[JC Bannister 01.0] The Fixer, Season 1

by Rex Carpenter

  He knew she wanted to hear him say it.

  He couldn’t.

  Not yet.

  “A heavy hitter. What you don’t know is she’s an old friend of my family.”

  “Who is she, JC?”

  JC wished she would stop pushing. Of course she was worried. He knew that. If she wasn’t, he would have fired her right there. He also knew she was trying to quietly punish him again for Germany. If they were in the Army right now, he would order her to stop asking questions. But Joan had never been in the Army. Any army, officially. Besides, they were private sector. And he needed her to trust him.

  “Honestly, I can’t tell you right now. As soon as I can, I will.”

  Joan nodded her acceptance of his evasion. She had made her point. And he had conceded it.

  “Right now I can tell you two things. One, if I do this, we may need to drop everything and disappear at a moment’s notice. We are heading to New York to take a meeting. On the way we have to stop in Philadelphia. I have some paperwork there I need to pick up.” False identity. Passport, driver’s license, supporting documents, stash of cash. They all had more than one. “It’s the best one I have. Tucked away where nobody knows about it. You guys should get your paperwork in order as well.”

  “My most complete set is in New York. We can pick it up after the meeting tomorrow,” Joan said.

  “I’ve got a passable set in NYC,” Duke said. “Best one is back in Boston. The New York one will do until I can get the other one.”

  “Good. Keep them with you at absolutely all times. Extra cash, too. As much as you can comfortably carry.” A strap of hundred dollar bills weighed just under four ounces. Half an inch thick. Ten thousand dollars. JC planned on carrying around four or five on his person at all times until things calmed down.

  “OK. What’s the second thing?” Joan asked.

  “New York. The meeting.” JC took a deep breath. “It’s with The General.”

  Joan stared at him. Not moving. Duke looked down into his coffee. His hand started to tremble. He set the cup down noisily.

  “I know. But it needs to be done,” JC continued.

  “Is this about Indonesia?” Joan said.

  “No.” JC didn’t elaborate.

  Duke picked up his coffee cup. Sat back. The fear of his former commanding officer faded from his eyes. “Screw it. I’ve been scared of that old man since the first time I heard about him. Listen, JC. If you need me, I’m in. Simple as that.”

  “No, Duke, it isn’t.”

  Duke looked him in the eye. “You say you can do this job just as well without me? You can go in, get it done and get back out? In one piece? Without my help?”

  JC paused. “Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

  “You’re such a liar, JC,” Duke laughed, smiling. “I don’t know what happened in Germany, all lederhosen and secret spy stuff, but if this mess is far worse than Bahrain, I know for a fact you’re gonna need my help.” Joan started to smile as well. First time in two days. “Do just as well without me. Without us. My ass. You’re buying the pancakes. Waitress!”

  “Really, Duke? Pancakes?” JC said.

  “Dude, I am hungry,” Duke said, stacking the dirty plates away from him on the table. “"Been in that library all day eating crappy vending machine food.”

  “It’s eleven thirty at night, Duke. You just ate,” Joan chided.

  “You gonna promise me right now we’re gonna be able to eat a good, hearty all-American breakfast tomorrow morning?” Duke said, leaning forward, finger jabbing the table in front of him, smile on his face. Joan shrugged. “Then I’m going to eat my breakfast now,” Duke continued, looking again for the waitress.

  The waitress came over. Duke ordered his pancakes. Plus sausage, eggs and toast. JC was relieved. He knew Joan was in when she had backed off her questioning. And he figured there was no way Duke was going to just walk away from the work. But it was good to hear him affirm his participation. And move past his fear of The General. There was a long night of driving ahead. Lots of planning to be done before New York City. He was glad for the momentary levity.

  Chapter 9

  One Wrong Word

  Kowalski and Meier were in Senator Marcus’s office. Marcus was sitting behind her desk. Meier sat in the simple chair in front of it. He had been grousing about the meeting at the library for ten minutes now. Kowalski, leaning against the closed office door directly behind Meier, was growing weary of it. He wanted the man to just stop all of his complaining.

