I was tired when I got into work at 0900 the next morning. The Lieutenant called me into his office.

“Eugene PD has found the Chevy.” He told me.

“Which, Jake Gorman's?”

“Yeah, it was in a creek. Nothing inside and looked as if it had been involved in a collision. They've searched the surrounding area, but nothing.”

“Is it being recovered for forensics?” I asked.

He just looked at me and I grinned.

“Any sightings?”

He shook his head, so I told him what I had found out.

“So, the General knows more than he's telling?”

“He knows that Goreman is missing. I never told him which of the three was missing, yet he knew. He knows where Jellyman is, but what his connection is, I have no idea. I just have a bad feeling about all this!”

John frowned.

“When you started this, I thought it was a load of bullshit. But now, I'm not so sure. If Jellyman was a covert operator and is used to killing, then he has nothing to lose by taking you out. It would show their hand, but then you already did that by speaking to the General. There is something big at the bottom of this. Otherwise, why would Goreman tell his wife that big bucks were coming his way? It is either drugs or a heist. What was the name of the man in California?”

“Carl Andrews.”

“Andrews. What do we know about him?”

“I will check. The military didn't mention him yesterday.”

“Okay do that. I want you to work with someone else on this one.”

“Why?”

“I want someone watching your back.”

“Okay, who?”

“We've a new guy on attachment. He's an ex Air Force SP too. He is an officer with Merryville PD at the moment. He's coming in about an hour. So use him as the brawn and you do the brainy stuff, okay?”

“Okay, thanks.”

I returned to my desk and put in another call to Rod Clarke, giving him what I had. Again, he told me he'd get back to me.

The office was quite empty, with everyone out on enquiries or at court. John appeared with a big beefy guy of about twenty eight. He looked like a pro-football player, he was huge.

“Sherri, this is Martin Gilbridge. He's on attachment and we spoke about him earlier, remember?”

“Yeah, hi Martin. I understand you are attached to me for a while?”

He grinned.

“Yeah and Eddie Townsend says ‘Hi!',” he said as we shook hands. Eddie had been my SP Sergeant in the UK.

John left us talking about mutual friends and locations. I then got a call from Rod.

“Hi Rod.”

“Sherri, I don't know what you got into, but it seems that some brass is involved. As soon as I tried checking about the scorpion unit, I had a bird colonel after me, wanting to know what I was doing and why.”

“No shit, what happened?”

“Sherri, you know the MPs, I simply asked him what he was trying to hide and he back-peddled as fast as he could. But the file is gone. I put a report in and the wheels are in motion, but you've upset some influential people!”

“Carl Andrews?”

“Good service record. Was in Signals, and attached briefly to Scorpion. Now lives with his wife and kids in San Francisco, running his communications and computer business.”

“Anyone else?”

“Not that I can find. But someone else was asking about Jellyman.”

“Who?”

“You ain't gonna like this. The FBI.”

“Shit! What for?”

“Search me, kid. I'm a grunt, remember, they tell me nothing. It seems you have more than they do.”

“Have you a name?”

“Special agent Simon Hawkins. Portland office.”

“That's a little close to home. Okay, thanks Rod. I'm obliged to you.”

“Anytime Honey. Good luck. Oh, and if you're down this way visiting your folks, drop in, I'll buy you a beer.”

“That's a date. Bye.”

I told Martin what I had and what I was up to. He was immediately interested and asked some good questions. I asked him to do some checks on the three families we had in the area - the Carters, Goremans and Myers. Meanwhile, I called the FBI.

Eventually I got Special agent Hawkins.

“Agent Hawkins, my name is Sherri Brewster, I am a detective here in Oregon. I understand we have a joint interest in Frank Jellyman. Perhaps we can share information?”

“I'm sorry, my investigation is classified. But you tell me what you have.”

“Sorry bub, it doesn't work like that. As it happens, I know where he is, so, it looks like I'll go get him and then you can whistle Dixie!” I put the phone down on him.

He rang back.

He made several veiled threats about concealing evidence and I was rather rude to him. I told him that if he wanted to talk to me, then he could just get his ass down here with all the information he had and we'd pool resources. I wasn't prepared to talk about it on the telephone.

Martin came back having discovered that Jake had a girl friend over in Freetown, as it happened. I called Lou and asked about Annabelle Leary.

“Yeah, I know her. Her husband is inside for a two bit robbery in Eugene last year. She has two small kids and she works evenings in a bar over in Williams Pass. What has she done?”

