up for anybody. Another two before night patrol comes to check in.”

  “Hate to cut it short this morning, but I gotta get up there. Late and all.”

  Gus laughed as he raised the gate. He shook his head, grinning, his gold tooth catching the light of his small booth. “I tell you, the ASA would go belly up without you, Mr. Logan. You have a blessed day.”

  I gave him a smile as I shifted into first. “You too, Gus.” I pulled forward, bumping the throttle a bit more than usual. Figured that would make Gus’s morning since he loved cars as well. I drove down and around to the bottom floor, the parking area empty, as usual except a few unassigned Agency cars. Damn Fords, always preferred anything made by GM. I glanced over to my passenger seat and seen my ASA ballcap. I pulled the mirror down to look at my shaved head, it was getting a little long. I could even see hints of brown, so I put the ballcap on, covering my overgrown mess.

  The elevator door opened to an empty office space filled with empty cubicles. I walked through the maze-like area to my office, opening the door and lowering the blinds on the large window that peered out. On my desk were the reports from Sunday’s Protocol Thirteen. Jenna, the hostage I had saved, had been placed in the care of a girl’s home not far from the ASA building. There was a letter on top of the files. It must have come after I left the day before. Sometimes that intern was lazy as hell getting the mail to the top floor. I sat down and seen the letter was from Jenna, her address was ‘St. Helen’s Home for Young Ladies’. I knew the place, I had taken a few girls there when it first opened a couple years back. The letter opened easily, especially compared to those ASA memorandums. I don’t know why things hadn’t gone completely digital yet, most official correspondence was. I suppose they got to keep the postal service guys employed somehow. Anyways, I looked at the letter and started reading.

  “Dear Mr. Logan

  They say you’re the one that saved me. I never got to thank you. I’m sorry if my dad hurt you and I know my mom would have been happy that you got me out. He wasn’t always like that but he just kept getting angrier and angrier the past few years. Him and Mom would fight often, it started as arguments then he’d start hitting her. The day you saved me, it was bad. I tried to help Mom but he hit me, then shot her. I thought he was going to kill me too. I’m sorry you had to kill my Dad, part of me will miss him, but I know you had to do it, to save me. I just wanted to thank you. I asked Mr. Ramirez if I could thank you in person and he said he didn’t know, but he gave me the address to write you. I’d like to thank you in person before they send me to New York to live with my aunt. They said she might take me.

  With Love and Thanks,

  Jenna Price”

  That letter moved me. I remember it word for word somehow. Just the fact that she did have family and they ‘might’ take her pissed me off. She was an innocent girl, a child, caught up in a bunch of bull shit and now she is the one being punished. I wondered why Ramirez hadn’t said anything about that, probably busy. He did have a family of his own and I rarely seen him since I rarely got out of that shitty office.

  A few hours passed, agents began filling the office space. I stared at more paperwork, daily reports, and logs, requisitions to approve or deny. In hindsight, I hated that damn job. No sooner than the clock ticked 9 am, Commander Gibbons practically kicked my door in. I knew this was it, what I had waited for all week. I expected my ass chewing first thing Monday morning, but it never came. I stood and assumed the position of attention. “Commander.”

  “Shut the fuck up and get your ass in my office!”

  He was an asshole. I watched him storm out of my office, his black slacks held up by his suspenders, button-up shirt pushed out by his belly. This guy looked like he walked right out of a 90’s police drama with his attire and graying hair. I sighed and left my office and walked right next door to his. Gibbons sat at his desk brooding and such. All the guy did was brood and gripe about expenditures and making sure we maintain a surplus in our budget. That was something I probably shot in the head. “Commander Gibbons, you asked to see me, Sir?”

  He glared at me. It was a straight-up death stare if there ever was one. Felt like he was peering into my very soul. “Sit the fuck down, Logan.” I sat down and before I could say anything he went on with his ranting. “Goddammit, Logan! What the fuck were you thinking? An airdrop? FCS? Evacuation of a whole fucking city block? Over one hostage? Do you have any fucking idea how much shit I’ve been dealing with every day because of your sideshow?”

  “No, Sir, I don’t, Sir.”

  “God damn right you don’t! Do you know how many claims of damages are coming out of our budgets? How many thousands in damages, how many thousands in some kind of traumatization bull shit? Not to mention the fuel for the chopper and the cost of evacuating a whole city block? For what? One girl?”

  “Yes, Sir!” I shouted. It never felt like he had the people’s interest at heart. I mean what the fuck else were we supposed to do if not serve and protect? Yeah, sure some windows got smashed and pretty much everything in that apartment building got ruined because of the FCS gas. Big fucking deal. We saved an innocent girl and put down a scumbag murderer and skipped the whole dog and pony show of a trial.

  “Just because you’re a god damned war hero or whatever doesn’t mean you can do what the fuck you please! I wish I knew what it was you did to the Chinese so I could see if you are actually a war hero, but your files are sealed. Nobody will even give me a peep at them.”

  “Classified, Sir. Need to know basis… And you don’t need to know!”

