HARD CASE (A John Harding Novel - Special Ops, Cage Fighter, CIA Agent) (24 page)

“I did. Your kids’ proposed contract put me into contact with Darin at an opportune time. We’re discussing a less than stellar jerk he’s come into contact with.”

Mrs. Sparks nodded her head, a slight downturn prevalent at her mouth as I spoke. “Terry Nelson… I bet money it’s Terry Nelson. I saw him stop at your house, Darin. What you want to fool around with that no good shit? I heard the kids sayin’ you been skippin’ school. What’s got into you, boy?”

Darin stared down at the walkway.

“Darin and I will be working on that. You know Nelson, huh?”

“We grew up together. He and those other 38
th
Ave gangbangin’ bastards made everyone’s life miserable. Most guys he crewed with are dead or in prison from back then. I’ve heard you’ve had a run in with him before, John. Word was you broke his arm.”

“Terry played the thug card one night with a couple tourists I was escorting. I had to adjust him a little. Darin and I are going to discuss how I might be able to convince Terry to leave our little neighborhood alone.”

Mrs. Sparks chuckled and turned to go inside. “Yeah, you do that, John. Thanks for watchin’ my two.”

“Anytime. C’mon, Darin. We’ll go down to your house and work this out.”

“You broke Nelson’s arm?”

I nod when we’re back on the sidewalk heading for Darin’s house. “I tuned him up when we shared a cell the other night too. Maybe he’s using you to get back at me.”

“He got somethin’ planned for tonight, John. A bunch of us are supposed to cause some trouble at the Square. You know… make some noise… push some stuff down… draw attention. Then we split. Nelson say he give us fifty each.”

Well thump my head and call me Rudolf. Coincidence land is over. Chardin has someone on the inside. My mind’s racing with what the hell he would want to distract us for if not to kill Samira. Why go for an elaborate ruse unless he has inside info on Denny, me, and this whole operation? If not for the twins contracting me for a beat-down on Darin I’d be in Chardin’s crosshairs tonight without a clue. Hell, I don’t have a clue now.

“John?” Darin’s looking at me in my new trancelike state worriedly.

“Sorry, Darin. I drifted away for a moment. Did Nelson say where he planned to put your crew in action?” We stopped at his front porch. I kept an eye on the street for approaching cars. This would be an inopportune time for Nelson to arrive. There was no way in hell I would use a ten-year-old as bait in a ploy to corner Chardin. That left me with one option – Nelson would be going bye-bye the moment I got my hands on him. “What’s Nelson coming over here for now if your gig’s not until six?”

“He wants me to carry something in a pack tonight when we do this.” Darin opened his front door and motioned me inside. “He said because I’m the youngest nobody would look at me twice and the cops can’t do nothin’ about me.”

We sit down at his kitchen table in a kitchen that looks a lot like mine. Most houses on the street shared many similar characteristics. “So Terry will be coming over here himself to give you this pack he wants you to carry?”

Darrin nodded. “He said it was too important to let the other kids in on. They’re older than me and might get arrested. I’m s’posed to carry it with me like it was my idea and not say anything about it.”

“How the hell you get mixed up in this, Darin? Damn kid, your Mom’s great. Take it from someone who never had one. Why screw around with Nelson and these other older kids?”

Darin stared down at the table. “You don’t know how it is, John. The older kids don’t mess with me if I do what Nelson says. I don’t do what I’m told there ain’t no place to hide. They’ll cap my ass or even my Mom.”

The fog lifted. I’ll have to make a few adjustments in the area when I get clear of my immediate problems. If Chardin recruited Nelson then the gang problem around here needed attention by more than Oakland’s police department. The pack Nelson wanted Darin to carry had my alarm bells going off in a big way.

“Does Nelson come to your door?”

“Not usually, but he tol’ me we need to talk first so he’s comin’ in. Maybe you better take off now, John.”

“I’ll stick around. When Nelson gets here, let him in. I’ll take it from there. If Terry has what I think he has in that pack he wants to give you, I’m going to take him along with me. No need for you to concern yourself further in it than that. You’ll be out of the picture from now on. I’ll fix your problem with the rest of his crew when I get done helping Terry see the light. You go to school from now on. Just tell the others you’re waitin’ to hear from Nelson.”

