“Hold on,” Duke said. “What about our phantom? That doesn’t happen?”
JC shook his head. “Not like you think. We’ve got a new target for that. Kowalski is going down for all of this.” Smiled.
Duke and Theo sat back at exactly the same time. At exactly the same speed. Said, “Whoa,” with exactly the same intonation. Joan smiled, but the two friends were trying so hard to process the information they missed it.
JC could see the confusion and doubt on their faces. He needed to sell them on the plan. Fast. “Listen, guys. We’re not going to kill her. Not like she wants. That’s something I don’t ever want on my conscience, despite the other horrible stuff I’ve seen and done. But we can’t just walk away from this. We do and she’ll just find someone else. Plus nail us to the wall as a going away present. No way I’m going to live like that.”
A waitress came over. Refilled Joan and Theo’s coffee. Duke declined. His hands were already shaking from the new plan.
“If we straight walk away,” JC continued after the waitress left, “we’re done for. If Marcus doesn’t ruin us, Kowalski will hunt us down with some combination of alphabet agencies.” Paused. “Either way, we’re toast. But if we do it this way, Marcus gets the medical attention she needs. She’s the hero, which makes her happy. And we don’t go to jail.”
Theo was shaking his head. “Okay,” he said, “but Kowalski? How do you figure that?”
“Think about it,” Joan said. “The guns he lost in Virginia show up at the remains of a compound with dozens of dead bodies. We’ll have video and audio of him planning the hit. Video of him taking possession of the sniper rifle we took from the Sons of Liberty. After Duke is done hacking into various databases and altering the forensic data on the rifle actually used to shoot Marcus, it will look like one of the rifles Kowalski supposedly lost was used to shoot her. Duke will still cook up some phantom like we discussed, but it will look like some psycho Kowalski was using to do his dirty work. Instead of one psycho from the Sons of Liberty going rogue, it’ll be a psycho that Kowalski reached out to. Someone he contracted directly with to kill the senator. Create trails between them. False phone calls. Emails. Just enough evidence to make it look like he was the one planning and facilitating this lone gunman. He’ll be finished.” Joan had grown more serious the more she explained to Duke and Theo.
Duke didn’t look convinced. “I dunno. Seems a lot to put on that dude.”
“Really?” JC pressed. “He flat-out lied to us about the intel on the Sons of Liberty. If we hadn’t done our own recon then we’d be responsible for the deaths of dozens of people, man. Women. Kids.” Paused. “We’d be mass-murderers, Duke. The Bolivians in Philly? Best guess is he sent them. Same as the people who burned down my cousin’s garage.” Shook his head. “From the very start of this whole thing back in D.C. he’s been trying to nail us to the wall. I think it’s high time we return the favor. Only difference is, we’re going to make it stick.”
Duke sat back.
JC knew it was a lot to digest in such a short timeframe. Knew he had to soften them up a bit before the final punch. “Listen, if I’m wrong, then all this stuff can be disproven. With a deep enough investigation, the evidence we’ve constructed gets blown apart. Kowalski is a free bird.” He looked around at the table. “But if I’m right, and Kowalski is behind all of this, he burns.”
Joan was smiling. It was her plan and JC expected her to smile. Theo was nodding. Seemed to be open to it. Duke looked mollified. His initial reactions indicated he was against pinning it on Kowalski, but after JC’s explanations, he seemed to be buying it. Which made the next part all the harder.
“One more thing,” JC said, playing with the rim of his coffee cup. He looked up, straight at Duke. “We have to give the money back.”
Duke’s face turned to stone. “What?” Cold.
“Think about it, Duke,” Joan said, “somebody will discover the missing money sooner or later. You can’t just have that much money disappear and not miss it. Even if it’s the US government.”
Duke’s eyes hadn’t moved from JC.
“The fee was dependent on the target dying,” JC said, continuing Joan’s attempt at convincing Duke. “We keep the money and she comes under investigation? How long do you think she’d hold out before fingering us?” JC shook his head. “We can’t keep it. Not this way. Not if we want to get away clean.”
Duke didn’t respond.