I told him the background and he seemed interested.

Martin and I got in the car and I drove to Freetown. We found the address and I went up to the door. Martin hung back. He had been told to watch my back and that's what he was doing.

A weary young woman opened the door. She wasn't much older than me, yet she looked wasted. She was carrying a toddler and another child was screaming somewhere in the house.

“Annabelle Leary?” I asked.

She nodded.

I showed her my badge, and her eyes rolled heavenward.

“Oh, for God's sake! Warren is in State Pen, I keep telling you people!”

“I'm not here about your husband. I'm here about Jake.”

She looked at me.

“Jake who?”

“Your boyfriend, Jake Goreman.”

She looked around the street and opened the door.

“You'd better come in, I don't want the neighbours to hear.”

We entered. The house was a real tip. She tried to tidy up a bit, but in reality she just moved a pile of trash to a different location.

“You want a coffee or something?”

“No thanks. Just tell me, when did you last see Jake?”

“How did you know we were seeing each other? I thought it was a secret,” she asked.

“I can't tell you that, ma'am, but we really need to find him.”

“I can't remember, a couple of weeks ago, I guess.”

“Try to be more exact.”

She frowned. She was as unkempt and untidy as the house. I just hoped she tidied up when she went to work.

“It wasn't last weekend, it must have been the weekend before. Yeah, he complained that his car didn't like the snow and it snowed that weekend, on the Saturday.”

“What time?”

“He came into the bar late, about ten and then we left together. We came back here and he left on the Sunday at about noon.”

“Where was he going?”

“He mentioned something about his ship coming in.”

“What ship?”

“I don't think it was a real one. I think it was a saying. He said he was coming into some money. He promised to get me out of this dump and into a new house in Eugene, nearer my folks.”

“How much money?”

She smiled, a sad smile.

“He's a gambler. There's no money, he lives the gambler's dream.”

“How much Annabelle?”

“A million.”

Martin whistled and I looked sharply at him.

“Look, we've found his car trashed in a ravine. He is missing and we suspect that he is in danger. What else do you know?”

“Nothing I swear?”

“Did he speak to anyone, here or at the bar?”

“Not so I noticed.”

“Did he make any calls?”

“I don't know, maybe.”

I looked at Martin and he nodded. He immediately picked up the phone and started getting a log of all calls made from this number.

“Has he any personal affects here?”

“Yeah, a case in my room and a box in the garage. His wife kicked him out, you know that?”

“Yeah I know. Were you the girl he had a fight with his brother in law over?”

She blushed.

“So, now you know how we know,” I said.

We took the case and the box and I gave her a receipt.

“Now, is there anything else?”

She shook her head.

“May we look?”

“Be my guest.”

Martin and I searched the house. It was filthy, so we wore rubber gloves.

It was from the loft that Martin gave a triumphant shout.

He produced a water-proofed box, about ten inches by six by four.

“It was in the water tank!” he said.

“What's this?” I asked Annabelle.

“I don't know. I've never been up there. Its either Jake's or Warren's.”

“Do we open it?” Martin asked.

“No, we'll let the crime scene people do that. We don't know who put it there, so we need every bit of forensic evidence we can get.”

We finally left Annabelle and went back to the office. I booked the package in, asking the forensic boys to check it out.

I waited and watched them at work. They found Jake's fingerprints on the inside of the wrapping and $50,000 in $100 bills inside.

However the piece de resistance were two plates - the printing plates for the bills. The forensic man whistled.

“Sherri, this is amazing. These are forged plates and this cash is all counterfeit. Very good, but as phoney as a politician's promise.”

I smiled, as things were becoming clearer now.

I booked the phoney cash and plates into property and returned to the office.

When I arrived, I saw a man in a smart suit waiting with the Lieutenant. I smiled, the FBI didn't hang about.

“Sherri, this is…”

“Special Agent Simon Hawkins, FBI from Portland.” I said.

The man grinned.

I'd expected an officious man with no sense of humour, and I'm not sure whether I was what he expected. It seemed we were both surprised.

He was a lean man, not much taller than me. He had sandy hair and a nice smile. The suit was an expensive one and he filled it well.

“I owe you an apology, Detective,” he said, shaking my hand.

“Oh?” I said.

“Yeah, I behaved like an asshole.”

“Yeah, you did,” I agreed.

“So, forgive me?” he said with a smile.

