Forged in Honor (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  Stephen put another bag on the scale and shrugged. "You are my culinary teacher, U Chigger."

  "See?" Chigger said, emphasizing the point by patting Stephen's back. "My man agrees-it's KFC or the fish heads they got in the kitchen."

  The assistant shook his head in defeat. "Shit, man, them fish heads ain't food."

  Chigger checked the weight, nodded, and made an entry.

  "One more and then we're outta here for chow."

  The assistant sighed as he took the bag from the scale and dropped it into the box at his feet. "This one's full, and this box fills this load. Where's this shipment goin' again? I gotta tell the driver."

  Chigger glanced at Stephen and saw he was busy with the scale. He had been told not to let the Burmese know where the shipments were going. He leaned over the table and whispered, "Don't be askin' them questions in front of these dudes. It goes to Carlisle, P-A, dummy. Damn, we're only shippin' to three warehouses. Can't you keep it straight? The last load went to Sacramento and the one before that to Kansas, remember?"

  The assistant rolled his eyes. "Fuck, man, I can't keep all this shit straight. We been keepin' such weird hours I don't even know what day it is anymore."

  Despite the whispers, Stephen had heard the conversation, but he paid little attention. All he thought about when Chigger wasn't talking to him was going home.

  Chigger looked at the scale, nodded, made an entry, and picked up his jacket from the table. "Come on, Steve, I'll drive this time. You picked up your kid's skateboard yet?"

  "Yes, I went to the mall like you advised and purchased it on sale."

  "Good. Ole Chigger don't give no bad poop. I'm gonna make you into a regular Kmart shopper by the time you get outta here."

  Captain Sing strode out of the glassed-in office and stepped in front of Stephen. "Where are you going, U

  Kang?"

  Chigger turned around and tapped the broad-shouldered security man's back. "What's it to you, man? You've always got an attitude. Steve is going with me to get some real food.

  Now how's about gettin' out of the way?"

  Sing turned and looked at the stocky black man as if measuring him for a casket. "Don't speak to me in that tone of voice. I am doing my job."

  Chigger stepped closer with his own bad-news stare.

  "Well, do your flicking 'job' outta my face, and don't be talkin' shit 'bout my tone of fucking voice."

  Sing's eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. He opened and closed the fingers of his right hand as if he were waiting for Chigger to draw. He took a step to the side instead and motioned with his hand for Stephen to go on but kept his cold glare on the black man. "You have very bad manners."

  Chigger snorted a half laugh. "And you got fish-head breath, asshole." He stepped back and took Stephen's arm.

  "What you gonna have? I suggest their chicken nuggets and corn on the cob. They got beans or coleslaw, and for dessert you got a choice of ..."

  Captain Bwin stepped out of the office and watched the men walk out the loading dock door. He turned to look at Sing. "Be patient. The handoff will be complete tomorrow night, and the colonel wants it done once the Shan returns to the hotel. I think the parking lot would be best"

  Sing calmed himself by taking several deep breaths. "I would like to kill the Wa American as well. What does it mean when he says I have an 'attitude'?"

  Chapter 16.

  26 June, Washington, D. C.

  Josh walked into the cafe and took his usual seat by the window. He heard Jean coming by the smacking of her gum.

  He looked up and smiled. "Hi, pretty lady, did ya miss me?"

  She set a cup of coffee in front of him and tossed down the paper. "Yeah, sure, you up and take a vacation without so much as warning me. Kelly Special or what?"

  Josh faked a pout. "I missed you. I thought about you every morning."

  She smirked. "Yeah, sure ya did. You and Kelly been gone and nobody else ate that crap you two eat so I had to throw it out. How's about tellin' me next time you decide to take off to see the world, huh? Must not have been too good a vacation. You look like our gravy, kinda puny." She swung her hip into his shoulder and bent over to give him a hug. "I'm just kiddin'. You bet I missed ya. I got a whole storeroom full of milk bottles saved up for ya."

  Josh put his arm around her hip. "Give me the Hawk Special with double gravy and-"

  "Get your hands off my woman!"

  Josh and Jean faced Kelly as he approached the table with his hand resting on the grip of his old police .38 special.

  Jean waved him off and bent over to hug Josh's neck again. "He knows how to talk to a woman, Kelly, plus you're spoken for."

  Kelly sat down and picked up Josh's coffee. "Stop hugging him before I run your skinny butt in for lewd and indecent acts."

  She smiled as she smoothed down her dress over her ample buttocks. "Now that's the first compliment I ever got from you. 'Skinny butt'? You do know how to talk to a woman, don't you?"

  "Hey, I lost my head, okay? Just get me a Kelly Special, don't burn the toast, and how's about a pitcher of coffee."

  Jean rolled her eyes and walked toward the kitchen. Josh took his coffee cup away from Kelly and tossed him the sports section. "So you been busy, huh?"

  When Josh put down his cup, Kelly picked it up again and took a long drink. "Busy? Is a one-legged man in a buttkicking contest busy? I was on more crime scenes last week than I could count. The bad guys are playin' for keeps out there. All hell busted loose, but it's finally calmed down. Everybody musts learned the lesson 'cause the last three days it's been business as usual. Just us cops still working overtime."

