Street Justice (32 page)

“I guess,” Adrian agreed quietly.

“Then let me do my job. I can retire anytime I want, but I choose to continue to work because I like it, I enjoy playing without a net. So let me do it.”

Adrian clapped his hands together, smiled and proclaimed in a strong voice, “You’re right, OK, how can I help.”

Steve grinned, “First things first, you can pick up the bill…”

Alex talked into the phone with Will, “OK, you all set up to meet this guy?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will said nonchalantly, “It’s one guy from the local po-po, I think I got this.”

“Don’t be too relaxed about it, you never know when one of these guys might be into jujitsu as a hobby or something.”

“From what Johnny said, with the amount this guy drank last night, I’m thinking he’ll be lucky to have a hangover rather than still be drunk,” Will laughed.

“Apparently he was drinking pretty heavy, but still, that might just make him less predictable, and bad luck can ruin an op as fast as poor planning,” Alex cautioned.

“I said I got it,” Will said, talking on his phone in one hand and swinging an ASP Talon retractable baton in the other. The weapon made a whooshing sound as it cut through the air. Will liked the feel.

“OK, so, you taze him, bind him with the plastic straps, then throw him in the car and haul butt up to Russ’, right?”

“Yes, of course, but I don’t see why I have to head up to Russ’ house. Johnny and Kip will already be there,” Will complained.

“Yes, but they are trying to take over the supply lines. That’s a lot of money and Russ is not going to let it go easily. Mario is almost always by Russ’ side and Jeff might be there too. Plus any other random person that Russ happens to have over to use up our product and profit margins. So be there,” Alex snapped, “That’s an order.”

Will lost the insolence in his voice and his instincts kicked in when Alex barked his commands, “Yes, sir.”

Alex hung up the phone and relaxed a bit. Will was a professional and would do his job. Now all he needed to do was his job of manning the corner. There were times it seemed to the easier to be on the roof than off. Off the roof they had to worry about double crossers, double crossing, manpower, money flow, and a million other variables. On the roof, life was simpler, keep an eye out, kill anyone who was an enemy.

Johnny and Kip pulled up in the rental car two blocks from Russ’ house. Johnny reached onto the back and grabbed a large black canvas bag. He looked around then discreetly reached into the bag and handed Kip an H&K 9mm and a Smith and Wesson 340 revolver. Kip tucked the H&K into the small of his back and the 340 into an ankle holster. Johnny tucked away a .45 and a .32 for himself in similar fashion. He looked at Kip, “You ready?”

“I am,” Kip said, “I’ll follow your lead and not pull unless you do or if I have to.”

“Good man,” Johnny said. Johnny put the car back in drive and headed the last few blocks to Russ’. As he did, a small African-American boy, who looked to be no older than his mid-teens but who was piloting a moped, removed his helmet and made a call.

Johnny and Kip parked in front of Russ’ house. As they approached the door, Russ opened it before they could knock. Russ said, “Johnny, long time no see, what’s new? I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d stop by and say Hi. Figured me and Kip could grab a beer if that is okay. Wait for the product, you know.”

“Usually I bring the product to you,” Russ said.

“I know, but last time you looked so nervous, I thought this might be easier. Save your nerves some.”

Russ did not want Johnny there when a shipment was coming in but could not think of a viable reason to ask him to leave so he led the way in and offered them a beer. Johnny sat on the couch while Kip took the recliner. Russ got them each a beer. Johnny asked, “So how did you met your supplier?”

Russ sat on the couch next to Johnny and said, “I met his father in Afghanistan.”

“So he just came up to you and said, ‘Hey, if you ever need drugs, my son is a dealer’?”

“Actually that is pretty much it and he gave me his business card.”

“He gave you his card? Can I see it?”

“Why,” Russ asked suspiciously.

“I just wanted to see what a drug dealer’s business card looked like,” Johnny tried to keep his tone flat. He needed to get the supplier’s information and a card would make it easy, especially if Russ let him see it.

