Hard Case V: Blood and Fear (A John Harding Novel Book 5) (38 page)

“Lynn looks nearly like her old self,” Sam said as she watched Lynn’s clip over my shoulder. “She told me she’s working out every day with Clint. I’m not sure I would like to guess at what she’s getting into shape for.”

“Probably not the details.” I began another clip. Wendy threw a beautiful changeup the Cardinal batter was so out in front of she could have swung twice. She threw a fast pitch next the girl looked at for strike two. A foul tip popup to Al made the second out of the inning. I kept the clip going for Lynn’s amusement as the Cardinal’s coach emerged to argue about Wendy’s delivery. The umpire pointed out it was the same delivery Wendy had in the first two innings, ending the discussion with a loud ‘play ball’. In reply, I received a call to arms.

Lynn texted an all business note about Lucas calling Clint to report some friends of his had a lead on how Christova managed to get out of the Bay Area undetected. She added Clint would meet us at the pizza place to supply details. She ended with an order to keep the clips coming. I did as ordered. We lost by two runs, but we were in it to the end.

Samira showed them a clip Lynn did with Clint Jr in her arms during our team meeting at the end after we congratulated the Cardinals.

“I’m proud as hell of the way every one of you girls competed right down to the end,” Lynn said. “I hope I can get another chance to coach you all again sometime in the future. God bless you all! That was one fine ass game!”

Lynn’s fist pumping finish had the girls standing and pumping fists with her. When the clip ended, I simply shrugged with a smile. “What Lynn said goes double for me. Let’s go get some pizza.”

* * *

At the pizza place, all of my crew attended to congratulate the girls. In addition, Denny showed with Lucas and Clint, with Crue’s minions, Gus, Quays, and Silvio. Even Laredo walked in, smiling and shaking hands. The gang was all here and they had their game faces on. Their approach quieted our celebration somewhat, but the girls’ parents were morose anyway. It didn’t register with them their kids came back from a 12 to 2 disaster to compete to the last out, and have fun while they overcame all kinds of crap. Al was happy, and exuberant in retelling the tale of how they nearly won the game. She didn’t take credit for initiating the light hearted comment that started it all. Although that works to cement her in as a great teammate, I’ll remember what really sparked the A’s to their comeback. For now, we sipped, ate, and listened to very entertaining renditions of what went on through the game. After a while, even the morose parents perked up.

We waited until most of the parents and kids hit the road, leaving a couple of Al’s closest friends, her fellow team smartasses: Kelly, and Wendy. Al approached us with a request I could see was eating her up from the inside out. “Kelly’s parents want me and Wendy to spend the night. Can I… please?”

Lora looked to me. She wasn’t one to ignore reality. “You have your iPhone. We want a FaceTime with you once every hour, even if it means I might hear strains of the great Beeper in the background (Beeper being my pet name for Justin Bieber whom Al loves, and whom I’d rather open a vein than listen to). We will be on call at all hours. Any problems, let us know, and I’ll be there. Keep your iPhone with you at every moment, kid.”

Al bowed slightly, with her ‘Yes Dark Lord’ usual comment. She gripped my hand in both hers. “You were great today, Dad. Thanks for a great season.”

I covered her hands with my other free one. “I loved every moment of it. Even if I have to give up coaching by popular demand, I promise to be at every practice and game.”

“I know you will,” Al said with conviction, easing her hands away, and hugging her Mom. “I’ll see you both tomorrow. It’s Saturday without practices or a game. Whatever will we do, Dark Lord?”

I grinned while glancing around at my fellow monster squad faces. “I’ll think of something.”

“You better not! We have tickets to the A’s game at one,” Al warned.

I leaned into my chair, arms folded. “We’ll see, depending on how well you do tonight checking in, my little lamb.”

“That’s blackmail! There will be blood!” Having lanced me with the usual Cruella Deville line, Al left in a huff with Lora following.

“I’ll get her cleaned up, and with a bag of necessities for the overnighter, DL,” Lora said. “You’ll be coming home tonight, right?”

I glanced at Denny. He nodded. “I will indeed, and God help you. The Dark Lord cometh on a night uninhibited by children.”

Lora turned to plant both hands on the table, eyeballing me with a smile. “Ooooohhhhh… I’m so scared, Dark Lord. Bring it!”

