Humans Only: A Jake Dani Novel (Jake Dani/Mike Shapeck Book 2)

by Victory Crayne

  The gray sedan turned in another direction and disappeared from the rear view.

  “Gancha, I realize you have been checking for tails for a long time. This is different. It’s not just a matter of you avoiding the cops. The York Security Agency will have much better people. And they’ll use more than one car.”

  Hint, hint.

  “He’s gone now,” she added with her arms stiff and gripping the steering wheel. “Where to next?”

  “Let’s loop around Gerges and head back toward the center.”

  That will give Vincent time to catch up with us.

  For this lesson, Zetto drove the gray sedan and Vincent drove the BIS van.

  “When can I show you my shooting skills?” Gancha asked. “I’ll bet you twenty I can score higher.”

  “No doubt.”

  She said as she drove, “Are you in love with Jake?”

  “No,” Ron sighed and shook his head. “I have a partner. And if you behave, you may meet him someday.”

  So that was it. She’s jealous that I’m such a close friend of her lover’s.

  “Are you the girl or the boy in the relationship?” she asked.

  “That’s the heterosexual model. They think everyone must have one man and one woman. That does not fit gays at all. If you stop to think about it, you’ll see that. What I like about my partner is his masculinity and vice versa. Neither of us is attracted to females. The same holds true for lesbians. Neither one wants to be the guy in their relationship.”

  “I knew that. I was just testing you.”

  He shook his head. “And how am I supposed to know what you’re thinking? I judge you by your actions and your words, not your thoughts.”

  As they passed Grand Central on their right, Ron got a tag.

  “I see you,” said Vincent.

  Now we shall see just how good you are.

  “Make a left at Moss,” Ron ordered.

  Gancha turned as directed. As she headed toward Franken Boulevard, a green van passed them on the left. The single black driver had bushy hair and a full beard. His body moved in regular beats to music they could not hear. The side of the van said “Walkers delivers” with four bags showing garnot fruit, a bush of broccoli, and a stick of long bread sticking out the top.

  They drove through the light at Franken. The green van turned left and went up Harken Avenue and its brake lights came on, as if it was looking for an address to deliver its cargo. It pulled into a driveway.

  Gancha drove straight on Moss through several more sides streets. When she came to Indio Road, she slowed.

  “Okay, boss, now which way do I turn?”

  Ron looked out the mirror and saw the now-white van four cars behind them.

  “Right.”

  When they turned, the white van moved up behind them. This time the driver looked Oriental.

  They went a half mile more when Ron felt a bump as the white van collided with the rear of Jake’s car.

  “What the frick?” Gancha let out.

  She stopped, got out, and marched behind the car. Ron exited his side and watched her. As she got up to the white van, the driver pulled his hat forward over his face.

  She demanded, “Where the hell did you learn how to drive?”

  Through the front window of the van, Ron saw the man. He watched her face drop when the driver removed his disguise.

  “Hi, Gancha,” said Vincent. “Thought you needed a bump to wake you up. I’ve been following you from the center to Gerges and now here.”

  Gancha glanced at Ron.

  Ron grinned.

  Gotcha.

  #

  I watched from the monitor on the wall of the planning room. I finally could wear my light brown slacks as my thighs healed. The BIS van pulled into the ops center parking lot, followed by my gray car.

  Our team has arrived.

  I grimaced from the stinging in my thighs while I sat in the planning room.

  Only Monk heard me. Andy was on his way north from Mourtan Security near the airport. Zetto had returned to the center after driving the sedan with Vincent.

  When everyone else assembled in the main room, I asked Ron, “How’d she do?”

  “She passed.” He wore his usual outfit of blue jeans and a yellow shirt open at the neck to show his chest. And of course, two earrings.

  I looked at Vincent.

  He nodded in his gray slacks and white dress shirt. “Not bad.”