“Maybe. It depends what you have for me.”

“I'll leave you two love birds alone. How did you get on with the girlfriend, Sherri?”

“Real good, boss. I'll fill you in later, or maybe Martin can,” I said.

“Okay, I'll talk to Martin,” John said, and left us.

We went to my desk and I swung the computer screen so he could pull his chair in beside me. He was wearing a subtle but very pleasant after shave.

“Okay, you give me your end of this and I'll see where it fits in with my end,” he said.

I took a deep breath. Most of this was speculation on my part, so I was gambling that I was right.

“Okay. We got a report that a Jake Goreman was missing. Jake's marriage is on the rocks and his ex-wife hasn't seen him in three weeks. His sister Helen is worried so she came to see me. Jake was in the Scorpion unit in Viet Nam, recruited by then colonel, and now retired General Michael Richards. So was Helen's Husband, Barry Myers, and another man, Harry Carter.

“Frank Jellyman was the unit's Lieutenant and it seems that this little crew are involved in the production and distribution of large quantities of high quality counterfeit $100 bills.

“My guess is that Jake, who has a gambling problem and is into a shark for thousands, took a slice of the forbidden cake and the original plates, as insurance. Thus, his chums are not so pleased. The General denied knowledge of Jellyman's whereabouts, but he lied to me. He told me when I left him that he hoped I'd find Jake. I never told him which man was missing. Then, Barry Myers behaved real oddly just before Jake's disappearance. Jake was bragging that he was going to be very rich and Barry went off on one.

“Jake has a girlfriend and we recovered $50,000 of phoney money and the plates this morning, with Jakes grubby prints all over it. I believe there are lots more and so do the bad guys. Jake's car was found, but no blood and no body.

“So, I believe that Jake knows he has pissed off the wrong people and has run with the bulk of the funny money. I thought he was probably dead, but as we have the plates, I believe he is holding out for a bigger slice. Only he doesn't know he doesn't have the plates anymore. His erstwhile co-conspirators are pissed at him, probably because another shipment is due soon and he is endangering the whole plan.

“Now, should his buddies get wind that we have the plates, his life is worthless, so we called his girlfriend to tell him that we have them and he either talks to me, or I talk to the General.” I paused. Simon looked at me with a strange expression.

“How ‘d I do?” I said.

Simon stared at me, and then smiled.

“I have to apologise to you again. I thought that here you were, a small Sheriff's detective office looking into a missing person and fumbling into something you had no awareness of.

“However, I now find you know more than me about the conspirators and what you have told me fits in with what I do know.

“We received information that a SE Asian organised crime group wanted to find a way of flooding the Far East with phoney dollars. As you know, many places take the dollar illegally, as their own currencies are not worth squat. The plan was to flood the area with the funny stuff and then reap the rewards.

“There were rumours that someone high up in the Vietnamese government is involved, but links with the Scorpion unit were mentioned. Jellyman's name came up, as he had been a minor figure on the crime scene prior to being busted and court marshalled.

“He has the contacts and the financial muscle to move and shake, so we believe that he is the main man for providing the funny money to the other side.

“The plates were made by a man in Hong Kong and we know that some old US banknotes went missing three years ago on the way to be destroyed. We suspect that Jellyman and his team have them and are washing the old notes, of all denominations, and printing the new $100 bills on the back of cleaned paper notes.

“We don't know where the printing is done, but we suspected that it was being shipped out of the US either from Seattle or from Vancouver in Canada.”

I was suddenly excited. What had started as a missing person was now a huge operation. I was also disappointed, for it was way out of my jurisdiction and Simon saw my expression.

“Look, you've done a heap of work on this. Why don't we work together on this one? You and your partner can come in on this and we'll work something out. I'll speak to my boss and he can talk to your boss. What do you say?”

I think my grin said it all.

Things happened quickly.

Simon's director called the Sheriff and the Sheriff told John that Martin and I were to work with the FBI on this case. It wasn't a request, and John had a strange expression when he told me that I was on attachment to the FBI.

“Why the funny expression, Lieutenant?”

“You beat all expectations,” he said.

“Why?”

“I fully expected to get two years out of you before you went to the FBI. You see, I worked out you'd get your degree first, and then go for it. I didn't count on this!”

“You expected that I'd go to the FBI when you first asked me to join?”

“Yeah. You are not a small town cop and you are wasted in the small office. With your energy, intelligence and vitality, there was always one answer, the FBI!”

