Dee Dee Kozak
Now just what the FUCK have I wandered into now?
She kept her back to the crowd as she hurried Kiki along to the car.
"I'll call you later!" she shouted back at Lizzy, who disappeared inside.
Item: Lizzy's boyfriend turns out to be #2 Hard Body on her hit parade. Mr. Bouncer from Moby Dick's, a stone-serious shooter and running buddy to her long-lost lover boy Deon from South Africa equals Lizzy's boyfriend?
She had to give friend-girl points, though. Nice catch.
"Where we going?" Kiki said.
"Someplace else, baby gal," Dee Dee said. "Things are just too hot and heavy here. Catching lead would wreck my do."
Kiki laughed till she squeaked.
In the car, and pulling out, making sure her face was turned away from where Lizzy's beau was in serious conversation with that heavy hitter woman cop and her scary looking partner with the long gun. So how do I turn this shit into chicken salad?
Tore off down the street, Kiki pressed back, a big grin on her face, when something came back to her.
"Kiki? What did that old man want again? The Chinese guy?"
"The old perv? He wanted me to download something for him. No way. Probably porn or something. On a flash drive."
"Did he give it to someone else?"
"Yeah, the stripper. The one that you were talking to. Liza."
"Lizzy," Dee said. "Lizzy. Did she take it away?"
"Yep."
"Why would he want someone else to load it for him?"
Kiki pondered that.
"It *is* kinda weird. He didn't have a computer?"
"Then what's he doing with a flash drive? And what's so important that it has to go up, like now, and he's willing to hand it over to a complete stranger?"
Kiki looked stricken. "Should I have taken it? I didn't..."
"No. You did good. First rule, right? Never trust anyone. At least not till you get to know them. You did right. I just have to wonder...that guy's Asian, those shooters are Asian, he wants to dump something onto the Internet right after so bad that he's willing to hand it off to a complete stranger and trust them to do it? What do you make of that?"
"You know...I don't know. If it was something important, why take a chance on somebody you don't know? He must have been there with someone, he didn't just wheel himself in there, did he? Can you do that in a wheelchair?"
"Probably. So how does that work? With a flash drive?"
"He could have an auto-execute program with a stripped browser. All you'd need to do is plug it into any computer with an active Internet connection, and the program would send it where it needs to go. With a flash drive, you can load a stripped OS or a virus or...."
"All he needs to do it is stick it into a computer with an active Internet connection?"
"Pretty much, yeah. With some programs, even if the computer isn't connected, a stealth program will load and as soon as it connects to the Internet, then the program takes care of the rest. Doesn't take much."
Dee Dee put pedal to the metal. "Time to earn your pay, Neo."
"What you got?"
"I want you on the Internet connection out of The Trojan Horse. I want you to find out what that was when Lizzy loads it."
"How do you know she will?"
"She's nice like that. If she said she will, she will. I gotta tell you, though...she sure runs with a scary boyfriend."
"You know him?"
Dee Dee jutted her jaw. "I'll just say I know a bit about him."
She raced through the streets to the hotel.
Deon Oosthuizen
Deon nursed his second beer at the Gunfighters Table in the back of Moby Dick's. Thieu watched him from the bar, and he raised his glass in a gentle salute and acknowledgment.
"Love me, don't you, missie?" he said.
"Shut up, old fool. You want more beer?"
"In just a tick, darling woman. Will you marry me?"
"No."
He grinned and sipped his beer, shifted in his seat. Since the shooting, he'd decided to up-gun a bit, and had two Para Ordnance .45s holstered, one strong side and one cross-draw, with a total of 4 extra magazines, one dual-mag pouch on each side, and another one dropped into the right hand pocket of his coat.
No such thing as too much ammo in a gunfight.
Brought to mind a little altercation he'd had in Bredell, outside a farmhouse, with three home-invaders armed with AKs who'd caught him out in the yard. He'd run through all three magazines of his primary in about 7 seconds, 25 rounds, and fortunately for him, each of the baddies had backstopped 6-7 COM along the way. He'd advanced on them with an empty gun and picked up an AK when two of their friends, frozen in the grass during the shooting, popped up.
