Renegade World: Future Past (25 page)

Yes. I know both of them. Jack Bear and Rhett Johnstone,
but I don’t think they’ll recognize me.

They’re our next opponents. I played against them two
years ago. Rhett must be forty-five. He’s a powerful guy, but I’ve got four
inches on him now. He was able to muscle me before, but Aaron stole the ball
from him more than a few times. Jack’s a good passer, and he’s got a good shot
if you give him enough time and don’t get a hand in his face. He doesn’t jump
very high, so even though he’s about six two, I think you can try for a couple
of blocks. Take four or five shots if he starts sagging off. Just don’t make
them all.

Got it.
She pointed out at the official.
He just
waved Jack and Rhett onto the court.
She stood up, and in her best Jersey
accent she growled,
“Let’s trounce deez guys.”

Not so thick Naami.
He walked out onto the court
with her trailing him.

Rhett grinned at Thor as he stuck out his big hand. “You
got bigger, Thor, but your partner shrunk. Who’s Mighty Mouse?”

“My cousin—“

“They call me Under Dog.” She stuck out her hand, and Rhett
gripped it hard, showing surprise as she squeezed back.

“Rhett Johnstone.”

Jack stuck his hand, “Jack Bear.”

“Mr. Bear, you got your track shoes on?”

Jack laughed.

Jack and Rhett won the coin toss. As Jack brought the ball
past the three-point line, Naami batted his dribble down the court. She got to the
ball before him and stayed a step ahead of him as she drove for the basket.
Jack jumped as she threw the ball over his outstretched arms. Thor grabbed it
and slammed it.

As Naami ran back up court, she heard Rhett say, “That was
the luckiest bad shot or the best no-look pass I’ve ever seen.”

As Jack brought the ball up, Naami hounded him. She swiped
at the ball constantly, almost knocking it away once. Jack threw the ball into
Rhett, and she sagged off Jack when Rhett tried to back Thor toward the basket. As
soon as Rhett turned away from her, she streaked in and stole the ball. Jack took an angle to keep her away from an easy right-handed layup, so she swerved left as she reached the free throw line and flipped the ball under his arm. It bounced high off the glass, and Thor stuffed it.

Naami, fast break if you want, but don’t make it look like
a highlight reel.

They won that game 22 to 12 when Naami pulled up on a fast
break and swished a 12-footer.

Jack and Rhett packed up the folding chairs after watching
Naami and Thor lose their next game. “I guess we’re getting old for these games.” Rhett pointed out
on the court. “All four of them can run circles around us. That Thor can run
for a big guy. He’ll play college ball somewhere.”

Jack looked back at Naami as they walked away. “If that kid
grows anywhere close to six feet, he could play college ball too. He's a leaper, but he
gave away over a foot to the guy he was guarding.”

A
braham, I think it’s time to turn what we have over
to the adults.

I concur. We have the transaction from Children of Abel’s
bank account to Mary Connolly’s bank account for fifty thousand dollars two
days before the attack. And we have the transaction from the bank account used
by the Chihuahua Next Generation Drug Cartel to Children of Abel’s bank account
the day before for the same amount. We also have an email from Mary Connolly to
Children of Abel that says she agreed to kill you and Raul for fifty thousand
dollars up front and a hundred thousand more if she killed both of you.

I don’t think we’re ever going to find out why a drug
cartel would want to kill me…or Raul.

It seems more likely that the Cartel would want to kill
Raul. He and his parents came from Mexico.

Maybe I was supposed to be killed just to draw suspicion
from the Cartel. If Billy and Mr. Connolly had succeeded, it might have looked
like Raul was collateral damage.

That is a possibility, Naami.

Or maybe the cartel is a front for someone who wants
revenge against my parents. I don’t know why anyone would dislike my parents;
they’re scientists. OK. I give up. Put together a message with all of the
evidence, and send it to Jack Bear, the FBI, and Karl Hunter.

Naami, shall I sign it as El Gato Renegado?

Yes. It gives it more credibility.
Several of El Gato
Renegado’s tips had resulted in arrests.

