[Lady Justice 13] - Lady Justice and the Assassin

by Robert Thornhill

  “Why in the world would you want to get involved in this?” Harriman asked. “It’s damned dangerous.”

  “Those punks shot up my hotel today and are trying to recruit a friend of a friend. Someone could have been hurt really bad. I hadn’t even heard of these guys until today, but now it’s personal.”

  “Works for me,” Harriman said.

  The Captain was more reserved. “I don’t know, Walt. It’s risky business. Promise me that you and Willie will keep a low profile and stay out of trouble.”

  “I promise.”

  I had just volunteered to grab a Viper by the tail.

  CHAPTER 11

  ‘Max’ had been true to his word.

  Within an hour of receiving the number for the offshore account, Max had deposited the fifty thousand dollars that Henry had requested.

  Henry had spent the day getting the lights back on and paid the other utility bills in person.

  He had made a call to the attorney representing his mortgage company and arranged to wire the payments that were in arrears, the accumulated interest and attorney’s fees. He was promised that the foreclosure action would be stopped.

  As he drove to his in-laws home, he couldn’t remember when he had felt so happy. The burden of his family’s financial woes had been pressing on him for months and he felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of his shoulders.

  Every so often, the consequences of the price that he would pay for this relief popped into his mind. He pushed the thoughts aside. There would be plenty of time for that later.

  As soon as he walked in the door, Marsha could sense that something had changed.

  “Henry, something’s happened. Tell me!”

  Henry knew that this would be coming and he had rehearsed his lines over and over again. He hated that he had to lie, but he couldn’t very well tell them that he was being paid to assassinate the president.

  Jim and Ellen had heard Marsha’s remark and joined them.

  “I have some good news for a change. As you know, I have been submitting my resume for months. It finally paid off. A new IT start-up is opening an office in Kansas City. They said I had all the qualifications they were looking for and hired me on the spot. They even gave me a signing bonus.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Marsha cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

  “The only negative,” he added, “is that I’ll have to be away for about a week. They want me to train in their corporate office.”

  “What’s one more week?” Marsha gushed. “We’ve been waiting for this break for months.”

  Jim came up and grabbed Henry’s hand. “I’m proud of you, Son. I knew you’d find a way to take care of your family. That’s what real men do.”

  Henry couldn’t help wondering how proud Jim would be when he was hauled away in handcuffs.

  Just then, Billy came bounding into the room. “Dad! I thought I heard you. I’ve missed you so much!”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” he replied, grabbing the boy up in his arms.

  “Guess what, Dad!”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Our Junior High Band is having a concert Friday night and I have a saxophone solo. Will you be able to come?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Whoopie!” Billy yelled, and trotted back to his video game.

  “Well, I’d better get back to the kitchen,” Ellen announced. “Jim, come give me a hand so that these kids can have some time together.”

  When they were alone, Henry held Marsha close. “I took part of my bonus money and got our house out of hock. We’re not going to lose it after all.”

  “Oh, Henry,” she cried, tears running down her cheeks. “I love you so much!”

  “So you and Billy can come home --- if you want to, that is.”

  “Don’t be silly! Of course we want to come home and be together as a family --- just like we used to. We’ll move back tomorrow.”

  It was a bittersweet moment. It would be like it used to be --- at least for a few days, and then nothing would ever be the same again.

  “You’re doing WHAT?” Maggie exclaimed.

  “It’s not as dangerous as it sounds,” I replied, trying my best to convince myself as well as my wife.

  “All Willie and I are going to do is sit in a corner and play checkers.”

  My poor wife had endured a plethora of undercover operations --- everything from being declared dead so that I could stand in for a presidential candidate, to dressing as a transvestite and a candy-striper. She had mostly been supportive, but as more and more of these adventures had resulted in near-death experiences, I could see that her patience and tolerance were wearing thin.

  “Oh, right! Just playing checkers! Surrounded by Neanderthals with snakes carved in their skin that just shot up your hotel with automatic weapons! Doesn’t sound dangerous at all!”

  I had to admit that it sounded different when she said it.

  A few years ago, Maggie had been abducted by the Niners and was well acquainted with the violence and twisted minds of a street gang.

  “I hear what you’re saying, but whether we like it or not, those guys are out there and they’re just going to get bigger and stronger unless somebody does something.”

  “But why does that someone always have to be YOU!” she moaned.

  “It’s not like we’re going to be storming the place with guns blazing. I’ll gladly leave all that to the Gang Unit. It’s just checkers.”

  “You’re impossible!” she said, with resignation. “What do we need to do to get you ready?”

  “Well, I guess you noticed that I haven’t shaved or bathed for a couple of days.”

  “Yeah, I noticed right after you crawled in bed last night,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I was planning on mentioning it this morning.”

  “All part of the cover,” I replied, defending my personal hygiene. “Willie and I want to look like a couple of old street derelicts. We’ll just blend into the wood work.”

  “So what are you wearing?”

  “I found some old ratty jeans with patches and an old flannel shirt, and this!” I said proudly, holding up an old fedora that I had once worn to a Halloween party.”