He'd given them the Custom Deon Service as well.
He loved those old 1911s, still had the one he'd taken off a dead pilot in that B-52 out in the deep jungle, but he kept that back to avoid embarrassing questions should he ever have to turn it over for awhile and go through the whole electronic search thing.
Guns. Like that song old Jimmy loved so well, Lawyers Guns and Money. It's what made the world go round.
And women, of course.
His cellphone vibrated. He took it out. Jimmy.
"Oi, oke," he said. "All right?"
"You hear?"
"What?"
"Hit down at the Trojan."
"You all right?"
"Yeah."
"Lizzy?"
"Fine."
"What do you need me to do?"
"A crew that can handle being around beautiful naked women, booze, and keep their heads straight and their shooting irons holstered till they need to bring them out."
Deon laughed. "Don't want much, do you now, oke? That's a tough bill. Let me think on that."
"Don't think too long. I'm down here now. Nina took off. I'll fill you in when you get here. There's something going down..."
"Lizzy?"
"Not her specifically. But while she's here..."
"For you, mate. Nobody else. I'll see to it myself. And bring a gentleman with me."
"You know someone like that?"
"You're awfully hard for someone asking a favor."
"Wish someone would ask me to hang out in a strip club and shoot bad guys."
"There's that. See you shortly. Shall I bring you a long?"
"Good idea."
"I'm thinking a few of those lovely 416s I got in will do just fine."
"See you soon. Text me or call me when you're inbound."
"Will do, oke."
Deon grinned, his lips peeled back to expose his long incisors. "Lovely." He punched in a number. Waited. "Guz? Deon. Got a bit of the serious. You available right now? As in, right now?"
He nodded.
"Yes. Day rate is no problem. Think you'll enjoy the venue. We're running SBR indoors and close, urban. I'll have the kit at the shop. Meet me there, I'll have you sorted. We'll go together. Yes? Good. See you in a tick."
He drained off his beer, left a five-dollar bill on the table. "Theiu, my beauty, I must go. Are you sure you won't go home with me?"
"You see Jimmy?"
"Yes, I'll see him."
"You make sure he okay. Him and Lizzy, I think maybe something going on."
That made him stop. "Why do you say that?"
Theiu shrugged, her tiny birdlike shoulders raising towards her ears like a sparrow's wings. "I do cards. My cards say much trouble coming. Those two, they are both very beautiful but they are like lights in the darkness. They draw things. They are lucky to have you watch over them."
She shrugged. "You are crazy, Deon, but you are a good man. Like an angel."
He laughed. "Let me look outside and see if pigs are flying?"
She threw a dish towel at him. "Get out, crazy pig. Go away. Go take care of our friends. Come back later, I give you a beer."
Deon left, laughing as he went, conscious of her secret gaze on his back.
"I'll be fine, Jimmy," Lizzy said. She drew her hand down her man's cheek, his hard brown eyes softening, as they did, when she touched him. That was the magic of the two of them that she loved so much; a man like this, who only shared his inner softness with her, hidden away in all that fierceness. "Really."
"Deon and a friend. They'll be here as long as you are, we'll see you home."
"I want to come over."
He thought it through. "Yes. Okay. They'll take you there and stay till I get back."
"Thank you."
He leaned forward, brushed her lips with his, raised goose bumps on her, whispered, "See you then."
She watched her warrior stalk away, and felt the girls atwitter behind her.
"Girl," one of them said. "I'd almost give up women for that man."
Lizzy laughed. "I almost did, too."
Laughter.
The women returned to the dancer's lounge, and Lizzy went to her make up table, searched through her bag and laid out her CD for the night's dance routine. She set the flash drive on the table, looked at it, then at the statues of the Buddha and the Kwan-Yin on her table.
Tapped the drive with her finger, picked it up and went to the computer station Lance T had set up for the girls. Tiffany, black and muscled like the Crossfit Queen she was, scrolled through her Facebook page.