I was embarrassed, as I was the last to know.

Simon, Martin and I moved to a small office in the same building and were given a desk in the office there. The plates and the cash were taken by the FBI and I was still the only link with the missing man.

The call came through early in the evening three days after we found the plates.

“Detective Brewster?”

“Who is this?” I asked, signalling to Simon. He started the tape and trace.

“Never mind. You have something of mine.”

“No Jake, you had some things that didn't belong to you. Now we have them.”

There was silence.

“Jake?”

“How much?”

“Don't play that game Jake. I can't be bought. You talk, we deal. No compromise,” I said and cut him off.

“Why did you do that?” Simon asked, a little angry. I held up a hand, and the phone went again.

“Hello Jake.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Simple. I want the organisation you work for. I want names dates and places.”

“I can't, they'll kill me.”

“Jake, all I do is tell the nice retired General that I've recovered the plates and what is your life worth?”

“You would do that?”

“If you give me nothing, I'll have to arrest him. I will have to tell his lawyer why and it won't take a moron long to work out what we've got.”

“You have to protect me.”

I looked at Simon, who nodded.

“That can be arranged.”

“I have debts.”

“I make no promises, but you can't pay them when you're dead.”

“Okay, how do I do this?”

“You know the Elk in Freetown?”

“Yeah.”

“Meet me there in an hour,” I said.

“How do I know who you'll be?”

“Look for a blonde in a black skirt and black top, with long black boots. I'll be at the bar talking to Andy the barman.”

“Okay.”

He rang off. I looked at Simon.

“Pay phone in Freetown.”

There were only three. One at the gas station, one at the store and one over the road from the Police Department.

“No matter, we'll be there in an hour,” I said.

We went in two cars, in case we were being watched. I left first in my pick-up and then Simon and Martin followed in a plain sedan.

I parked outside the Elk and walked in. Some of my old shift were there, so I spent some time talking to them. Then I went and sat at the bar. Andy came and slid a Miller Lite over without even asking me.

“Looking good, Sherri. What brings you to town?”

“Just catching up on some stuff. Have you seen Lou recently?”

“Yeah, he was in yesterday. He's fine, as far as I know. So, how's the detectives?”

I smiled.

“Really good, Andy. I'm loving it.”

At this point a large hunter type sidled up to me. He put his arm around me.

“Hey honey, what ya say to grabbing a couple of beers and taking a room for the night?”

I looked at him.

“Take your arm off me, before I break it,” I said.

He stared at me and belched in my face.

I looked at Andy.

“Andy, do you think you could inform this man who I am?”

“Sure, detective, that is unless you want to shoot him, like the last one?”

The man stared at me, the alcohol in his brain making simple things very hard.

I took hold of his hand, and twisting it into a wristlock, eased him onto his knees.

“Now, please go away and leave me alone.”

At this point one of my ex-colleagues, laughing heartily, assisted him out the door.

I sat back on the bar stool and smoothed my skirt.

“Detective Brewster?”

I looked and saw a worried face on a middle-aged man. Jake Goreman had not been sleeping well, by his looks. He hadn't washed, if his aroma was anything to go by and his clothes were filthy.

“Hello Jake, drink?”

He shook his head, his eyes constantly on the move. I finished my beer and went to my purse. Andy shook his head.

“Thanks Honey, I'll see you.”

We went to my pick-up and I opened the doors. I caught movement in the darkness and shouted for Jake to get down. A man stepped out from the shadows and opened up with some very loud gun.

I was rolling under the car and trying to get Jake into cover.

I hear two different handguns open fire and there was the screech of tyres as a car took off rapidly.

I stood up and saw my stocking was laddered.

“Son of a bitch!” I said, and Jake popped his head out from under a nearby truck.

Simon and Martin came running over and the cops from the bar came out to see what was happening.

There was a hole in the side of my pick-up and it looked like the perp had a shotgun with a rifled slug.

“Bitch! My car and my stockings!” I said.

Martin was looking at the ground.

“Looks like we nicked the bastard!”

I looked and saw some drops of red stuff. Either someone had just bought the Christmas roast, or our friend had a hole somewhere new.

“Did anyone see the car?” I asked.

Lots of shaken heads.

Then round the corner came Wally Gates. He looked pissed, and he was sober for a change.

“What's up Wal?” asked one of the cops.

“Some asshole nearly ran me off the road. Hit the side of my truck too.”