  “Meier, the meeting was a mess. We all know that,” Kowalski said.

  “Really? Did anyone else in this room have their three hundred thousand dollar car shot all to hell? No?” Meier half-turned towards Kowalski as he spoke. Turned back to the senator without waiting for an answer.

  Kowalski wanted to smack Meier in the head but he stayed put. Senator Marcus had remarked to Kowalski before how she did not like the way Meier would throw his wealth around to win an argument. Kowalski remembered the two words she had used. Childish. Tactless. Kowalski had seen how smart Meier was. How good he was at his job. Honestly, he wasn’t that bad of a guy. Despite being a real dick at times. Especially about money.

  “Meier, your insurance will cover it. I’ve already spoken with your father, explained the situation. He’s developing a story to conceal what really happened last night. It’ll all be taken care of. And yes, I’m sorry about it,” Marcus said.

  Kowalski shook his head slowly. Smirked. Marcus caught his eye. Infinitesimal move of her head to the left. The smirk disappeared. Meier never noticed, still talking.

  “I know I was never military, so maybe that’s why you didn’t tell me all the details of what was going on. But I was there, Senator. I sat across from him at the bar the first time we met. I was in the line of fire just as much as Kowalski and his agents. But nobody except you and Bannister know what the meeting was about. Not Kowalski, not me. Hell, I’m your chief of staff. How can I help you run things if I’m not kept in the loop?” He half-turned again. Indicated Kowalski. “If we’re not kept in the loop?”

  Kowalski knew Meier didn’t care about him being kept in the loop. He wondered if the senator realized it. She seemed to have a soft spot for Meier.

  “Meier, believe me, I understand your frustration,” Marcus replied. “But, truthfully, there are times where you simply won’t be able to know all the things that happen around me. Are you privy to all the things that are said and done in my committee meetings?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “Daniel, don’t you understand? If you know everything then you are a target. On The Hill, from subpoenas, the press, enemies to our political party. Hell, even the enemies of this country could be after you.”

  Meier stewed in his chair. Sometimes Senator Marcus could sound like a schoolteacher. Like now. Kowalski knew how it felt when she started her school marm bit. She had lectured him more than once. But these days her lectures were fewer and further between. They had become more exhortations instead of lectures as of late. She was softening.

  “Daniel, listen to me. You are indispensable. I couldn’t do all that I do without you. You need to know that. But if I leave you out of certain loops, it’s for your protection.”

  “I’m sorry, Senator Marcus,” Meier said. “I know last night was stressful for you. And I know that whatever is going on, whatever the reason is for you to enlist Bannister’s help, it must be pretty big as well. I just want you to know that we are there for you. To help you shoulder the load. When you need it.”

  Marcus smiled. Kowalski rolled his eyes. Meier sure could spin a line of crap.

  Meier stood to leave. “Oh, one more thing. I need to take a few days off. Head back to L.A. to get my insurance sorted out with my dad. Think that will be okay?”

  “Of course, Daniel. But I’ll need you back here on Monday afternoon. We need to prepare for the briefing on Tuesday morning.”

  “I’ll b
e here. Thank you.”

  Meier left. Kowalski repositioned himself with his back inches away from the closed door. Meier could take care of his insurance situation with five minutes of phone calls. Anybody with his power and pull could. But the man had just weaseled a four day weekend out of the senator for nothing. Kowalski shook his head. Waited while Marcus checked the schedule on her iPhone. She coughed a few times. He retrieved a bottle of water from a small refrigerator hidden behind a cabinet door. Handed it to her. Sat in the chair Meier had been seated in moments before.

  “Are you okay, senator?”

  “Yeah. Tonight was a bit chilly for me. Caught a cough.”

  It was a lie. She’d had a recurring cough for the past month. But calling her on it wasn’t Kowalski’s job. It was Meier’s. If he wasn’t so wrapped up in himself and his own ambition, he would have seen it three weeks ago. Like Kowalski had. Marcus put down her phone.

  “Guy, I know you’re unhappy about the meeting as well.”

  “Oh, no, I really enjoy getting the crap kicked out of me in front of my team. Humiliation — it builds character.”