  He started swearing more and screaming, but at that point, I had already tuned his loudmouth out. I had a good morning, wasn’t going to let his fat ass ruin it. Then I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out while Gibbons kept running his mouth and seen ‘Shey Kennedy’ across the screen. Shey calling that early was out of the ordinary. She hated getting up early.

  “Don’t you fucking dare!” screamed Gibbons.

  Gibbons didn’t realize that when it came to my family, I didn’t give two fucks about him, his position, his screaming, his fucking anything. I flipped him the bird and answered the phone. “Hey, Squirt. What’s up?” I wasn’t greeted by the normally happy and free-spirited Shey, but by her sobs and heavy breathing. “Shey, what’s wrong?”

  “Uncle Tommy… It’s Mom.”

  My heart skipped a beat and a sick feeling filled my stomach. I knew what was wrong, but I asked anyway. “What’s happened to your mom?”

  “Last night… She was killed. God, they killed her!”

  I was speechless for a moment. Other than Shey, Angel was my only family. Our only family. Shey’s dad hadn’t been around for years. I fought back the tears, I knew I had to be strong for her. “It’s going to be all right. I’ll be home first thing in the morning. Do you
have a friend you can stay with or stay home with you?”

  “Uh-huh,” she sobbed.

  “Don’t talk to anyone, just go home or go to your friends. You call me if you need anything. I’ll be home by the time you wake up, I promise.”

  “Okay. Please hurry. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Squirt.” I ended the call, squeezing the phone with all my might.

  “How dare you!” screamed Gibbons, pissed about me taking the call.

  “Shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down!” I screamed back. That wasn’t the time for his bullshit. Gibbons slowly sat down, still giving me his death stare. “I need a transfer to Grundy, Virginia. Now.”

  “A transfer? You’re not going anywhere! You’re staying here and cleaning up your goddamned mess!”

  I wasn’t about to deal with him. I opened the contacts in my phone and Dialed Colonel James Johnson. His phone rang once before he answered. “Logan! Been a while, how’s it going?”

  “Not good, sir. I need a transfer home, immediately.”

  “It’s done. You shouldn’t have to call me for that. You know you got choice of any assignment you want after what you and the rest of TacSIX did in China.”

  TacSIX was the codename for my special operations team in China. We had hit Beijing in the last push of the war and forced them to surrender. Our methods were brutal, a lot of innocents died when we detonated our bombs along Lake Park, the palace, and the heavily fortified parliament building. Only four of us made it out for extraction. Not thirty minutes later, General and acting Commander in Chief, Wiu Xienjinn called in the surrender. This was all sealed information until now I guess. I took a deep breath. “See, Commander Gibbons here doesn’t understand that and refuses to let me go.”

  “Is that so?” asked Johnson. “Put the Commander on the phone, please.”

  I reached Gibbons the phone. He hesitantly placed the phone to his ear, “Yes?” After a few moments of Johnson screaming the only way seasoned vet could, Gibbons muttered, “I… I understand Sir.”

  Gibbons reached me the phone. I placed it back to my ear. “I appreciate it.”

  “No trouble at all, Logan. I’m sure the commander will be a bit more humble in the future. I know Grundy is your hometown, but why do you suddenly want to go back? You always said you hated it.”

  I took a deep breath. I couldn’t ignore Johnson’s question. He always took care of TacSIX and made sure we had the best intel, the best gear, everything we needed to give us the best chance of coming back alive. “My sister, Sir. She was killed last night.”

  “Logan, I’m so sorry. I know how much she meant to you. If you need anything, just call me, it’s yours.”

  “Thank you, Sir. I’ll give you a call once everything is settled down.” I ended the call and gave my own death stare to Gibbons. “What did the Colonel have to say, Commander?”

  “I’m to authorize your transfer, effective immediately… Also, if he gets wind of any more complaints about me… I’ll never be seen again.”

  I nodded in satisfaction towards Gibbons. It wouldn’t be the first time the government had made someone disappear, wouldn’t be the last. “I’d walk a line, Gibbons. The Colonel doesn’t make threats, he makes promises.” I turned away and returned to my office. The paperwork on the desk, the documents in my file cabinet… I didn’t care about them. My personal things still sat next to my desk in their box. I grabbed them and out I went. Every agent on the floor must have stopped and stared at me walking out. They must have thought I got terminated after Sunday’s incident.

  I exited the elevator into the parking garage, now full. I approached my baby, popping her trunk. No sooner than I had placed my things inside and closed the trunk, I heard Ramirez. “Tommy! Hey Tommy!”

  I turned to see him running towards me, his black BDUs pressed and fit for duty. “Hey, Alex.”

  “Don’t tell me Gibbons canned you?”

  I shook my head slowly. “No, nothing like that. I got a transfer.”

  “What? Why?” he asked.

  “I gotta go home, man. My sister was killed last night.”

  Ramirez stared at me blankly for a few moments. He seemed in shock. Murder happened rarely in Pittsburgh, less in smaller areas. Ramirez wrapped his arms around me. “Damn, man. I’m sorry.” He pulled away. “Did they at least get who did it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I feel sorry for them, then. Killing them would have been a kindness compared to what you’re going to do. If anybody can find them, you will.” I nodded to Ramirez. He had been one of my best friends, hell, one of my only friends in Pittsburgh. He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Keep in touch, you can’t just move away and get rid of me.”