It turns out he was on the road that ended up at the logging centre and saw mill and a red car side whipped him.

“Anyone in the car?”

“Couldn't see much, it being dark an' all. Two guys, one looked very white.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pale, you know, not well.”

Within minutes the call was out, the Sheriff's officers and local PD headed off to the saw mill. The State troopers were told and they even had a helicopter up.

Needless to say, Lou was on scene very quickly. He gave me a hug and made sure I was alright.

Simon was on the phone to his boss. This changed things!

We took Jake back to the Sheriff's office, and then Simon and I sat with him for about two hours.

At the end of the war, Major Jellyman had in place a complex system of informants and operatives right across South East Asia. He even had contacts in the new Vietnamese government. He had used the drug trade to facilitate payment of these men, as Uncle Sam was being rather mean. He got into the drug and human trafficking, so much so that by the time he was caught, he had salted away at least two million dollars in hidden offshore accounts.

Some of the scorpion team, now disbanded and for the most part back in civilian life, still met and still undertook the ‘odd' mission. Jellyman served his time and came out with a vengeance. The team was resurrected and before they knew it, they were big time operatives.

Jellyman had enough dirt on Masters, now a two star General, to force him to assist in the purchase of property and materials. Masters was an unwilling partner, but with photographs of himself with several Thai lady-boys, he had too much to lose by not helping.

Martin came and gave us all some coffee and Jake continued. There was no doubt that they wanted him dead. Now we had him, they were running scared.

This was a dangerous time and after the attempt of his life, Jake was now talking so much that we were almost unable to keep up. Myers, Carter, Jellyman and the man supposed to be the General's aide, Bruce, they were all part of Jellyman's team.

“So, looking back on it, the General was not a stupid man, so his comment about finding Jake was meant as a clue for me and wasn't a deliberate slip up,” I mentioned, once Jake had been taken to a safe house with two FBI protectors.

“Looks possible. Who knows?” said Simon, as we reviewed the information.

We got a call from downstairs. They had found a red car abandoned up near the saw mill and they were now looking for two men on foot.

“Come on, let's see what we've got.” Simon said reaching for his coat.

“Not like this I'm not!” I said, and started unzipping my skirt.

He went very red and I grinned as I grabbed my bag I had brought in from the car. I had a set of service SWAT black combat gear - pants, jacket and boots and my body armour.

Several minutes later we were making for the saw mill.

“The problem is that a scared and angry Jellyman is going to be a lot more dangerous than a complacent and calm Jellyman,” said Simon, as I drove as fast as I could. I'd been elected to drive as I knew the roads. Martin was in the back, grinning like an idiot. He never expected his attachment to be anything like this.

“He's tried to take out Jake, so he's got nothing to lose. He'll try Jake again, because all we have at the moment is suspicion. No prints on the plates, nothing,” I said.

“How about the notes?”

“It will take a long time to check each one. If he is as shrewd as we credit him, then he won't touch the merchandise.”

We saw red and blue flashing lights up ahead and we got pulled in by a young officer. He shone the flashlight in my eyes.

“Hi Sherri. Go on through, the Sergeant is up with the car.”

I drove another quarter mile and we came across the red car with more police cars around it. Both front doors were open and it looked as if it had been abandoned in a hurry.

I could hear the sound of dogs barking and I noticed one of the police vehicles was a K-9 unit. I got out and saw Lou over with a Lieutenant from the State Police.

As we approached the State trooper looked at me and then did a double take. Simon and Martin were wearing body armour and wore ball caps with FBI on them. I hadn't bothered with a hat, but I had pulled my hair into a pony tail.

“Who the fuck?” he said.

Lou turned round.

“Hi Sherri, you okay Honey?”

“Yeah, thanks Uncle Lou. What have we got?”

“Steve Harvey, this is my niece and her partners. They are with the FBI. It was them who got shot at earlier, starting all this off,” Lou introduced us to the Lieutenant.

“FBI, huh? Will you be taking over the scene?”

“No Lieutenant. You are doing just fine. We just need to try to get these boys alive. One is wounded, we think Martin here nicked one after he tried to take out a witness.”

Martin looked pleased with himself and the lieutenant showed us the search patterns on the map.

“Any ideas as to who they could be?” the Lieutenant asked. Lou looked at me.