  Gancha came up to my right side, wearing blue slacks and a matching blue shirt, open in front to show beautiful cleavage.

  I looked at Ron.

  “How’d she do on disguises?”

  “She’s okay. Might use a little more practice but that comes with time,” he replied.

  Gancha added, “Gimme a break. I never had to use a disguise before.”

  Vincent piped up. “We use them a lot. I fooled you, didn’t I?”

  Gancha lowered her gaze, as if admitting defeat. “From twenty feet away, yeah.”

  “Gancha, it’s okay to admit a weakness,” I added.

  I raised my right hand.

  “Okay, gang. Let’s stop the chatter. Shall we begin?”

  I wanted Gancha to see how we planned an op.

  “When you do everything by yourself, only you are at risk. I want you to get a feel for being part of a team. As a team member, if you screw up, everyone on your team is at risk.”

  I turned to the wall with Coocher’s information on it.

  Chapter 44

  The next day, I needed less pain meds and devoured all the food they brought me for breakfast and lunch. In between, I slept. Couldn’t do much else with the medicine in my blood. Besides, I needed the time asleep to heal.

  Vincent sat in a chair with his ever-present laptop. Ron handed me my new comm. I checked it and had a tag from Sheila. I tagged her back.

  “Jake, I’m really sorry about what happened. I had no idea.”

  “I understand. You may need to check your staff. Someone leaked that information and the wrong parties got ahold of it.”

  “Trouble is, I have a large staff,” she said. “We need to plan a lot.”

  “The more people you tell, the easier it is for a leak to occur. What elements can you keep secret until the last moment?”

  She paused. “I see what you mean.”

  “I wonder how many people now know the identity of Albert Poors.”

  “Oh dear. I apologize.”

  Her voice sounded sorry.

  After we disconnected, I heard a knock on the door of the planning room. Vincent got up, opened it, and in walked Ron and Gancha.

  The three of them closed the door.

  Something was up.

  They circled my bed and leaned in. Ron spoke first.

  “We haven’t been idle when you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

  Vincent added, “I’ve gotten the floor plans for Coocher’s estate in Chester.”

  “I asked around,” said Gancha. “Found out who the four guys were that took their bats to you. Hoskins hired them.”

  “And I,” added Ron, “have informed my Dad. Per your emergency orders, I’ve taken over the responsibility for operating the center. That means I’ve also coordinated the efforts of the three of us on a special op.”

  “Op?” I asked.

  “We’ve decided,” said Ron, “and our boss agrees, that these guys shouldn’t—correction, won’t—be allowed to get away with what they did to you.”

  I looked at their faces. Each seemed dead serious. I allowed a grin to appear.

  “Can I say something?” I added.

  Ron looked at me and nodded.

  “I’ve decided, in my more lucid moments, that I’ve had enough of HO, Coocher, and Hoskins. Let’s get the bastards. They’ve bullied the public long enough.”

  All three broke out in big smiles.

  “But first I must heal. I want to go on the op.”

  Their smiles disappeared. Ron looked at Vincent, G
ancha, and Zetto. He turned to me and nodded.

  The days rushed by fast. Of course, it helped that I slept a lot. I figured I wasn’t going anywhere, so why not take a nap? I had several talks with my body since I’m a great believer in bio-feedback.

  Every evening, Dr. Oberson visited.

  On the third day, he said, “Amazing. I’ve never seen someone heal so fast.”

  “Told ya,” I replied.

  By now I sat up awake most of the day. Vincent and Ron made a set of parallel bars that attached to the floor so I could walk to the bathroom, dining room, and back to bed. For the gaps between the bars, I used a cane.

  After a week, I changed to walking around with just a cane. Two days later, I went without one. Slow at first, but at least I was on my own.

  My one big problem was my right hand. It was still weak. So I tried to build up the muscles in my hands by squeezing a lot. Vincent gave me a tennis ball and I alternated hands. My fine motor skills were still off. I had difficulty hitting the target with a gun.

