Hard Case V: Blood and Fear (A John Harding Novel Book 5) (36 page)

“Was Lynn okay with you going, Clint?” I was a little worried about Crue’s take on this.

Clint nodded. “She said come back with your shield or on it.”

“Cool.”

“I don’t know how all this is going to play out, but I’m glad you let me come,” Tommy said in a low keyed voice.

“Drop if there’s gunplay. Man, you look good. What did Rachel say about your duds?”

Tommy chuckled. “She wanted to keep me at home to role play as the black Bonnie and Clyde.”

Now that was entertainment. The mooks on the other side thought we were laughing at them, including their giant. Good Lord, he was big. Bad part for him was, he’d been having it so easy killin’ people, he’d let his gut grow. The giant was out of shape.

“What you laughin’ at,” the lead mook called out. All of them had a hand inside their coat with a threatening gesture against our imagined disrespect. I wasn’t worried. I had Clint. The chances of any mook across the mat clearing their coat before Clint shot them all in the head were slim and none.

“Anything we want to laugh at, Tony Soprano,” Gus fired back. We were here to make our presence known, not take shit from a bunch of cheap thugs. “Are we going to do this or do you need to change your pants?”

The lead mook pointed at our very dapper Gus, gracing him with what I’m sure was his scowling killer look he practiced in the mirror. “After Kong gets done with that pussy you brought, I’ll have him rip your head off too. Get on the mat, girlie. Here’s the rules… there ain’t no rules. Whoever’s left breathin’ wins.”

I guess I’m girlie, so I stepped on the mat with my hands in position. Kong and I both had mixed martial arts gloves on. He had been smiling ever since we walked to the mat. I like a happy guy. He had a mouthpiece in so I guess he figured he might get hit. We didn’t shake hands. Kong swung a round house left hook I think would have decapitated me if it had landed. I ducked, and smacked the inside of his left knee with my own hello kick. That got his attention. Kong stopped smiling, and gimped a step backwards, so I smacked the inside of his right knee with a real pile driver smash. Kong dropped to his knees. I wasn’t here to prolong this thing, so I put a flying knee right between his eyes. It blasted him off the mat where he skidded into his fellow Sopranos.

I stayed where I was, not wanting to follow him into thug central where I’d only be in the way if Clint had to kill them all on the spot. The mooks scrambled getting Kong back on his feet. I could tell the birdies were playing amongst the starbursts inside his thick skull. He could take it. That’s for sure. My knee to his forehead should have killed him. Kong wasn’t too steady on his feet, but he was mad as hell. He smashed his gloves together, and roared. I never saw that coming. I glanced at Tommy, but he was too busy laughing his ass off at Kong’s roar to give me a clue what he thought about it.

One thing I did know. Kong could roar, but no way would he be rushing me after those kicks. He didn’t. Kong plodded toward me, serious as a heart attack, hands in position, crouching to protect his legs. He threw some nice left right combinations without the leg action he needed to really get power into them. I stepped inside, and fired my own combo into his ribs. He belched out a grunt of pain that smelled like he’d been eating road kill for a week raw. His hands dropped, and I hit him with a left upper cut mostly to get his breath turned in a different direction. It dropped him on his ass, so I stepped away, and smashed a right roundhouse kick to his left temple. Goodnight sweet prince. Kong dropped sideways to the mat, snoring before he hit. I shrugged at the lead mook.

“Want me to kill him? I know you said the fight’s only over when one of us ain’t breathin’. Do I have to end old Kong, or is comatose okay for the win?”

I could hear my guys laughing, but the Sopranos stared open mouthed at Kong. Then lead mook tried a quick draw. Clint put a .45 slug through his head spattering his companions with brain matter as it exited.

“Unless you want to die, keep your hands at your sides,” Clint warned. “I won’t tell you twice. You want to take it from here, Gus?”

“Thanks, Clint. We’re taking you guys with us for a question, answer, and recruitment session. We’ll give you an option then to join us and expand, or get the hell out of the country. We’ll have to put blindfolds on you gangsters, and restraints. I think once our profitable enterprise is explained thoroughly, most of you will take our offer to go legit.”

