I was neither FBI nor Seattle PD, so I had to sit this one out! I wasn't happy and Martin was even less happy, as he wasn't even brought up on this.

The plan was a two-fronted assault. Due to the front gate being as tough as Fort Knox, they were going over it by chopper and come in to the landing stage by boats. I was to stay on one of the boats until it was all secured.

It seemed a good plan, but somehow I thought that Jellyman would have a contingency plan for escape.

It was dawn by the time we arrived and I was still in my SWAT gear. The FBI briefing was thorough, including photographs of Jellyman. I had never seen his photo and he looked a real charmer.

I could see him in uniform, with all the medals, charming the panties off the women. He was recruiting poster stuff, with a smile of perfect white teeth and a roguish look in his eye.

The assault went ahead as planned, and moved with beautiful precision. The teams went in and within minutes the house was secured.

The General was found alive but locked in a bedroom and of Jellyman and Bruce, there was no sign!

I was allowed off the boat and entered the house as the General was brought into the day room he had seen me in on the last occasion.

He was all military bluster and arrogance to start with.

“What right do you have to bust in here? I demand to be allowed to speak to my attorney, I demand to…”

I leaned real close to him.

“You want the photographs leaked to the press, General?” I said.

He shut up.

“Okay, where has he gone? And no bullshit! I've been shot at and fucked around all night, where is he?”

The general looked at me and then at the FBI agents. They were ripping the place apart.

“He's gone, you won't find anything here!”

“I know he's gone, where has he gone?”

“I don't know. Really I don't!”

“Bullshit! You aren't that stupid. You have an idea. Believe me, General, at the moment I am your best bet. Without me, you could well be in the shit! Cooperate and I will do what I can. Fuck us about and I will make sure the photographs get sent to the pentagon!”

I was mad now.

I think he sensed that.

He looked at me, his lips pursed. He looked as if the fight was over and he visibly shrunk in front of my eyes.

“There is the farm.”

“Farm?”

“I have a share in a Trout and Salmon farm. It is down the river some ways.”

“It wouldn't have a jetty for a large boat, would it?” I asked.

He nodded and even stretched to a little smile.

“You are a bright girl. I underestimated you, as I thought you were just another dumb blonde,” he said.

“Praise indeed! So, Jellyman blackmailed you to provide the cover and base for his operation?”

He nodded.

“So General, how do you want to be remembered?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to be the man who did the right thing, or the man who ran away and sucked his service Colt?”

He frowned, which meant he had thought about it.

He sighed.

“Okay, what do you want?”

“Everything!” I said, suddenly feeling very tired.

I didn't debrief the General. An FBI agent did that and I grabbed a few hours sleep on the settee in the corner of the day room.

They established where Jellyman was likely to be and that he had not actually been there when I called at the house. He had been on the boat and arrived as we were leaving, but the General didn't know he was gone.

Bruce was sent to meet a certain Taiwanese registered ship at the docks in Seattle. It was loading a cargo of timber and Jellyman had gone to the farm to collect the bundle of counterfeit notes. This particular lot had a face value of $10,000,000. Without the plates, this was the last delivery Jellyman could make. He was paid one million in gold, so he was happy.

He had lost all his partners, except Bruce and he was always on the hunt for another game to play.

We looked at the map. The chances were he would try to get to the ship by boat. There was a launch at the farm and it was probably high powered. The local PD had already been warned, and my guess would be he planned to escape by car. We would be less likely to expect that and he had several choices of routes to the docks. Once he was in the docks, then that was the crunch.

He may decide to cut and run and with $10,000,000 of funny money, he could get lost nearly anywhere and do enormous damage to several economies at the same time!

I changed into jeans and a red checked lumberjack style jacket.

Simon frowned.

“Look, he will be expecting the FBI and cops, as he knows the job is blown. He won't expect a dozy blonde tourist, who breaks down across the entrance to the farm, now will he?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Use the same boats and helicopter and make an approach from the water side. I am hoping he will use me as a hostage, and that way, I can take him out!”

