The Random Affair
Page 1
The Random Affair
The UrbanKnights
By James H. Roby
ALSO BY JAMES H. ROBY
The Random Affair
Black Bear
Pale Horse
Caribbean Knights
Sins of the Father
Copyright 2017 by James H. Roby
ISBN 9780988197152
For Hank and Hank Productions
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Black Bear by James H. Roby
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For Alicia
Contents
Foreword
Chapter One: Once Upon a Time in Miami
Chapter Two: Home Again For the First Time
Chapter Three: It Was Bad Then
Chapter Four: An Unlikely Pair
Chapter Five: The UrbanKnights’ Night Out
Chapter Six: A Portrait of Evil
Chapter Seven: Robin
Chapter Eight: A Hot time in the Suburbs Tonight
Chapter Nine: Getting Ready
Chapter Ten: A Night of Fashion
Chapter Eleven: The Battle in Cobo!
Chapter Twelve: An Old Flame Burnt Out
Chapter Thirteen: Jordan Noble to the Rescue!
Chapter Fourteen: Alone with His Thoughts
Chapter Fifteen: Snapped
Chapter Sixteen: A Violent Day at the Hospital
Chapter Seventeen: The Chase
Chapter Eighteen: A Cold, Dark Place
Chapter Nineteen: Point of No Return
Chapter Twenty: The Comeuppance
Chapter Twenty-One: The Caged Bird
Chapter Twenty-Two: Loose Ends
Chapter Twenty-Three: Lovers Again
Chapter Twenty-Four: A Maiden Among Knights
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Pieces Come Together
Chapter Twenty-Six: Bearding the Lion
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Past Debts
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Making It Right
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Cage Door Opens
Epilogue: A Distant Hand
Chapter One: The Sweet Release
Foreword
“Is this you?”
This is a common question people ask me if they have read one of my UrbanKnights novels. It’s usually accompanied by a sideways look and a smirk saying they already know the answer. Over the years, I have devised many responses, some more cleverer than others but I’ll let you in on a little secret.
Yeah, he’s me.
I have taken to heart the notion, ‘write what you know’. As such, my thrillers are surrounded by things close to my heart. I should mention now, my wife does not appear in my books as I was advised by a fellow author this is a very, very bad idea. Still, most of my fictional adventures have some roots in reality.
Long ago, 1991 to be exact, in a computer lab far, far away – Michigan State University’s, on an Apple Computer - I typed the words, The UrbanKnights for the first time. I had always thought the word urbanite was just too good to not exploit. Urbanite? Like knight in shining armor, but in a city? How cool is that? I tried to convince my friends we should call ourselves that…it didn’t catch on. I did, however, use it as my call sign when I entered the Air Force.
But back to the story. I’ve always loved the private eye character, starting with the ones Humphrey Bogart brought to life in movies like The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep and even Casablanca (ok, that wasn’t a detective movie, but it was Bogie!). And when I found out about a black detective called Shaft, man, it was a wrap! Throughout high school, I imagined myself in the role of a detective – I even had a buddy in print class make me some business cards for the Shamus Detective Agency.
I had tried my hand at a writing a book. Yes, it was a fan-fic. But once I got into college the idea really took hold. What ultimately became the UrbanKnights started with those first keystrokes on one of MSU’s Apple Computer.
I enlisted my friends into the cause and they all, unwittingly, became partners in the detective agency. I think the impact of having friends, ride or die buddies, and the relative freedom of being a college student steered me away from the solo efforts of the typical movie gumshoe and focus on making my adventures about a team.
My first time out, the cast was literally my friends and me. James Roby was the name of the principal protagonist. I quickly discovered the freedom of making up a character with a base in truth. So, the hero who would become Jordan T. Noble III shared some of my history. Both from Detroit, attended Michigan State University – falling in love for the first time there, and heading off to Minot Air Force Base. Things changed after that – where I was trapped in North Dakota for four years, three months, twenty-three days, seventeen hours, our hero escaped much earlier and went to work for the Defense Intelligence Agency. How all that happened is another story.
I still had a lot of work to do, my hero didn’t even have a name. He was initially Joshua Jordan. I have my old friend Denise to thank for the course correction. And if not for another friend, Jordan’s adventures would have ended around page 50 of his first novel.
So, there I was, in Minot, typing away on the first draft of my first novel, when I just stopped. I remember saying, “No one will ever read this.” And mid-adventure, I just stopped. I still loved my creation but I was sure I was, and would forever be, the only one. So, I printed my quarter-story, wrapped it in page-protectors and carried it around with me. Every once and a while, I’d pull it out, read it and sigh. Wistfully thinking, only if…
Years later, on my tour in Alabama, teaching cadets, I met a guy training to be an operator in Combat Control, the Air Force’s contribution to Special Operations. He had been injured and while recovering he took an assignment as an instructor. Well of course he had to do all the macho things operators do, and when he found out I have never willingly jumped out a fully functional aircraft, he insisted I join him in this experience. I had successfully told him what I thought of the idea, but then the cadets got involved. My buddy became the “cool teacher”. Can’t go out like a punk, so the next weekend, I went to go try my best to kill myself. I went to my friend’s house with the quarter-story in my backpack. As he and I departed to commit suicide, I accidently left my book at his house.
Upon our return (I didn’t die), I found my book – covered in red marks. His wife had edited it! The nerve! But before I could get too mad, I got to the last page and she wrote:
You have to finish this.
