Hard Case IV: A Violent Life (John Harding Series Book 4)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  * * *

  “Babe… you were meant for this,” Clint whispered. He and Lynn watched tensely as the Hollywood Bounty Hunters methodically put on their gear with determination, all business and concentration. During their donning of equipment, Kevin helped Kensy, pausing for a moment, the camera zeroing in on their momentary hand touch. She then stroked his beard stubbled face before hurrying to put on her Kevlar. “Perfect.”

  Lynn didn’t glance away, but answered in an excited whisper back. “Those two are naturals. They did that like they had rehearsed it a thousand times. Look at Les. He’s the surprise.”

  Les Tavor moved from one man to another, checking equipment, tightening straps, and handling each of their weapons with a no nonsense approach to detail. Sigfried Kandelus worked the camera, happily being delegated to a job he knew well. Daniel Atkins, Jerry Sooner, and Calvin Douglas were veteran movie set extras and key grips. Lynn had shushed all their objections. After outlining her scene directions, even Atkins worked diligently to try this new take. It worked. What made it better was the absence of real danger. Now would be the big moment where Denova would get taken into custody at the rundown tenement near Venice Beach.

  “Tommy and Cheese are in place. They have the extras in line, laying around in various poses,” Clint whispered. “They know they’re supposed to protest, and get handled to the side while Kensy, Kev, and Les bracket the dangerous Gus Denova. Shit… now I’m talking like one of these Hollywood mooks.”

  “Nice report, Dostiene. Try to keep some form of professional tone when speaking to the director. I can replace you with the snap of my fingers.”

  Clint moved his hand under her waistband in the back. “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay… you win. No… don’t… damn it, Clint! Oh… you…you need to…” with a quick wrenching move to the side, Lynn detached from her paramour with a warning finger wave. “Please let me finish this.”

  “Fine, babe,” Clint agreed. “I’ll have to do my critique though back at the beach house.”

  Lynn reached back to grasp his hand without taking her eyes off of the scene action. “Yes… you will. I’m also thinking an extended walk along the beach would be very nice.”

  “I will make it so, my love.”

  * * *

  Tommy and I waited patiently as the hulking, and very threatening managers of the flophouse takedown. We took nothing for granted. Sigfried would be moving slowly into position as the Hollywood Bounty Hunters arrived for the capture. Clint had given his approval to five of the vagabonds gracing their positions in this theater of the absurd. Tommy had already made it plain to them how important their parts were, and how we’d beat the living shit out of them if they screwed this up. Hey… they volunteered. Denova waited anxiously, but ready to act out his part.

  The Hollywoods arrived with intense caution as Lynn had ordered. They watched each other’s backs while securing the site. Kev and Les took up guard positions on either side of the Buffster. The other guys were shown shielding their cohorts from the deadly dangerous flophouse patrons. Kensy went from one to the other, making Gus her third discovery. She barked an order, and everyone went on alert.

  “Gus Denova! We represent Hollywood Bounty Hunters. We’re here to take you into custody for the FBI!”

  Denova, using the Oxycontin we’d given him to help with his acting part, used the walls in his corner to gain his feet. “You… you don’t have a warrant for me! Get away!”

  He reached clumsily under his coat for the unloaded weapon he had there. Kensy shot forward, putting a hand over his.

  “Don’t do this! We have you. The only thing that can happen if you pull your weapon is an innocent person will get hurt, or you’ll end up dead! Think it through. Come along with us peacefully and see if you can make a deal with the FBI.”

  Denova was incredible. His face twisted in anguish as he gripped the hilt of the unloaded 9mm auto in his waistband. Kensy held on.

  “Bring it out slow, Gus, and hand it to me.”

  Kev and Les moved into flanking positions, already holding Taser guns. Gus’s features eased from tense confrontation to resigned surrender. He allowed Kensy to take the weapon, his head lowered. She handed the weapon to Kevin, and put Gus into restraints. The crew retreated in an orderly, professional manner as Tommy and I had coached them. I was impressed. The whole damn scene had progressed exactly as Lynn had outlined without a missed beat of any kind.

  Tommy was as uneasy as I was. “I feel a disturbance in the Force, Cheese.”