Also, include the phone records between Mary Connolly
and that drug dealer, Johnny Olinsky. I know we can’t prove it, but I think
Mrs. Connolly drugged her husband. We know he had drugs in his system that
night. We just can’t tie the two together. Include this suspicion in the email,
but admit that we can’t tie it end to end. Maybe they can get something out of
Olinsky.

Abraham, are our sleepers in all the police department’s
routers?

Yes.

Wake them up. Here’s what I want you to…

I
n the back seat, as they rode to Devil’s Lake, Naami and
Raul reviewed the stage diagrams for the Lake Country Rimfire Challenge. They
had studied the course of fire together yesterday and would walk the stages at
the range before they shot, but Naami wanted to finalize the strategy before
they got there.

“OK, Raul. Stage one.”

“Stage one is easy because only the stop plate is
rectangular, and it’s in the center between the other four round plates. The
pistol box is 15 yards from the stop plate and right of it.  The start stake is
directly between the pistol box and the rightmost twelve-inch plate. I think there
are two strategies that make sense.”

“I agree. The least distance pattern and the pattern with
the fewest vertical changes.” Joe Martinez had taught them to analyze the
placement of multiple targets and how to decide what order to shoot them in. They
had tried out various strategies with five plates at Rhett’s range.

Raul nodded. “We know that we usually shoot faster with
fewer vertical movements unless it increases the distance significantly, and
from the diagram it doesn’t look like there is more than a couple of feet
difference.”

“And in this case, moving the pistol aim from the start stake
straight up to the twelve-inch target should give us a much faster first shot
than moving up and right to take the eight-inch plate first.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Raul frowned. “The first shot
is where you’re usually faster than me.”

Naami shrugged. “By less than a second and all the plates
we shoot are eight inches. You won’t have to be as precise if you shoot the twelve-inch
plate first.”

“So I’ll go straight up from the start stake to the twelve-inch
plate, down and right to the eight-inch plate, sweep all the way straight
across to the other eight-inch plate, up and right to the other twelve-inch
plate…then I can almost go straight right
to shoot the stop plate.”

“For the rifle, we can just do the reverse. Although the
rifle box is 24 yards from the stop plate, the start stake for the rifle is
directly between the rifle box and the left twelve-inch plate.”

Raul nodded. “That makes sense.” He looked at the second
stage. “The second stage has the stop plate behind the start stake. I think we
should go right and take the right ten-inch plate, sweep straight left and take
the twelve-inch plate and ten-inch plate that are at the same level, then back
right and up to the other twelve-inch plate, and straight right to the stop
plate.”

Naami said, “I agree with you on the pistol. For the rifle,
since the left twelve-inch plate is directly behind the rifle start stake, we
take it first, then go left and down to the left twelve-inch plate, then sweep
right and get the two round targets that are at the same level. Then we go back
left and up to get the top plate.”

Joe looked over at his sister. “¿Qué piensas?”

Camila looked into the back seat and shook her head.  “Entiendo
chicos y sus armas, pero Naami está obsesionado con armas, arcos, y las artes
marciales.”

Naami shook her finger at Camila.
Abraham,
I’m
not really obsessed. That would mean I think about guns, bows, and martial arts
unceasingly. I only think about those things for two hours a day. I have lots
of other interests: weight training, basketball, history, geometry,
trigonometry, biology, chemistry, physics, foreign languages, computer
languages—

Naami, I get your point, but I think Raul’s mother
wonders why you don’t do things that other eight-year-old girls typically do.

Because they’re boring.

“Raul, did you figure out the strategy for the third
stage?” She listened to his plan and then nodded.

Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the range’s lot.
Naami grabbed the pistol case with the Buck Mark, and Raul grabbed the case
with the Ruger 10/22. Joe grabbed the backpack with the mags, ammo, and ear
muffs.

A short, stocky man with a gray beard and long gray hair
pulled back into a ponytail walked towards them. He wore a tag that identified
him as George Standing Bear, Challenge Director. He offered his hand to Joe.
“I’m George. You must be Joe Martinez.”

“Yes. Pleased to meet you, George.” Joe pointed to Raul.
“This is Raul.”

