The Answer Is "Seclusion," The Question Is Orthogonal (Part 2)

(Part 1)

Behind my eyes Clint Black drawls.

This killin’ time is killin’ me
Drinking myself blind thinkin’ I won't see
That if I cross that line an’ they bury me
Well I just might find
I'll be killin’ time
For eternity

His drinking part doesn’t coincide with the occasion. Latent drug bust. I switch my mental station to the opening tune of Weeds -- two different versions. That one girl on youtube performs it so pretty. I guess the song’s anti-suburbia… anti-conformity… clones of each other… cookie-cutters… cookies… no, cheez-its… yummy! Yes, folks, this is the same mind that devised a successful scheme to net Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement case files and Operational Plans.

From my unhiding place near Task Force headquarters I watch the assailants roll in, one at a time, and park their rides. A couple of vehicles I’ve not seen before come, and go. They’re connected to JADE one way or another so I document some of this and a lot of that about them. Final Drug Enforcement Officer to pop up is Longhead.

I sit tight.

When they swagger out en masse, they don’t look or act any different than before but the shift in ambiance is incredible. You can feel the energy effusing from these men. It’s like being asphyxiated by ropes of submerged adrenaline. I think I express myself fairly well, but I’m just not coming up with words here that can explain the sensation properly. Let’s just go back to “incredible” and leave it at that.

The guys pile into the green G20 I’d dreamt of midday, last one in pulling the door shut behind him. The conveyance heads out. I witness it turning right; I count to ten, and then I go after it. As I’m passing by the main stairway the TFOs use, something catches my eye. Ah, man! Should I stop? No. I came for the raid, that’s what I’m sticking with. But I am so coming back for that. I press on the gas and speed away.

Following a full-size van in the blackness at a time when no one else is on the road doesn’t take a heck of a lot of skill. I can, and do, hang back enough to obviate their getting suspicious of me. Somewhere along the line I coast up right behind them because they’ve been halted by a surprisingly lengthy red light. The twin back windows of what they occupy have white blinds dented up all strange. Maybe they can see through the things but I doubt they’re looking. I let some distance build again when the signal changes. Once they segue to the street Herb and Truck took in their previous visit, I get anxious -- in both good and bad sense of the word. I have no idea where they’re going from here on in.

When I tar-slow make the same turn seconds later they’re nowhere to be seen. I gradually move forward down the pavement, coming to rest at an intersection. I can make a right, a left, or continue without deviation. Holy jeez, the choices. I see a good portion of asphalt in either side directions. Straight has a gradient; it appears the road just drops off into the belly of Earth. I wasn’t that far behind. I think I would notice some signs of them if they had made a turn here. I advance the way in front of me.

And jerk my steering wheel to the left then right as fast as I can holler out an obscenity.

Like 60 yards beyond me had been the JADE van, parked, and only until I crossed the crest of concrete could I see it. My headlights lit up the rear of it so dandy it resembled a colossal flaming emerald. Standing near its driver’s door was Spot, who’d also been blasted into visual percept by my front lamps. His body was square with the assaultmobile, his face aimed expectantly at my car’s illuminating orbs cascading down on him.

I think between the way I veered smoothly, the incline, and it being dark enough, it would appear to anyone down the slope observing that I made a normal left. I assure you it was anything but. It was a crazy curvy move only I or a drunken serpent could pull off.

Oh yeah. I am so swift it shatters precedents.

(Part 3)