“That’s a lot of money to give back,” Theo said.
“It is. But we’re getting something worth far more in return,” Joan said.
“Yeah?” Theo said. “What?”
Joan didn’t answer. Waited. JC and Duke continued to stare at each other.
“Our freedom,” JC said. “Target is alive, action pinned on Kowalski, money is back in place? We walk away. Nobody hunting us. Chasing us for the rest of our lives.” He hadn’t stopped staring at Duke.
“I don’t know, boss,” Duke said slowly, eyes unwavering. “I can buy a lot of freedom for six million dollars.”
JC’s face remained impassive, but inside he smiled. Duke had spoken. He hadn’t said “no.” And he had called him boss. The hard part was over.
“Yes,” JC said, “but can you buy fifty or sixty years’ worth of freedom?”
Duke pursed his lips into a slight frown. Shook his head. “I suppose I’m the one who has to put it back, too, right?” he said.
JC smiled. “Well, Joan here told me you could hack into the DOD database, so, yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who is going to be able to do it.”
Theo looked at Duke. “Dude, hack in there and up my pension, would ya?”
Duke shook his head as Joan and JC smiled. “All right,” he said. “Damn you JC and your need to do the right thing. I’m on board.”
JC smiled. He knew sooner or later there would be a falling out with Duke. There always was with the senior and the junior in this line of work. He was just glad it wasn’t today.
“Great,” JC said. “Duke, you’ve got some computer work to do. Theo, you’ll be with him. Joan and I are going to start scouting locations for the solution to take place at. Let’s go get The General back to the hotel and get started.”
The team rose, leaving a generous tip for the waitress. JC paid cash for their bill at the front counter. They walked outside. It was a beautiful spring day in the City of Angels. The General was sitting on a bench outside the restaurant. Aviator mirrored sunglasses. Relaxing. He saw the group. Rose. Walked over to join them.
Two black Cadillac Escalades came to a screeching halt in front of the restaurant. The acrid smell of burned rubber and oil filled the air. Before the vehicles had stopped two men appeared from behind JC. The sound of shotgun shells being racked into their chambers rang in each ear as each man took position behind him.
JC raised his hands. Fighting would get his head completely blown off. He knew Joan, Duke and Theo would follow his lead no matter how much they wanted to fight. JC was wondering what The General was doing. The shotgunners behind him hadn’t come from the Escalades. Which meant they had been standing there. Had The General actually not seen them? JC tried to find the old man in the reflection of the lead Escalade’s mirrored windows but couldn’t.
The doors on the rear SUV opened and four more thugs jumped out. Hispanic, all carrying AK-47s. The passenger door to the front SUV opened as well. More slowly. A tall, muscular man stepped out, also Hispanic. Light gray suit, white shirt, blue tie. Similar age as JC, shaved head, goatee the man carried a Serbu Super Shorty short-barreled shotgun in his right hand. Walked up to JC and stuck the weapon inches from his face.
Considering his line of work, this wasn’t the first time Bannister had a shotgun pointed at his head. He looked past the gaping hole of the close-up shotgun barrel and into the eyes of the man holding it. Saw nothing. Just empty pits of blackness.
“We need to have a meeting,” the man said.
“Really, Humberto?” JC said.
“It’s gotta be like this?”
“It’s gotta be like this,” Humberto said.
“Still carrying the Super Shorty?” JC said, hands still in the air, buying time. “It’s a good weapon. Told you you’d like it.”
“You also told me to always carry one in the chamber,” Humberto said. “Which means you know that I don’t need to chamber a shell. All I have to do is pull the trigger and the back of your head splatters all over your friends.”
JC’s forced congeniality disappeared. Humberto Sanchez-Garza had functioned as JC’s understudy of sorts when they both worked for The Mexican. What Humberto lacked in experience he made up in enthusiasm and cruelty. It had been over seven years since JC stopped working for The Mexican, which meant Humberto had seven years of experience to go with his cruelty.
Bad for Bannister.
“Let’s go, JC,” Humberto said, nodding his head in the direction of the Escalade behind him. “The boss only asked for you. It’d be a shame if I had to take all your friends as well.” Humberto paused. “Or leave their bodies lying on the ground.”
