Hard Case 12: Climate of Chaos (John Harding)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “That’s tight! Batiste won’t want to do it… but with a guarantee like that… he might. Can… you mash up a couple more Vikes? My mouth is startin’ to hurt like hell again.”

  “Sure.”

  Jian mashed a couple more Vicodin in a little water and helped Heddington get the mixture swallowed. Twenty minutes later, with his burner-phone, Heddington called Batiste on speaker.

  “We got them, boss. The Stricklands will do it… but they want twenty-five.”

  “That is agreeable,” Batiste replied. “When?”

  “They want to do the deed tonight. We at a house they say nobody knows about. That Eric dude say he doesn’t want anyone to know about the payoff. Can you come here tonight with the paperwork?”

  Batiste hesitated. After a long moment, he said, “text me the address. You didn’t hurt them, did you, Mosel?”

  “We roughed them a little… but nothing bad. They wanted the money you offered… dude say you could have offered them the money without us messin’ with them, and they would have signed.”

  “I couldn’t get Leila to let me do it. She wanted the Stricklands killed which would have done her no good at all. Send me the address. I will be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay, boss.” Heddington disconnected and texted the address to Batiste.

  “Very good, Mose,” Nick said. “I want you to greet him at the door and bring Batiste inside. Jian will give you another couple Vicodin.”

  * * *

  Batiste glanced around nervously after parking his car. He double checked the address before approaching the door and knocking. Mosel answered the door and stepped aside. Batiste walked in, turning toward his hireling, only to see Claude shut the door. Another tall black man injected Mosel with a syringe, seating him in a chair, where Batiste watched in horror as life drained from Heddington’s body. Batiste dropped his briefcase. Nick grabbed the lawyer’s arm.

  “Hello, Harold. I will make this as painless as possible, considering who you represent. Come with me over here.” Nick escorted the stunned Batiste down into the basement. “Mose helped us willingly and did everything he was asked to do. He passed on peacefully. My associate will show you what lies beyond door number two if you don’t help like Mose did.”

  Nick guided Batiste onto a chair where Johnny and Jian restrained him. “We only want two things from you, Harold. Do you have power-of-attorney over the account Rackson-Gree uses to hire thugs with?”

  “Yes… but I’m no thug. I just do as I’m told. You can’t torture me.”

  Nick grinned as his crew appreciated the humor of their favorite statement when interrogating bad people. “That’s all for now, Harold. Johnny will show you door number two now.”

  Twenty minutes later Batiste was openly crying. Nick used a wet towel to wipe Batiste’s face. “Which would you like, Harold… door number one, or door number two?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want access to your phone, tablet and laptop. I also want all your account passwords and Rackson-Gree’s. Let’s get that done. Then, we’ll move on to getting your hired guns over here to meet their maker.”

  “Isn’t there some way for me to live through this?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Nick answered. “Get started before you say something earning you entrance through door number two.”

  Johnny confirmed the transfers forty minutes later.

  “Very good, Harold. I want you to call the rest of the boys over here. Tell them you received everything you needed from the Stricklands and you want to pay them off.”

  Batiste did as he was told and texted his hirelings the address. Batiste disconnected. “They were, of course, excited.”

  “Of course. Here.” Nick handed Batiste three Vicodin and a glass of water. “Take these. By the time they arrive, you’ll be feeling good enough to answer the door with a smile and invite them in.”

  Batiste wasted no time taking the pain killers. Half an hour later, Batiste answered the door with a smile as Nick had predicted. “Come in.”

  The four hired thugs stepped through the door and were instantly zapped to the floor until they stopped moving. Claude ended all four with syringes. Gus took care of Batiste.

  “I know we couldn’t take chances, but now we need to load them in the van tarp.”

  “Think of it this way, Payaso,” Nick said. “We’ll load ‘em, drive ‘em, bury ‘em, and tie up a few loose ends. We’ll be on the beach at Otter’s Point the morning after tomorrow. I checked the weather forecast. It’s been raining where our burial detail takes place, so we should be able to get ‘er done in short order. Wear your rain gear.”

