HARD CASE (A John Harding Novel - Special Ops, Cage Fighter, CIA Agent) (8 page)

“I’ll check on places around Skyline High Jafar can stay at. We’ll make the government pay for it since you’ll be using him as an interpreter.”

“I can afford it anyway but thanks.” I open the door and get out while Jafar hurries around to the trunk in anticipation of getting his stuff. Tess popped the trunk. A few seconds later Tess speeds off, leaving me and Jafar at the curb.

Chapter Five

Preliminaries

“Is Ms. Connagher mad, Sir?”

“Call me John. I don’t know. She gets upset with me regularly. We have a rather uneasy business relationship. Will you be okay living on your own if Tess finds a place for you near the high school? I’ll check on you regularly. If I find you partying I’ll slap you down like a two bit party pimp.”

Jafar’s eyes widen but he follows me inside my house without another word. Inside, I give him a quick tour. He’s impressed with my home theater setup. “Sweet. Can I come over and watch movies?”

“We’ll have to get you a car. You’re welcome to stop over anytime as long as you lock up properly.”

“You were kidding about slapping me down, weren’t you?”

I gesture for him to follow me into the kitchen where I get him a soda and we both sit at my table. “Best not to assume that, kid. I need you on the straight and narrow while we do business together. I’ll go in with you on Monday and let the school in on what’s happening. You’re eighteen so we should be okay. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good. This young woman I’ll be looking after is around your age. I don’t need you to do anything overt. I need someone her age to be entertaining enough the people around us will be paying more attention to the two of you rather than me. I’ll be up front with you. There are some Islamo nut-bags who want to kill her. This will be dangerous.”

“It’s better than jail.”

“Not if you get a knife in your gut or a bullet in the head.”

The kid grins at me. “Are you recruiting me or talking me out of it, Mr. Harding?”

“It’s John. I’m making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Will you teach me how to fight?”

“You’re not planning on doing anymore jail time, are you?”

“Not if I can help it. That place was scary.”

“It’s meant to be. The cops don’t want you back. Do you have someone you can call to catch up on your schoolwork?”

“I can get the assignments off the school website. Will you teach me how to fight?”

The kid’s persistent. “Fighting’s for idiots but I’ll teach you how to avoid a fight and when to fight if you can’t avoid it.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“Nope, I’m nuts. There’s a difference.”

“Can I watch you fight tonight?”

“Maybe another time.” I didn’t know how the fight with Rankin would end. I know how I wanted it to end but you don’t always get what you want. “I noticed your Mom packed a notebook computer. I have a DSL router. Do you have WiFi?”

He nodded. I scribbled the access password down on a piece of paper. “When Belkin8007 comes up on your list of networks that’s me. I don’t have to caution you on misusing my Internet access, do I?”

“I may be a little dense, John, but I’m not stupid.”

“Good. I’m going to go get some sleep. Help yourself to anything around you feel like eating or drinking.”

My inner alarm clock chimed at 7PM. After throwing on a black sleeveless t-shirt and loose black gym pants I went downstairs. The kid was watching TV, so I waved on my way by and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. I took it with me into the workout room I had set up. Jafar followed me in. He watched me do my stretches with an overly solemn look. When I put on gloves and began working the heavy bag with kicks and punches he moved around constantly for better angles on what I was doing. I never stop once I start – forty minutes straight on days I’m fighting and an hour on days when I’m not. Part of it’s physical but most is mental discipline. Rankin will go for the takedown when I face him. His specialty is grappling – ground and pound. I’m fast enough to make him pay for getting me down but it’s pretty tough to avoid it. I have a few new adlibs for Rankin to enjoy while we’re rollin’ around.

“You’re not even breathing hard,” my young apprentice marvels when I’m toweling off.

“I better not be or I’ll get my ass handed to me tonight.” I move over to the bag again. “If you want to get some work in whenever I’m not here, do this.”