  “Maybe we should enjoy the good moment this time without jinxing it, T.”

  Tommy snorted disparagingly. “Yeah, because that’s worked so well for us in the past.”

  “This is the Lynn Montoya show. We’re the backstage crew - so far, so good. We only have one more scene to end our part in this farce, T. Maybe Lynn’s mojo is strong enough to actually make this lunatic comedy work out. You saw Gus. He’s going to help us all the way with everything including the at sea operation.”

  “You talk like he had a choice.”

  “Good point. C’mon, I have to get changed into my MIB costume to receive custody of Gus in a dark alley. You’re not going to miss my debut are you?”

  Tommy walked around, paying off our flophouse extras. They were happy. “You guys did real good. Buy some food.”

  “The director said you guys can come out now,” Clint said in our ear.

  “On our way. Is it dark enough for the last scene?”

  “Almost, Cheese,” Lynn answered. “Get your suit on, and let’s head to the location.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  Outside, the Hollywoods were listening intently to Lynn as she explained how she wanted Gus handed over. She made sure Gus understood how he was supposed to walk while being turned over to the FBI, making him shuffle, his head down. I had to admit, it looked very convincing. I changed in the van on the way over with Clint. We even wore hats. Tommy ragged us all the way.

  The wide side street next to the Casa Ado restaurant had a dark section where the lighting was perfect for an exchange. Clint and I left the van, moving to the shadowed area by the restaurant. The Hollywood Bounty Hunters eased into the side street, parking across from us. Seigfried moved with Clint and me, his camera capturing us skulking away from the shadows. We stopped before walking into the dim streetlamp light coming from the front of the building.

  Kensy led the Hollywoods out with a hand on the restrained Denova, who acted out the part of captured bad guy beautifully. Kev and Les bracketed Denova, while the others stood slightly behind on both sides. Kensy held up her hand in a stopping gesture.

  “I need to see your ID’s, gentlemen.”

  We held out our FBI identification, which Kensy perused with enough intensity to convince any audience we were the real deal. As she stepped back and then brought Gus forward into our custody, a noisy crew of seven guys with hoods and bandannas rounded the back corner of the building the van was parked next to. I could picture Tommy at the front of the restaurant in our rented carryall enjoying the hell out of what he jinxed. He said he’d park with a good view.

  “Well… look here! It’s a costume party!”

  The leader definitely represented one of his crew admirably: big, tattooed, and pants riding around his thighs so he had to do a type of penguin strut to keep from ending up on his face. These guys approached with every gangsta movie memorabilia cliché known, including gold chain bling and rings. I even saw some gold teeth flashing in the sparse rays of light, streaming with a yellow aura from the main street’s lamps on their ghoulishly grinning happy faces. It’s good to see young happy faces nowadays, but I knew as they slowed to a halt only twenty feet away, they were here for mischief. Then Lynn popped out of the van.

  “Cut!” She gave Sigfried the throat slitting gesture, meaning for him to stop filming. Lynn walked over in front of the Hollywoods. “You bunch take five, and do not interfere. Kev and Les are in charge. Move ‘em back boys
while we handle this delay in filming. Damn, you guys nailed the scene perfectly. We should only have to add the ending moment. You walked with the Buffster exactly as we practiced, Gus. I was-”

  “What the fuck? Hey… skanky! Shut the hell up! You ain’t even got the brains to know you in trouble, ho!”

  Lynn started laughing. She knew Clint could shoot all seven in the head before the muffled sound of his silenced 9mm Ruger registered in their brains. I thought, oh boy, this is going to get bloody and violent. I was wrong. Lynn motioned Kev and Les to get our acting crew out of the way, which they did in a fast proficient manner. She then walked right up into the leader’s face.

  “You watchin’, cowboy?”

  “I got your back, babe,” Clint answered. “If I see hands reaching, gangstas, none of your merry band makes it out of this alive. I could flash a badge, babe.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Lynn peered into the leader’s eyes with only inches separating them. “You interrupted my scene, Egbert. Then you called me a skank and a ho’. I know this is just a misunderstanding because you sagging pants morons don’t know any better than to shoot your mouths off to strangers. We’re going to give you boys a lesson in the golden rule of never talking to strangers.”

