Brutal Business: Book Three in the Mad Mick Series

by Franklin Horton

  Wayne looked at Conor. “You know the area better than I do, man. You got any ideas?”

  Conor thought for a moment. “I don’t know of any place in the immediate area that would have enough room for you. Wayne’s folks have packed the firehouse until it’s busting at the seams.”

  Wayne nodded in agreement to that. “What about Pastor White?”

  “I don’t think he has the space,” Conor said. “His church is packed and Pepe’s group would be a lot of fresh mouths to feed. Plus the people of his church can be kind of clannish. They are suspicious of outsiders.”

  “What about Shuck’s house?” Wayne asked.

  Conor raised an eyebrow. “You might be onto something. How many people in your group, Pepe?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “It might be tight but it’s better than nothing and it’s not too far off,” Wayne said. “We’d need to let the pastor know that folks were going to be staying there. Wouldn’t want any of his people heading up there with the same thought only to find it occupied already.”

  “Can you take care of getting them there, Wayne?” Conor asked. “Show them around and how to work the wood stove?”

  Wayne thought for a moment, replaying the route in his head. “Definitely.”

  “Okay, then,” Conor said. “Here’s the plan. You help Pepe get his people together and then deliver them to Shuck’s place. I’ll head up to the pastor’s camp and let him know that folks are going to be staying at Shuck’s place.”

  “That works,” Wayne said.

  “Then I’ll be back in the morning,” Conor said. “We need to go on a little mission.”

  Wayne groaned. “Don’t tell me we’re going on a road trip? I’m still wore out from the trip to Shuck’s house.”

  Conor nodded. “We have to. You guys are close to the road. Your camp would be the first thing The Bond found if they got off the road here. Do you want to take that chance?”

  Wayne turned it over in his head, weighing the options. “No. We’ve already spent too much time getting this place set up for the winter. I don’t want to move again and I sure as hell don’t want to be run out.”

  “Even if you could move your folks, we couldn’t move everyone else in the community,” Conor said. “There’d be nowhere to put them. We need to figure out who this group is, what they’re doing, and plan accordingly.”

  “What does plan accordingly mean?” Barb asked. “How do you plan for something like this?”

  “Why, you plan to kill them,” Conor said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  “How many people are you talking about taking?” Pepe asked.

  “Light and fast,” Conor replied. “Wayne and me in the lead with a second wave following up behind us.”

  “A second wave of what exactly?” Pepe asked.

  “Fighters, of course,” Conor said.

  Pepe snorted. “Dude, you can’t fight these people. There’s at least a hundred of them. They have serious weapons. Belt-fed machine guns, grenades, rocket launchers. Who knows what else?”

  “We have some tricks up our sleeves too,” Conor said. “I’ve been around the block a time or two myself.”

  “I’m willing to help you,” Pepe said, “and I have other guys in my group who would probably help. This sounds like a death mission though. It’s like cavemen throwing rocks at men from the future with guns.”

  “Leave the worrying to us,” Conor said. “We’re resourceful.”

  “I can attest to that,” Wayne said. “There’s more to Conor than meets the eye.”

  “Maybe so, but I see one guy against an army,” Pepe countered, staring Conor up and down, his expression doubtful.

  “I don’t intend to do this by myself,” Conor said. “Wayne and I will scout ahead and collect intel. By the time the rest of the team catches up with us, we should know a little more about The Bond.”

  “So what do I tell my people?” Wayne asked.

  “Tell them the truth. Get those fighters together that you brought to our last battle. Tell them they’ll be heading north on the highway the day after tomorrow.”

  “What about my camp?” Wayne asked. “I probably need to leave some folks at the firehall.”

  “I’ll have people check in on them,” Conor said. “Don’t worry.”

  Wayne smiled. “You telling me not to worry does nothing to ease my fears.”

  Conor reached out and shook Pepe’s hand. “Good to meet you, my friend, but I sure wish you’d arrived with better news. Let Wayne know how many people you can commit to the fight. If he doesn’t have enough horses for you, I may be able to get some from a friend of ours.”

  “Johnny Jacks?” Wayne asked.

  Conor nodded. “I’ll be back in the morning. I’ve got a lot to do before then.”

  25

  For the entire ride to Pastor White’s camp, Conor was bombarded with questions from Ragus and Barb. Ragus, who’d missed most of the conversation because he’d been stuck tending to the horses, simply wanted to be brought up to speed on what he’d missed. He was incredulous that they’d been talking about something so important while he’d been performing such a trivial task.

  “You should have come and got me, Barb,” he said.

  “Sorry, waterboy, didn’t want to miss anything good myself,” she shot back.

  Ragus screwed up his mouth in a frown. “For a brown-haired kid, I get treated like a red-headed stepchild an awful lot.”

  “All jobs are important,” Conor assured him.

  Barb leaned toward Ragus and said in a loud stage-whisper, “That’s what they always tell the incapable to make them feel better.”

  “That’s okay, Barb. I find some consolation in the fact that I’m at least charming and likable. If manners were brains, you’d be simple-minded.”

