The Hard Core

by Allen Manning

  Chance nodded, letting Roland know he agreed. “Who are you?” the detective asked.

  “Stone,” he said, shaking hands “John Stone.”

  “Yeah, I got that. I guess I should have started with a thank you,” Chance said. “This is all just a bit much to figure out right now.”

  “How do you know the kid?” John asked, pulling the carbine from his truck and removing the magazine before clearing the chamber.

  “I don’t really know him. Got a call from an old…associate. He said this guy, Roland, had a bounty on his head. I went to pick him up and bring him back to the station before things got a little too warm.”

  “Who put the hit out on him?” John asked.

  Chance shook his head. “I figured you would know. How did you find us?”

  John chuckled. “Same situation, I’m afraid. We got a call about a guy that needed a place to lay low for a while. I guess he’s got some dirt on a corporation we’ve been looking into.”

  “And then the shooting started,” Chance said.

  John nodded. “And then the shooting started. I arrived at the construction site after you. I was about to go in when you pulled the kid out and took off,” John said. “Figured you for a cop, so I decided to follow in case you needed help.”

  Chance nodded, looking at the bullet hole in his rear window. “So what do we do now?”

  “We wait,” John said. “This place is a safe house, set up to keep Roland off the grid until our contact arrives.”

  “You keep saying we and our,” Chance said. “Are you a fed?”

  “No, I’m not with the FBI or anything like that.” John put the M4 on a rack with other rifles mounted to the wall. “Rangers. Retired.”

  “Army, huh? If you’re retired, what’s with the arsenal and the safehouses?” Chance pointed to the weapon rack.

  John crossed his arms over his chest and looked Chance in the eye, mulling over the best reply. “Long story.”

  Chance raised an eyebrow. “Well, I got time, since we’re waiting for your guy to show up.”

  “You don’t have to stay, Detective. We just need to keep Forrester safe.”

  “Hey, I told my guy I would keep him safe too, so you’re stuck with me for now. And call me Chance, please.”

  Roland came back into the room, his jacket draped over one shoulder, as he pressed the tape to secure the fresh bandages on his arm.

  “Did you take a round back there?” John asked.

  “No. Glass,” Roland said. “I had to jump out a window when those psychos started shooting.”

  “I don’t know what kind of training International Security gave you, but most people in your situation would have been the victim in tomorrow’s paper,” John said.

  Roland nodded and asked, “What’s the plan now? Are we all just waiting here?”

  “I’ve been doing some digging, and a certain name popped up onto my radar recently,” John said. “A man associated with the CARR Group, which I’m sure Mr. Forrester here is quite familiar with.

  “Faust Kingston,” Chance said.

  John and Roland both looked over at the detective.

  “Kingston is the CEO of the company,” he said. “I’ve been doing some research of my own after looking into the murder of a friend at Silver Creek prison.”

  “Murder? You’re not talking about Romeo are you?” Roland asked.

  “Yes,” Chance said, acknowledging the nickname Donnell Lawrence used. “Someone at Silver Creek had Donnell killed for uncovering a plot to frame inmates and pressure them into signing up to serve with a private defense contractor.”

  Roland’s mouth fell open. His eyes widened. “I joined INSEC almost eighteen months ago. I got caught up in an altercation, and the warden at Silver Creek threatened to extend my sentence. Said if I joined, I could get an early release.”

  “We found Donnell dead a few months after that,” Chance said. “I took the case all the way to the top. Or at least what I thought was the top then. We brought Vincent Treadwell down, and Silver Creek prison with it.”

  “But they were just a part of the whole,” John said. “The CARR Group owned Silver Creek. And Roland has some information that could also implicate INSEC in the entire scheme.”

  Chance’s face twisted into a crooked smile. “And here, I thought this was going to be a bad day.”

  John turned to Roland. “The man that sent us wants you to stay here until he arrives.”

  “Then what?” Roland asked.

  John shrugged. “It sounds like he has some connections with deep roots in various agencies.”

  “What, like CIA? FBI?” Chance asked.

  “I’m not so sure it matters at this point,” John said. “He’ll be escorted to a much safer place while they build their case.”

  “Until then, are we just holding down the fort?” Chance asked, looking at the rifles on the wall.

  * * *

  John walked to a door leading further into the building. With all of the lights off, the office interior’s only source of illumination came from a few computers along one wall on a rack, and a couple of monitors stashed in one of the cubicles.

  A silhouetted head poked up, a groundhog investigating the new visitors. “Hey, guys,” he said.

  “Roland, Chance, this is Parker Lewis,” John said.

  “Parker Lewis? You’re joking, right?” Chance asked. “Is that his codename or something?”

  “I don’t get it,” Roland said. “Am I missing something?”

  Parker stepped out to meet the rest. “My parents loved the show, but they claimed they never saw it until after they named me. I grew up my entire life with everyone telling me I can’t lose.” He air-quoted the last two words.

  “What’s all this?” Roland asked, pointing at the computers.

  “This is where I feel most at home,” Parker said. “It’s what I do best.”

