by Ty Patterson
Bwana looked sideways at him with a face granite could be sharpened on. ‘We’re counting on that.’
Chapter 17
A whole night and half a day later, they knocked on the door of Broker’s large apartment overlooking Columbus Avenue in Manhattan. Broker greeted them with a, ‘Took you long enough to get here.’
‘We would’ve been here sooner if you’d got your fingers out and invented time travel,’ snarled Bwana and headed to the shower.
‘Has he always been this cheerful and sunny?’ Broker asked Roger, staring at Bwana’s broad back.
‘Ignore him. He hasn’t killed any badasses in twenty-four hours. You know how cranky he gets. So what’s cooking? Why did you get us here?’
Broker held his palm up for patience. ‘All in good time. Bear and Chloe are in town too and should be here shortly. All will be revealed then. Now how about filling up those skinny frames of yours?’ He laughed as Roger’s stomach growled loudly on cue.
Broker regarded himself as a mean cook and never passed up an opportunity to treat his friends to his culinary offerings. He was a good cook, but they would rather have their nails pulled out with pliers than acknowledge that.
Broker led the way to his kitchen, where he had several chicken breasts and legs baking, coated with a mix of bread crumbs, lemon zest and thyme. He laid out cutlery on the dining table and, when Bwana walked in from his shower, bowed elaborately and gestured to their seats. Bear and Chloe came in from their walk just as Roger and Bwana were seating themselves. Hugs, fist bumps, and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc later, Chloe turned to Roger and Bwana.
‘So, guys, have you started getting calls from Hollywood? The channels have been reporting you as the modern-day version of S.H.I.E.L.D.’
Bwana shrugged embarrassedly. ‘Chloe, don’t believe all that shit they report. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.’
‘Or the wrong place at the wrong time, for those assholes,’ chimed in Roger and then chuckled as he noticed Broker’s slack-jawed expression. ‘Yup, Bwana did blush then. You don’t get to witness that sight often.’ He ducked as Bwana swung a punch.
Turning back to Broker, he turned serious. ‘I presume that’s why you got us here? To deal with whatever this gang, 5Clubs, might throw at us?’
Broker swirled the wine in his glass and took a deep swallow. ‘That’s one part of it. The other part started a while back when the National Security Advisor requested a meeting with me.’
Roger choked on his food and, once his coughing fit had passed, exclaimed, ‘You mean General Klouse?’
‘None other.’ Broker passed the bottle around, leant back and narrated his story.
A couple of hours and a second bottle later, Bear frowned. ‘So we have this gang, 5Clubs, giving Roger and Bwana a gentle workout, and over here on the East Coast, they just might have cultivated a mole in the FBI. But if all the intelligence and computer shit at your disposal isn’t able to find that mole, how exactly are we going to help?’
Broker leaned back in his chair, the light catching his shaggy hair, Surfer Dude with a halo.
‘You know, Robert Hanssen was caught because the FBI went about trying to buy informants who knew his identity? They couldn’t identify him as the mole through all their conventional investigation.’
‘So we’re going to buy this mole’s identity? Shit, that’ll require truckloads of the stuff. I know you’re rolling in it, but do you really want to go down that route?’ Bear was incredulous.
‘Nope, I thought we would take a simpler approach.’ Broker paused theatrically and sipped his wine slowly.
Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘Out with it, Sherlock.’
Broker chuckled. ‘Why, we’ll just ask them politely.’
The pregnant silence lasted a few minutes, and then Bear guffawed as it hit him. Coming off his frame, it sounded like rolling thunder.
Broker looked searchingly at Roger and Bwana, who weren’t displaying any particular reaction.
‘You guys okay with this? This could get nasty, for a very long time. In fact’ – he turned to Chloe – ‘are you both on board with this? Me, I don’t have anything to lose, but you guys have each other, and Roger and Broker have been partners for far longer than all of us have been working together for Clare.’
Another silence fell in the room, and this time Bwana broke it with a growl. ‘I haven’t known you to ask before, Broker, what gives?’
