Nimble Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 2)

by Robert Tarrant

  Mack blinked his eyes. He was laying on his back with his hands tied behind him. His ankles were also bound. It felt like a cord ran from his wrists to his ankles. He was hog tied. He was looking up into the cold-eyed face of a guy with a black stocking cap and a pair of night vision goggles perched on top of his head. Crouched on his other side was the broad from the car, at least the face was her, but she wore the same type of stocking cap and night vision goggles on her head. She no longer wore the cocktail dress, but black fatigues like the cold-eyed man.

  Mack tried to move into some type of upright position, but it was useless. He was helpless. He turned his head, but couldn’t even tell where he was other than that he was in a patch of gravel surrounded by tall weeds. The cold-eyed man, “I’m not waiting all night asshole. Do you understand?”

  Mack croaked, “I understand. What do you want?”

  “Where are they holding the woman?”

  “In the warehouse.”

  Crack. The telescoped metal baton slammed into the side of his knee. The pain radiated up and down his leg like a shot of electricity. Mack’s yelp was drowned out by the hiss from the woman holding the baton upright, “We know that asshole. Where in the warehouse?”

  The pain in his knee was pulsating. Mack felt his eyes start to water. “She . . . she’s upstairs in the back office. There’s a row of offices upstairs, four or five, I don’t remember exactly. She’s in the last one. The guy’s in the first one.”

  The cold-eyed man, “What’s the plan?”

  “Plan. I don’t know about any plan.”

  Crack. Again. Mack started to scream but a wad of cloth was jammed into his mouth. Tears flowed and he felt warm water run down his leg. When he stopped shuttering, the cloth was jerked from his mouth. Mack blurted, “Honest to God, I don’t know any plan. I was told to come here and open the warehouse. When they got here with the man and woman I was sent outside to keep watch. That’s all I know. I swear.”

  “How many inside?”

  “Ah . . . ah, three, plus the boss. Plus the man and woman.”

  The woman raised the baton, “I swear. I swear that’s all. Three plus the boss.”

  The woman, “Who’s the boss?”

  “Mr. B. . . Anthony Bracchi. He’s the boss. Please don’t hit me again. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Please.”

  The next few minutes were spent having Mack describe the interior of the warehouse and the weapons carried by everyone inside.

  Finally, the man and woman stood up from hovering over his prone body. Now he could make out several more figures standing in the background. Between the darkness and his tears he couldn’t see well, but he could see that they were all dressed in dark clothing and most carried shoulder weapons. For the first time he thought that maybe he was lucky to be the one outside.

  As the group started to move away from him he heard a voice but couldn’t make out what was said. He heard the cold-eyed man respond, “We’ll leave him here. He’s not going anywhere. Somebody’s bound to see him tomorrow in the daylight.” Then he heard a different voice say, “If any harm has come to my daughter, I’ll come back and kill him myself.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  I couldn’t just sit and wait until Bracchi came back and ordained my fate. Not only my fate, but Elena’s as well. I had to do something. I could hear someone shuffling around in front of the door. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to just open the door and walk out. Maybe if I had a weapon I could overpower him somehow. What then Jack? How do you get Elena out? You don’t even know for sure where she’s being held. Somewhere down the catwalk, but there are several offices on this catwalk. And the catwalk is open to the warehouse floor below. It’s not like someone below, where the cars are parked, won’t notice you roaming around up here. If I can’t find something to use as a weapon, the lack of a plan won’t matter.

  I cautiously stood and moved behind the desk. Quietly, I pulled open each drawer. Maybe someone left a box cutter behind. They must have plenty of box cutters in warehouses. So, you’re going to slit someone’s throat with a box cutter Jack? I damn well might!

  I wasn’t going to have my bravado tested because there was no box cutter in the desk. There was nothing at all in any of the drawers. How could people move out and leave nothing lethal behind? I scanned the room. Nothing. Just the desk and the three straight backed chairs.