  When Barb frowned, Conor intervened before she decided to knock him on his ass.

  “I need you two to listen. When we get to the pastor’s camp, let me do the talking. We’ve got too much on our plate right now to get into an argument with these people. We may need them.”

  “You may need them,” Barb scoffed. “I won’t need them.”

  “If you and Ragus are on the road with me, Wayne’s folks might need them. Pepe’s folks might need them. Johnny Jacks might need them. For that reason, we need them to act as part of our community. This is exactly why you are muzzled until we get past the camp.”

  “Muzzled,” Ragus chuckled, whispering it so only Barb would hear.

  She shot Ragus a murderous glance that shut him up. Conor appeared not to notice. No surprise there since he’d long ago shot his ears out on the job. Too many gunshots and explosions without the benefit of ear protection.

  When they reached the pastor’s camp, Jackson was at the gate. His constant presence there made Conor wonder if the man was being punished for something. When they rode around the corner and into his line of sight, Jackson snapped to attention and scowled at them as he’d done earlier. His eyes widened when the trio swung their horses in his direction and pulled off the road. They stopped in front of his gate and he appeared terrified, torn between calling for help and running.

  “What do you want?” he eventually managed to get out. “Your doctor friend left already. Said he was going to see Johnny Jacks.”

  “Now is this any way to greet an old friend?” Conor frowned. “I kind of thought we’d come to an understanding here. Besides, I’m not here for Doc Marty.”

  Jackson was holding his rifle but knew better than to point it at them. He tossed his head in Barb’s direction. “Any understanding we have don’t apply to her. She ain’t welcome here.”

  “That you talking or is that the pastor’s word?” Conor asked, an edge in his voice.

  Jackson hesitated, wondering if he’d gotten ahead of himself.

  Reading between the lines, Conor prompted, “You should go get the pastor.”

  “Ain’t seen him in a little bit,” Jackson said, a
defiant lilt to his voice. “He might be busy.”

  “Just go get him, Jackson. There could be trouble headed this way and he needs to know about it. I don’t have time to fuck around with the likes of you.”

  Jackson, used to the insular world of his own people, people who didn’t use such language, had never been spoken to in such a way. He frowned at Conor and rushed off.

  “I thought you were our spokesman because you were the nice one,” Barb said. “There you go cursing at the poor fellow. You clearly discombobulated him.”

  “I was simply using profanity as an explanation point. I was expressing the emphatic nature of our message for the pastor.”

  “Got it,” Barb said. “I’ll remember that line. May need to use it in the future.”

  Jackson headed back their way. The man was a ball of energy, trying to hurry but not wanting to rush ahead of the pastor, who was trailing along at an unhurried pace. The pastor nodded and spoke to folks he passed, like a politician in the grocery store, aware that each interaction, no matter how small, might carry some significance. Eventually the pastor reached them. He gave them a single nod as a group, electing not to acknowledge each of them individually because that would have required making eye contact with Barb, something he was determined not to do.

  “You got this young man all bound up, Conor Maguire,” the pastor began. “He ain’t used to the devil’s talk.”

  “He was intent on playing games when I urgently needed to speak with you. I had no time for his foolishness.”

  “Then I reckon you should get on with it.” The pastor spoke quietly, as if not trying to move his jaw very much.

  “Two things. The first is that a group has shown up at Wayne’s camp at the firehouse, folks he knew from Michigan. They ran into some trouble on the road and need a place to stay for a few weeks. We’re going to put them up in Shuck’s house since it’s sitting empty.”

  “We did plan on making a run up there at some point to check for supplies,” the pastor said. “Wanted to see if Shuck had anything we might be able to use.”

  “You can forget that,” Conor said. “These folks are on their way up there now. If your folks are looting and scavenging while the house is occupied it will only lead to trouble. Best to head that off right now, leave the house be until they’re gone.”

  The pastor’s right eyebrow flickered for a second, as if he were shocked at the audacity of this outsider coming into his community and announcing such a decision without consulting him. As far as he was concerned, this was his territory. “I sure wish you’d spoken to us about this first.”

  Conor shut that down. There were bigger concerns. “It’s done. They’re moving in now and they’ll stay as long as they like. That a problem?”

  The pastor raised a hand in concession. “I guess not. Whatever you say since you’re apparently the boss around here.” With the stiffness in his jaw there was a lingering, hissing quality to his words that was almost reptilian, but did not mask his sarcasm.

  “There’s more.”

  The pastor gave a sweeping gesture that indicated the floor was Conor’s. He was clearly trying to avoid speaking, not wanting to give Barb the satisfaction of knowing she’d hurt him.

  “The group from the north, Wayne’s friends, said they ran into trouble with a large, well-armed force calling themselves The Bond. They had military vehicles, military weapons, and were laying waste to the communities they passed through. The visitors believe they’re following Route 23.”

  At the mention of Route 23 the pastor’s eyes widened. “Route 23, you say? Why that goes right by here.”