“It's too risky!”

“It's worth it!”

“No.”

“Look, it is the only way we will get him. He is as slippery as an eel!”

An hour later, now ten am, I was shivering under the open hood of an old pickup. We'd parked it at the bottom of the lane leading to the farm. Simon decided that it would be too obvious to block the road, so we parked it a little way down the road.

The FBI and PD were deliberately using an open channel, so if he had a scanner, he would be able to pick up their radio traffic.

It worked.

The helicopter was approaching, with the fast launches a little way behind. If he was listening, then he would have picked up that the mobile units were about ten minutes away by road.

A Grand Cherokee came to a halt inches from my car. I forced myself to stay looking under the hood and was putting the leads back on the spark plugs when a voice came from close by.

“Problems?”

I didn't have to pretend to jump, as he was very quiet.

He was just like his picture, a very smooth and suave man.

I smiled, playing the dumb blonde for all I was worth. I had my Glock in my boot, but no other ID or radios, or anything to incriminate me as a cop.

“Oh, you scared me!” I said.

I had brushed my hair out so it cascaded down across my shoulders.

“I think it got damp. All this rain, anyway Randy told me, Randy's my boyfriend, Randy told me to meet him by the marina by ten, but he never told me which marina. He's been out fishing with his buddy Luke and they are probably so cold, anyway, I sorta broke down and I don't know one end of an engine from another!” I said in a rush, smiling stupidly.

I could hear the sirens in the distance and saw he was watching me.

“Oh, gee. It sound like the fire or paramedics are goin' somewhere! I wonder what happened?” I said, walking out into the road to pretend to get a better look.

“Hey, why don't I give you a lift to the marina in town? Has Andy got a cell phone?”

“Who's Andy? My guy is Randy, no he thinks he'll get irradiated or sumptin',” I said, still staring down the road.

“Get in!” he said, so I grabbed my purse from the pickup and got in the passenger seat. The Jeep had darkened windows, so those outside couldn't see in. He drove slowly down the road and the cops had been told not to stop any cars, but take details and pass them through a secure channel to the helicopter. We were the only car.

We passed at least six marked cruisers and four unmarked cars going the other way. About a mile behind them was a SWAT team van.

“Wow, what a lot of cops! I wonder what they're doin'.”

“Probably some illegal still or something! You aren't from around here, are you?” he said.

I looked out the window on my side.

“What a pretty little cabin. What? Oh, no, I'm from Florida. My folks live in St Pete's Beach. I'm off from college and came up with my boyfriend to see a bit of a different part of the country. He's from Seattle.”

“What's your name?”

“Christina Poswowlski, and you?”

“Howard Sheridan. I'm a mining engineer. I am conducting surveys of various old mines to see if they are safe.”

“Gosh, that sounds a cool job. I wouldn't like it though.”

“Why not?”

“All them dark, creepy places, with dripping water and rats! Urgh!” I squirmed and squealed to emphasise how pathetic I was.

We were approaching a gas station.

“Oh, can we stop, I gotta pee?” I said.

He looked in his mirror and pulled over.

I ran to the ladies, allowing him time to look in my purse that I had left behind. I gave him a minute and then came back. It was where I'd left it, but he had moved it.

“Forgot my purse, just as well you ain't a thief!” I said and giggled.

I went off and actually did need a pee, so it was quite fortunate.

I returned and we set off again. I babbled away like the idiot I was supposed to be.

“What are you studying?”

“Law. My daddy wanted me to study law, but I find it quite hard. But he's this big shot lawyer and he wants me to join the family firm. I told Mom, all I need is a job until me and Randy get married, then we'll have some kids and shoot, I won't need a job then, I'll be so busy!”

He was watching me, so I took out a nail file and worked on my nails, and still babbled away.