  Just then, there was a knock on the door.

  “Could you get that while I get dressed? It’s probably Willie.”

  Maggie left the room shaking her head.

  I threw on my bag-man clothes and crumpled fedora and joined Maggie and Willie in the living room.

  Willie hadn’t shaved for a few days either. His snow-white whiskers against his black skin made him look like a frail and emaciated Uncle Remus.

  I glanced in the mirror as I walked by and noticed that I bore a striking resemblance to Festus on the old Gunsmoke TV series.

  Maggie nearly keeled over laughing when she saw us together. “Well, at least I won’t have to worry about you two old horn dogs picking up any women today.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Honestly, the two of you are a disgrace to the homeless population.”

  “Sounds about right, then. Are you ready to go, partner?”

  “Let’s do dis!” he said with a grin.

  Bruno’s Blue Moon Bar & Grill was one of those seedy joints that respectable folks wouldn’t dream of setting a foot in.

  Its regular patrons were the down-and-outers that had to leave the shelters after breakfast every morning, hookers, and in this case, members of the local street gang.

  When we walked in, I got a glimpse of the kitchen and wondered how the place ever passed its health inspection. After I was there a few minutes, I realized that it was probably because the health inspectors were afraid to come near the place. They probably figured that if anyone died of salmonella, it would either be a bum, a hooker or a gang member, and either way, it wasn’t worth the risk.

  We found a corner and set up our checkerboard.

  I had just made my first move when the bar
tender came over. “This ain’t no country club. Either order somethin’ or hit the street!”

  I looked at Willie. I hadn’t actually ever seen him drink before.

  “Wine,” he replied. “Bring us de bottle.”

  The guy nodded and walked away. Willie hadn’t specified what kind of wine. I remembered the wine list at the Melting Pot. They had over fifty different vintages and the least expensive started at about thirty bucks a bottle.

  The bartender returned a few minutes later and plopped a bottle on the table between us. I noticed that he didn’t bother to bring glasses.

  The label read, ‘Thunderbird’.

  “How did he know what to bring?” I asked.

  “You nevva heared o’ Thunderbird? Dat’s de black wino’s bes’ frien’.”

  An old guy at the next table overheard our conversation. “Guess you’ve never heard the Thunderbird poem?”

  I shook my head.

  “What’s the word? Thunderbird!

  What’s the price? Sixty twice!

  What’s the reason? Grapes in season!

  Who drinks the most? Them colored folks!

  What’s the reaction? Satisfaction!”

  See, you learn something new every day.

  Our attention was diverted when a curvaceous black woman in high heels and a skintight skirt that barely covered her hooha walked through the door. She took a seat at the bar and casually looked around the room.

  I saw her spot Willie. She started to get off her stool and come our way, but Willie gave her a slight head shake and she returned to her seat at the bar.

  “You know that woman?” I whispered.

  “Sho do. Dat’s Ginger. She’s a workin’ girl.”

  I figured that out the minute she walked in the door.

  Somehow, Willie seems to be on a first name basis with quite a few Ladies of the Night. In fact, one of them, Maxine, had shared Thanksgiving dinner with us a few years ago. I once thought about asking him how these gals got on his speed dial, but decided that I really didn’t want to know.

  We had just finished our second game, when a couple of street punks wandered into the bar. I noticed the snake tattooed on the arm of one of the guys. It only had one fang.

  He noticed Ginger right away and sidled up beside her. “How’s it goin’, gorgeous?”

  “Just keep movin’, Leon. You know I don’t do no gang members.”

  “Thought you might make an exception fo’ me,” he said, rubbing his hand along her thigh.

  She grabbed his hand and tossed it aside. “Nope! Don’t do punks neither.”

  It was quite obvious that Leon didn’t appreciate the put-down. “You got a smart mouth on you, little lady,” he said raising his hand.

  I saw Willie start to get up out of his chair and I put my hand on his arm. I seriously doubt that he would have heeded my warning, but fortunately, I never had to find out.

  Just when things were starting to get dicey, another figure walked in the door.

  “Leon! You raisin’ a hand to a woman?”

  “Rashon! Uhhh, no! Hell, no! We was jus’ havin’ a conversation.”

  It was obvious that Leon was completely cowed by Rashon’s presence.

  Rashon turned his attention to Ginger. He jerked his head toward the door and she immediately slid off the stool and headed out. As she passed our table, her eyes met Willie’s and she gave him an imperceptible head shake.

  “Looks like I need to teach you some manners, Leon. Now get yo’ ass back to the pool table so we can talk.”

  He started to follow Leon, and then he spotted us. He walked up to our table and gave us the once-over. “Never seen you boys in here befo’”

  I noticed that Rashon had cobras tattooed on both arms and each one had two fangs.

  “Nevva been here befo’,” Willie replied, taking a big drag of the Thunderbird. “We came into town on the Kansas City Southern from Dallas yesterday. Spent the night in de shelter. Some boys said dis was a good place to spen’ some time. Looks like dey was right,” he said taking another drag.

  Rashon looked at me and back to Willie. “How come you can’t find a black man to play checkers wit?”