  Marcus smiled. “That’s not what I was talking about. You asked for more agents before the meeting. I said no. Do you understand why now?”

  “You knew JC when he was young. I get that. I knew him, too. You thought it would be safe.”

  “But…” Marcus let her words dangle. Urging Kowalski to continue.

  “It’s my job to keep you safe. Even when you don’t want me to do it, that’s still my job. Last night you ended up safe. But you and I both know it could have turned out a lot worse than me getting beat up.”

  Marcus turned and looked at her trophy shelf — pictures of her with family, friends, presidents, dignitaries. Kowalski knew she did this when she wanted to avoid answering.

  “Right?”

  Marcus sighed. “Yes. I know.”

  “People change, senator,” Kowalski continued. “Do you still think the man we met with last night was the little boy you knew thirty years ago? Because the man I saw last night — he’s not the same guy I knew in basic training. And that was just fifteen years ago.”

  Marcus looked at her watch. Kowalski knew his time was up for now. He stood.

  “We all need to be more careful,” he said. “Especially Meier. You and I understand people like Bannister. Military, ex-military. Meier doesn’t. He thinks all military people are like the hired help.”

  “That’s not true, Guy.”

  “He hides it around you, but not around my team. Or anyone he thinks can’t impact his career. He needs to be careful. Every military person he has been around has been active duty. Law enforcement. People who operate inside the standard rules of society. Bannister doesn’t.”

  “I will speak to him.”

  “Good. Because one wrong word and who knows what Bannister could do. Or the people on his team.” Kowalski turned. Exited the office. Closed the door behind him. Smiled.

  Chapter 10

  Charlie Don’t Surf

  Duke was asleep in the back of the SUV. He had gotten sick from all the food he had eaten. They had to stop three times before they had gotten to Harrisburg so he could throw up on the side of the road. All the vomiting had worn him out. He was stretched out as best he could across the width of the vehicle. Semi-comfortable. Enough so he could sleep. Joan was sitting in the front seat. Quiet. JC’s eyes were on the road, but he was thinking about New York. About seeing The General again.

  Duke half awoke from a dream, then sunk back into another one. Noisily.

  “I’ve got a question,” Joan said.

  “Shoot.”

  “How did you meet Duke?”

  JC smiled. He always did when he thought of the story.

  “We’re going down that road now?” JC asked.

  Joan shrugged, looking back to the road in front of them. “We could talk about your bad idea to go visit The General in New York if you’d prefer.”

  JC chuckled. “The two are actually related,” he said. Took a swig from the bottle of water in the center console. “I was the aide to Brigadier General Robinson during the Iraq War. The General. You know that. At one point the Iraq insurgency got pretty good at shooting down our drones. We were flying drone missions almost 24/7. Which worked really well, but it was giving lots of time for the insurgents to figure out how to shoot them down. General gets all pissed. Rightly so. Goes to try and figure out how to fix it. So we’re touring a drone piloting facility. Surprise inspection, nobody knows we’re there until we’re, well, there. The sergeant running the place is explaining everything to us when all of a sudden alarms start going off. All kinds of noise. Somehow Al Qaeda hacked into the servers and whatnot. Getting ready to take down our whole secure network, crash about seven drones we had up in the sky. Lose like close to half a billion dollars of equipment. The sergeant is freaking out, barking orders, trying to get things taken care of. The General is staying back, letting the man run his little kingdom. But then one drone goes down. Then another. The General gets pissed. Bellows out, ‘Somebody fix this damn thing! You’re gonna lose all the drones!’ Over in the corner we hear a voice bellow back ‘No sir! Charlie don’t surf!’“

  “Duke?” Joan laughed.