“Yeah but what about when he gets back. I’ll… oh. He ain’t comin’ back.”

“Like I said, Darin, you’re out of this. Just let Terry in and...” I hear a blown out speaker system rattling houses on the street as it approaches. “There he is now I’ll bet. If you’re having second thoughts about answering the door I’ll do it for you.”

Darin’s mouth sets in a grim line. “I hate his guts. I’ll let him in.”

I nod and walk over to the side of his entrance the door will hide from view. I hated like hell letting Darin answer the door but getting my hands on that pack could mean the difference between life and death for both of us. Nelson banged on the door. Terry did gang and prison time all his putrid life. I don’t know nor care what he would have ended up as if he’d been brought up different. His days of wine and roses ends today. I ain’t giving him over to Denny or the cops. This is our third and last dust up – there would be no redemption for this career thug.

Chapter Fourteen

Complications

Darin glanced at me and then opened the door. He backed away from the entrance, stepping aside for Nelson without a word. Terry strutted in with a kid’s brown and black backpack dangling from his left hand. My left hook to his lower abdomen buckled him to the floor without a sound other than his ribs cracking and breath jetting from his mouth in explosive fashion. I set aside the dropped backpack that Terry let go of in order to clamp onto his damaged middle. Darin closed the door, his eyes reflecting the shock of seeing Nelson rolling helplessly in a crimped up ball on his floor.

“Do you have any duct tape, Darin?”

“Yeah… hold on.” Darin ran into the kitchen where I heard him rifling through drawers and cupboards. He came back with a half used roll of my favorite thug wrap. He handed it to me with only a slight tremor in his hand.

I duct taped Terry’s hands, feet, legs, and mouth. Then I taped his feet up to his hands. He was wheezing in enough breath to groan behind the duct tape on his mouth. Nelson’s eyes nearly popped out when he saw me. I could tell he wanted to bargain but that ship already sailed. The backpack was sealed to keep Darin from checking out the contents. I took out my knife and sliced the material along the zipper on top. Having some experience with bombs and bomb makers I could tell this explosive device encased within foam packing would have taken out half the street where detonated. It was professionally built with I’m hoping Chardin’s signature on it.

“Is… is that a bomb, John?” The realization Nelson wanted Darin as an unwilling suicide bomber cast a grim pallor over the ten-year-old’s face. It seemed like a year ago I was laughing at the twins wanting to hire me for a beat-down. I put what I wanted to be a comforting hand on Darin’s shoulder. He turned, ramming tightly against me, locking his hands around my waist.

“I…I don’t want to die, John.” Darin had guts – his voice hardly wavered.

With my hands clamped reassuringly on his shoulders Darin released his death-grip and I knelt down in front of him. His lower lip quivered but he kept his mouth tightly clamped shut. This boy had found out early what usually happens when you cry in front of people. He sucked it up and looked me in the eyes. I didn’t smile or start spewing a lot of crapola about how everything was going to be okay.

“You’ll have to trust me, Darin. I won’t lie to you. Be straight with me like you’ve been doing and the only way anything happens to you will be over my dead body. Think about it. Nelson’s the only one knows you were part of this and he won’t be tellin’ anybody anything.” I took out my cell-phone and held up the scans of Chardin for Darin to see. “Have you seen this guy anywhere? These are all the same guy with different looks.”

Darin checked each one out with ten year old intensity. His mouth widened slightly when he saw Chardin with a close cropped beard and short hair. “Nelson jogged over to a car that pulled up across the street from where we were. This guy was drivin’ it.”

“Are you sure, kid?”

“Yeah, I got a good look at his face while he talked to Terry.”

“Do you remember what he was driving?”

“It was one of those small black Ford SUV’s.”

“An Escape?”

“No… an Edge. It was a Ford Edge.

“Do you remember anything else about the Ford or if there were other passengers?”

“It had a roof rack and dark tinted windows. I’m not sure if he was alone.”