  “De man saved my ass from gettin’ rolled by some junkies. I owe ‘em.”

  I saw a smile curl on Rashon’s lips. “Black an’ white. Salt an’ pepper. Looks like dis is a game of condiment checkers!”

  I was sure that the other two Vipers had no clue what a condiment was, but they laughed heartily at their leader’s joke.

  Apparently sensing that we weren’t a threat, Rashon motioned his boys back to the pool tables.

  As I watched him walk away, my ass slowly unpuckered.

  “Whew! That was close,” I whispered.

  Willie just gave me a wink.

  For a while there was nothing to be heard from the gang but good-natured banter. Finally, one of the guys asked, “You heard anything from Darius since we sent him a message?”

  “Nothin’ yet, but he’ll come around. If he don’t, we may have to wing ‘em next time.”

  The third member busted out laughing, “Did you see de look on dat old guy’s face when de bullets started flyin’? I bet he hadn’t moved dat fast in years.”

  I almost wished that I could have been there. Seeing old man Feeney dive for cover would have been worth the price of admission.

  Rashon got serious. “Are we all set up for the next meeting?”

  “We been passin’ the word,” Leon replied. “Dat ole garage ova’ on St. John should be bustin’ at the seams. All de guys want a piece of the action.”

  That was what we had been looking for.

  I motioned to Willie. He threw a couple of bills on the table and we headed for the door.

  We got what we wanted. No reason to push our luck.

  After all, I had promised Maggie that I would be careful, and like Leon, I didn’t want to get crossways with the boss.

  CHAPTER 12

  As Henry Martin sat in the coffee shop waiting for ‘Max’ to pick him up, he reflected on the past two days.

  Marsha and Billy had moved back into their home and things almost seemed normal again. He had attended Billy’s Junior High concert and Billy had been so proud when he finished his solo and saw his Dad stand up and applaud.

  Last night he and Marsha had made love for the first time in many weeks. His dismal failure as a father, husband and provider had carried over into the bedroom. The anxiety and pressure of their financial woes had made performing an impossible task.

  Marsha had been understanding and supportive, but last night, as they lay in bed, sweaty and exhausted, Marsha had sighed, “My Henry is back. Tell your boss ‘thanks’ for me. You new job has saved our home and our marriage.”

  “For a few days, anyway,” he had thought. He wondered how she would feel about his new job after he had completed his assignment.

  Henry had been told to look for a black Hummer --- not many of them on the street. When one pulled up to the curb outside the coffee shop and tooted, Henry knew that from the minute he sat foot in that vehicle, his life would be changed forever.

  He climbed into the passenger seat and was surprised --- no, shocked --- to see a young man, maybe thirty, in a tight-fitting black shirt. His head was shaved to the scalp and a Nazi swastika was tattooed on his upper arm.

  “Max?”

  The young man smiled. “You probably figured from the first time we spoke that Max wasn’t my real name. You’ve taken our money and committed to your assignment, so we don’t have to play games anymore. My name is Brant Jaeger.”

  Jaeger pulled out into traffic. “I imagine you have some questions.”

  “Skinheads? Am I to understand that I have been hired by Neo-Nazis?”

  “That’s a name that was bestowed upon us by the press, but essentially, yes. My organization is actually the Aryan Brotherhood Confederation. There are various groups scattered throughout the United States, but we have put aside our petty di
fferences and joined together to make this bold statement.”

  “The assassination of the president?” Henry asked. “That’s your statement?”

  “Hardly,” Jaeger replied. “The task we have assigned to you is just a piece of a larger picture --- a means to an end. Our goal has always been the implementation of the fourteen words.”

  This was a new one for Henry. “Fourteen words? What’s that?”

  “It is our motto --- our creed, ‘WE MUST SECURE THE EXISTANCE OF OUR PEOPLE AND A FUTURE FOR WHITE CHILDREN.’ Our country is being overrun with blacks, Asians, Muslims, Jews and Mexicans. Did you know that only 23% of the American population under eighteen is white? Did you know that four states in this country are already a majority of non-whites and 10% of all counties in the country are non-white? Did you know that only 3% of the world’s population are white women of child-bearing age?”

  Henry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So your master plan is the extermination of everyone that’s not lily white?”

  “Extermination is a strong word, Henry. These people have a place in this world --- just not here in my country.”

  “Sounds like a losing battle to me.”

  “Indeed it is a battle, and we have just begun to fight. We will not rest until we have taken back our birthright.”

  Henry was beginning to have second thoughts. “If you’re expecting me to embrace your cause, we may have a problem.”

  “We expect no such thing. Either you believe or you don’t. It is not a prerequisite for your work. As far as we’re concerned, you are a hired gun --- nothing more.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because you are invisible. Mr. Nice Guy. Mr. Average American. No police record --- not even a parking ticket. Even with your recent financial problems, your taxes are paid. The most controversial organization you have ever belonged to is the Boy Scouts. The government doesn’t care about you. My organization, on the other hand, is being constantly monitored by Big Brother. We couldn’t get anywhere close to the president, but you can because you’re Mr. Nice Guy.”