I throw combinations into the bag with exaggerated slowness so Jafar can see what I’m doing. I deliver each punch rolling and pivoting my body into it. Then I grip the bag, hitting it alternately with each knee at three different heights. “Don’t overthrow. Explode into the bag with measured quickness. The snap at the end is where the rubber meets the road, pinpointing all your power at one point. Try it.”

I hand him my gloves and he puts them on awkwardly. He impresses me with his quickness. You can’t teach quickness. With a few adjustments to how he pivots and delivers, Jafar delivers punches and knees with rapidly improving style. I nod at him appreciably when he stops. The kid’s a natural.

“I…I feel like… I’m dying,” he gasps, bent over with gloves on knees.

“You’re in good enough shape to go a lot longer. Rest and go again to build your stamina. You just have to train your mind to believe it. I don’t weight train on days I’m fighting but let me show you the weight exercises I want you to start with.”

After thirty minutes of taking Jafar through a tough but doable routine I call it quits for him. “No use in screwing you up so you can’t work out again tomorrow. Remember, when you work the bag technique means everything. Rolling into your punches and knees with snap has to come like second nature. They have to feel as familiar as breathing.”

“When will you need me to help you with your job?”

“I’ll probably find out tonight.”

“From Ms. Connagher?”

“Yeah, Tess is a prospective piece of a puzzle I’m working on for business purposes. I’m trying to put together an agency of sorts. I plan on making a good deal of money on this new escorting venture and it might be time to cut back on my street fighting gig.”

“Just cut back?”

“It’s in my blood, kid. Pain is a weird thing. Sometimes controlling the pain replaces good sense. I guess that’s where I’m at.”

“I would like to learn how to fight back.” Jafar grinned. “I don’t think I wish to control pain.”

Too bad. Jafar’s got skills. “I’ll teach you to protect yourself. You move well. You’ve got the instincts so with a little practice, self defense won’t be a problem.”

Jafar nodded his understanding. “Have you ever been arrested for fighting? It must be illegal.”

“There are so many bigwigs in the audience I doubt getting arrested is a problem. If someone gets killed though you can bet the elite will hit the road and someone will have to take the fall. My guess is it will blow over real quick. Without the side bets, the matches would go nowhere. You have to have money to make money on our little circuit.”

“You must have seen the movie ‘Hard Times’, right?”

The kid’s got me. That backstreet depression era fight movie with Charles Bronson as a bare knuckle brawler is one of my favorites. “Yeah, that’s a favorite of mine. I take it you’ve seen it, so you know the main premise – it’s nothing personal, it’s just business.”

“I’ve watched it seven times.”

I really like this kid. I’ve seen it twenty times. “Is that what made you want to learn how to fight?”

“Partly. Watching you in the cell take on the scariest dudes I’ve ever seen has a lot to do with it.”

“I’ll tell you something. If you’re not lookin’ for trouble most of the time it doesn’t find you. I’m a magnet for trouble… always have been, so I roll with it. It won’t hurt you any to know how to fight but I want to make sure you don’t go out looking for trouble once you have a little knowledge. I don’t figure you will.”

“Have you ever lost a fight?”

“No, but neither has the guy I’m fighting tonight. One of us won’t be able to answer no to your question tomorrow. Rankin’s been shooting his mouth off about me. Win or lose I’m plannin’ on getting me a piece.”

“I hope you win. I don’t want to lose my job before I’ve even worked a day.”

Good. The kid’s not sentimental. “That’s the way to think about it. This ain’t no Rocky movie. Rankin probably has as much right to win as I do. Tonight’s a little more than business for me and that’s not good, but I’ll get over it. Getting a little mad-on can work for you. Too much and you make stupid mistakes. One mistake can be too much when I’m mixing it up with a guy like Rankin. The betting will be big.”

“Does Ms. Connagher like to watch you fight?”

“I doubt it. I think my partner Tommy has it right. She keeps coming out to see if I get my head busted one night. I believe Tess thinks I need to be taken down a peg.”