“Good. I have to go help Nelson move his car. If any of his crew call, tell them you don’t know where Nelson is and you’re waiting for him to contact you. If they give you any shit, call me.” I wrote down my cell number on a card and gave it to him. “You stay here today. Don’t go outside and don’t scare the crap out of your Mom when she comes home.”

“I won’t. Thanks… thanks for helpin’ me.”

“Actually, you’ve helped me more than I’ve helped you. I’ll try and catch up in the next few days. I’m planning a neighborhood redevelopment program when I get clear of a few immediate problems. I might be able to make your walk home from school less thrilling.”

Nelson started rolling around grunting for attention so I kicked him in the head. I wasn’t ready for an interview with Terry just yet. “Do you have an old tarp or anything… even a sheet would do?”

Darin thought for a moment and then jogged into the back of his house. He returned with a ratty looking brown bed cover. “How about this?”

“Perfect.” I confiscated Nelson’s car keys, pocket contents, and 9mm Beretta before rolling him loosely in the blanket and duct taping it in the middle. I hoisted him up over my shoulder with the bomb pack held gingerly in the hand I had wrapped over my bundle. “Get the door for me, Darin. Stay put. I’ll be in touch.”

Darin nodded and opened the door. I took a quick look around. No one was out on the street or sidewalk. I eased through Darin’s door with Nelson on my shoulder and his car key ready in my other hand. His ride, an electric blue 1978 Cad Deville, had a huge trunk. I opened it to find one of those mammoth subwoofers blocking the area next to the latch so I heaved Terry in past it amongst food wrappers and assorted trash. I closed the trunk and called Denny.

“What’s up, John?”

“New development. I’ll let you in on it if we can agree on the conclusion.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Gang-banger, Chardin, IED. We meet somewhere quiet for a discussion and then the gang-banger moves on to the happy hunting ground. If you’re not pleased with the conclusion say so now and you get nothin’.”

“You must think I’ve turned into a pussy in my old age, Harding. I’ll meet you at building Z about an hour and a half… okay?”

“Sounds good. See you then.” I’ll drive around somewhere no one will notice me and give Denny a chance to get things ready. I hope Nelson enjoys his quiet time.

Building Z was a San Leandro warehouse that doubled as a safe-house and interrogation facility for the Company’s Bay Area encounters. Yes, folks, some things have to be done behind closed doors. Sound proofed inside with a pull up door for vehicle entry Z made a perfect spot for emergencies like this. One of the small things I do for my money is assist and clean up when we have a bad guy who has gotten involved with terror plots we want all the details of. They usually think some Nancy from accounting will ask them nicely where the next religion of peace plot will be hatching. They get Denny’s special interviewers and me instead. They tell us what we want without any publicity before vanishing without a trace. Yes, we’re judge, jury, and executioner because we don’t care if our subjects had a bad childhood. We know what they have done and what they plan on doing. If you make it to building Z for an interview, you didn’t get there for stealing a loaf of bread.

Guys like Denny take responsibility for the distasteful stuff so people can still shop in the malls without wondering whether they’ll get blown into a million pieces or dead from some nerve agent. That’s why I would have been real disappointed the other night at Tess’s house if I’d had to end my relationship with Denny. When it comes to interrogation Jack Bauer is the Easter Bunny next to Denny. I’m good but my imagination leaves a little to be desired. Denny is a real innovator. Most times he doesn’t have to do much to get what we need. Our interviewees get impressed real quick once they know the facts. My old friend Nelson will sing like a songbird in about five minutes or less.

The door’s already open for me when I arrive in Nelson’s Cad. Lucas Blake waves at me from the door as I drive past and then shuts it up tight. Blake is an old school chum of Denny’s – old school meaning unauthorized interrogation 101. He’s five foot eight inches of black rawhide. He’s a product of South Central LA, where the judge gave him the option of four years in the Marine Corps or seven in prison back during the Vietnam War when Lucas was only sixteen. Blake did two tours in ‘Nam and drew the attention of Company men there. He’s been with them ever since. Blake has three passions in life: the United States of America, the Marine Corps, and his family. Company business is just something Blake does to keep his other passions safe.