  “Parker is our computer wizard,” John said.

  “Wow, people still say computer wizard?” Chance asked.

  “You’re lucky I’m in a decent mood this morning, Detective,” John said, suppressing a smile. “Parker is going to take all of the information that Roland can give him. With that, he should be able to point me in the right direction for anything else we might need to find out.”

  “Us, you mean,” Chance said. “If Parker finds something promising, you better believe I’ll be joining you on the investigation.”

  John nodded. “I’ve got no issues, as long as you’re not trying to get in the way to make your case.”

  Chance held his hands up. “Man, that’s not even how I do things. I just got a call about the hit on Roland. Felt I needed to lend a hand to honor the memory of a friend.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Parker said. “My first pass through all the files highlighted a couple of places that might look interesting, but I'm not exactly sure what we would find there.”

  “What have you got?” John asked.

  Chance leaned forward to look at the location. “For starters, that storage facility isn’t far from here.”

  “Good, we should head over and see what we can find there,” John said. “Maybe there’ll be a few more clues to help shed some light on what Faust is planning.”

  “I’m going with you,” Roland said.

  “No, Detective Hunter and I will go check it out. You need to provide Parker with the information he needs.”

  “Hey, uh,” Parker said, holding a finger up, “ maybe that’s not the best idea.”

  “Relax. This is a safe house,” John said. “If anyone tries to get in, you’ve got a wall of guns in the next room.”

  “It’s not that. Isn’t he, like, you know.” Parker held a hand up to the side of his mouth. “An ex-con?”

  “Bro, I’m standing right next to you,” Roland said.

  John looked at Parker. “If your guy trusts Roland, I think you’ll be safe.”

  “Yeah, you two will be alright,” Chance said. “Have fun
. We’ll be back in a few hours.”

  CHAPTER

  12

  The F250’s engine rumbled as the big truck rolled past row after row of storage lockers.

  “I still think we should have a warrant for this,” Chance said.

  “No time,” John replied.

  Chance shook his head, hiding a smirk. “That’s such a BS answer.” He turned to face John. “I use that myself, but it’s the wrong way to go about this.”

  “This isn’t even an active investigation. What judge would sign off on a warrant to search some random storage locker this fast?” John asked.

  “You do realize, if we find something in there that implicates the people behind all of this, it will be inadmissible, right?” Chance leaned back in the seat. “Worst case, the whole case gets thrown out, and Faust walks. Free and clear.”

  John pulled into the lane, rolling up to the storage unit. “This case is bigger than Detroit. Bigger than you, Detective. If we find anything in here, we’re handing it over to Roland’s mystery contact.”

  “What then?” Chance asked. “Federal trials have to abide by the same rules. They can’t just break into places and grab the evidence they need.”

  “You didn’t have to come along,” John said, turning off the engine. “I’m looking for anyone involved with INSEC and the CARR Group. You and this mystery man can handle things by the book. I’m doing things my way before more lives are ruined.”

  “It’s the wrong play, but there’s nothing I can do about that now,” Chance said.

  “Noted,” John replied, hopping down.

  “We should have taken my car,” Chance said, stepping down from the truck.

  “You’re joking, right? That thing would have stood out too much. Too flashy.” John shut the door and adjusted the jacket to cover his pistol.

  “This thing is ten feet tall, and covered in armor plating,” Chance said.

  “It’s got a few reinforcements, but trust me, there’s no armor on this thing. I wouldn’t trust it to stop a bullet,” John said. “It probably gets better gas mileage than your car, though.”

  “No argument there.” Chance fastened the bottom two buttons on his jacket.

  John walked over to the rolling door of the storage unit and paused, looking down. He nudged the latch with the toe of his boot. “No lock. I think we’re too late.”

  He reached down and pulled the door open. Someone had emptied it out. John’s gut told him they missed whoever did this by only hours. Detective Hunter knelt near one edge of the entrance.

  “They were here recently,” he said.

  “How can you tell?”

  “The dirt on the floor,” Chance said “There are still spots where it’s cleaner than the rest of the unit. If they had cleaned it out earlier, there would be an even layer over the ground.”

  John reached for his phone.

  “Parker, we’ve got an issue,” John said, switching the call to the speaker.

  “What happened?” Parker asked.

  John peered into the storage unit. “Someone beat us to the punch. Everything is gone.”

  Parker let out a sigh on the other end. A chair squeaked, and moments later his fingers were clicking away at the keys.

  “Any idea on how we can find out who was here?” John asked.

  “The security cameras, maybe?”

  “We would definitely need a warrant for that,” Chance said, “and I doubt we can get a judge to sign off since this isn’t exactly a by the book investigation anymore.”

  “We’re coming back to you,” John said. “It looks like we’re one step behind and we need to catch up fast.”

  CHAPTER

  13

  The humming fans and Parker’s keystrokes were the only sound in the room while Roland walked around the office area once more. He had provided what he could, to give the computer specialist a head start on the data he had, but they were still waiting for John and Chance to return.

  “It’s been two hours. When do you think they’ll be back?” Roland asked.