JC nodded. “Joan,” he said over his shoulder,
“I’ve got the bit,” she said.
“Trust the team,” JC said.
Humberto nodded to one of the men behind JC. The man shoved JC forward with the wooden butt stock of his Remington 870 shotgun. JC expected the move. Spun slightly as he moved forward. Turned backwards. Saw Joan. Winked at her. Then continued into the waiting Escalade.
Chapter 38
Bet On the Lady
“You let them take him?” Duke said. ”I can’t believe you did that, Joan!”
“Listen, I’ve still got some guns in the van,” Theo said. “We can chase them down, get him back.”
Joan said nothing. Didn’t bother watching the Escalades to see which direction they were headed. Jogged around the back of the restaurant, towards the minivan. Duke, Theo and The General followed. She approached the valet. Gestured to the white grocery getter and held out her hand for the keys. The man said one word. “Ticket.”
Joan punched him in the face. He stumbled backwards, hands holding his nose as blood spurted from between them. He started yelling at her, muffled and unintelligible from between his hands. Joan stepped around the valet booth, shoving the young man even further away. Looked for the key to the minivan. The valet bounced against the concrete block wall, then slid down, sitting on the broken asphalt. Crying. Theo rounded the corner first, ticket in hand. Gave it to Joan. She took it, found the matching key, grabbed it and ran toward the van. Duke and The General followed her. Theo gave the valet three hundred dollars, apologized briefly and ran after the group.
Joan unlocked the van with the remote and got in the passenger seat. Duke and The General jumped in the back. Theo came around, got in the driver’s side and the team, minus their leader, took off.
“Go to the hotel,” Joan said. “Beverly Wilshire. We’re dropping The General off.”
The van exploded in voices and argument. Duke and Theo were trying to convince her they should chase after the Escalades and rescue JC. The General was protesting being put on the sidelines. Joan let them bicker and yell for about thirty seconds.
“Stop the van!” she yelled.
Theo ignored her, kept driving. Kept arguing. As did Duke and The General. Joan’s left hand shot across the van and grabbed onto Theo’s face. Her hand wrapped around the back of his head while her thumb pressed against the outer corner of his eyeball. Ready to dig in with her thumb and pop it from the socket.
“Now.”
Theo pulled over quickly. Nobody spoke. Joan let go of Theo’s head. Turned.
“General, I’m sorry, but you can’t observe right now,” Joan said. “I am in charge. JC told me to trust the team. You’re not on the team. That doesn’t mean I don’t trust you. It means I’m following orders. Something I think you can appreciate.”
The General squinted his eyes. Evaluating. “My best guess? Right now you’re going to need all the help you can get, miss.”
Joan softened. A smile tugged at the right corner of her mouth. “That may be, sir. But I don’t think you want to be on the hook for the things we’re about to do in the next few hours.”
The General didn’t move. Said nothing.
“Tell me, sir,” Joan continued. “When you and JC were in Iraq. If you had been kidnapped, what would he have done to get you back?” She paused. Let the idea sink in. “We’re not in the Army, sir. We have no rules. Now, imagine what JC would do in that situation.” She stared at the old soldier. Her smile vanished. “It is nothing compared to what I will do to get him back. Like I said, if I need you, I’ll call. But I think you’d be best served putting as much plausible deniability between yourself and this. For now.”
The General nodded once. Curtly.
Joan turned back around. “Beverly Wilshire.”
Theo pulled away from the curb. Rubbing his right eye. “Little harsh, don’t you think?” he said.
Joan looked out the passenger window. “Can you see?”
“Yeah,” Theo answered.
“Will you do what I tell you next time? Without me having to say it twice?”
“Yeah,” Theo said. Sullenly.
“Then it was an effective and inexpensive lesson. Only thing that got hurt was your pride,” she said.
Theo rubbed his eye again. “Yeah, that and my damn eye!”
Joan smiled. Looked at him. He was trying not to smile as well.
“I like her,” The General said out loud.
Duke said nothing.