The director shook hands with Raul. “This is your first
time competing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’ll walk you two through the stages.” He turned to
Naami. “And you must be Naamah.”

Naami shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Standing
Bear. You can call me Naami.”

“OK, Naami it is, and you call me George.” If you two will
follow me, I’ll show you the three stages. If you had gotten here twenty
minutes ago, you would have been able to practice. About half of the thirty
competitors did that. You two are shooting last in the first stage.”

“How about stage two and three?” asked Naami.

“In those stages the person with the highest combined time from the previous stage
goes first, and the person with the lowest combined time goes last.”

Naami giggled. “Then Raul and I won’t be first.”

He smiled. “Just do your best, and we’ll see. Here’s the
first stage.” He walked them through the three stages, and each one was true to
the advance diagrams that Raul and Naami had studied. The director allowed Raul
and Naami to stand in the pistol and rifle box and each stage and mock-shoot
the stage as if they were holding the pistol or rifle. As Naami finished mock-shooting
the third stage, an obnoxious voice yelled, “In your dreams, girl. Not even I’m
that fast.”

“Be nice, Kent.” The director bent over and whispered to
Naami and Raul, “Don’t mind him. Everyone else here is nice. He’s full of
himself because he’s won this the last three years.”

“What’s his last name?”

“Shaw, why?”

“Naami winked at the director and walked up to Kent Shaw.
She grinned at him.”

“What?”

“You’re a very smart man, Mr. Shaw.”

“Wha—“

“You obviously know that practicing a skill or sport during
lucid dreaming improves performance in real life.” She giggled. “I practice
shooting in my dreams every night.”

“Good for you, kid. Now scram. I’m up in a couple of
minutes.”

“Good luck, Mr. Shaw. May your rounds feed cleanly, fire
when struck, and eject without jamming.”

“Go away, kid.”

“Going away, sir.” As she walked away, she turned back and
said, “Don’t miss any targets, Mr. Shaw.”

Shaw ignored her, but the competitors and spectators all
grinned, including the director. He chuckled. “Raul, your friend has a lot of
spunk. I hope she doesn’t miss. Kent will be all over her.”

“George, she doesn’t miss.” He looked at Naami, who had
drifted up towards the first stage. “She doesn’t miss ever.” He emphasized the
last word.

“Hmm,” said the director.

Shaw was first up. He bowed to the onlookers. “Watch and
learn.” He stepped into the spray painted square 15 yards from the stop plate,
the pistol box. He looked at the five targets as he put a mag into his Ruger
Mark IV and racked it. Then he took his stance and pointed his pistol at the
start stake.

“Shooter ready?”

Shaw nodded the tiniest bit. The director held the timer up
closer to Shaw’s head, and it beeped. Shaw’s gun cracked five times, all hits,
the stop plate last as required.

“Shooter, unload and show clear.”  After he dropped the mag
and ejected one round, the director called out, “Mr. Shaw’s time is 11.39
seconds.

Shaw grinned, exchanged his pistol for his Ruger 10/22
rifle, and walked back to the rifle box that was 24 yards from the stop plate.
He took his stance and pointed his rifle at the start stake.

“Shooter ready?”

Shaw nodded slightly. The director held the timer up closer
to Shaw’s head, and it beeped. Shaw’s rifle cracked five times, all hits, the
stop plate last as required.

“Shooter, unload and show clear.”  After Shaw took out his
mag and ejected one round, the director called out, “Mr. Shaw’s time is 13.27
seconds.”

Shaw bowed. “That’s how it’s done people.” He searched out
Naami. “I always have the best time.”

Naami smiled innocently. “Your technique is very good. I
just noticed one thing that I’d worry about when you shoot your pistol.”

Shaw laughed. “What’s that?”

“You hold your left thumb awfully close to the slide.”

He scowled. “So?”

“Sometime it’s going to rub the slide…and you will have a
failure to feed.”

“Never happens.”

“It will happen.” She smiled and turned away.

“Dang kids,” grumbled Shaw.

Raul, Naami, Joe, and Camila sat on a picnic bench and
watched the other competitors. Shaw’s scores were considerably better than the
others, the closest of whom had a combined score almost four and a half seconds
more than Shaw.