"Tiff, let me on when you get through?"
"Sure, baby. I'm getting off right now. Fucking mens. I hate Facebook. All I get is mens sending me pictures of they dick."
Lizzy laughed. "Any good ones?"
"No dick is good dick, girl. Unless they come in here and give me some money. All about the bank, right? Hey, you got that realtor's number, you friend?"
"In my purse. Just a minute?"
"Yeah, baby. Here. Go ahead."
Lizzy slipped into the still-warm seat, closed the browser, and inserted the flash drive. The green LED on the drive lit up. After a moment, a disk icon appeared on the desktop. She clicked on it. There was a single file labeled "Click Here." She did. The file opened up and a progress bar opened: "Searching." Then an IP number appeared, and then another progress bar started ticking off an upload of 240 GB. Lizzy closed her eyes and began to hum the Gayatri Mantra to herself, "Om bhur bhuvasva, suva, tat savitur varenyam, bhargo dhivasya, dhimahi, dhiyo yonaha, pracho dayath..."
It took four rounds of three before there was a ping and the status box said: Upload completed.
Lizzy ejected the drive and weighed it in her hand.
"Did anyone see where that man in the wheelchair went?" she called to the room at large.
"Chinese pervert motherfucker," one of the girls said. "I think Lance threw him out."
"No," Tiffany said. "They stuck him upstairs in Lance's spare apartment."
"Why?" Lizzy said.
"He's some friend of Lance's."
"I didn't know that."
"Drinks for free and dances for less? Hell yes, he's Lance T's friend. Better be."
Lizzy rose from the chair, all muscle and flow, her long red hair trailing behind her, went out the door and up the stairs, down the hall and knocked on the apartment door. The silent Hmong man who pushed the chair opened the door.
"We don't want anything," he said.
"I have something for your friend."
"Let her in, fool! Move!" the man in the wheel chair said. He bumped the younger man out of the way. "You come in!"
"It's all right," Lizzy said. "Here."
The old man snatched the drive back and shot a glance at his younger companion. "Did you do this?"
"Yes," Lizzy said. "It's done."
"Thank you! Wait, I pay you..."
"No need," Lizzy said.
"It's done?"
"Yes," Lizzy said. "It's done."
She turned and walked away.
Mr. Smith, aka Hank
The young cop, Officer Rice, had done two tours with the 82d before he'd taken the cop test and gone through the Academy.
"It's a good gig," Officer Rice said. "Scary how sometimes it starts to look like Iraq over here, you get over on the north side and it's just like Mogadishu. Never been there, but some of the Rangers I worked with were in the Battle of the Black Sea. You done time in the Mog?"
Mr. Smith knew what the real question was: You with CAG, DEVGRU, OGA -- you Tier One, you one of the rock star meat-eating cowboys of the special operations world? Or you just another regular grunt like me, a burned and bloodied veteran of a harsh and ugly war?
"No," Mr. Smith said. "Before my time. I was in 7th Group when I got dinged. In the 'stan."
"Lotta my buddies went SF," Rice said. He rattled off some names, one of whom Mr. Smith recognized.
"No," Smith said. "I don't know any of those guys. I was pretty much a cherry. Then I got flambed."
Rice laughed. "Sorry..."
"Don't be. You know Jimmy John?"
"Wylde?" Rice paused, a beat too long that told Smith what he wanted to know. "No. Not really. He's friends with Detective Capushek."
"Broken nose?"
"Don't ever call her that where she can hear you."
"Tough one, huh?"
Rice grinned and nodded. "Yeah. She's a fucking ball buster. Rumor was she was a dyke, but she's not. Just don't date anybody on the PD. Keeps herself to herself. She was the only woman ever invited to try out for SWAT. Kicked ass, but decided not to do it. She's top gun in Special Investigations, works for LT Fabruzzi, puts her on all the hot shit. Serious gunfighter, too. She's been in about eleven shootings, all straight up gunfights, and they buried every one that she ran across."