One thing movies get wrong, they always show the police helicopter swooping down right over the bad guy's car. The helicopter, with great telescopic lenses, doesn't need to swoop anywhere. It can just sit up there and watch the bad guy from a distance, relaying their position to the ground units who never need to get anywhere near the bad guy.

At least that was what I hoped was happening, for I felt really lonely right now.

We were now inside the city limits and the traffic was building up. He was constantly looking around and above him. Every now and again he'd drive into a wrong alley, pretending he'd made a mistake and then check to see the cars that were behind him. He was very surveillance aware and took every precaution to avoid tails.

I saw a sign for the Marina.

“Oh, there's the Marina!” I shouted and he turned in. I could see his mind working, and knew that he was planning to get Randy's boat and take it to the ship, or even just take it and disappear.

There was no Randy.

However, there was a boat.

Simon looked very like someone who could be called Randy!

He was in a Parka, with enormous gloves and a pair of padded pants.

He was sitting on the dockside and as I opened the car door, he went for me.

“For fuck's sake Christina! Where the fuck have you been? I been freezing my ass off waiting for you, you are always so goddamn late! Where the fuck is my truck?”

Jellyman stepped past me and looked at the boat behind ‘Randy'.

“Who the fuck is this? What the fuck are you doing Christina?”

“I'm sorry Randy, the truck broke down and this kind guy gave me a ride!”

Jellyman had forgotten me and was looking about, searching the sky too.

Simon stepped towards me, so I immediately crouched, as if fearing a blow. Simon took his gun from his pocket and slowly turned as I came up with the Glock out.

“FBI, Mr Jellyman. Hands on your head, and then just don't move!” Simon said very clearly.

Jellyman did as he was asked. He then turned slowly and looked at Simon and then at me.

He was smiling, and he didn't sound in the least bit upset.

“Very good! I suspected you at first and then discounted it. You are an exceptional dumb blonde. I take it you are the detective who came and saw the General?”

I nodded.

“Too bad, I really thought we'd fooled you. So you know I'm not going back to prison, don't you?” he said to me.

“That's your choice. If you think I won't shoot because I'm a girl, think again. I've shot four men so far and two died.”

His smile broadened.

“Not just a pretty face. Where were you when I needed you in ‘Nam?”

“Probably in diapers,” I answered.

“Touché. Tell me, are you really studying law?”

“Yes. My bachelors.”

“You aiming to move up to the FBI?”

“No plans, whatever.”

“You should do well.”

A Police launch came along side the quay, and a cruiser stopped by the jeep.

Jellyman stood with a smug smile on his face. Something wasn't right. He was too damn cocky and he knew something we didn't. Then I twigged. The car. He was as far from the car as he could get and he was looking at Simon's wristwatch. I moved behind Simon and took the handcuffs from his belt.

“When's the money blow, Major?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed and I reached out and grabbed his arm. I swung the handcuffs onto him and then we pulled him towards the jeep.

He showed fear then, for the first time.

I shouted for the cops to pull back as the jeep was wired. They didn't need telling twice.

“Okay, four minutes,” he said, digging his heels in.

“Take him!” I said, running to the jeep and pulling the big packet of notes out and threw them into the water.

Then I hit the deck.

There was a massive explosion and a huge plume of water erupted and drenched us all. Jellyman recovered and kicked Simon's arm and he lost the gun. Jellyman turned and was about to leap into the water. I calmly took aim and shot him on the back of the knee. He went down hard onto the planking.

I walked over to him.

“You shot me!” he said, perplexed.

“No shit, Sherlock? You tried to waste me, so I got even. Now you are under arrest for murder, conspiracy to murder, blackmail, counterfeiting and bleeding in a public place without a licence. You got some rights, so you wait there while a locally empowered law enforcement officer reads them to you.”

A paramedic and a cop came over and were about to deal with him.

“Wait!” I said, and went over and searched him. Two knives and a small revolver in an ankle holster later, I let them take him.