  Conor nodded. “Wayne’s friends traveled all the way from the Detroit area on Route 23. They passed signs of The Bond’s violent activities along the way, but didn’t recognize it as being the work of one group. Then in Chillicothe, Ohio, they ran into folks who had experienced the ferocity of this group firsthand. That’s where they heard that they called themselves The Bond. When Wayne’s friends got into Huntington, West Virginia, they ran headfirst into the group, losing most of their vehicles and supplies. They’re heading south toward people they know but are afraid they’re going to be overrun by The Bond on the road. That’s why they’re searching for a place to shelter for a while.”

  “You think we’re in danger?”

  “I don’t know but we need to find out. A group that large, that well-armed, living by what they can loot and scavenge on the road, could be the end of this community. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

  “How do you propose we do that?” the pastor asked.

  “I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon with Wayne. We’ll try to intercept The Bond on the road and see what we can learn about them. The day after we leave, I’m hoping to have a small force join us on the road so we can engage them.”

  “Engage them? You said they’re heavily armed. They have military weapons and vehicles. What do you expect a handful of men on horseback will be able to do to them?”

  “A small force has its advantages,” Conor said. “They can move quickly. They’re not tied to the highways like men in trucks.”

  The pastor didn’t seem convinced. “Just sounds like a way to lose good men. You’ll be lucky to bring any of them back alive.”

  Conor scrutinized the pastor. “Does that mean you’ll not send any of your men along with our force? The men of this community should play a role in defending it. I mean, technically, my family is probably safe on our mountain. We have weapons and defenses that can repel a force like that. If I’m willing to fight for you though, you should probably be willing to fight for yourself.”

  The pastor rocked onto his heels and shoved his hands into his back pockets. “I didn’t exactly say that I wouldn’t send anyone. I can ask my men but it’s entirely up to them if they want to go. I can’t say how many will be anxious to ride off to die.”

  “If we don’t send a force, more will die. Ugly things will be visited upon your community. You may lose everything. Your men dead, your women taken, and your church in ashes.”

  “I’ll counsel them on it. We’ll pray about it. That’s all I can do. When do you need a decision?”

  “Wayne and I are leaving tomorrow. Hopefully the larger group will head out the following day. I expect they’ll travel a bit slower. Any men you send will need a horse, a gun, ammo, and sleeping gear. If they have food, that’s great. If not, we’ll see that everyone is fed.”

  The pastor nodded absently, lost in thought. “Conor?”

  “Yes?”

  “You may not be a righteous man, but you’re a brave man.”

  “Not sure I’m a smart man either, but my lot is cast already.”

  26

  After departing the pastor’s camp they rode to Johnny’s house. They didn’t tax their horses with too quick a pace. There was no need for it at this point, despite the possibility that The Bond was headed their way. It remained only a possibility at this point. It could be mere coincidence that The Bond had been traveling the same route as Pepe’s group. Conor needed to know, though. Better to be proactive than reactive. He and Wayne could scout for The Bond, determine if the threat was real, and decide on a course of action.

  When they reached Johnny’s house they found Doc Marty and Shannon sitting on the porch with the family. Despite the time of year, late fall heading into winter, the day had warmed up into the fifties and they were enjoying the sunshine. In another month they probably wouldn’t have any more fifty degree days and no one would want to be outside unless they had work to do.

  The riders tied their horses off, having caught Doc Marty in the midst of a story about an adventure he and Conor had been on in the old world before things went to shit. Conor didn’t hear enough of the story to place it. They’d had quite a few adventures together but Conor didn’t usually talk about them. Even getting him to tell the story about Doc Marty stealing his teeth had been like, well, pulling teeth.

  “Didn’t we sign agreements to no
t talk about such things?” Conor asked.

  Doc Marty waved him off. “I was just talking about the experience of working with you, not the mission. I wouldn’t disclose anything top secret.”

  “He’s probably safe right now,” Johnny said. “No cell phone overhearing the conversation, no internet-connected refrigerator monitoring us, no digital assistant recording what we say.”

  Conor conceded that with a nod but he felt differently. The kind of people he’d grown up with – Irish organized crime figures, IRA soldiers – had instilled a code of secrecy in him. It wasn’t something he could just brush aside. It was ingrained in him that he didn’t talk about work with people who weren’t in the life or weren’t involved in the job.

  “You okay, Conor?” Doc Marty asked. “You appear more sour than usual.”

  “Was it trouble with Pastor White?” Jason asked, and Ragus smirked.

  “No.” Conor launched into the story about Wayne’s friend Pepe and their experience with The Bond. By the time he was done with that, the visit with Pastor White was a minor footnote in the story.

  Sam was visibly upset by the time Conor was done. There were tears in her eyes. She was pacing the porch with her arms wrapped around herself. “What is this? We can’t catch a break? Why does it have to be this way? We just went through this with those people who kidnapped Barb. Is this what it’s going to be like all the time? Living from threat to threat? Having to fight off strangers? I don’t want to live like that!”

  Jason caught his wife mid-stride and slipped an arm around her, cradling her head against him. He stroked her hair and spoke to her. “It’s okay, baby. This might not be people coming here to hurt us. We could just be in the path of people of who don’t even know we’re here. It’s not personal at all. Hell, they may not even be coming this way.”