A McVeigh Cocktail

 254.

I re-introduce myself to my former shipmate, a nod to a time and place that Julie inadvertently suggested began over four decades ago. Regardless of chronological accuracy it feels like another lifetime.

"Congratulations your rise through the ranks my friend," being my rather lame intro.

"Thanks and same to you Cap, sorry to learn about your incident, I was thinking we might be hearing from you on this one, glad you're back," he returns.

Richard Pierson, as the bio-data on the Big Screen updates us, celebrated his sixty-fourth birthday just last week. He remains fit, trim and energetic although the dreaded silver strands of hair have begun their inevitable march towards global domination, a reality he covers with his signature prop, a navy and gold FBI ballcap, its bill shaped in a perfect arc; the utilitarian style of our day. The former all-league defensive back maintains his athleticism and quick moves, along with the gumption required to stare down bigger and faster opponents. His nickname in college was Mutt in homage to strength of heart more than purity of breed. It was accepted strategy that one did not look to his side of the field on third and long. Legend also claims that he was never once flagged for pass interference, as the officials too respected his play and allowed a buffer zone known as his reputation preceding him to the point of impact.

"What have we got so far? We're scheduled for touch down in twenty minutes and will go straight to you." I continue.

"Just got another message, he, they, seem a little more agitated this time, wanting immediate confirmation that we plan on meeting their demands." Mutt relays.

"OK, what do we know about the IED?" I ask.

"Old-school, we've found traces of trinitrotoluene militarized with ammonium nitrate, a double McVeigh cocktail."

"Remote detonation?"

"It appears so, we've got positive IDs on all twenty-six but haven't found any other DNA fragments so far, still searching, but the blast could have generated sufficient heat to prematurely cremate anything close enough to prove it a suicide bombing. Our best guess at this point is that a delivery vehicle, a large van, carried the load in, driver parked and split in a hurry."

"Good work sir," I compliment.

"Mutt to you sir, looking forward to seeing you. How do you want to handle the response to their last demand?"

"We'll stall until I can get a few more answers and get to the scene. If they send another message in the meantime call me."

"That a roger, see ya soon."

I terminate the call, smiling at the memories it has prompted and hoping it a precursor to more.