  “Wonderful,” Gus muttered.

  Chapter Five

  Election Tidings

  “Well… that was a pain in the ass,” Gus said as he and his cohorts trudged inside The Avenue apartment building. He glanced up in time to see Serena wave at them. “Oh shit. You’re lucky no one will be uploading this clandestine meeting, Muerto.”

  “You guys go on, and brothers, ice me down a big glass of Jim Beam.”

  “Right after we pour ours… brother,” Claude joked.

  Nick approached Serena with care. She wore a stylish ankle length coat with black high-heels. “Hi, Serena.”

  “Out very late, you bad boy. I bet you were up to no good.”

  “My friends and I had business to take care of. It went a bit longer than expected. How long have you been waiting here?”

  “I didn’t tell you, and I guess the Stricklands never told you… that I live here. I… I admit I’m obsessed with you. Your calling out to me as I left in the Vivo Per Lei duet was… wonderful.”

  “I meant it as a salute to your talent… not a seduction ploy. You sing easily enough to be a professional which I’m sure you are.”

  Serena opened her coat. She wore nothing but a garter belt and stockings underneath. “Come have a drink with me. I’m certain you won’t regret it.”

  Being nearly a psychopath, Nick slowly smiled, admiring Serena’s breathtaking body, thinking at the same time this would not be uploaded to his dingbat. “You are very beautiful, Serena. If I were single, I would share everything with you. I’m not. I love Rachel more than my own life. I would never… ever betray her. I do not wish to offend you, but I am not that kind of man.”

  Serena closed her coat. “Good Lord! I…I thought for sure… never mind… I see now you were indeed simply saluting my talent and not trying to bed me. It was lovely… I so enjoyed singing with you. It was so much like making love… I hoped it could continue into the physical realm.”

  “It cannot… but whenever I am in DC, I would be honored to sing with you, anywhere you would like.”

  “I will hold you to that promise. If I can ever help you on your missions… whatever they are… you have only to ask. I could be a femme-fatale for you.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that very much. DC is a hostile city for me. Having friends here helps considerably. Goodnight, Serena.”

  “Goodnight, Nick.” Serena stopped Nick from turning away, kissing him as if it were a beginning, rather than an ending. Serena stumbled away with hand to lips. “Do not… forget me.”

  Nick waved and journeyed to the shared apartment. He entered and went straight to the bar, where Claude placed an iced Jim Beam whiskey. Nick sipped it, but with a nearly uncontrollable desire to chug it. Serena weighed on his mind, but not in the way she intended. He missed Rachel. The longing he felt for her after only days apart seared him to his soul.

  “So… my friend… what happened with the lovely Serena?” Claude asked as the rest of Nick’s companions clustered around the bar.

  “She flashed me, wearing nothing but a garter belt and stockings under the coat.”

  “I hope you don’t think we would rat you out to your wife, my friend.”

  “He knows that,” Gus stated. “Muerto and Rachel are bonded. I’ve been with them since almost the beginning. She turned him from the da
rk side. Serena never stood a chance of seducing Muerto.”

  “Amen to that, brother.” Nick held up his glass. This time he downed it and held the glass out to Claude for a refill. “This will be Quinn’s first Halloween where he can walk up to the doors. I’m concentrating on that.”

  “Will you be going to the North Bay to see Kade? I’m certain John will be taking Kade and Al trick-or-treating. This may be Al’s last year going door to door, except maybe to watch her new brother.”

  “I would sure like to, Gus. John texted me about Halloween and one other more important item. The bug-eyed Bolshevik candidate for Congress from New York, Assio-Warez, somehow teamed with the lame duck politicos in California to free a killer named Cobus from prison. Cobus told John the gooney bird from New York wanted the Dark Lord dead. I can’t think of any reason for Cobus to lie after getting a podiatry exam in Dr. Deville’s clinic.”