“I can tell she likes you.”

“We have some history but we come from two different worlds. She doesn’t care much for the way I do things. Tess also has a bad habit of poking into places hazardous to her health.”

“So you two are a matched set.”

I grin as the kid covers up like he’s defending an anticipated beat down. He peeks out after a moment before straightening up.

“Sorry, did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, very funny, kid.” I looked up at the clock. It was nearly eleven o’clock. “Go watch some TV. Tommy will be here pretty quick.”

“I love your 1080P HD LCD.”

“I’m attached to it myself. Don’t mess with my settings.” Jafar laughed and nodded his head in acquiescence. I followed him out and went into the kitchen. With a bottle of water in my hand from the refrigerator I sat down at the table. It wasn’t more than ten minutes later Tommy let himself in. He’s the only one with a key. Tommy gave me a little salute before heading to my fridge for a beer. “Can I have one of those?”

“Sure John. Let me know whether you want to be buried or cremated after Rankin rips your head off. I thought you said all business tonight.”

I was chuckling at his upbraid of my beer request. Tommy’s face looked a little grim so I answered. “All business, T. How come you’re having one?”

“I ain’t fightin’. I’m hopin’ it’ll calm my nerves a bit. Rankin’s a monster. I hear he eats puppies right in front of the kids that own them, and then he eats the kids.”

I bust out laughing. Tommy joins me for a few moments before draining his beer.

“I could use another, John. Want to drive me?”

“Sure, I’ll drive.”

“Rankin wants to kill you,” Tommy tells me while acquiring his second beer. “He wasn’t too happy with you calling him a ‘gay polar bear’.”

Sighing and nodding my head in agreement I shrugged my shoulders. “Yeah, that wasn’t too smart. He shouldn’t have been making jokes about my Mama to get us on board with the fight. All he had to do was ask.”

Tommy laughed. “You don’t know who your Mama was.”

“Yeah, but if I did I figured I’d be really pissed.”

More laughter. “Okay, John, you got me loose. Let’s get over to the warehouse.”

“Come say hi to the kid I hired for my new bodyguard gig. He’s the one I thought might keep the young Afghani girl Samira interested and eyes off me.”

“Sure, we have a few minutes.”

Tommy follows me into the TV room. Jafar leaps off the couch, looking at the two of us uneasily.

“Kinda jumpy, ain’t he?”

“He’ll grow on you Tommy. Jafar, this is Tommy Sands, my manager and partner.”

They shake hands and I motion for Jafar to sit back down. “Relax kid, we have to go now. Remember what I said about my TV settings. Don’t let anyone in – not even your own mother.”

“I won’t, John. Good luck.”

“He’s goin’ to need it tonight, Jafar. Nice meeting you.”

“Yes Sir, same here.”

With my equipment bag packed, including a change of clothes, I chauffeured us without speaking. Tommy knows I don’t need to be babied before a fight but I prefer silence on the way. It’s an overcast, dark night in the East Bay with rolling gray clouds tossed around by coastal winds. The September Indian Summer is over as our ocean breeze air conditioner cools the Bay into the low sixties. I like it. Fightin’ heat in the middle of a closed up warehouse with no ventilation, while tradin’ punches with some guy who looks like Bigfoot, can drain anybody’s get up and go.

Tommy looks over at me as I ease into the line of cars on the dingy, paper strewn street. Nobody cares what happens in this area of dilapidated warehouses and salvage yards on the lower side of International Boulevard. It used to be East 14
th
Street before the namby pamby politicians decided Oakland needed a cosmopolitan touch. They renamed one of Oakland’s thoroughfares spanning the city’s good, bad, and ugly with a diversity tagline. It didn’t change a thing. The bad is still bad. The good is still good and the ugly is well… still ugly. The only thing name changing East 14
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Street did was cost all the businesses thousands of dollars in signage, business paraphernalia, and simplicity.