‘I think I’ve become wiser ever since we lost Zeb and hence asking you guys to jump into this fully knowing that taking on 5Clubs will be a war, not a battle, and a war that we cannot win. We will never put out any gang. At the most, we’ll put a dent in their operations.’
He passed the bottle around. ‘And know this. It’s perfectly okay to back out of this. There’ll be other assignments – hell, there’ll be a lot – which we will work on together.’
Chloe looked at him in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe this is the same Broker. We have always worked together, have never backed out of any assignment, never refused an assignment, however dangerous, whatever the threat… even if it meant we lose one of ours. So what the fuck has changed now?’
She slammed her palm on the table so hard the bottles jumped.
Broker smiled. ‘Cool down, Chloe. I’m asking, because we lost Zeb and we never lost anyone before. I’m also asking because this is the first time we have assembled after Zeb, and I wanted to get a feel for your thinking on this assignment.’
Chloe snarled at him, her petite frame quivering with anger. ‘Nothing’s changed, Broker. We were a team, we are a team, and we’ll always be a team. If Zeb’s loss means anything, it’s that we never fight alone. We are the best elite black-ops team in the world, which is why Clare employs us. We are fucking proud of that.’
Bear mumbled in his glass, ‘Remind me never to piss her off,’ and winced as Chloe slugged him in the shoulder.
Bwana cracked a wide grin. ‘You’re getting old, Broker. That’s what this is all about. You can’t handle the stress of working with us on an assignment anymore. Stress-related fear happens to many in the field. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You were a good operative once; you can be proud of that. Why don’t you tend to your machines here and let us do all the heavy lifting?’
Broker gave him the finger. ‘I’ll stop to smell the roses and dawdle next time your sorry ass needs rescuing. All right, guys, it looks like your stupidity levels haven’t diminished, so let’s get serious. Clare doesn’t have anything for us and knows we’ll be helping Isakson on this.’
Roger pinched his nose as if to ward off a stench and said nasally, ‘Keep that pile of shit away from me, will ya, Broker? Else I just might have a go at him.’
‘You’ll be joining a long line, believe me, but let’s put aside what we feel for him for the time being. If there IS a mole in the FBI, and all signs do point to there being one, then let’s uncover the bastard and stamp him out.’
He went to his study and returned with a sheaf of papers and laid out the six photographs in front of them.
‘Agon Scheafer is the chief badass, the guy who put together 5Clubs. Scumbag was some hotshot commander in the Kosovo Liberation Army, but with a penchant for torturing women, raping them, raping kids too, driving stakes through people… that kinda shit. He became too hot for the KLA to handle, and just as they were going to put a bullet in him, he fled to our shores, adopted a new identity, and started this gang.’
He looked down at the dark eyes staring back from the photograph. ‘He makes Holt look like Snow White.’
Chloe placed her hand over Broker’s, bringing him back to the present, back from Zeb. ‘Doesn’t matter how ruthless he is. We’ll get him to hand over the mole.’
Bwana raised his glass in a silent toast. ‘Who’re the other fuckers?’
Broker laid out the images in a row and pointed to each one of them. ‘Jose Cruz, heads the Brooklyn arm; Martin Kelleher, Queens; Jorge Sancada, Bronx; Die
ter Hamm, Manhattan and New Jersey; Pancho Morales, Staten Island. Agon looks after the activities on the West Coast himself. He’s got some hood on the ground, who’s chief hood there, but he’s not a chapter head. Scheafer is based somewhere in New York, but never stays in the same place for more than a couple of nights… the usual shit these guys follow just to stay invisible.’
‘We going to knock out all these guys?’ Bwana asked hopefully.
Broker laughed, shaking his head. ‘Let’s not lose sight of what we want to achieve. We want to find out the identity of that mole – that doesn’t mean we’re going to start offing these assholes left, right, and center. If we did that, we might never find the mole.’
Bear looked up from his glass, which he had been looking at thoughtfully for a while. ‘Is this the only way?’
Broker nodded. ‘Werner’ – he pointed to his desktop – ‘has been running on this ever since I met Isakson and so far hasn’t come up with anything. I’ve gone through the FBI investigation, and I can’t fault it. Our way is an unconventional way, which no one will expect. But if you guys have other ideas, I’m listening.’