  “You have heard her speak,” Johnny said. “The woman has an IQ below fifty. Add in the fact she thinks winning a seat in Congress makes her a queen. I can see her running around publicly shouting off with his head by decree. Remember, Assio-Warez tried to instigate a riot at the debate where Flo turned Lewsome every which way but loose.”

  “Jafar will investigate whatever links there are to find before the Monsters move on anyone,” Nick said. “Making politicos disappear before an election would be a tricky business. New York is as whacko leftist as California. You can bet the bug-eyed Bolshevik can win easily in New York, spouting idiocy every time she opens her mouth. I’ll be glad when the election is over, and both Flo and Dev are the new mayor and governor elect.”

  “Then… the long wait until January begins with that idiot Governor Drowne trying to destroy the state in his last couple months in office,” Gus added. “At least Flo is the mayor. I don’t know what she’ll face as Governor after Drowne gets done.”

  “I think Flo mentioned working on an alternate plan to get into office right after the election,” Nick said.

  “Once in office, she will need protection,” Jian said.

  “We have an air force. The Monsters and Unholies can be at her side within an hour, right?” Claude asked.

  “We have our network set into place now,” Nick replied. “Monitoring threats and threat levels should give us adequate warning to get where we need to be in time. I’m glad we’re getting the hell out of DC. I’d like to see Leila Rackson-Gree’s face when she finds out her lawyer disappeared, along with all the money.”

  “Yes… this trip was quite profitable,” Claude added, “and entertaining. Do you think Serena will enter any conversations back home, Muerto?”

  Nick sighed. “Is the sky blue and water wet?”

  * * *

  “Lame duck Gary Drowne called Flo. He wants a meeting with her in an hour, DL.”

  “I guess we need to get on our MIB outfits and attend the meeting in force, Dev.”

  “Flo was hoping you’d say that. I have everyone scrambling. Only Clint and Lynn are away at Jonas and Amara’s wedding. This will be an important meeting. Every fraud Drowne perpetrated while Governor will be outed when Flo wins and takes over in Sacramento.”

  “I hear you. He’ll be thinking to threaten Flo with some baseless charges or issuing orders not to keep the illegals and dead from voting.”

  “Yep,” Dev replied. “Assembly in Flo’s office.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  We all arrived twenty minutes early and we looked exceptionally well prepared for any confrontation. Tommy, Dev, Jess, all three of Lynn’s minions, Jafar, Lucas, Casey and even Laredo showed, dressed in true MIB spectacular form.

  “Oh… you boys look good! I don’t want that cretin, Drowne, puffing up in my face like a big blowfish,” Flo said. “I have a surprise for Governor Blowfish I haven’t shared with anyone.”

  “Sounds like an entertaining meeting. Take your time handling him, Flo,” Tommy advised. “We’ll be recording this and there won’t be a damn thing he can do about it.”

  A minute later, Drowne and six CHP, tried to stride through Flo’s secretary’s, and failed. Drowne must have sensed Flo would call for backup, so he arrived twenty minutes early too. He stepped back, his ignorant guppy mouth opening in stunned surprise. Jafar began recording the moment Drowne came into view.

  “Wha…what the hell is this, some kind of ambush?”

  “This is the Oakland Tactical Unit,” Flo answered. “They protect the mayor’s office and are all certified FBI agents as you well know, Governor. I don’t meet with pompous crooks without having protection. Say what you have to say and get out.”

  “I’m ordering you to not disenfranchise California voters with bullying tactics!”

  “You do that, Governor… not me,” Flo stated calmly. “We will have people all over the state making sure only living American citizen residents vote in this election. You signed a meaningless edict claiming California a sanctuary state. No… it is not. When I beat your windbag, pretty-boy Lewsome, I will undo all the leftist, communist manifesto crap you’ve done. I will also expose all the corruption and illegal contracts you signed, taking kickbacks while creating monstrous projects like your stupid bullet-train, nobody needs or wants.”

  “How dare you?!”

  Flo smiled, handing Drowne a paper. “I dare much more than that. We have more than one million legal signatures to recall you before the actual election. They have already been submitted. I kept this under wraps until certified. No one wants you destroying this state in your two lame duck months. You’ve been recalled, Governor.”