"How'd she get that broken nose? She's a beautiful woman you take that away."
"She never talks about it. Rumor was she got it broke on the job up in Minneapolis, before she came down here. Don't ask her, either. Pisses her off."
"I'll remember that. Appreciate you driving me down here."
"No worries. This the place?"
"Yeah."
They pulled into the Motel 6. "Nice spot," Rice said, straight faced.
"It's cheap. And they leave the lights on for you."
They laughed.
"I'll wait here," Rice said.
"Thanks. I'll need a few, got to get my meds, give myself a shot."
"Need any help?"
"No. I'm good. Thank you."
Smith limped off, moving slowly, the very picture of a tired, near-crippled man. Till he got in his room.
"Fuck me swinging," he said, the words hissing between clenched teeth. He grabbed his med go-bag, hit the series of shots and added a little shot of happy juice to bring him back to some semblance of nice and calm. It was all he could do not to go over and push the button the charges stacked neatly in Pelican cases against the wall and blow himself up and end this goat fuck.
"How did I get here? How the fuck did I get here?" he said. "Rhetorical question."
No sterilizing this, with a fucking cop sitting outside. Pelican cases all locked, gear secured in locked duffel bags looped with cable locks to the cases. And the motel management knew better than to go in his room when he wasn't there. Micro-cams in place. He picked up the spare iPhone, turned it on, tapped the board to call up the interior of the room from the remote web-server, set it on frame every two seconds for capture as well as real-time on call...spare gun, identical Glocker from his stash, and restock his mag pouches, okay, ready to roll...docs in place.
Now the part he was dreading.
He took the secure phone, tapped in a number, which took him to a voice proxy on a VOIP connection, which further connected him via a VPN tunnel to a server in a place far, far away...
"402," a mechanical voice answered.
"402, this is Domino 37."
"Domino 37, ID sequence."
He spelled it out, slowly and clearly. "D. O. M. I. N. O. Tree. Seven."
A moment of silence while voice stress and vocal signature were run through a complex algorithm against a deta
iled computer digitization of his voice.
"Stand by." Silence. Then a human voice. "Go ahead, Domino."
"Backstop activated. Street crime compromise. Police involvement."
Smith studied a small hand-held electronic device he held which blocked any and all electronic bugs that might be active within 100 yards.
"Understood. Are you injured?"
"No."
"Are you in custody?"
"No. I am being transported for a statement."
"Fatalities."
"Yes."
A faint clicking, someone tapping on a keyboard. "Backstop is active, I'll be on the phone. Do you need to refresh any points?"
"No."
"As soon as you're clear, we'll need a brief."
"Understood. That will come via voice packet."
"Yes. Standing by."
"Thank you."
"Yes."
The phone went dead.
"Ah," Mr. Smith, aka Hank, aka a dozen different names over the years, sighed. "I am well and truly fucked."
He stared at the blistered egg white that was his face in the mirror. "It's a fine mess you've landed us in, Ollie."
And then he put on his best semblance of a happy face, and went out the door.
Irina Komorov, Meet Kiki
"And who is this?" Irina demanded.
"Your new Best Friend Forever, Rina," Dee said, throwing her purse into an overstuffed armchair. "Set up over there, baby."
Irina held both hands up. "Who is this? I want to know!"
"Kiki, meet Rina. Rina, meet Kiki," Dee said.
"Hey," Kiki said.
"Who is Kiki?" Irina said.
"Rina, shut up," Dee said. "Kiki is part of the crew. And, right now, a whole hell of a lot more important than you. Got it? Kiki is handling the money. You know, the thing that makes the world go round? The thing you promised me so I would take care of the loose ends? Which, by the way, we have to talk about, because one of those loose ends almost bit me in my fine firm ass earlier today."
Irina had to take that in. It wouldn't do to lose her temper; she had too much to lose. Slipping the leash here would not be easy, either.
"You are the computer girl?" Irina said.
Kiki looked at Dee to take her cue, then she shrugged her birdlike shoulders and said, "Yeah."
Too Wylde Page 13