  The chairs began to attract my attention. Probably because there was absolutely nothing else to even fantasize as a weapon. They were stout wooden chairs. Then it hit me. Maybe I could break one of the legs off and use it as a club.

  I wiggled the chair Bracchi had been sitting in. Solid as a rock. I thought the one I had been in was the same, but checked anyway. Same solid feel. The third chair was shoved into a front corner of the room. I slowly walked over to it and discovered why it was cast aside. Both front legs were loose. Hallelujah!

  I picked up the chair and moved to the area of the room behind the desk as far from the door as possible. I didn’t know how much noise I might make breaking loose one of the legs. I laid the chair on its back and began to wiggle one of the front legs. It was loose, but with the rungs attaching it in two directions it wasn’t going to come off without a fight. I was starting to make progress when I heard voices coming down the catwalk. I pushed the chair against the wall and hurried back to my chair. For additional realism, I picked up my glass of scotch as if I was drinking.

  The voices murmured for a couple of minutes and then drifted off. I waited another minute and then returned to my task dismantling the chair. It took several minutes, that seemed like hours, until finally the leg came free. I hefted it. It was a club, lightweight, but solid. Now what? I placed the dismantled chair against the wall near the area of my chair and laid the leg on it as if it was still attached. If someone came in while I was hatching my plan I didn’t want them to see me with my club. They’re carrying guns. My club is only good as a weapon of surprise and at close range.

  No matter how I analyzed the situation I couldn’t come up with a firm plan. I realized that I wouldn’t know what waited outside this office until I got out there. I needed a way to get whoever was guarding my door in here to overpower him without attracting any attention. I stood, picked up my chair leg and slid it up through my belt behind my back. My belt was tight enough that the chair leg was held firmly in place against my back.

  I walked to within a couple of paces of the door, held my hands casually at my sides, and called out in a voice loud enough to be heard through the door but hopefully not any farther, “Hey, can you come here a second?”

  The door jerked open and Pug Face took a step into the office. Seeing me standing just inside the door he stopped dead in his tracks and drew the large semi-automatic pistol from his hip. “What the hell do you want?”

  I held my open hand in front of me in a defensive posture, “Whoa, you don’t need a gun. I just need to piss. This place have a bathroom?” I backed up a pace. Facing a gun was not how I wanted to practice the first quick draw with my chair leg.

  Pug Face smirked, “Piss in the waste basket.”

  “There is no waste basket, isn’t there some kind of bathroom here?”

  Pug Face turned back toward the door as he was returning the pistol to his holster, “I’ll check with Mr B, but I doubt it’ll matter in a little while anyway.”

  I startled him with, “What the hell does that mean?”

  He growled, “I think your girlfriend pretty well sealed the end for you.”

  I knew it was now or never. I reached behind me and clumsily grabbed the chair leg. The end of it caught on my belt and it didn’t come out on the first pull. An evil sneer radiated from Pug Face. The gun, having never reached the holster, was now coming back up. Finally, the chair leg cleared my belt, but I was going to be too late. The gun was level and I could actually see his finger moving to the trigger. Suddenly the world went black.

  The small group of black clad figures knelt in th
e tall weeds of the open area across the street from the warehouse. Justin spoke into a small handheld radio, “Did you find the power feed?”

  The reply on the radio, “Affirmative.”

  Justin, “Can you give the periodic interruptions and restorations as we discussed?”

  The reply, “Affirmative.”

  “Great. Hold your position until my command.”

  “Clear.”

  Justin turned to the small huddle, “You all know the plan. When we get to the back and into position I’ll call for three short blackouts separated by about thirty seconds. Hopefully, that will draw at least one, and if we get lucky, two outside to check. Whatever direction they turn, that team will take them out. Non-lethal force if possible. If not . . . do what you need to do. Don’t take chances with your own lives. Clear!”

  A chorus of, “Clear.”

  The small group split into two with three figures gliding down one side of the warehouse and the other three sprinting across the front and down the other side.