The five of them went quiet, and then Bear shook his head. ‘You’ve had the most time to think this through. If you can’t come up with any other way, then how the hell would we?’
‘What I thought,’ Broker said and handed slim dossiers to all of them. ‘Those have more details on the gang. Go through them, memorize them, and get a feel for the top dogs. How are you guys for kit?’
‘We have a cache, but we’re open to topping up. There’s no such thing as too much kit,’ Bwana replied as he skimmed through the file.
‘Right, we’ll go to Bunk’s for kit. You all know him, right?’
‘Heard of him, but never had the pleasure of meeting.’
Broker noticed Roger frowning heavily. ‘Something on your mind?’
‘Yeah. How is this going to work? Which chapter are we going to go after? We going to stay together or split up?’
‘We’ll try the Manhattan bastards first. As for splitting up, nope. You both should be known to them by now, so safety in numbers and all that shit. Also, I don’t want to pass up on any opportunity to keep your sorry ass from being shot.’
Roger smiled sardonically. ‘Okay. Now what?’
‘Now you finish that bottle and tell us some dirty stories. Tomorrow we’ll head to Bunk’s and indulge in some gun porn. The day after, we start a war.’
Chapter 18
‘Where’s this Bunk fella?’ Bwana asked as he shoveled boiled eggs in his mouth for breakfast the next day.
‘A town called Newburgh, an hour and half, two hours north of here, in Orange County. Badass country. The city was called Murder Capital of New York State, and remains one of the most crime- ridden cities in our beloved country.’
‘Why?’ Bear paused his chewing.
Broker set a plate of freshly boiled eggs on the table and sat down. ‘The usual reasons – high unemployment, illegal immigrants, poor density of law enforcement, and lack of growth, investment, and development.’
He reached out for the eggs, but Bear’s massive paw got there a shade earlier. He looked heavenward. ‘It’s breakfast, Bear, not a fricking competition.’
‘I know, but my frame needs more nourishment than yours does,’ said Bear witheringly.
Roger burped politely. ‘So why’s our guy there?’
‘It’s ideally suited for what he does. He’s an arms supplier to gangs on the East Coast and some on the West Coast too. He also supplies to mercs, private contractors such as us.’
‘And the law hasn’t bagged him?’ asked Bwana skeptically.
‘That’s a very good question. Your proximity to my brains is showing.’ Broker grinned.
‘Boys, calm down,’ Chloe warned as Bwana gave Broker the finger.
‘The law is fighting a losing battle in Newburgh. Its small alleys and narrow streets make it easy for gangbangers to get away fast, stage sieges, and all that shit. Now, the reason the law and the Feds have let Bunk operate is simple. He’s a carefully cultivated snitch for them.’
Roger, who had been silently attacking his eggs and bacon, looked up at this. ‘Say what?’
‘He passes gang information to the Feds and the NYPD, has been doing so for a long time. Makes sense if you think of it. Given where he’s based and what he does, he’s ideally placed to provide juice. In return they let him deal with the gangs. Of course, they do keep tabs on what he sells, just in case he slips a nuclear warhead across the counter.’
He munched for a while. ‘But he’s really one of the good guys. Zeb was the one who found him. He was digging for possible associates of Holt and came across Bunk. Ex-Seal that he was, he’d trained with Holt and been on a few missions with him. I met him during Zeb’s funeral service, and we’ve kept in touch since.’
He pushed back from the dining table. ‘Right. Let’s get your lazy asses rolling and spend some of my hard-earned dinero.’
Chloe went to one of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and looked down at Columbus Avenue in the distance. ‘Gee, Broker, you do like to live the high life, don’t you?’
‘It’s part of the façade, Chloe. The people I sell to want to see a successful businessman, not some seedy-looking guy who operates out of his briefcase.
‘Not that I’m complaining about all this.’ He waved his hands to indicate his apartment, and his laugh bounced off all the glass as he led the way to the basement.
