The rain dried up but we still carried our umbrellas just in case.
As we walked from the parking lot next to Uzzo’s, I said, “When I shrug my shoulders, get ready. When I slap my hand on the desk, that’s to distract the big guy there. You use the opportunity to pull out your gun.”
Uzzo was Keepen’s cover business. The Sunblocker in the black suit, sized super large to fit his massive frame, sat behind the reception desk. His face lit up when he recognized me. I swear they must hire guys by measuring how big they are. The guy who blocks the most sun gets the job.
When he eyed Vincent, his right eyebrow went up.
I pointed with my left thumb. “Vincent. Works for me.”
Sunblocker nodded. “There’s a new guy in the office now.”
“I know. Jat Keepen. He’s the one I want to see.”
“Appointment?”
I shook my head. “Courtesy call.”
I shrugged and slapped my hand on the table top. Sunblocker jumped as his eyes went to my hand. In the corner of my vision I saw Vincent pull his Snap out and point it at the man.
Sunblocker turned to look at Vincent’s gun.
“That’s my appointment,” I added with my left thumb pointing to the gun.
Sunblocker kept his gaze on the weapon and blurted out, “Keepen won’t like this.”
I went behind the counter and when Sunblocker raised his hands, I frisked him. Only found one gun, a big .38, which I closed the safety on and put in my waistband.
I reached down and pressed a button. A buzzer went off and I heard a click. I rushed up to the door and kept it open.
“Bring him along,” I said to Vincent.
I saw Vincent wave his Snap in my direction and Sunblocker moved out from behind the desk with his hands in the air.
“Put your hands down,” I ordered.
“I ain’t supposed to leave the front open,” he said as he lowered his hands.
“Tough. Make an exception this time,” I replied as I held the door wide open.
We three walked the narrow hallway, Sunblocker in front, then me and Vincent. I paid little attention to the view through the windows on my left side as I kept my focus on the big buy in front of me. As we approached the end door, I drew my Snap and held it in the back of Sunblocker.
“Just say one word, ‘Visitors’,” I ordered.
When we got to the door, Sunblocker knocked and a panel slid aside. A fat Oriental looking face appeared and seemed surprised to see Sunblocker.
Sunblocker said, “Visitors.”
The panel closed. I heard noises from behind the door and shoved the gun forward to get Sunblocker’s attention.
“To the right,” I said. “Kneel. Keep your head down and stay there.”
Vincent and I leaned on the left side of the door and waited while Sunblocker did as he was told.
“Who is it?” yelled a voice from behind the door.
“Dani!” I yelled back.
“Who?”
“Fondero’s friend.”
More silence. I motioned with my right hand for Vincent to step back and I followed him. Two holes appeared in the door at my waist height, accompanied by two gunshots.
Then nothing. I raised my Snap and aimed it at the upper part of the door.
The panel slid aside and that same Asian face appeared. Not a smart move.
I aimed for his face and when he saw my gun aimed his way, he slid the panel back. Then I put two slugs in the panel on the side where he might have stood and heard a thud.
I hastened to the door and slammed my foot at it. But it didn’t budge. So I fired three shots at the handle and tried again with my foot. This time it swung open.
A huge flat surface greeted my eyes. Fondero’s desk. Or rather Keepen’s now.
I looked at Sunblocker, who had his hand over his face, palms out. His eyes were wide open as he looked at my gun. I think he expected me to shoot him on the spot.
From the hallway, I shouted inside the room, “Keepen?”
A voice from in back of the desk replied, “Yeah. What the hell do you want?”
I glanced back at Sunblocker to find him kneeling on the floor where I had left him. This time his hands were on his knees and his head was bowed. Must not think I would kill him after all.
I called out to Keepen, “Know anyone named Borner Hoskins?”
I pulled out a photo I got from Vincent’s hacked police records. “Got a photo.”
“Put it on the desk and shove it forward.”
I did and the photo slid across the surface, coming to a rest a foot from the edge.
A pair of eyes peeked over the top, looked at us and the photo, and went back out of sight. Next a hand reached up, grabbed the photo, and pulled it forward and down.
The voice said, “Ah, the Rat. Doesn’t work for me. Who’s your friend?”
“Vincent Stone. Works for me part-time.”
“Big guy like you. Looks like he can handle himself.”
I glanced at Vincent and he and I both grinned. That part was right.
“Why should I talk to you?” said Keepen.
“Fondero was my friend. I have no bone with you.” Even though I did Fondero myself, I thought it best to claim ignorance. So I added, “Did you kill him?”
“Nah.”
A pause. “The Rat works for Duran now and then,” said Keepen. “That’s all I know. Where’d you get the name?”
“Jacky Storey visited my place. Or tried to. But I was in it.”
“Storey’s a punk.” A pause. “You shot one of my men.”
“Get another one. They must be cheap because they don’t have any brains,” I said.
Another silence.
“Why are you looking for the Rat?” asked Keepen from behind his desk.
“My daughter and his wife are missing. We think Hoskins had something to do with it.”
“So if I provide you with some information, you’d owe me a favor?”
“You sound like you already know.”
“Just thinking.”
“Well?” I asked.