“Search him properly before you take the cuffs off,” I said to the cop.

I handed Simon his gun.

He looked at me.

“Thanks.”

I smiled.

“You're welcome.”

I suddenly felt very tired and hungry. There was a diner on the quayside.

“Come on, I'll buy you brunch,” I said and we walked over to the diner. All the other cops and FBI agents followed. It was a filthy day and the diner was empty. Suddenly, there were twenty officers and Feds all filling the booths and the kitchens were on call for loads of brunches.

I was just finishing an enormous plate of bacon, eggs, pancakes, sausage and hash browns, when the local FBI deputy Director, Andrew F. Kitchen, arrived.

He went to the deserted quay to see divers retrieving some very soggy funny money. Someone directed him up to the diner, and he came in out of the cold.

“Hi boss. Coffee?” said Simon.

Kitchen sat down and accepted a coffee.

“Okay, tell me what happened?”

Simon looked at me. I shrugged and nodded for him to update his boss. He did so and everyone else was listening in.

By the end, I was embarrassed, as Simon had painted a false picture of me. I was something else, according to him, I had sweet talked Jellyman so much that he was charmed and fooled into believing that I was a blonde airhead. Fine, I accepted that bit, but he then made me out to me a master strategist,(or should that be a mistress?) and managed to get him away from the public, affect an arrest and recover the goods.

“You've forgotten someone,” I said.

They all looked at me.

“The last guy, Bruce. He's on the ship awaiting delivery of the money,” I said.

“What do we do?”

“We'd better deliver.”

“How?”

“I could drive the Jeep to the dock and wait for him to come to me. Meanwhile, you sneak onto the ship from the seaward side, and we get the oriental connection too.”

“But he knows you,” said Simon.

“The jeep has smoked windows. By the time he arrives at the car and I lower the window, he will be ours.”

I looked at Kitchen. He smiled and nodded.

“You got this far, Detective, go for it.”

It went as planned. Simon came with me, with two SWAT men in the back. We pulled up at the bottom of the gangplank and Bruce appeared at the top. He looked worried and he almost ran down to the car.

As he approached my driver's window, I lowered it.

He saw me, then the muzzles of the MP5s from the two guys who had left the back seats and were standing on the quayside.

“On the ground - Do it now!” yelled one and Bruce dropped.

I looked up at the ship and saw one of the cops wave.

We'd done it!

There was some difficulty with communicating with those on the ship. A Chinese/American officer from the Seattle PD was drafted in and some headway was made. After a thorough search of the vessel, nothing was found, and apart from some intelligence gleaned, no arrests were made and all were released.

It was the scale of the work that impressed me and I suddenly realised that maybe Jellyman had a point, maybe I should try to join the FBI.

By the time we got to the Seattle FBI office, I was exhausted. The FBI was no different to any other department for whom I had worked. They just love paperwork!

I let Simon file the report and simply wrote my statement. We were given an update on the men in hospital.

Myers and Carter were still critical but stable. Jellyman was comfortable and handcuffed to the bed with two cops watching him around the clock. They were hoping to get him before a special court and then remanded into the custody of a prison hospital until the full hearing.

The General was relieved when I produced the photographs that were in Jellyman's briefcase in the car. There were no negatives, so that was a skeleton to rattle his closet until he died! The DA decided not to prefer charges against the General, as long as he was willing to give evidence against Jellyman.

I took a peek at the photographs and those boys did look like girls. For the life of me, I couldn't blame the old boy, but perhaps he should have just kept it zipped up.

I accompanied Simon back to Portland, where I was put up in a motel, courtesy of the FBI. I set off the next morning to make my weary way home.

My last task was to call on Helen. She had already been told about her husband, so I had to tell her it was me that shot him. She wasn't as perturbed as I thought she would be. I guess that the marriage was not going to last much longer.

She was pleased that Jake was okay and I arranged for her to see him.

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