With that said, Lora twisted away to join a giggling Al.

“Wow, you really put them on notice, DL,” Clint said.

“Don’t go there, ‘man from nowhere’. We all know where your mind is ranging. Apparently, some new information has placed us a hell of a lot closer to moving on Cristova. I’ve been waiting patiently for the payoff. It’s been a long time since we put the minion overlords in charge of the dreaded Oaktown Cartel. So far we have a little under half of Oakland raising fists when they hear the name mentioned. It’s been a surprisingly easy takeover.”

“With Gus’s ploy of champions fighting for control over disputed territory, I’d say it’s been easy for everyone but you,” Denny said. “What are you now… five and oh?”

“At least we’ve been keeping the number of dead at a minimum.” Yeah, we’re taking over control like in that Brad Pitt movie, Troy, where they send him out to fight the other army’s champion instead of fighting a costly war. Of course I have to hear how far I fall short of Mr. Pitt in the looks department… constantly. Besides, my adversaries are amateurs.

“Clint can tell you,” Gus said. “Crue hounds us without mercy for clips of our Oaktown Cartel business. I think she’s planning on a coup to takeover operations in a month or so with the baby strapped to her chest.”

“She has me watching the whole damn Sopranos series night after night,” Clint admitted. “Last night at dinner, she stuffed gauze rolls or something in her cheeks, and turned on me from the sink, talking like Marlon Brando in the Godfather. Gus is right, guys. Lynn’s out of control.”

Oh boy, it was many moments before any of us could speak after that word picture.

“You punks think this is funny,” Clint said with a straight face. “If I hear one more threat when I don’t jump to do her bidding fast enough of ‘how would you like to sleep with the fishes’, I’m going to eat a bullet right in front of my son.”

“Okay, ‘man from nowhere’,” Lucas cut into the comedy act. “I have two Marine buddies who have flown from LA to join us. They own a security firm in Anaheim, called Red Dragon Security. It’s a little like Blackwater. They provide protection for executives and workers abroad. That anti-American jackass, Michael Moronas, tried to hire them because he would be in Lagos, Nigeria for a time, aboard a yacht with the name Orion. We all know who owns the Orion. What we didn’t know until my friends called me was that Moronas flew his long haul private jet out of San Francisco with passengers, because the asshole wanted Red Dragon to provide a security force to fly out of SF with him. This happened at the exact time we had an all-points bulletin on Christova, trying to nail her before she could leave the area.”

That explains how we missed her. “The bastard flew Christova away right under our noses.”

“Lucas’s Marine buddies told Moronas they wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire after the multitudes of times he’s insulted the troops, and refused the job,” Denny said. “Our Christova alert reached them too late, but they’ve followed Moronas’s trail since then, checking when he’d be returning to the states after his vacation stay aboard Christova’s yacht. He’ll be in LA, and the best part is he has a warrant out for his arrest for assault from one of his slave laborers helping him with his films. He thought he was above the law, and didn’t show for the court date. The bonding company ate the big one, and they want him brought in.”

“I see that smirk,” Clint said. “You have a plan behind those beady eyes. Spit it out. You’ve prepped us enough. He’s been stringing me along ever since Lucas clued him in.”

“We’re heading to the Gulf of Guinea in a matter of days. Moronas will be arriving in LA in exactly two weeks from now. I want you and Crue to apprehend that traitorous asshole, using our Hollywood Bounty Hunters in a TV episode. Use Clint again as the federal agent taking him into custody. This will be high profile, and hard as hell to pull off. The problem is he’s the most famous traitorous asshole on the planet. He can’t just disappear… unfortunately. Moronas knows a hell of a lot more about the Orion yacht. I want you to take Dev and Jesse with you, along with Crue’s treasured minions. They know the area intimately down there. If this won’t work for you, Clint, say so now. We know what you’ve been through despite the disrespectful jokes about your lovely wife.”

“I wish I could go with the other pirates, but this is a plan I can sell with me in it to Lynn. The bad part is you have to lose your love child expectations about Moronas. We need freedom to educate him, and turn his ass from the dark side. Anything less will bring crappy results.”

“That’s why we’re here, Clint. Laredo is zeroing in on an island we may be able to hide from our detractors. Naturally, we will have our own extradition code, meaning none. I confess there might be a time when we’re all on the island with the way our government handles threats to homeland security.”