“Well, would you owe me?” said Keepen.
“Yeah.”
Noises came from behind the desk. Then Keepen gave me an address.
#
Vincent drove his car back to the ops center with me in his passenger seat. I got a tag from Deek and put it on broadcast so Vincent could hear it.
“Heard you had a visitor this morning,” said Deek.
“Yeah. An amateur.”
“You got that right. But you don’t have to worry about a repeat visit from him.”
“Why?”
“Somebody knifed him at the jail,” said Deek. “Then they cut out his tongue.”
“Wagging tongues don’t live long, eh?”
“Something like that. Barney and Stu paid a visit to Hoskins’s apartment.”
“He wasn’t there,” I added.
“Of course not. Hey, how did you know that?”
“I heard he was invisible. As in never where you think you can find him.”
I added, “Any record on Hoskins?”
“New York said he spent five years for assaulting a guy in a bar,” replied Deek. “I suspect he’s a pro though. Only a pro would know enough to have someone workin’ for him.”
When I disconnected, Vincent said, “We find Hoskins. I’ll bet we find our gals.”
“Kinda looks like that.”
“Damn! Where the hell are they?”
As he turned left on Moss Street on our way to the ops center, he added, “I hate to say this, but if we don’t find them soon…”
My thought exactly.
#
Vincent and I trekked into the ops center.
Both of us placed our used Snaps in a box in the large planning room, pulled out a drawer, and picked up new ones from the assortment. Somebody would wipe our used Snaps, clean them, and make sure they got their barrels redrilled so slugs couldn’t be traced to t
hem. After each time, when the barrels couldn’t be drilled again, the Snap would be tossed into a box for disposal. We got new Snaps from a dealer in the southside.
We kept a supply of untraceable Snaps on hand with their serial numbers filed down and etched with acid. We used them whenever we stepped out of the office.
Vincent inquired, “What do we have to eat around here?”
Before I could answer I got a short tag from Zetto.
“K2 at 5 today?”
Before he went undercover, we had agreed on four possible meeting places and had assigned a letter and a number to each. K2 was the gofer section of the Franken Memorial Park.
Gofers were the Rossan equivalent to Earth’s lions. Except they had six legs and excellent eyesight and hearing. They were at the top of the food chain. I’d rather run up against one gofer than a pair of greepers or a pack of those damned screechies. Built close to the ground on those six legs, they could sprint to their top speed of twenty miles an hour in five seconds. That was faster than most humans could run but not as fast as a cheetah from Africa. The males were solitary creatures and bigger but the females were the more dangerous and did most of the hunting. Just like the big cats in Africa on the home planet.
I grabbed three strips of bologna, two slices of sourdough bread, and shoved them in a plastic bag. On my way out, I picked up a brown jacket with a liner to stop the wind. The air was chilly so I put the jacket on while holding the bag in my teeth.
“Chima, zoo at Franken Memorial Park.
I wolfed the food down along the way.
Fifteen minutes before five I rested my arms on the wooden guard rail in front of the outdoor gofer cage. Not sure if Zetto would be inside or out, I waited outside in the fresh air. The sky was cloudy and the wind off the Oreo River was brisk and chilly.
Now and then the breeze changed direction and I’d get a whiff of the body odor of the two gofers I watched as they lay on the rocks. The gofers had to live in that odor. Maybe they were used to it.
One was larger than the other. Probably a male. Since I was the only visitor, they watched me with lazy eyes. They knew they couldn’t get through the iron fence. I suspect they watched me out of instinct. As in ‘any prey will do’.
These two wild animals belonged in the open plains of York, not confined in a cage like this. I figured the bored look in their eyes was real. I’d be bored too if I were I in a cage. That brought back memories of my time in solitary. Depressed, wishing to die just to get the frickin’ boredom over.
I felt a nudge on my right shoulder and saw a familiar pair of hands in front of me.
Zetto said in a voice so quiet I could hardly hear him, “I saw plans to pollute the main water supply for Zor. What I didn’t see was any mention of how.”
I didn’t react with a nod or anything. If anyone was watching us, they’d think we were just two guy nestling close to keep the wind off.
I replied in a similar quiet voice, “If you need out, just give me or anyone on the team a call. Help can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m okay,” Zetto replied, “for now. I think HO plans to blame it on RUFF.”
He shivered and pulled the lapels of his beige jacket to his neck before he left to go inside the nearby building.
I waited another five minutes of staring at the two beasts while they stared back. Made me wonder what they were thinking. Probably what I tasted like.
I spoke to the eyes of the larger of the two of them.
“Is anybody home in there?”
When I didn’t get an answer, I straightened up and strolled toward the entrance.
On my way, I thought I’d better inform Deek. I tagged him and got him in his office.
“From my sources I’ve learned that the Zor water supply may become contaminated.”
“What with?” asked Deek.
“Don’t know.”
“Well, when you find out, let me know.”
“You want me to give you enough details and names so you can arrest someone?”
“Jake, look. I can’t alert the Water Works on just what you gave me. I need more.”
“Okay, I understand. Will work on it.”
We disconnected.
Damn! Now I’ve got a dilemma. Rescue Alena and Leanna―or save the city.