“Just has his name, number and an e-mail address on it,” Russ said, offhanded. Russ stopped talking, not adding any more.

Johnny wanted to continue to press to see it but did not want to seem over eager. But he smiled a bit, knowing such a card existed. He thought to himself, “How many business cards without a company can an unemployed, ex-military man have?”

Steve strode into the hotel and took the stairs to the third floor. He preferred the stairs for any floor with a single digit, less standing around staring straight ahead. Knowing that he did not know what was coming just that something was going to happen, he was amped. Nervous energy tingled in his fingers and toes. His heart rate was still low but his heart seemed primed and ready to switch into overdrive the moment he needed it. His eyes raced around the stairwell, looking for anything out of the ordinary, something that might give him the slightest edge.

He exited the stairwell and walked down the hallway. The dark patterned carpet used in so many hotel hallways because it hid stains so well and plush and shifted under his feet. It helped absorb sound and the corridor seemed to be quieter than he would have suspected. He worried, or hoped, it was the calm before the storm. He knew this could be a mainly routine meeting, the start of his intro into the crew, or Will could see him as a threat and this whole situation could go wrong quickly.

He found room 314 and knocked. He heard muffled noises from the other side of the door and then the deadbolt being pulled back. Will opened the door with a broad smile. “Hello, you must be Chris,” he said and stuck his hand out.

Steve shook his hand and asked, “Will, right?”

“That’s right, come on in,” Will said and headed back into the room. Steve caught the door and followed Will inside. The room was one of those set up like a small suite. The front room had a couch with a small coffee table on the left side facing a TV on the other. Against the wall, past the TV stand was a small desk. A little refrigerator and a small sink was father back on the left wall which then disappeared into a short hallway with a doorway straight back and one to the right. Steve glimpsed what he guessed was the bedroom in the back. The door on the right in the hallway must be the bathroom.

Will motioned to the couch and said, “Have a seat, can I get you a drink? We have full access to the mini-bar, Johnny’s paying.”

Steve looked around, pulled out the desk chair and took a seat. He wanted to sit to show he was comfortable but knew the couch, which sat much lower than the chair, would be much tougher to get out of should he need to move quickly. “Sure, you got a scotch?” Steve asked. His leg bounced up and down slightly.

“Sure thing,” Will said, “How do you want it?”

“Straight,” Steve responded.

“Straight, my man,” Will said and poured two airline bottles of scotch into two glasses. He then brought one over to Steve, noticing for the first time Steve was at the desk chair. His brow crinkled and he looked from Steve to the empty couch and back but did not say anything about his choice of spots. “So, I understand that you will be joining our little crew.”

“Well, I guess I have made it through at least the first step,” Steve offered.

“Yeah, yeah, I think you did,” Will said drifting about the room. He did not stop moving, just drifted aimlessly. The conversation did not seem to have a real direction either. Steve had been told he was here to get equipment from Will and learn procedures but Will did not seem about ready to hand anything over. This aimlessness heightened Steve’s senses, this was not right, but he could not show it, especially if Will was waiting for Steve to relax to make his move.

Steve made a show of leaning his body back against the backrest of the chair, but he kept his core engaged. He risked a quick spin in the chair, using the turn to mentally log the position of the major furniture and the myriad of objects that could be used as a weapon; the phone on the desk, a telephone book an end table, the television remote, the lamp cord and others. Steve returned to face Will, then pivoted, seemingly to stare at a painting on the wall, but he was keeping a sharp eye on Will with his peripheral vision.

Will took the bait. Thinking Steve’s attention was focused to his left, Will drifted to his right, dropped his hand in his pocket and grabbed the Taser. Smoothly, in a motion practiced and honed over years, Will stepped forward, thumbed the trigger on the Taser and swept it toward Steve’s arm. It was quick, taking less than a second, and Will’s face showed surprise when rather than have the sizzling arc of current stream into Steve’s bicep, he found Steve’s bicep was not there anymore.

