Public Enemy Zero

48

Mitchell passed the inlet that led toward the part of downtown where he’d made his escape. Police and news helicopters flew around looking for a naked Mitchell hiding out somewhere around town.

The underwater propulsion device had made his escape a practical impossibility to anyone watching. A strong scuba diver would be able to swim one mile an hour at most in no current. He’d covered the distance in 20 minutes, giving him an hour head start from the most optimistic position of where he could be. That was, of course, assuming people were thinking logically. Mitchell had little reason to think that was the case.

Mitchell kept the boat going south on the Intracoastal and focused on what he need to do next. He set the scanner on the dashboard and turned the volume all the way up so he could hear it over the engine noise.

As a precaution, he laid out his dive gear in the rear seats so he could get to it quickly if he needed to and checked the charge on the underwater propulsion device. It still had a half charge left. That was more than enough to take him to shore or pretty far down a side canal.

Knowing he had some kind of backup escape cleared his head and made it easier to think. The problem he had earlier was that nobody took him seriously. He hoped the unfortunate incident at the bridge was enough of a wakeup call.

To find out what the reaction was, Mitchell turned on the boat’s stereo and tuned it to a news channel. He still kept one ear on the scanner, periodically tuning in to make sure he wasn’t about to be surrounded.

Mitchell hadn’t realized the unintended consequence stripping down to his underwear had on people’s perceptions. The bite marks and scratches hurt like hell when he thought about them, but he’d been too focused on moving forward to stop and get a look at himself.

When the public saw them, they became more sympathetic. It gave them an image of Mitchell as a wounded man trying to avoid getting hurt. When the FBI negotiator attacked him, even people defending how law enforcement agencies were handling the case found it hard to defend what took place.

A popular discussion on several of the news stations was what should Mitchell do next. According to the reports, his @MadMitchFM Twitter handle was flooded with people decrying what happened and offering advice. One suggestion repeated by a reporter made a lot of sense: “@MadMitchFM Get a fucking lawyer on these assholes.”

He needed a third party to negotiate for his surrender, someone who could verify that the authorities were living up to their word. He needed the advice of someone who could help him, not just find out what was wrong with him but make sure he didn’t spend the rest of his life in prison.

Mitchell realized that if he had surrendered that morning and hadn’t been attacked and the magical armored truck didn’t put him in a riot in the middle of downtown, he probably would have walked right into their hands without any legal protection. While he bargained for his life, they would have conned him into agreeing to spend the rest of it in prison.

For sure, he’d done some very criminal things but nothing he should go to jail for, at least in his mind. As far as he was concerned, guilty feelings or not, he was only trying to survive. Mitchell began to get angry at the thought that he might actually have to go to prison for what happened. His hand pushed the throttle forward as he fumed.

When he realized he was making a wake big enough to get stopped by the Marine Patrol, he slowed down. The last thing he needed was to start a boat chase over a no-wake-zone ticket.

When he got the chance to make a phone call, he’d try to contact a lawyer. The bigger the loudmouth the better. He wanted some kind of OJ Simpson-level dream team.

If he got surrounded or stopped before then, that would be his one request. He wanted someone else to deal with the unctuous negotiators. He began to form a legal strategy in his mind. Of course he was sure the lawyers would have better ideas. It just made him feel better to have a plan.

If Mitchell were killed before he got to a lawyer, there was going to be no brilliant defense, no pardon and no cure.