  “Bitch!” The leader, nicknamed Egbert, started to shove off on Lynn. A flurry of movement later, he gasped and grabbed his bloody wrist.

  Lynn waved a warning finger with the hand not clutching her bloody knife. “No… no… no… you don’t get to touch, Eggy. You there in the back… yeah… you… the one who looks like someone uprooted an ugly tree stump from some swamp land in the Everglades. One of my guys needs some toughening.”

  Uh oh. Clint was already suppressing a snorting laugh of recognition. Tommy had already moved up at our backs. He may enjoy a jinxed movie scene, but he didn’t know or care if we could play with these guys. If the shooting started, he’d shoot to kill at our sides.

  “Come out front here, big boy,” Lynn directed, pointing at a guy easily six and a half feet tall, and probably weighing in the three hundred pound range. “You don’t look like a pussy… although wearin’ those pants down around your knees means you like to take it in the ass. I don’t judge though. I’m a live and let live type person. Seek love where you will. By the steaming look on your face, I’m thinking I’ve made you mad.”

  “Put down the fuckin’ knife, bitch, and I show you mad!”

  This guy did not like Lynn’s altercation scene. “Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Hey, Cheesburger? Take off your hat and coat. We got a challenger.”

  This was silly. “Damn it, Lynn! Can’t we just-”

  “Call me a pussy? Shit… look like your boy needs balls before any toughenin’. C’mon, snowflake… skank here wants a showin’. Let’s do this!”

  Yep. Bad idea. Tommy took my coat and hat in hand with a shit eatin’ grin. We’d been pumping up marks on the street for years. “You sure called it, T.”

  “Nobody died yet, Cheese,” Tommy replied. “Lynn could have slashed that clown’s Adam’s apple out. So… this is how you monsters have fun.”

  “If you weren’t honking crap like a goose flying to warmer climates, you’d already be gettin’ the bets down, T. You’re getting’ old and used up.”

  Tommy’s face beamed. The prick threw my coat and hat on the ground much to Clint’s amusement. He walked right into the middle of it next to Lynn. “Okay… the Cheeseburger back there don’t fight for free. You all think sissy-boy here can take our man, Cheese, let’s see the color of your money. I’m givin’ three to one odds right now! Oh, what the hell? Your sportin’ blood turn to water?”

  Tommy displayed a roll of bills that gave the others ideas about taking it in another way. Clint clipped off a small piece of shoulder when a gangsta reached for his piece. “Believe me, boys, you don’t want to turn this into a gunfight.”

  Clint made his point. Tommy took over. “C’mon sweeties, step up and show me the money! If I wanted, my associate, Deadshot, could trim pieces off you bunch until you all threw your money at us. Hell, we’re sportin’ folks, boys. No need for gunplay. Make a wager. We see it through, and loser pays. Who wants some? Step up, spenders!”

  The next five minutes were conducted with Tommy’s expert handling of side bets, while playing his audience to perfection. They came up with a grand between them. Tommy had that covered, even at the three to one odds. He was a street man from way back where cash talks and bullshit walks. I could see Lynn was enjoying the hell out of the show, strutting around doing frightening knife tricks for the gang’s amusement. The leader had been quiet since Lynn schooled him, tying his bandanna around the wound she had given him. I could see Clint was watching him carefully. This gaming stuff only goes so far before the killin’ begins.

  When all was in order, Lynn walked over to me. “Knife-hand strikes only, Cheese. Impress me, or I’ll make your time in the Bay legendary. Show me what you got.”

  I didn’t reply. I admit it. I lived for this shit. This was like old times, watching Tommy work his side bet magic, while mixing in a mixture of jokes and insults with our marks. The big guy, to his credit, eyed me with the venom of a fighter getting psyched up for a brawl. I loosened up, fists clenching. I’m a freak. This particular scene brought back memories of Tommy and me from years back, starting out. Here we were again, in the shadows of some dirty alleyway to nowhere. I didn’t plan on killing this guy, but I sure as hell didn’t plan on taking punishment while saving his life.