*****
JC was riding in the back of the first Escalade. He sat behind the driver. One of the men who held a shotgun to the back of his head outside of the IHOP was sitting on his left, shotgun still pointed at his head. Humberto sat in the front passenger seat, his ultra-short shotgun in his lap.
JC did his best to look unconcerned. In some ways he wasn’t. Joan had given him the code that she was taking charge. He knew when the time came she would unleash herself and the men responsible for his kidnapping would die. She had responded with the answer they had worked out years ago. Before Theo. Before Duke. Even before Gorman. He had told her to trust the team. He had hoped she understood what he meant: anyone that was on the team before the kidnapping was to be trusted. Simple as that. Which included Coletti and Mercier. He figured Franklin Adams and the Sons of Liberty could be relied upon in a pinch. Bobby Hughes as well. At this point, even the cycling team was on his good person list. Right now, however, they were all far away. Joan needed to focus on immediate help. People close by.
JC hoped she had picked up on his subtle hint: don’t trust The General. Certainly not Kowalski. Or Senator Marcus. Jacob Meier may be a reliable person. JC had used Meier’s expertise to interview Franklin Adams before the assault on the compound. But involving him in this? He hoped Joan thought better of it. Keep him in reserve until his legal acumen was needed.
Which left precious few people. Joan, Duke and Theo were all the people that stood between him and a painful death followed by an unmarked hole somewhere in the arid landscape around Los Angeles. An unceremonious end to an interesting and active life, JC thought. Still. He knew his team. They were handpicked because they were some of the best in the world. Sure, Humberto was a vicious son of a bitch. But him up against Duke? Or Theo?
Or Joan?
JC sat back and smiled. He liked his odds.
Humberto glanced back at him. Saw him smiling. “Enjoying the ride?”
“Sure, Berto,” JC said. Used Humberto’s old nickname from when he first started working with The Mexican. Humberto had never liked it. Took him punching JC in the face one night over a bottle of Jack Daniels to make JC stop using it. “Nice to catch up with old friends.”
Humberto turned back around. JC wondered what it would take to get the man riled up. Back when they were working together it wasn’t hard. Make some sideways joke about his appearance. His shoes
. His favorite soccer team. Pretty much anything. But JC knew people who were that sensitive rarely rose very far in criminal organizations like the one The Mexican ran. Sure, they were useful at times. But if the Humberto he was looking at now hadn’t learned to control his temper, to keep a lid on his hair-trigger anger, he wouldn’t have been sent north to kidnap JC. It was an enormous responsibility. Not one that would be entrusted to a man who could fly off the handle at an insult, perceived or otherwise, and maybe wind up killing the target. No, it was an entirely different man sitting in the front seat of the speeding Escalade. One who was far more dangerous than he had first calculated.
Humberto vs. Joan?
No question. Bet on the lady every time.
Still, he wondered how much effort it would take to get Humberto upset. Decided he’d leave that to Duke. Or Theo. Or Joan.
“So. Where we going, Berto?”
JC chuckled. Regretted it as Humberto said something to the man sitting next to JC. The man started cycling the action of the shotgun. Live unfired shells were flying out of the ejection port and into the front seat. When the weapon was empty, Humberto held out his hand. The man passed the unloaded shotgun up to the front seat. JC expected what was about to come. Knew it was going to hurt. But decided maybe it would be better this way. Maybe if he didn’t know where they were going there would be a chance he’d make it out alive. Slim chance. But at this point, any slim chance increased his odds exponentially.
Humberto held the shotgun awkwardly, his left elbow over the seat back, the butt of the weapon pointed at JC. “Ready?”
JC frowned. “Night, night.” Gritted his teeth. Looked slightly downward, hoping to catch some of the blow on the crown of his head. Perhaps lessen the time he was out cold. If possible, he’d try to pretend he was still out when he came to. Maybe gain some kind of advantage. He knew he was clutching at straws, but that’s all he had.
That and his mouth.
“Berto,” he said one last time. Looked up at Humberto. Saw the anger in his eyes.
[JC Bannister 01.0] The Fixer, Season 1 Page 21