“Fuck you! Fuck this! I-”

Soprano number two got a new eyehole in his forehead. Clint made clucking noises. “I’m sorry. Did you assholes think we’re voting on this?”

“Now… whoever wants to go with us to hear the details of our offer get on your knees with hands behind your back,” Gus stated. “Anyone else who doesn’t want to go with us, bend over and kiss your ass goodbye.”

The remaining five dropped to their knees with hands behind their backs. I checked on Kong while the other guys restrained our new guests going to Pain Central. Kong was not doing well. I walked over to one of our detainees. He tried to pretend I wasn’t staring right at him, so I knelt, and took his chin into a nearly bone crushing grip.

“I want to know about Kong. Are the rumors true he’s a killer of men, women, and children?” I was only asking, because it would mean one fewer passenger. We’d be doing DNA, fingerprint, and picture checks on the other five. If any of them were guilty of the same thing, they would not be getting a deal. They would be getting the Bay cruise.

“Si… Kong is a very bad man.”

“Thanks.” I returned to Kong, and snapped his neck with a slow deliberate positioning, followed by the final twist of death. I turned to the detainees. “Anyone else guilty of such behavior, say so now, because we will be checking. If we can, we’ll give you over to the authorities. If we have to find out the hard way, the ending will be very bad.”

No one else indicated they were like Kong. I’d bet the guys who Clint shot were the two in the group much like Kong. “Okay, no takers, so let’s get the blindfolds on, and go get this party started.”

“Wait!” The guy I’d asked about Kong wanted to discuss a bit more, and he was sweating bullets in the coolness doing it. “There are four men in position, and probably moving on the building now.”

“Did you guys hear that,” Clint asked our own protection outside. He was in direct communication with Lucas and Casey.

“We heard,” Casey drawled. “We didn’t want to interrupt business for simple statistics. It’s messy outside the shed, so watch where you’re walkin’, brother.”

“Will do,” Clint acknowledged. He made a throat slitting gesture at me. “Case said watch the path we follow to where we parked our vehicles, or we’re apt to gather DNA on the bottom of our shoes.”

I patted my informant’s face. “Good one. That piece of information earned you a step ahead of your companions in the survival game, except it isn’t a game. We kill when we’re surprised. Actually, that’s not exactly true. We get surprised, and then we kill the surprise party people. The ones who knew about a surprise party get to exit life through the seventh level of hell. Believe me… you don’t want that. Is there anything else we should know before we go outside?”

Silence. Boy, are they going to like the scene outside, where Lucas and Casey probably did double taps through the head of these guys’ backup soldiers. Such is life if you tread into monster land. I’m immediately thinking by the monster minions’ happy looks, they think these guys with us now are in control of a local bunch of shitheads throughout the city. Quay’s idea of forcing local gangs into our Oaktown Cartel might be the biggest positive play we’ve made so far. It was time to go.

The Kong match had my blood boiling. I expected more, and got less. For this operation, that was a good thing. It never ends well for amateur, sadistic bad-asses. They’re really scary for blue collar folks, including men, women, and children to face. They usually look like Kong, so big, one deadly look from them freezes the blood of hard working people trying to raise families while working for a living. That’s where we come in. I lead monsters more deadly than Kong ever imagined. We didn’t come here to this shed to lose or negotiate. We arrived to kill or be killed. Sure, we had some nice plusses added on with a personal touch, like brother Jess’s Mom’s house taken off the hit list of gang’s that shouldn’t exist.

“I think we’re done here,” Gus said. “Let’s take our new friends incognito to their surroundings, and head for Pain Central.”

Gus went over and embraced a surprised Clint. “Thank you. We needed you here, Clint. I’m sorry we took you away from ‘The Mistress of the Unimaginable’ at this time. Please tell her that her minions pray for her wellbeing, and Clint Jr’s, every second.”

I could tell Clint was startled. He patted Gus. “I will tell her, Gus. I’ll tell you a secret because we’re here and it seems appropriate. She loves you guys. Lynn already threatened Denny with extermination if he tried to take you guys out, and I back any play she makes known. You guys are golden with us.”

Gus backed away, swiping at his eyes. “Thank you for telling us that, Clint. Let’s herd these new recruits to their destination. I feel we will make a big splash with this idea Quays invented. He should be Godfather of the Oaktown Cartel.”