“At a guess, I'd say it was Barry Myers and Harry Carter. The only other possibilities would be Jellyman himself, but that would be out of character, or even Bruce. But I reckon Bruce is needed to keep the General in line, so that leaves Barry and Harry,” I said, and glanced at Simon. He nodded in agreement.

The Lieutenant walked off. A little while later we could hear him through the loudhailer announcing, “Myers and Carter. This is the State Police. Give yourselves up, we know who you are and that one of you is wounded!”

A helicopter with infrared and heat sensitive cameras circled above us.

“They are special forces, right?” I said.

“Yeah, so?”

“They will be trained to evade helicopters and dogs. What would you do?”

“Go on?”

“My buddy is hurt, bleeding, so dogs would get the scent fast. I need to get away and the car I've used is no longer available. I'd circle round fast and head back to the outer cordon. One young cop and loads of cop cars. How many still with keys in?”

Simon and Martin looked at me.

“Let's go!” Simon said and we jumped in the car and headed back to the road.

I pulled over and switched out the lights. We rolled to a silent stop. The cordon was about one fifty yards down the lane. We got out, and merged with the under growth.

We spread out. I walked slowly and carefully through the forest. I remembered my training about walking on the sides of my feet and rolling the foot to cause minimum disruption and noise. I had my Glock out and ready.

I could hear Simon and Martin to my left. They were city boys and they were announcing their progress in no uncertain terms.

I stopped, seeing a shape to my right.

I ducked down and eased myself forward.

I could hear breathing and a muffled grunt. I froze. They were within fifteen feet of me. They could hear Martin and Simon, so they ducked down too. I waited and my partners were oblivious to anything.

As they moved on, the suspects started to move again, slowly and very quietly. These men were pros. With one man wounded, they were doing well. I could see their outlines every now and again and one was supporting the other.

We were within fifty yards of the first cruiser and the young cop was whistling and swinging his flashlight around. I kept my eyes down so as not to get my night vision screwed up.

I looked up and saw the silhouette of one man only. The wounded man was down, waiting for his colleague to secure a vehicle. That meant the young cop and anyone else was history. Unless I could intervene.

I found the wounded man. It was Myers. He was semi-conscious and didn't even register I was there. He had a dark spread of blood on his upper chest/shoulder area. His face was pale and his pulse was rapid and weak. He needed a medic fast. He had a SLP stuck in his waistband. I took it, following in the wake of the other one.

I saw him as he raised his weapon.

I was behind a tree.

I raised my Glock and simply spoke, no shout was needed.

“Carter! Stand still! This is the Police. If you move I will kill you.”

He was almost in the aim, and the cop swung his flashlight onto him. He was caught in the beam.

“Your choice!” I shouted. “Drop it, or die!”

He made his choice, and dropped his weapon, a pistol . There was still a shotgun missing!

I heard a twig crack behind me!

Myers!

I rolled at the last second, as a deafening boom came from the bushes to my rear. He obviously wasn't as bad as I thought.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion and as Carter rolled for his gun, Simon shot him. I shot Myers with one pair of shots. The first shot took him in the leg and the second in the right arm.

Crap shooting, girl!

He spun round, losing the shotgun which he must have concealed beneath his body.

He went down, and then a good deal of shouting started from everywhere. Flashlights were waving and this was a dangerous time. Cops with guns had a nasty habit of firing them.

“This is Sherri Brewster. Stand still everyone!” I shouted.

“Stand still! Perps down, repeat, perps down. I need a skirmish line to locate and check them. They are both to the West of my voice, so we need to check them and not kill each other.”

The Lieutenant, fortunately got things rolling and we found both the suspects. Both were still alive, just, and they rolled the ambulances to evacuate them to hospital under police escort.

The ringing in my ears was back!

No matter how often this happened. It was the terrible loudness that I found the biggest surprise. I used firearms on the range very regularly and with ear defenders, they were fine! This was the third time that I had experienced firearms without ear defenders and it hurts

It hacks me off in movies and on TV where they blast away with unlimited ammunition and still able to converse normally all through a gun battle and after it.

I can tell you, normal conversation is out for a good while.

Finally, with the two suspects in the hospital, the car and weapons recovered, we all regrouped back at the office for a discussion.

“We have to go after Jellyman now,” I said.

“What for, we don't have anything on him?” Simon said.

“We got enough from Jake. The chances are that Myers and Carter will sing, if they know they are between a rock and a hard place.”

Simon called his boss, and it was decided that we needed to take the initiative. A full assault team was put together and we were flown up to Seattle.

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