Gratitude Can Be Dangerous

knoteach

 

Jim and Blair sat in the bullpen, each absorbed in there own tasks.  Jim was working on their newest assignment, pulling all the evidence that others had collected together, and trying to make some sort of sense out of it.  Blair was ensconced at the computer, completing the paper work from the case they had just wrapped up.

 

“Sandburg, Ellison.  My office,” came Banks trademark roar.

 

The two men glanced at each other, silently asking if the other knew what was going on.  Blair gave slight shrug, then stood to follow Jim in. 

 

“You hollered, Simon,” he quipped after shutting the door.

 

Simon gave him a glare, then spoke, “Jim, you know the new exhibit at the museum in opening in two days, right?” At Jim’s nod he continued, “The Mayor has been receiving threats to disrupt the proceedings, so he wants us to coordinate security for the event.”

 

“Yes, sir.  That shouldn’t be too difficult.  The building was designed…”

 

“That’s not all, Jim.  He doesn’t want you to be head of security.  He wants you on the floor keeping tabs on things.”  Simon watched understanding dawn on Jim’s face, his expression going from slight puzzlement, to understand, to disbelieving loathing.

 

“Sir, you’re not going to do this to me, are you?”

 

“It’s not my decision.  It’s the mayor’s, so you and Sandburg will be going in as guests. Tuxedos, black ties, and all.  Now, gentlemen, I think you have some planning to do.” 

 

Dismissed, Jim and Blair left the office, but not before Banks heard Blair say, “Hey, Jim, what did we do to get on the Mayor’s bad side again?  Last time I remember, he was all grateful because we broke up that auto theft ring and got his car back.”

 

Banks shook his head.  The Mayor had told him that he wanted to thank Ellison and Sandburg, by giving them the ‘privilege’ of coming to this shindig.  Shows you how much politicians know about law enforcement officers.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Nothing ever goes as planned.  The police had set up the perfect security… for the threats that had been received.  No one seemed to think about other possible problems.  But then no one had bothered to mention that a disgruntled ex-employee had also been making threats.  “The guy was a harmless flake,  we let him go because he was always late.  How were we supposed to know he would be come violent,”  the museum administrator had said.

 

Jim sat in the waiting room, fuming. Everything had been going great, Blair was actually enjoying the exhibit, the mayor was happy with the way things were going,  there was no sign of trouble. Even if he had been bored to tears, things had been fine.  Until Peter Sattler showed up, drunk with a old .38 special and a grudge. 

 

Blair had seen the man enter, and brought him to Jim’s attention.  Jim had recognized the shape of the weapon half a second before he pulled it out and started firing into the ceiling.  Blair had tried talking him into giving up the weapon, but Sattler had been almost totally incoherent.  It had looked like Sattler had decided to give up the gun, but he had decided a second to late.  He passed out from all the alcohol in his system and dropped his gun. It went off on impact, hitting Blair in the lower left leg.

 

“Mr. Ellison?”  A man in a doctor’s white lab coat stood in the doorway.

 

Jim stood immediately and stepped up to him.  “That’s me.  How’s Blair?”

 

“Mr. Sandburg is fine.  It was a clean wound, missed the bone entirely. We just had to clean the wound and suture it.  He should stay off the leg as much as possible for the next week, but other than that he is fine.  He’ll be ready to go home in a few minutes.  He’s in exam 3.  You go ahead and go in, and I’ll bring the paper work in a minute.”

 

Jim breathed a sigh of relief as he moved down the hall to Blair’s room.  He found Blair sitting on the edge of the gurney fiddling with a loose thread. Before Jim could say anything, Blair looked up and spoke.

 

“Jim, promise me that from now on we’ll work harder at staying on the Mayor’s good side?  I rather not do this again, man.”

 

“Actually, Chief, the Mayor didn’t pick us for this because he was mad at us.”  Jim said wryly.

 

“What?” Blair’s expression was pure confusion.

 

“He told Simon that this was his way of thanking us for getting his car back.  ‘A nice easy assignment, where nothing could possibly go wrong’, he said.”  Jim explained.

 

“Oh,” Blair was silent for a few seconds, then continued, “In that case, let’s get him good and mad at us so he’ll leave us alone.”

 

The doctor walked in to find both men laughing heartily, and wondered what was so funny about a gunshot wound.  He mentally shrugged, he figured the police were crazy anyway, so whatever.