“No way!” Quays strode next to Gus, his hands waving off Gus’s declaration with emphasis. “You’re a natural, Gus. Silvio and I are agreed. You’ll be the Godfather we keep in front of the Oaktown Cartel, and it’s not because we need an easy target. Anyone targeting you better have all their last wishes in print.”

Everyone thought this in itself was entertaining, I glanced at Clint with a grim Cheeseburger look. He nodded and smiled.

“Let’s go. We’ll sort out this killer ambiance later. I like your idea though, Gus. I’m going now to join Crue at the hospital. Watch your phones. There will be pictures.”

“Don’t forget about post natal depression, Clint,” Jess inserted into the discussion. “It’s a serious deal, and we need to watch out for any signs of it in Crue.”

“Don’t worry about that, Jess. If she shows any sign of that post natal depression, I’ll just beat her with my belt. She’ll be fine.”

Oh my, did we enjoy that word picture for a few moments.

Chapter Twelve

Riding the Wave

Denny attended our Oaktown Cartel recruitment conference with high expectations. I could tell from his body language, and the excitement he couldn’t keep from his features. I didn’t like any of this, but I knew the results could be incredible. If they came to fruition, Quays idea would spread around our home base area in a positive tidal wave against the worst of society’s element. I’m not on a crusade, but this Cartel sham might allow us time and misdirection we vitally needed. Earl and ‘Rique showed too. I had filled them in on every part of our plan. They signed on to our CIA, Homeland, and FBI plot to report any suspicious activity. Denny had provided money, and credentials for their help. He never asked for their participation in anything, other than warning them of an impending operation.

“I’d love to see this work,” ‘Rique said, “but there will be many of these gangbangers who will say one thing and do another. If it worked, we could make real progress in taking the neighborhoods back that are being terrorized now.”

“My partner’s right, guys,” Earl agreed. “This scheme will be your toughest one so far to pull off. Using the gangs you recruit to enforce this Oaktown Cartel front will be really tricky. I know you have three experts on gang hierarchy and control. I hope to God they’re successful, and this doesn’t turn into a blood bath. That attempted killing at the hospital by a hit squad has everyone from the Mayor down running for cover.”

“Those pussies run for cover no matter what happens,” Lucas replied. “I think if the way these gangster wannabes reacted to seeing their four guys with heads blown off on the fight shed’s outer entrance was any indication, we’ll get cooperation. They’re enjoying a video of John’s interrogation of Yuri Kornev as we speak. If that doesn’t convince them we will do anything necessary to install our own Cartel presence, nothing will. I like our chances.”

I agreed. “Think of an underground source for information like this. We can be spread out across the city and area. Sure, there will be drug addicts clamoring for their fixes. Well, boo hoo, that won’t be happening except in the bad sections of our littered metropolis without neighborhoods. I was leery of this project myself at the start, but I’m warming to the notion every second. Hey, if it doesn’t work, we’ll shoot them all through the head.”

The monsters enjoyed my final solution for failure. Good thing, because that was exactly how I figured to do it. I’m sick of gangbanging scum calling the shots in Oakland. They terrorize the neighborhoods where decent people live, while letting professional whiners protest every single action by the police, thanks to the bought and paid for asshole media. We needed to change perspectives. If we failed, we needed to kill more bad guys. Works for me.

“We’ll back your play within reason, John,” Earl said. “We know you guys are dedicated to the survival of America, and our politicians are not. Hell, like Lucas said, they throw us under the bus in a split second. ‘Rique and I have to walk the tightrope, but we’ll call Denny if we hear of something unexpected coming your way.”

“We will fix things slowly, Earl,” I told him. “I know if we move too fast, we’ll screw our chances of making progress. Once we repair a problem we have with an internal affair, we should have more time and resources to smooth things on our new project. In the meantime, we did successfully end the takeover on Coolidge Avenue, which could have been a wild-west distribution point in the middle of a blue collar neighborhood. That win should get us some slack with the city. Gus has something we’d like you to put into the city fathers’ hands which should distract them a bit. Go ahead, Gus, make your presentation.”