  Once everyone was in position Justin spoke into his radio, “Give me a three second black out . . . now.”

  I continued my roundhouse swing in the pitch black. I only had one hand on the chair leg so my grip was loose, but I felt it contact something hard and heard a cracking sound immediately followed by a loud explosion and a flash of light.

  The lights came back on and I realized my chair leg had caught Pug Face squarely on the arm that was holding the gun just as he had fired. I had no idea where the bullet went, but it wasn’t in me and that’s all I cared about. The impact had jarred the chair leg from my hand and it had flown across the room. He was bent over at the waist holding his injured arm in the other hand.

  He looked up at me with black hate in his eyes, then he looked toward the gun he had dropped on the floor. We dove for it at the same time crashing into each other as we hit the floor. I drove my fist into the side of his head and tried to climb over him to reach the gun. He reared up like a breaching whale and I flopped off of him onto my back.

  He slumped to the floor and stretched with his left hand to reach the gun. His injured right arm was hanging at an odd angle along his leg. Just as he grabbed the gun I kicked out with my leg as hard as I could. For once my aim was accurate and I connected soundly with his injured arm. The cracking sound was sickening. Well, it would’ve been sickening if the guy wasn’t trying to kill me.

  Pug Face screamed and dropped the gun in order to grab his right arm with his left. I pounced like a cat and knocked him over on his back. He was trying to roll away from me while holding his broken arm. I got to my knees and lunged at the gun. It slid out of my grasp, but I got it on my second try. I rolled onto my back and into a seated position and leveled the gun at Pug Face.

  I could hear yelling and the sound of several firecrackers popping on the warehouse floor. The pounding of running footsteps passing the door came next. Suddenly the door to the office opened and the second thug who had been involved in kidnapping us started to enter. He was holding a gun and it was pointed at me. I started to swing my aim toward him, but I knew in my mind that I wasn’t going to be fast enough. After all of this, I’m still going to die. Damn!

  Just as suddenly as he appeared, a huge black figure enveloped the thug in a blind side hit that would lead any NFL highlight reel. I heard the loud thud of two large bodies slamming onto the floor and then several distinct whopping sounds that could only be someone reigning heavy punches on someone else.

  Pug Face had slumped into a whimpering motionless heap. The fight was gone from him. I began to slide backwards on my butt toward the desk while still pointing the gun at the door. My plan was to use the desk for cover. I thought we were being rescued, but wasn’t certain, and didn’t know who would be next through the door.

  Just as my back hit the desk my question was answered. Moe filled the doorway. He took one look at me holding the gun and ducked back onto the catwalk. “Hey Boss, it’s Moe. You okay?”

  “Yeah Moe. I’m fine. Come on in.”

  Moe gingerly stepped back into the doorway. I realized that I had the gun pointed at him. I lowered it and asked, “What happened to the guy in the door?”

  Moe shook his huge right hand and I noticed his knuckles were skinned. He replied, “He fell asleep.” Then he reached behind him and took the pistol the thug had pointed at me from his belt and handed it to me. “Here you take this Jack.”

  “I’ve got a gun. You keep it.”

  “Can’t, I’m a convicted felon.”

  I was now holding both guns, “You mean to tell me you came in here against these guys without a gun?”

  Moe shrugged his shoulders, “I didn’t want to take a chance on going back to prison. My assignment was to stay outside and alert Justin if the cops showed up, but when we heard the shot in here we threw the plan out the window and rushed the place.”

  “Moe, you could have been killed going up against Bracchi’s armed thugs without a gun.”

  Another shrug of the shoulders, “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have gone back to prison.”

  Just then Justin appeared in the doorway, “Everybody okay in here?”

  Moe and I in chorus, “Yeah, fine.”

  Justin looked at me holding the two guns and said, “If you had two guns, why didn’t you get yourself out of this mess Jack?”

  I didn’t even have a response. I just rolled my eyes.