  “You’re stuck with me.”

  Ramirez gave a laugh and turned away. I got in my car and started her up. For once, not even the note of her symphony of pure muscle could bring me joy. I drove up to the booth where ol’ Gus looked at me in confusion. I never left early, if I was going out it was in an ASA vehicle. He leaned out of his booth. “Mr. Logan? Is everything alright?”

  “Nah, Gus, it isn’t.”

  “Ah, don’t tell me that asshole Gibbons fired you.”

  “Nothing like that, I just gotta go home.” I think Gus could tell something bad had happened. Maybe it was the tears I was fighting back, or maybe just the expression on my face… Maybe the paler than normal complexion. “It’s been a pleasure, Gus. Take care.”

  “I understand, Mr. Logan. I’ll pray for you. I’ll pray that the Lord watches over you wherever you go.”

  “Thank you. Goodbye.” Gus raised the gates. Traffic hadn’t got heavy in this part of the city yet, so I figured what the hell. I’ll give ol’ Gus a show. After all, I did like the guy. I held the clutch down and shifted into second, redlining my engine. The clutch dumped to the sound of squealing tires and the sight of white smoke in the rearview. I turned the wheel right as the car moved forward and fishtailed onto the street. While feathering the throttle, I counter steered to keep her straight until I finally let off. Gus must have got a kick out of that, even if I didn’t for once.

  I had one stop to make before returning to my apartment. I wanted to see Jenna Price. She lost her family and I had just lost mine. Loneliness was a terrible feeling. I still had Shey, but Jenna had no one save for an aunt who may or may not give a rat’s ass. I made my way downtown, a few blocks from the agency. My eyes gazed at the cars, the pedestrians just walking down the sidewalk, dawdling across the crosswalks. They appeared to not have a single care, going about their lives in an ignorance fueled bliss. Yesterday that was me. I wished it was still yesterday. Even now, I wish I could go back to the day before all this started and be one of them – Just someone waiting in line for their fucking coffee, cussing out the asshole who cut them off at the intersection… Just anybody other than me.

  My racing thoughts aside, I had reached St. Helen’s. I parked the car beside the sidewalk. Getting out, I stared at the run-down townhouse that pretty much had a St. Helen’s sign slapped on it. The usual, some non-profit organization trying to bump their funding with as many dumps as it could buy up. I turned the brass knob, opening the creaky door to the sound of teenage girls rampaging down the stairs. They glanced at me but paid no real attention and ran on down the hallways. Stepping in, the floor creaked loudly like the wood was rotting or the floor joists were losing their strength. A few moments later, a young woman, probably twenty or so, emerged from a living space into the hall. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I’m Tommy Logan, I’m here—”

  “To see Jenna?” she interrupted. I replied with a simple nod. The woman gave a slight, seemingly saddened smile. “She was hoping you would come.”

  “How is she?”

  “As good as can be expected. I can’t really get her to eat much and she hardly speaks.”

  I let out a sigh, I wasn’t surprised. Honestly, I don’t see how she was holding it together
as well as she was. Shit was horrible to say the least; her mother was murdered in front of her. Then, I killed her father in order to save her life. Losing one of the two people that were supposed to care for you the most, then being betrayed by the other? Not an easy pill to swallow. “Where is she?”

  “Up the stairs and down the hall, last door on the left.”

  “Thank you.” I nodded my head and climbed the stairs. I made my way down the short hall that had three or four doors on each side. I could hear bickering of some teenage dribble about that guy being cute, or whoever stole my hairbrush. I finally reached Jenna’s door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly three times. No response. She was probably hoping whoever it was would just go away and leave her alone. I knocked a couple more times and said, “Jenna? It’s Tommy.”

  I immediately heard the sound of squeaking bed springs and feet hitting the floor. Her steps were brisk and heavy, thudding on the old hardwood. The door quickly swung open. “Mr. Logan?” she asked with a soft and shaken voice.

  Looking down into her eyes, I saw sorrow, anger, loneliness, and so many things I can’t begin to describe so I’m not even going to try. Her blue eyes glistening with tears. I nodded to her. She immediately grabbed me, squeezing and burying her head in my chest. Her short breaths turned into sobs. I couldn’t do anything in that moment but hold her. Understanding her feelings towards me wasn’t something I could do; only sense I could make of it was she was a girl who was grateful. “It’s alright.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes puffy and cheeks flustered. Her hair was a mess like she didn’t care. No doubt she was drifting into a dark place, a place I had been before and in ways, still made my home there. It terrified me to see someone so young, so innocent, someone with so much life in front of them to be teetering towards a dark and horrifying place. “Can I come in?” I asked. Jenna nodded and turned away. She sat down on her bed, crossing her legs and lowering her head. I stepped in, seeing an old chair off to the side. I drug it across the scuffed floor and sat in front of the bed. Glancing around the room, I took note of the poorly painted walls and the ancient-seeming curtains on the room’s only window. “So, do you like it here?” I asked like an idiot. Of course she didn’t like it there, it wasn’t home. Her home was brutally taken from her.