  Gary seethed with anger, crumpling the paper in his hands. “You…you don’t know what you’ve done! I will destroy you!”

  “No… you won’t. Those signatures are real. We’re awaiting an early election decree and we will get it. I’m going to boot your commie butt to the curb… Betty!”

  We all held back amusement from Flo’s choice of insult, culled directly from Cruella Deville’s vocabulary, including the California Highway Patrol officers. Drowne stomped around helplessly because he knew if he approached Flo, Jess would beat him like a red-headed stepchild. Drowne pointed threateningly at Flo.

  “Lewsome will beat you! Then… we’ll see.”

  “Loathsome couldn’t beat a yellow dog after his performance at the debate. This will be a first, Governor. Tomorrow, it will be announced that the winner of Monday’s regular election vote will take over immediately from you. All your plans to devastate the state if I won will be farts in the wind.”

  The Drowne pouty leftist, guppy mouth, made motions as if underwater, trying to form words, but inadequate for the task. He reeled around, storming out of the office, with his CHP bodyguards hustling to stay with him.

  “That was… amazing, Flo,” I told her. “How did you pull it off without Governor Destructo learning about it?”

  “Red Dragon Security handled it for me. We started with all the militia members in California and your growing recruits for a trained special operations militia you Monsters started. From there, we expanded in secrecy, gathering and vetting the signatures until we went well past the required twelve percent. I kept all of you in the dark because I feared how public the recall petition could become with the scrutiny our Oakland Tactical Unit draws. I can tell Drowne focused his attention on our nuts and bolts election efforts.”

  “Those butt munches, Chuck and Sal, didn’t even level with me,” Lucas said. “I can see this was well played, Flo. Drowne will be out… effective the election on Monday… outstanding! He’s pissing his pants in fear of not having two months to do a coverup.”

  “That is exactly what I hoped,” Flo replied. “I think he heard rumors of it, which led to him coming here for this goofy meeting. Thank you all for coming so quickly. I could have handled Drowne, but not as effectively with all of you at my back.”

  “It was a pleasure,” I told her… and it was. Gary Drowne is a definite enemy of the state.

&nbs
p; * * *

  We exited the building together. A bunch of illegally demonstrating idiots awaited us. It’s Oakland Tactical Unit’s job to enforce the no congregating law. We were confronted by a group numbering more than thirty, waving Antifa and BLM malarkey, but they didn’t wear masks. If they were masked, the Monsters would have ripped them off, and added the weasels to our database along with fines of five thousand dollars each or jail time. The Monsters attempted to simply move past them, frankly because I didn’t want to spend a couple hours fooling around with these clowns. They reacted stupidly, grabbing at us, and we got ready to rumble. I led, dropping snowflakes with every blow. Dev and Jess waded in beside me doing the same. We had killers at our backs watching for armed conflict and the pepper-spray chemical kind. A huge dude greeted me at the back. He stood inches taller than me and half again heavier in bulk.

  I decided on a more Lynn Dostiene greeting. “Hi there, Betty. Get out of the way or I get serious.”

  He laughed. “We the West Oakland Gang, Harding. After today… we own East Oakland, since the pussy gangs here can’t deal with your Oaktown Cartel bullshit! All I need to do is beat the fuck out of you and we own the town, right?”

  Oh yeah. Some guys front you and the only thought popping into your head is murder and mayhem. This guy fulfilled all the categories. I stripped down to my t-shirt and put on my MMA gloves. I handed my Colt and clip-on holster to Lucas.

  “My brother Tommy handles all the poser crap challenges. We don’t deal hands for free, Betty.”

  Tommy took center bargaining. “I have five-grand in cash on me right now. I’m giving five-to-one odds this dodo will be begging to stop the pain… or out cold. I will cover any other bets beyond that with Oaktown Cartel’s marker. Ante up, posers, or get the hell out of our faces.”

  They managed a thousand, which made Tommy smile.

  “You, dandelions, are so cute! What’s your name Fresco?”