  And that won’t do.

  #

  We went over the different locations where we might expect Coocher to be, including his HO office, his campaign headquarters at the Embassy Suites, the Parliament building, and his estate in the western provinces at Chester.

  I had a tennis ball in my right hand and squeezed it every minute.

  The first thing we needed to do was find out where Coocher parked his limo. When it was on the road, he likely would be in it.

  I ordered a break from the planning.

  Ron said, “I saw you squeeze the ball. Ready for more shooting practice?”

  “Yep.”

  After loading several guns and plenty of ammunition into their cases, we carried them across the hall to our shooting range. We entered our passwords on the keypad and stared at the security scan camera. We had installed the same level of secure access we used in the dorm and planning room.

  I went first and put on the ear protectors. Ron dimmed the lights and lit up the virtual target in the distance. I emptied a Snap at the target and raised the gun. Ron displayed my results. Seven out of ten hit the target. That was not good enough.

  “My hand shook when I fired.”

  He needed to know if I was ready. I was not.

  We changed places, he donned the ear protection, and took aim. I doused the lights and turned on the virtual target.

  He got all ten shots in the target. Three in the head and seven in the chest.

  Next I tried a rifle and got seven out of ten on the target.

  “Hmmph.”

  I am definitely not ready.

  #

  Guy Coocher studied the results of the latest polls and smiled. Every two years the MPs in the House of Commons ran for reelection.

  Things are looking good.

  If his party could gain a majority in Parliament, he would become the next Prime Minister. The virus had killed off many voters for the opposition and the precincts in Zor looked half blue and half red. The overwhelming majority of the rural districts could be expected to vote for his party, even though their numbers were far less than in the bigger cites of Zor and La Seille.

  Yep. Things are looking superb.

  Someone knocked on the door of his campaign office in the Embassy.

  “Come in.”

  She cracked the door and said, “We got another poll. This time from Channel One.”

  Coocher looked up. She wore heels, a black tight skirt, and white blouse, opened to show her cleavage, of course. He insisted that his female aides showed femininity.

  “Let me see it.”

  She entered his spacious office and handed him the plastic report.

  He could tell from the overwhelming blue color that the voters of Zor might put his opposition in the head office.

  Shit. Which poll to believe?

  The only poll that counted was the final election result.

  He studied the report, looking for cracks in its logic, and leaned back in his tall bopum-leather chair. He might need to drum up more votes after all.

  “Get my car ready. I need to go home.”

  The aide nodded, turned, and rushed to the door.

  He watched her behind as she walked away from him. Maybe it was time he tried her. He smiled. One advantage of being a bachelor was his availability. Every single woman approached him.

  Not that being married would slow him down.

  #

  Ron put on a black outfit for this op. He drove his red two-seater sports car with Gancha in the passenger seat. As he prowlded around the parking lot of the Embassy Suites, they spotted a man guarding the only limo.

  The man leaned on the long vehicle and white smoke came from his mouth and nose occasionally.

  From fifty yards away, Gancha studied the limo with binocs. Today she had on a light brown pantsuit with a white lace blouse.

  “License plate matches,” she said.

  Ron drove four rows over and slid into an empty spot.

  “That guard puts a kink in our plans,” Gancha said.

  “Maybe we can do it anyway. Care to engage him in a conversation?”

  She grinned. “Sure. That sounds easy.”

  “You may want an ecig.”

  She grimaced. “Gave them up, oh maybe five years ago.”

  “So pretend,” Ron replied.

  After putting on gloves and checking that their comms were connected, the two got out of his car and split up. Gancha walked toward the building and patted her pockets while Ron crouched and walked around the end of four rows of cars. He peeked up and saw Gancha look around and spot the only other person in the lot. She walked directly to the guard while Ron ducked again and made his way toward the limo. The guard was a big fella, probably six feet or taller, with bulging muscles, in a blue suit and white shirt.