Broker’s drive for the day was a heavily-customized Range Rover, extended at the back to make more storage, panels at the back of the seats for guns, a wireless network, armor plating and bulletproof glass, run-flat tires, radar, ejection seats. ‘All the gizmos money can buy and some that it can’t,’ was how he put it.
Bwana leaned back into the plush leather seats with a contented sigh. ‘Can you leave this to me in your will, Broker?’
Broker grinned. ‘You’d just trash it when you went camping. And use it to store your fish.’
Roger chuckled. ‘You got that right. Which is why we never take his car when we’re travelling. A few moments in it and fish would wrinkle their noses up.’
‘Should we swing by the Manhattan chapter’s digs before we go to Newburgh?’ Bear asked as he watched New York flow past the window in a heavily muted stream of color and motion.
Broker shook his head. ‘Not now, not before we’re fully kitted out. There’s stuff in the Rover, but I’d prefer us to have our kit of choice before making any move. Maybe on the way back.’
They fell silent as Broker navigated them through the force of energy that was the city. Chloe looked up at the towers that pierced the skyline, Chrysler Tower peeking out in the distance, and murmured, ‘This is why we do what we do.’
Bwana, draped over the last row, lifted his hand in a silent salute, stretched his legs, and prepared to snooze. ‘Wake me up when we get there, Rog. Never been to Newburgh and want to see these guys that have Broker scared.’
Roger shook his head mournfully. ‘See what I have to put up with? No wonder I end up doing all the work.’ He pulled out a pencil stub and rummaged in the glove compartment for a notepad.
‘Right, who wants what?’
Broker slowed down as he entered Newburgh an hour and a half later and nosed his way through the town. He deliberately took a circuitous route to show them around. Glancing briefly through his rearview mirror, he smiled when he saw all of them glued to their windows.
Chloe broke the silence finally as they passed yet another run-down street and homes hollowed out of hope. ‘Bear, we are not coming here for our holidays.’
Bear shook his head. ‘This is a town where hope has no hope.’
‘That’s right,’ Broker commented. ‘Now, I can go right to Bunk’s parking lot, and we can hop to his store from there, or if you guys are hankering for some more atmosphere, I can park a little way out and we can hoof it.’
‘Hoof it,’ came the unanimo
us reply.
Broker grinned. ‘You don’t need to be macho all the time, you know? The wise man knows his own strength and doesn’t need to flaunt it.’
Bwana looked balefully at Roger at that. ‘Do me a favor, Rog. Shoot me the day I start uttering such horseshit.’
Broker found a parking space on Broadway a few hundred yards from Bunk’s storefront, and they walked to the store from there.
Hoods lounging against walls and fences – attired in mandatory hood gear: sleeveless T-shirts, hoodies, hipsters hanging so low Newton would have rewritten the laws of gravity, and smokes dangling from stained teeth – straightened and gave them hard stares with eyes that had seen it all. Some of the hoods crowded around them wordlessly and fell back slowly as they advanced without breaking stride.
The hoods sported intricate ink, and many of them had teardrops with numbers beside them – the kills they had made.
Roger’s lips barely moved. ‘Punks. Half of them won’t see the year end.’
‘The other half, the next year,’ muttered Bwana.
A distant bell rang from inside the store as Broker pushed the door open and led them inside. They spread out and stood stock-still, their looks making Broker laugh.
‘Wow. Is this dude a gun dealer or a museum caretaker?’ Chloe exclaimed.
The store had immaculately polished, gleaming wooden and glass cabinets everywhere. A horizontal running cabinet ran the length and breadth of the room, containing antique arms ranging from Roman knives to flintlock pistols, all neatly laid out and labeled. Hugging the walls were tall vertical cabinets featuring muskets, Civil War rifles, British shotguns, firearms of all makes and kinds dating far back into history.
Roger and Bwana crowded around a beautifully maintained muzzle-loading Baker rifle that had its ancestry chronicled on a handwritten note.
‘Rog, I would like to marry that rifle,’ Bwana said in a hushed tone.
Chloe snorted on hearing him. ‘Any offspring aren’t going to be better looking than you, Bwana. Let’s not inflict such a crime on the world.’