  "The Vancouver model?" asked Josh.

  "Yeah, they took over the turf of all the hero players but so far just been makin' promises. The stuff ain't on the market yet, but word is it's coming and the price is gonna be right. We're worried, Hawk. This new bunch in town don't mind whackin' people to make the others pay attention."

  Josh glanced at a headline, STILL NO LEADS ON

  GANGLAND KILLINGS, and looked back at Kelly. "The paper right?"

  Kelly rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' press is houndin' us big-time. You'd think it was a church choir that got whacked instead of hardheaded players who'd sell dope to their mothers.

  Screw 'em, we ain't givin' the press shit." He leaned closer.

  "We got a lucky break a few days ago. One of our stoolies lives next door to a couple of Jamokes who've been braggin' about making a hit on some players. We tapped and wired their room and hit the jackpot last night. We got some good stuff, so tonight we're going to pay those boys a visit."

  Josh eyed his friend with concern. "You take care, huh?

  You're not a spring chicken. Let the kids knock the door down. You just be there and talk to the press when it's over."

  Jean set two plates and a pitcher of coffee in front of them.

  She winked at Josh and walked back toward the kitchen.

  Josh poured coffee into a cup for Kelly. "I'm serious-no hero shit. Let the D-ones earn the right to be D-twos."

  Kelly grinned. "This is gonna be a piece of cake. Them boys ain't gonna know what hit 'em. Relax, I've got good people for the job."

  After their meal Kelly glanced at his watch. "Aw shit, I'm late. Let's plan on playin' tomorrow. I'll get us a game with some easy marks so we won't have to work so hard."

  Kelly reached for his billfold but stopped and shook his head. "Damn, Mary forgot to give me my-"

  "Your allowance," Josh finished. "Get outta here. Tomorrow I wanna hear all about the bust."

  Kelly picked up Josh's paper and made his way toward the door, purposely brushing by Jean, who had her hands full with a tray. "See ya, skinny butt."

  Josh was loaded down with plastic milk bottles as he approached Lir Darlin' and didn't see Glenn Grant waiting on the deck until he almost ran into her.

  "What are those for?" she asked.

  Josh put down the bottles and stared at her in disbelief.


  "You were serious?"

  "Yep, I'm supposed to debrief you. Plus there's a big drug conference at the end of the week here in the city and I thought I could pick your brain. I thought I'd go on the hunt with you this morning and-"

  "No way, Grant. It's man's business. You can talk to me while I'm making the rounds tonight."

  "Sorry, Colonel, I'm not staying up all night to walk around and watch you sweet-talk drunks and prostitutes. I go with you on the hunt, or tomorrow you get called into the Pentagon, all day, and talk to my boss. You decide."

  Josh's jaw muscles rippled in frustration. "Damn you!"

  "Is that a yes?" she asked softly.

  "God, it stinks."

  Josh set the bucket of rotten fish in front of her, pushed his eight-track tape, and started the outboard. "Start asking your questions; you're wasting time."

  Grant turned around on the seat to avoid looking at the rotten fish. She raised her notebook. "Could you turn down the music? I like Conway, but not when it's that loud. Besides, we have business to discuss, remember?"

  "You like Conway Twisty?" Josh asked as he turned down the music.

  "Sure, I like all country-and-western music: Now, tell me what you thought about your orientation on Burma. Was it adequate for the mission?"

  Josh gave her another point on his woman scale because she liked Conway. Shrugging, he answered, "N. A."

  "What's N. A.?"

  "Not applicable. I knew more about Burma than they did. I ended up giving the orientation briefing to the other teams. What state are you from?"

  "I thought I was asking the questions."

  "I wanna know who I'm huntin' with. Plus, it's only fair.

  You've read my file and know all about me. Answer my questions and I'll answer yours."

  "Louisiana, I'm from Plaquemine, Louisiana. Was the training you received on new equipment adequate?"

  "Hell no! You ever see a Pave Low III?"

  ."Well .. I've seen them, but not up close," Grant replied.

  "Neither had I until I got in the one that took us into Burma. You have any kids?"

  Grant gave him an evil glare. "No, Colonel, I don't have any children. You could have at least been a gentleman and first asked if I had been married."

  "Well, have ya?" Josh pressed, enjoying her discomfort.

  "Yes, I was married, for six years. My husband was a captain and I was a captain. He wanted children, and I couldn't give him any children. Also, I loved the military life, so we went our separate ways."

  Josh nodded. "Let me guess. You were a fast burner and doing better than he was. Am I right?"

  "Colonel, I answered your question, but I'm not going into details."

  Smiling, Josh bobbed his head. "I thought so. He couldn't handle your success."

  Fuming, Grant angrily flipped to a new page in her notebook. "Was the equipment you were provided adequate for the mission, and .. ."

  "Don't just sit there, help me!" Josh yelled as he tried to pull the trap into the boat.