Chapter 21
When I got back to the ops center, I went straight to the dining room. Vincent sat in front of a laptop. I relayed my visit to Zetto.
Then I strode into the large planning room. Since I hadn’t used my shoulder Snap, I didn’t bother to replace it. Nor my ankle one.
First, I sent an encrypted message to my team telling them the gist of our discoveries. After that, I sent a message to Acorn updating him on Zetto’s news and our search for Leanna and Alena.
Vincent walked into the room.
“Which is our first priority? Save the folks in the city or our gals? I hope you’re going to say Lee and Alena.”
I moved my head up and down.
“L & A come first. We know they’re at risk. The other is merely a threat at this point.”
Feeling the need for more food, I returned to the kitchen and fixed myself a sandwich of ham and grilled Swiss cheese. Well, the closest to Swiss cheese we had, something called Swiss-o. And a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
Halfway through the meal, I got a tag from Keepen.
“He’s stayin’ at Duran’s house. He heard the cops are looking for him.”
“Got it.”
“You owe me one.”
“Got that too.”
Time for some serious thinking.
Ten minutes later, I went to Vincent.
“Find the home of Stenton Duran, Coocher’s second in command. Get the layout if you can. We’re gonna pay him a visit tonight.”
Then I lay on a lower bunk and tried to sleep so I would be fully awake on the op. I set an alarm on my comm to wake me at seven forty-five. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Alena and Leanna, so I practiced my spy training technique to force myself to sleep. Relax all my muscles and try to focus my mind on the static inside my eyelids. I kept repeating to myself, ever slower each time, “My brain and body are slowing down. My-brain and body are…sl-oo-wing…do-wn.”
The vibrations of my comm interrupted a nightmare of being locked in a cage with two hungry gofers. And no Snap. Some guy fumbled with the door. Unfortunately, the door was between the animals.
A trip to the AutoCook in the kitchen and a minute later I had a cup of coffee.
On the planning room wall, Vincent displayed an aerial view of Duran’s property in Beverly Hills north of the Oreo River.
Luck was with us this time. It was not in a gated community.
While putting on moustaches and bushy eyebrows, we laid out scenarios of our approach in case we didn’t get what we wanted by the front door approach.
A trip to the website of the Homeless Aid Fund and I had what I needed. I painted a metallic cup with their logo and put three sols and some change in it so it would rattle.
At dark, we put on sports jackets and bright yellow caps with the Zor Screechies logo. The Screechies were a football team and were up for their second All York trophy. After putting our night vision goggles, gloves, and other gear in sports bags, we walked to the BIS van. We’d leave the bags in the van since we didn’t want attention on our walk to Duran’s house.
I put on my gloves.
“Chima, manual drive. Put the logo of Zor Screechies on your outsides.”
I glanced at my comm to get the time. Eight forty-five.
I drove to within two blocks of Duran’s house in the Beverly Hills part of Zor. When we passed his place, lights were on in the living room.
We tried the frontal approach first. Vincent kept to the left side of the door out of sight while I knocked on the door.
After fifteen seconds, I wondered if anybody was home.
It was possible he left a light on in his living room so some scum casing his house
would think somebody was home.
If the house was vacant, we’d have to try another approach. Luck was on our side. The front door overhead light came on. A French window opened in the door behind a screen.
“What do you want?” asked a tall white man. He had a large pistol in a chest holster. He looked at my jacket and said, “Don’t you guys keep regular hours?”
I shook the cup with the Homeless Aid Fund logo. “We’re from the Zor Screechies, sir. Have you made a donation to the Homeless Aid Fund yet?”
A sigh was our answer. “Come in. I’ll get my wallet.”
When the screen door clicked, I opened it and pushed the main door open. In the living room, Duran bent over a low table loaded with a remote, two empty mugs of beer, and a pile of tablet readers.
“Are we interrupting something, sir? We can come back later.”
“Nah. Let me get this over with.” Duran bent over the table.
I glanced behind me and saw Vincent close the front door and lock it quietly.
Duran opened his wallet and took out a ten sol note. “Will this be enough?”
I drew my Snap at the same time as Vincent.
When Duran saw them, he said, “What is this?”
“Your guest wouldn’t be Borner Hoskins, would it?”
With that, Duran pursed his lips and lowered his eyebrows. The stubborn act.
I shoved my Snap in his belly and pulled a .40 caliber from his holster, which I put into my jacket pocket. “Into the kitchen, Duran.”
He raised his hands and asked, “Do you know who I am? You’re in serious trouble.”
I waved the tip of my gun and he looked at it.
“I’d just as soon shoot you,” I said. “Your choice.”
Duran shook his head, sighed, and walked into the kitchen. There, I motioned with my left index finger to a wooden straight back chair. After he sat, I wrapped duct tape around his legs and fastened his wrists behind his back. Vincent kept his Snap pointed at his chest from three feet away. I stuffed a washcloth in our victim’s mouth and a piece of duct tape over it. When I finished, I pulled my gun out and pointed it at the man’s head.
Humans Only: A Jake Dani Novel (Jake Dani/Mike Shapeck Book 2) Page 12