  Justin handed Moe several flex cuffs like I’ve seen police officers use, “Truss that guy up Moe.”

  I said, “I think his one arm is broken.”

  Justin replied casually, “Probably going to hurt then.”

  Moe rolled Pug Face onto his stomach and reefed his arms behind his back. The scream Pug Face emitted almost drove me to sympathy. Almost, but not quite!

  Justin had turned to leave and I called, “Elena. Is Elena okay?”

  Justin turned back, “Yeah, she’s fine. Well, pretty terrified, but otherwise okay. Her dad’s with her now.” He shook his head and scoffed, “So you thought if you screwed his daughter, Mancuso would change his mind and help you? Sometimes your logic scares even me Jack.”

  I laid the guns on the desk and pulled myself to a standing position, “Daughter. What are you talking about? Elena works for Mancuso. She’s not his daughter.”

  Justin shook his head, “Half right friend. She does work for him, but she’s also his daughter.” With that Justin turned and left.

  I called after him, “And I’m not screwing her. We’re just friends.”

  Moe was standing over the loudly whimpering Pug Face with a big grin on his face. He muttered, “And who do you think will believe that Jack?”

  “Well it’s true, damn it!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  I stepped out onto the catwalk in front of the offices. The thug who had been thoroughly thumped by Moe was laying on the catwalk trussed up like Pug Face was inside the office. Justin was standing at the far end of the catwalk. He turned to Moe and said, “Drag that asshole into the office with his friend.” He then turned to three dark clad figures leaning over another prone figure on the warehouse floor, “How’s the guy that got popped?”

  One of the dark clad figures stood and said, “Shoulder. Through and through. Nothing serious. I put a field dressing on it. They can take him to one of their mob doctors. He’ll be fine.” The lighting was dim but I could have sworn the figure talking was Barbie.

  Just as I started down the catwalk toward Justin, Elena and Mancuso came out of the first office. Elena saw me and ran to me. She threw her arms around me and whimpered into my neck, “Thank God you’re all right Jack. I heard that shot and thought . . . well . . . thank God you’re okay.”

  Mancuso walked up and gently put his hand on Elena’s elbow pulling her away. He called down to the figures on the warehouse floor, “Eddie, please have someone take Elena home.” Turning back to us he said, “Elena, you should go home and get some rest. I’ll be along in a little while a
nd I’ll stop and check on you. Jack and I have some unfinished business here, but I won’t be far behind you.”

  Elena looked first at Mancuso and then at me. She said, “Okay. I’ll go home now, but Jack, you call me as soon as you get back to Cap’s Place.” With that she gave me a kiss on the cheek and walked away.

  I turned to Mancuso and said, “I had no idea she’s your daughter. I thought she just worked for you.”

  Mancuso chuckled, “I believe that. Very few people outside of my inner circle know Elena’s my daughter. She certainly hasn’t known you long enough to tell you.” Then he put his hand on my shoulder and leaned in close lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone, “Now you and I need to decide what to do with Anthony Bracchi.”

  My stomach rolled. I suspected he would be asking if I wanted Bracchi encased in cement and dropped in the Atlantic or just run through an industrial size meat processor. I said, “Okay. Sure.”

  Mancuso stepped back and said, “Actually, I’ve decided what I think we should do with Bracchi, but I do believe you’ve earned a say in the matter.” Looking around he continued, “Let’s you and I go in this empty office and talk a minute.”

  Five minutes later Mancuso and I exited the office and walked down the catwalk to the office next to the one that Elena had been held in. When the attack came, Bracchi had been in the last office talking with Elena. Evidently, he had been attempting to determine how important she was in Mancuso’s operation. He had no idea she was his daughter. At least I’m not the only one who was in the dark.

  Mancuso told me that Elena assured him that she had not been mistreated, other than the rough handling and groping she had endured getting here. He said the fact that Elena hadn’t been assaulted further was the only reason Bracchi was still alive at this moment.