  Grant set down her notebook, grabbed hold of the rope, and pulled along with Josh. Her sour expression disappeared as soon as the trap broke the surface and they pulled it into the boat. Her eyes darted back and forth at the flopping fish and squirming turtles. "It really works! Look at that one-it's huge!"

  Josh was put out. He really hadn't needed any help getting the trap in, but he'd been looking forward to seeing her scream and back away from the full catch. He smiled inwardly as he unwired the top of the trap, sure this would do the trick. "Get the turtles out, will ya? I need to change the float."

  She shocked him when without hesitation she leaned over and deftly grabbed the biggest one by the rear foot, lifted him, and dropped him in the weld. Without coaxing, she reached in again and grabbed another.

  Josh closed his open mouth. "Have you done this before?" he asked suspiciously.

  "Not exactly, but we used to trap crayfish when we were kids. My brother and I made our spare money that way." She smiled and tossed the last turtle into the weld. "This kind of reminds me of those days."

  Josh watched as she expertly grabbed the fish in the trap and tossed them over the side. "Where's your brother now?" he asked.

  Her happy eyes dimmed. "He didn't make it back from Vietnam. You want me to rebait the trap?"

  Josh nodded in silence and reached down for a new plastic milk jug. He didn't like admitting it to himself, but once again he'd totally misjudged the lady officer. She was okay.

  As he lifted the third trap out of the water, Josh yelled, "Oh shit." He'd made the powerful upward pull to bring the trap in and was committed before he saw the snakes inside.

  He dropped the trap on the boat's floor and backed up as far as possible to avoid their striking heads. It was then that he heard the splash.

  Grant's head popped up seconds later, and she was in Olympic form as she stroked for the nearby shore. Josh used his seat cushion to slap at the snakes that were slithering out of the wire loops into the boat. He kept slapping and kicking until they were all over the side; then he looked toward shore. She was standing on the muddy bank, and her dripping T-shirt was very revealing. She stared at him with eyes that could have killed, but he smiled and said, "You know, you don't look half-bad wet."

  Grant angrily folded her arms across her chest. "You're an idiot, you know that? They could have killed you!"

  Josh started the outboard and guided the boat toward her.

  "Now, they were all water snakes. It happens sometimes; I forgot to warn ya. Sorry."

  He beached the boat and hopped out, then took off his shirt and handed it to her. "Put this on. Come on, we'll walk up the bank to that grassy area in the sun so you can dry out.

  One more trap oughta do it anyway."

  She put the shirt on and followed him up the bank. She saw the scars on his back and knew from his file they were caused by shrapnel in 'Nam. When she caught up, he was already sitting, facing the canal.

  She sat down beside him. "Sorry I jumped, but back home when we saw snakes it was usually water moccasins."

  He surprised her by reaching over and patting her back.

  "You did fine. I'm really impressed. Since you lost your notebook you won't be asking any more questions, right?"

  Her eyes widened and she spun her head toward the boat.

  He kept patting her back. "Yep, you dived in with it. I saw it floating by as I came to shore."

  Grant turned and slugged the arm doing the patting. She eyed Josh coldly. "Pentagon, tomorrow, be there!"

  "No way! I cooperated. It's not my fault you're scared of snakes."

  Grant began to speak but laughed instead. Josh liked it. It was a deep, honest laugh.

  She shook her head, still chuckling. "Can't you just see the general when I tell him I don't have the debrief done because of a turtle hunt?"

  Josh's bemused expression changed to a scowl. "What's so funny about that?"

  She cracked up again.

  Ky stepped out and looked at the two muddy people in the boat. "How many?"

  "Yeah, I had a nice time in Panama and it's good to see you too. Ky, don't you ever say 'Hi' or 'How are you doing?' or 'Who's the lady?' How come it's just business with you?"

  Ky kept his eyes on the squirming catch. "Hi, how doing, who lady? Now, how many?"

  Josh threw up his hands. Grant kicked at one of the turtles.

  "We have one dozen, Mr. Ky."

  Ky gave her the once-over. "Who you?"

  Grant rolled her shoulders back. "Actually, I'm with the Department of Fish and Game. The Department was concerned about the recent depletion of water turtles along the Potomac. Mr. Hawkins agreed to an inspection, and based on what I've seen it's clear that there is a problem."

  Ky shifted his eyes to Josh. "She talk bull-sheet like you."

  Josh shrugged and got out of the boat to give Ky a warm hug. "I missed you, ya old goat. I understand business is good."

  Ky pushed Josh away, looking
embarrassed. "It okay, your assistant big-time cheater. I glad you back. Who is talking lady?"

  "Ky, meet Glenn Grant. She's a crayfisher up from Louisiana getting tips from the best turtle man on the Potomac."

  Ky rolled his eyes and extended his hand to Grant to help her out of the boat. He motioned with his head to Josh. "He nothing but pirate who take advantage of old refugee." He gave Josh a poke with his elbow. "This assistant bet-tar than Bob-she have better legs. Come, we talk business. I need two dozen next time. I have ..."