  Parker shrugged. “Gotta be any time now.”

  Roland circled back to the desk in the middle of the room, careful to step over the braided serpent of cables running to the rack along the wall. Parker finished executing another search program and leaned back in his chair stretching his arms and back.

  “I had no idea you already knew so much about all of this,” Roland said. “Guess I just figured my story would be the one cracking this case when those hitters showed up.”

  “Oh, this?” Parker gestured to the wall of text flying up on one of the monitors. “This is just boring stuff, looking for transactions that link persons of interest. Follow the money, you know.”

  Roland nodded, though he still didn’t fully understand the situation.

  Parker scratched an itch above one eye and turned his chair to face Roland. “So, what were you in for, if you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Silver Creek? I was serving time for armed robbery,” Roland said, picking up a neatly wound spare cable. “Looking at ten years.”

  Parker let out a low whistle. “That’s quite a stretch.”

  “Yeah. Could have been worse,” Roland said. “It was my first offense, so I guess they went easy on me. Only sentenced to five years.”

  “Gotta be rough out there. Making ends meet, I mean,” Parker said.

  Roland smiled and looked at him. “What, you mean for some kid from a poor home, trying to put food on the table?”

  Parker nodded. “You know, with the economy and all.”

  “That ain’t my story, Parker. I was just some dumb kid, running with a bad crowd,” Roland said as he put the cable down. “My dad is a computer programmer, and my mom is a shift manager at a restaurant. We weren’t hurting for scratch.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant no offense.” Parker’s face changed as a mask of fear slipped over his features.

  Roland laughed. “I’m not some menacing career criminal. I was seventeen, trying to impress the local crew when I got caught. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

  A nervous grin replaced his frightened expression as Parker nodded.

  “The system isn’t really looking out for people like me. I’m talking about before I got arrested. Silver Creek wasn’t the most reformative place either.” Roland leaned against the desk. “That place was a dump.”

  “Wasn’t it a newer facility back then?” Parker asked.

  “On paper, maybe. A clean outer shell filled with trash,” Roland said. “They did whatever they could to cut costs. The meals were a joke, none of the programs meant for rehabilitation ever had any of the materials we requested. The only part with any real money dumped into it was the gym. Guess they were training us to fight, either inside, or out.”

  “When did INSEC reach out to you?” Parker asked, scooping up a notepad and pen.

  Roland wiped a hand along his jaw, moving to the back of his neck. “I was in about three years. Never had a problem. Kept to myself mostly. Out of the blue, these two dudes I’ve never seen before decide to jump me.”

  “And you hurt them fighting back?”

  “You watch too many movies, Parker,” Roland said shaking his head. “Two on one, I got my ass beat. The guards pulled us apart and wrote us all up. They never cared about who started the fights, everyone involved got infractions.”

  Parker nodded, writing more notes on his pad.

  Roland watched him for a second before continuing. “Anyway, I get a face to face with the warden after that. My first real issue in that prison, but he’s talking about tacking on another nine months for the fight.

  “I’m not happy about it, but I gotta keep my cool. He can see it in my eyes. I guess at that point, I figured he was actually trying to help.”

  “And this is Vincent Treadwell?” Parker asked.

  “Yeah, that’s him,” Roland said. “So he pulls these brochures from his desk and starts selling me on some program to turn my
life around.”

  “INSEC,” Parker said.

  Roland nodded. “Starts showing me all kinds of stuff, flags, soldiers, you know, all that patriotic stuff. I’m sitting in a cell for most of my days, staring at pictures of guys and girls in choppers, on mountains, in the field. It hits me at that point that I wanted something better. I wanted to do better for the country.”

  “Is that when you signed up?”

  “I was close, but I didn’t say anything then,” Roland said. “Just kept my head down, always on the lookout for trouble. A week later, Treadwell has an actual recruiter in to give me the full pitch. They could tell I was so close. About to bite. Then Treadwell says it will cut my sentence by more than half. I’d be released fully. Time served.”

  “The cherry on top,” Parker said.

  “The cherry, the whipped cream, the whole sundae, man. I signed the dotted line, and they shipped me out a week later,” Roland said. “I actually believed I would be out here helping the country, instead of being so selfish and trying to impress a bunch of halfway crooks.”

  “What about your deep web searches?” Parker asked. “When did you make contact with the stranger online?”

  “I started digging into this stuff about five months ago. During my searches, someone reached out to offer help. A few weeks ago, maybe,” Roland said.

  “Hm.” Parker scribbled some more notes onto the page.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Roland asked.

  “Nothing. Maybe.” Parker looked up. “I’m, like, ninety-nine percent positive that your mystery man is the same as my contact. I’m just curious about who it is now.”

  Roland turned his head, still keeping his eye fixed on the hacker. “Are we walking into a trap?”

  “No. I don’t think. What’s the number that sent you the warning text message? Maybe I can use that to do some more digging,” Parker said.

  “It’s gotta be a burner,” Roland said, scrolling through his messages.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Parker said. “But maybe I can work some magic to narrow things down, based on all the various ways he’s contacted me.”