  Then the big guy wastes his breath thinking to psych me out. “You look like someone danced on your face already. You won’t have a face when I get done.”

  I straightened, feeling my face with comic precision. “Damn it! I’m all healed up almost. That’s just mean making fun of my looks.”

  Both sides of our peculiar entourage enjoyed my comment for a few moments, but for different reasons. My side knew how I got to be the Cheeseburger. Big guy’s boys in the hood thought I’d be losing my face.

  Tommy moved up. “Are you ready? Let’s do this and quit blowin’ smoke up each other’s asses.”

  I nodded. “Ready.”

  The big guy waved at Tommy as if he couldn’t wait to smash the Cheeseburger’s face off. Tommy motioned us together. “Get it on.”

  I had to hand it to the big guy. He didn’t play it stupid. He figured if he took me down with a tackle, my defacing could commence immediately. I stepped to the side slightly, and shot a knife-hand strike to the base of his neck at the back. Yeah, I didn’t pull it, so there would be some mystery for a moment whether he died in the attack or not. There was no mystery as to whether he was getting up though after he went face first into the street. He laid there like a corpse. Tommy went over to see if he was a corpse or not, feeling for a pulse at his neck. T then went into his performer act.

  “It…it’s alive!” Tommy leaped away from the unmoving big guy. “I could count him out, but I’d rather count my money. Pay up, boys.”

  The gang was stunned. They gawked in disbelief, with a couple of them checking on their comatose buddy. Once it was ascertained big guy was not waking up any time soon, they began making disparaging noises, which Lynn halted in an instant.

  “I see you pikers don’t like the outcome. How about a knife fight.” Lynn did a quick dazzling display for their entertainment, making her butterfly knife streak around in the yellow streetlamp glare from open to closed, hand to hand, and finally flying up around from her back to land in her knife wielding right hand. “We’ll give five to one. Any takers?”

  Silence. If there had been any crickets in the alley, we would have heard them.

  “Well, okay then,” Lynn said. “Pay up, and run along. I still have a scene ending to shoot. Pick up your boy there and get on your way. Tommy? Can you see these mooks on their way safely so we don’t have to make them all disappear?”

  “Sure.” Tommy knelt next to big guy, while slapping him into groaning clarity. He then stood up, showin
g them the butt of his Glock 9mm. “Pay up, and help your boy out of the area. I’ll be your guide.”

  The boys wanted no more of our action. They paid up. Tommy was his usual placating self now that the fight was over. He supervised the big guy’s return to his feet, helped by his cohorts. With a mix of good humor, and reality, he moved them on their original way. I donned my coat and hat again, readying for our scene ending. It had worked out in our favor after all. We even hustled a nice piece of change. Lynn turned into director extraordinaire instantly.

  “Okay… breaks over. Get into position again, right where we were before. Siggy? Get over here and show us the front part of the scene. Can we just add on, or do we have to reshoot?”

  After a few moments watching the very impressive handover of Gus, Lynn clapped her hands. “Perfect. We don’t even need any more film wasted on the Cheeseburger, and his wooden cohort, Clint. Let’s film a tender moment between Kev and Kensy, while winding down from a dramatic exchange with the FBI.”

  “That…that was really awesome,” Daniel Atkins said. “God… I thought those guys would kill or rob us for sure.”

  “Lynn… you’re incredible,” Kensy said. “You looked like you wanted that guy to attack you. Could we ever get like your crew?”

  “No way,” Lynn replied with some frustration. “My boys, Kev and Les, would have gotten you all on your way without a confrontation this time. Me, and my guys are monsters. We play monster games. Don’t think about it. Remember one thing always: in the end, you bunch are actors on a stage. Kev and Les are with you in this gig to remind anyone who forgets. A situation like that ever happens in the future, tell Aunty Lynn what the key word is.”

  “Survival,” Les answered right away.

  “My main man!” Lynn hugged Les affectionately. “Exactly! Now, let’s get shooting, Siggy. Cheeseburger and noname FBI agent… off of my set. We don’t need your cardboard cutout butts any longer.”

  Tommy had returned to add insult to injury, hustling us toward Casa Ado’s front with impatient hand gestures. “You heard the director! You extras get the hell off the set.”