Steve had two advantages. While Will was fast and his skilled honed, this was civilized warfare. People pretending not to be at odds, yet being so. Will was used to straight up fights. I’m the good guy, you’re the bad guy. But with this, the act was as much of the dance as anything else, and Will did not know the steps. Additionally, Will thought he was trying to wrap up an inexperienced local police officer, not a salty ex-spook who had seen more than his fair share of covert ops and always come out on top.

As Will had stepped forward, Steve had shifted his right hip down and applied weight to his right foot. At the same time his shoulders turned away from Will, as if he was trying to slip sideways through a closing door. He then took the momentum from his turning body and used it to launch himself up to a standing position, knocking the chair to the floor with a bang.

To Will’s credit, his shock lasted only a moment. The calculations in his own head recalibrated, understanding that the element of surprise was now gone and that maybe Steve was not a helpless target after all. He backed a bit, waving the Taser in his right hand, his left, palm straight, in front of his chest watching Steve for a moment of inattentiveness.

But watching Steve, meant he still underestimated Steve. Steve was not trying to escape the situation, to plan a retreat, to him a good defense was a strong offense. Steve moved to the right, toward the door. Will took this as a sign Steve was going to try and run, so he stepped left then took a step toward the door. At the same time Steve stepped forward, closing the gap between the two men. Steve formed the ridge of his knuckles of right hand into a hammer against the fingers of Will’s right hand.

Will had seen Steve’s strike and tensed so rather than his hand simply moving back, it stayed firm. Steve caught Will’s proximal bones, those closes to the palm, the longest, thus the most likely to break. The surprise of the hit and sudden shock of pain forced Will to drop the Taser, but he was not out.

Steve lunged forward and struck Will in the cheek bone. Then followed with a body blow. Will ignored these and returned a knee to Steve’s side and an elbow to Steve’s side. Steve smacked Will in the side of the head with right hook and received a jab in the ribs for his trouble. Will swept forward with his leg, trying to take Steve’s feet out from underneath him. Steve countered by blocking Will’s shin with the bottom of his foot. Steve’s hand shot out a jab for Will’s throat and Will slapped the blow down.

Will took a step back and regained his footing. He glanced at the Taser, Steve did as well and when he did, Will stepped forward and a one-two jab at Steve’s face. Steve got his hands up but as he did, Will lowered his shoulder and rushed Steve. Steve’s arms were up, blocking the jabs, so Will crashed fully into Steve’s rib cage.

The two men crashed into the coffee table, splintering the flimsy piece of furniture. The air rushed from Steve’s chest but the landing itself did little damage. The coffee table had slowed the descent and the carpeted floor helped further. But he could not breathe, which was an issue. Will put his full weight on Steve and lifted his legs, further driving himself down onto Steve’s torso. Spots formed at the outside edges of his vision.

Steve pounded on Will’s body with his fists but because of the angle the blows lacked any force. He tried to roll out from under Will but Will’s arms held tight. Finally, he pulled his knees into his chest. Because Will was jackknifed up, trying to drive down on Steve, Steve was able slip his knees under Will’s belly. He extended his legs, using every ounce of core strength not to unfold, and flipped Will up and over.

Will rolled against the wall, his shoulders and back on the floor, his hips and legs running up the side. Steve scrambled to his feet and was able to get back to Will before Will could right himself from his awkward position. He kicked Will and his foot connected solidly with Will’s mid-section. Will let out a whoosh but seemed to use the upward momentum to right himself. He got to his feet, shook out his arms and legs and regained his fighting stance. Steve did the same.

The two men eyed each other. “When did they start teaching you city boys how to fight?” Will asked breathing hard.

“I’m not from the city,” Steve said, also winded.

“Then where you from?” Will inquired.