Asking For Trouble Read Online Free PDF

planning to spill it all—the Taskmasters, the unregistered gun, Terrance Robinson, the lot. He guessed he’d be dropping himself in the crapper along with everyone else, just by association with these madmen, but he couldn’t help that. The Taskmasters had to bestopped, and he had to take some responsibility for once in his life. He opened the doors and went inside.
    The drab reception area was awash with people. Victims wandered around waiting to be helped, while those in custody were escorted by in cuffs. Cops floated between both sides of the law, both in front and behind the bulletproof barriers. Matt stopped a passing policewoman who was reading a report.
    “Hi, I wonder if you could help me?” Matt asked. “I need to talk to a police officer about a crime.”
    “You’ll have to check in with a PST,” she replied and pointed at the occupied people behind bulletproof shields. The policewoman went to leave, but Matt sidestepped to counter her escape. Her features tightened.
    “I’m not here to report a stolen VCR or anything. This is important,” Matt said, scanning the room for eavesdroppers.
    The policewoman read his face to determine whether he was genuine or a whack job. She made her decision after a long moment. “Wait here.”
    She retreated into the depths of the building after punching a code into a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” A couple of minutes later, the policewoman opened the security door with a uniformed sergeant in tow and pointed at Matt. The sergeant approached him.
    “Officer Hansen says you want to speak to someone?”
    Matt didn’t answer.
    “Sir?”
    Matt was frozen, unable to speak.
    “I don’t have all day.” An edge of irritation crept into the policeman’s voice.
    Matt was staring past the sergeant to two familiar faces in the crowd—Harry and Tripplehorn—and both of them were wearing police uniforms. His urge to do the right thing turned to lead in his throat and he struggled to swallow it down.
    “I’ve made a mistake,” Matt said, backing away.
    The sergeant placed his hands on his hips. “What?”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Is this a joke?”
    Seeing the Taskmasters there, it did seem like a joke—a bad one. Matt continued to back away, tuning out the cop’s threats. The Taskmasters, engrossed in their conversation, hadn’t spotted him yet, and he wanted it to stay that way.
    Matt’s back struck the double doors and he thrust them open and bolted. He tore down J Street until he hit the cross street. He glanced back and saw the sergeant was surveying his escape from the doorway, but the Taskmasters were nowhere to be seen.
    ***
    The apartment manager was gone for the night. Tuesday night was singles’ night at the VA social. Matt hoped the old coot got lucky tonight, though even if he didn’t, it wouldn’t take long for Matt to skip out. He crammed all his belongings into an army-surplus duffel and a box for an RCA TV. He hooked the duffel over his neck and carried the box down to his Escort. Reaching his parking stall, he cursed. His assigned stall was empty; the car was gone. He couldn’t believe someone had stolen the heap of junk on the one night he needed it.
    Well, there was no way Matt was going to report the theft, and it wasn’t going to stop him from leaving town. No car meant he would be traveling even lighter. He carried the box of possessions over to the Dumpster. He’d hefted it to head height when someone kidney punched him. Matt crumpled and the box crashed down on his head.
    “Leaving town, son?” Harry brushed the box aside and hoisted Matt to his feet. “I thought you had a job to do.”
    Resignation washed over Matt. There was no point lying or being scared. They’d spotted him at the police department. They’d probably been tailing him all day.
    “Where’s my car?”
    “On the way to impound. Would you believe it was parked illegally in front of a fire hydrant? But I wouldn’t worry about that. You have other things