  Gancha’s comm came in Ron’s ear. “Hey, buddy. Got a cig?”

  “Not for free,” said a male voice. With the high cost of cigs these days, few gave them away.

  “Will five do it?” said Gancha.

  Ron heard nothing while he crossed several rows of cars.

  “Got it bad?” said the male voice.

  Gancha replied, “Enough. Didn’t bring mine.”

  “Here,” said the man.

  Ron couldn’t see what else happened but heard Gancha puff on the electronic cigarette and ask, “How about them Screechies? Think they’ll win the pennant?”

  “Naw. With Stoddard pitching, they don’t stand a chance.”

  “God, this is good,” she said as she exhaled.

  The two of them talked sports while Ron approached the limo. He got down on the cement, slid his head under the car, and found a small crevice between the exhaust pipe and the transmission. He thanked the warm break in the weather, making the pavement bearable.

  From his pocket, he pulled out a gray box and put it up over a small pipe. He secured the box with elastic tape so it was invisible with a simple scan under the car.

  After backing out, he crouched as he made his way to the end of the row, across four rows, and up to his red sports car, while listening to the small talk in his ear. The guard must have been bored to talk with a stranger.

  “I’m back at the car,” Ron informed her.

  From his vantage point, he could see Gancha wave.

  “Thanks for the cig.”

  The big man nodded but didn’t reply.

  Ron added, “I’ll be at the side door.”

  Once at that door of the large hotel, he waited while she headed his way.

  After she got in the passenger seat, she asked, “Do it?”

  “Yep. Let’s go home.”

  Now the team would be aware when the limo drove out of the city to Chester.

  Chapter 45

  The next day, I watched both of them on the monitor.

  Gancha walked in the front door of the ops center wearing gray slacks, a white shirt, and a gray jacket.

  “Did you see an
y tail?” Ron asked her from his lower bunk in the dorm room.

  “No,” she replied with a snap of her head and her eyebrows furled as if to say the question was unnecessary.

  Ron sighed.

  “Just checking.”

  He flipped his covers aside and stood. He was dressed in gray slacks and a white shirt. An observer might think he was her twin, except for their skin color. He put on his black shoes and followed her into the planning room.

  There, he told me of their conversation. Today I wore a dark blue suit and white dress shirt.

  Ron filled me in on their short conversation.

  I turned my eyes to her.

  “Ron’s right. We can’t afford to lead YSA or the cops here. Whenever you come here, you put us all at risk.”

  Gancha bowed her head. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  I walked over to her and put my left hand on her right shoulder.

  “We’re just trying to help you learn, Gancha. We’ve already lost one team member and don’t want to lose you, too.”

  I referred to Leanna, of course. After I stopped talking I studied Vincent, who sat in front of a laptop. But his gaze was on the floor.

  Oops. Hit a nerve. Gotta stop that.

  I walked up to the wall where we had laid out several plans on getting Coocher.

  “Jake?” asked Gancha.

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t mean disrespect. Please don’t take it that way. But you just cautioned me about endangering other team members. I don’t think you’re ready to go on this op.”

  She paused before continuing, “I’d like to go on this operation but I can’t. I have a board meeting with one of my new acquisitions. If I go with you for such a long time, people will wonder.”

  Ron peered at me.

  “Hmm. I see your point.”

  Damn! I could use her special talents on this op.

  Vincent added, “I don’t like the current plan at all. It all depends on our finding Coocher and depends on a trick. If he goes to his estate, he’ll be surrounded by security. That raises the odds against success.”

  “Actually,” I replied, “I think if he heads to Chester, he’ll be overconfident.”

  Vincent shook his head. “I still don’t like it.”

  “What about getting the cooperation of the feds?” I asked.

  Andy spoke up this time. His business trips were over for a while. Today he had on a gray suit and white dress shirt. His suit was darker than Ron’s or Gancha’s.