Lucas pounded the table. “Hell yeah! If it takes us having to go into exile while fighting for the United States of America, then bring it on! They’ll have to nuke us from orbit.”

“That won’t happen, Lucas,” Denny said, leaning into the table. “There will be no casualties on our side without retribution unknown in the states. Laredo has the targets. We won’t go easy, my friends. I will take the first hit! I vow if I see it coming, I will front it with everything I have. I confess that even with Lucas’s contact with Red Dragon Security, this op may go off the rails into unknown territory. I trust his take on this security firm with my life. They’re the real deal – God fearing Americans and Marines. Anyone uncomfortable about the future, speak now.”

Silence. Deadly and forbidding. It had to be asked, but no one at the table made a sound. We were in for the long haul. We admittedly couldn’t dance worth a shit, sing, or pretend we cared for the refuse of society. We staked our lives on the real Americans, working their asses off, only to be taxed for the downtrodden gray zone of need.

Two men entered, dressed in black and slate gray business suits, short cropped gray hair, white walled on the sides, with lined faces showing the wear of years, both lean and a little under six feet tall. The one in black spotted Lucas waving, smiled, and gestured to his companion. They approached with eyes taking in every detail of their surroundings. Lucas hugged each one while the rest of us stood.

Lucas turned toward the table, introducing each of us, before gesturing at his friends. “This guy in black is Charles Bucholz, and his partner, Jan Sallaz. We chewed some of the same ground together in country, long ago in a hell hole we should have made into a parking lot. They own Red Dragon Security.”

“Just Chuck,” Bucholz said in a gravelly voice while shaking hands.

“Call me Sal,” his partner greeted us in a pleasant bass tone as he in turn shook with each of us. “We’re mighty dry, Lucas.”

Lucas grinned. He grabbed a couple chairs while we made room for them with the rest of us behemoths. Lucas poured them a beer. “I brought the guys up to date.”

“Sorry about not getting the memo on that rat bastard, Moronas,” Sal said. “Chuck and I would have taken the job, flown here, and thrown Moronas and that Christova bitch onto the runway after we disposed of the security on board.”

“We’re here to set things right,” Chuck added. “Hell, if we had known about the bond issued, when the scum sucking dog missed his court date, we would have snatched Moronas into custody ourselves. If we hadn’t said some unfortunate things to Fathead when he tried to hire us, we may have been able to approach him about the security gig when he returns to the states in a couple weeks.”

“Lucas told us you guys mentor that TV crew, Hollywood Bounty Hunters. Chuck and I like the idea of busting the prick for a TV audience. We really don’t do bond work anyway. If we can help with logistics, setup, or security, count us in. It must be fun helping those TV people. We saw the episode where they handed over Gus Denova to the FBI. Great stuff.”

Sal couldn’t understand what we were all laughing about suddenly. Gus gave him a little wave. “I’m Gus Denova. Clint and John were the FBI Agents who took me into custody. I’ve been rehabilitated.”

“It’s a bit confusing, but we’ll have to explain things in small doses, Sal,” Lucas said. “We’d appreciate the help down in your area. We’re hoping our interrogation and director supreme will be able to lead the operation.”

“That’s the woman you call Cruella Deville, right,” Chuck asked. He looked around our table. “Good Lord… Lucas sent us the vid of the game show she did on those BBC terrorist supporters. She’s incredible. I hope she gets to spend some quality time with Michael Moronas. How’s Lynn doing, Clint? We heard she’s your wife, and just gave birth to a son under very bad conditions. Lucas said she gutted a terrorist, and shot another one through the head with the first terrorist’s gun. Damn! You lucky bastard.”

After the enjoyment of Chuck’s Cruella Deville appreciation, Clint dived right in. “She’s fine, and if she gets aced out of any more operations, she’ll gut me… her words. Yeah, Lynn is my soulmate… unfortunately for the rest of the world. It will be great having backup in LA while we bust this Moronas jerk. I heard what he said about snipers, and the people fighting for his right to mouth off as a fat windbag, who is frankly worthless. If ever the universal Jihad works, Moronas will be the first one beheaded with a dull butterknife. In answer to your appeal, Mikey will definitely get some reeducation via my lovely wife.”