  “Yup. ‘No sir! Charlie don’t surf!’“ JC laughed as well. “The whole place went instantly quiet. Duke, not knowing what the hell was going on, threw out another ‘Sir!’ for good measure. He had been warning the sergeant for weeks about vulnerabilities in the drone program. Sergeant didn’t want to listen to some kid who played videogames and watched too many movies. So like two hours before this full-on cyber-attack, Duke had seen increased activity and was trying to counteract it. When the attack hit, he was the only one ready for it. We all stood there quietly. Watched the kid’s fingers flying across the keyboard, spitting out code, all kinds of stuff only he knew about. Over the next hour Duke saved the five remaining drones. Tracked down where the attack had originated, sent up three armed drones and reduced the site to smoking rubble. He was telling us what he was doing from time to time. But he never once asked any commanding officer in the room for permission. When The General walked away from the facility two hours later, he ordered the sergeant to run everything he planned to do through that kid.”

  “Wow. But, come on. Charlie don’t surf?”

  JC shrugged. “Duke’s dad was a diplomat. Posted here, posted there. Kind of guy who hated America and wanted to be anywhere but. Dragged Duke and his family with them so they could see the world. Loved staying in Europe. Well, as a kid growing up, only thing Duke really knew about America was what he watched from movies and any American TV shows he could get his hands on. Dad wouldn’t let him go to DOD schools. Weren’t good enough. I interviewed him before I hired Duke. Arrogant. Real son of a bitch. Anyway, Duke started watching surfing movies from the sixties and seventies. Watched The Endless Summer, then Big Wednesday and figured that surfing was like the quintessential American activity. All he wanted to do was surf. But that’s hard to do in Europe. Believe me, I’ve tried. So one day he watches Apocalypse Now and hears Kilgore say ‘Charlie don’t surf.’ Sounds cool, so he starts saying it. Turns into a negative declaration for him — instead of saying, ‘That’s not gonna happen’ or ‘Bullshit’ or something like that, kid says ‘Charlie don’t surf.’“

  “How did he join the Army with a dad like that?”

  “He was recruited. In Hawaii.”

  “What?”

  “Duke is good with languages, right?”

  “Yeah, he speaks like half a dozen.”

  “No, he speaks more than a dozen. And when you include the different dialects he can manage, he knows and speaks over thirty uniquely different languages and dialects.”

  A look of disbelief and admiration came over Joan’s face. She looked back at the sleeping man in the back seat, worn out from vomiting up a greasy diner breakfast.

  “And this was when he was twenty,” JC said, �
��when he joined the Army. They tested him. In the past eleven years, who knows how many more he’s added.”

  “Wait a second,” Joan said. “He was recruited in Hawaii?”

  “Yup.”

  “Is that why everyone calls him Duke? Duke Kahanamoku?”

  “Yup. Got recruited into the Army and he still kept talking about surfing and Hawaii. Somebody called him Duke and it stuck. Left Davidson E. Ellsworth behind except for official paperwork.”

  “If he spoke so many languages,” Joan said, “why was he doing computer work? Why not translating or being a linguist?”

  “Because as good as he is at languages, he’s even better with computers. And all the videogames he played made him a helluva shot.”

  “CIA?”

  “They tried recruiting him,” JC said. Shrugged. “We got to him first.”

  They drove on in silence, the noise from the road quieting everything.

  “Does he know you were there that day?” Joan asked finally.

  “Naww, I don’t think so. We met again later. Saved his life once after a convoy we were in got ambushed. That’s when he thinks we met.”

  “You saved his life?”

  JC shrugged. “He’s saved mine at least four times that I can count since we’ve been working together. Yours twice. That’s what we do. For our team.”

  Joan went silent again. Looked out the window. The sun was still about an hour away from rising, but the sky was getting light. “Philadelphia: 25 miles” the green road sign read.

  “Wake him up, Joan. We need to make a stop.”

  Chapter 11

  Hadn’t Gone Well

  Two hours away, in New York City, The General was getting ready for his day. He had a meeting planned at the UN at three that afternoon, but his day was relatively open until then. Regardless, he had risen at five in the morning, same as he had every day since he was ten years old and his father decided he was man enough to work and help feed the family. Growing up poor and black in North Carolina had not been kind, but his father knew hard work was the only possible way out. So he had driven and beaten and ridiculed his only son until the junior hated the senior, until he could see the hate in his young son’s eyes. Until one day when he was sixteen years old, young Marvin O. Robinson the Second had finally snapped and beaten the older man within an inch of his life.