The rest, as they say, is history.
I finished the novel and it became Past Debts. After an absolutely horrible experience with a vanity publisher, I have recrafted the novel into a more, dare I say, palatable version, which you now hold in your hands…or on your device. Whatever.
So, here’s to a friend’s nosy wife who saved Jordan Noble and the UrbanKnights from the dustbin of history. I hope I have lived up to her expectations and yours. I pray your first visit to Jordan’s Detroit, isn’t your last. Thanks for your support – Enjoy!
James H Roby, 2017.
Chapter One: Once Upon a Time in Miami
Four years ago…
It was moments like this Jordan T. Noble III really questioned his career choice. Shooting and violence he could handle, but being out of his lane - chasing down criminals…it wasn’t his thing. Spies didn’t do that.
Jordan looked over to his right. Leaning against the brownish, yellow stucco wall, Eric Manning, E-Man to his friends, had his face in a half grin. Jordan knew the look. Impatience.
“You got a date?” Jordan asked.
“A date? As in one?” E-Man chuckled softly like Jordan had said the dumbest thing in the world.
Depression and dread came out of every crack. The single hallway was black save for at each end, where dingy windows struggled to let in some light. It did not give the aura of being a pleasant site to live. An odor of human waste hung in the air.
From the north stairway, FBI Special Agent Joe Storey joined them on the Miami’s Overtown apartment building’s third floor. In his wake was a pair of agents. The trio came to a halt at apartment 312. One of them lugged along a battering ram. Storey held up the arrest warrants for the targets: Cody Random and the rest of his party. The FBI agents slapped their back against the wall and slowed their breathing.
"The SWAT team will be here in a second," Storey whispered. "Let's get ready." His words loped out of his mouth with a Southern charm originating from somewhere in Tennessee.
“Well, that’s very good for the SWAT team,” Jordan whispered back. “Agent Manning and I will tell them all about how we caught Cody Random before he could escape…again.”
A problem with this op was FBI could arrest Random but they brought all their rules and procedures. Storey turned a harsh eye to Jordan and E-Man. Jordan knew two Top Secret level operatives from the Defense Intelligence Agency was cramping the FBI’s style and if he tried really hard, he could imagine caring. He knew who was in the apartment and was of no mind to wait.
“Whatever, man,” Storey said. “Just remember, you’re in the U S of A now. This is my collar.” A heartbeat passed as all the men stopped to listen to the sounds from within the apartment. Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” crept from under the door.
“USA?” E-Man said. “Is that why there’re so many McDonald’s around?”
“Now, now,” Jordan said over his shoulder, “play nice.”
A small brown face appeared in the doorway across the hall. A pair of adult hands seized the kid and shut the door. Locks were heard being thrown up and down the hall. A sort of sixth sense reacting to the presence of government authority. Jordan turned his deep brown eyes back to Storey’s pale blue.
The FBI man broke the stare and turned to his team. “Prepare to breach.”
Jordan and E-Man drew weapons - a Glock 19, fitted with a sound suppressor for Jordan, while E-Man’s M9 was a bit more fantastic. It had a silencer affixed, an extended magazine and a large scope. All the attachments made the gun twice as large.
Storey said, “You think you got enough?"
E-Man narrowed his eyes. "Let’s go find out." He turned to Jordan with a grin. E-Man liked to mess with the locals with these little acts. If it was to make them be a little more cautious around the ‘crazy’ DIA agent, or if he just thought it was funny, Jordan never knew. He, on the other hand, used the calm before the storm to focus. Eyes tightened, shoulders squared – even his heart rate dropped. He was almost a different person.
"You go in low," Jordan said.
E-Man grunted an acknowledgment.
“On your mark,” Storey said.
Jordan looked to the agent carrying the battering ram and held up a fist. “Execute!”
The battering ram crashed through the thin portal and the agent recoiled and swiveled out of the way. Twisted Sister went up a notch. Jordan and E-Man sprung in the room. They poured into a makeshift lab where a living room should be. The brothers, Cody and Michael Random stood, beakers in hand, mouths agape.
"Freeze! Federal Agents!" Jordan shouted.
Cody Random’s thin blond brows arched up under a mane of flowing hair. Jordan felt his body loosen. The mission was over.
Click.
The sound was soft, still, Jordan refocused back into the machine of operational precision. He whirled to his right. A man with a gun. Aiming.
Jordan dove backward and fired twice. The first bullet flew high and through the poorly constructed walls of the apartment. The second struck the gunman in the shoulder. The FBI agents ducked back into the hall. E-Man fell backwards under Jordan. Cody and Michael dropped their work and made a break for the fire escape. Jordan and E-Man both got on their feet. E-Man cleared the lab equipment with a bound. Beakers and Bunsen burners crashed to the floor as Cody's wiry frame squeezed out the window. E-Man stuck his head out the window and a split second later jumped back. Jordan caught him as the telltale sound of a Smith & Wesson .357 discharging twice filled the room. Cautiously, Jordan checked to see if Random was still overhead. Seeing nothing but the darkening sky over the building, he leapt through the window onto a fire escape.
"Let's go, E."
"Wait," Storey said from the door. The rest of his team secured the wounded gunman. "This is my bust!"
"We'll save you a piece," E-Man said and vanished out the window after Jordan.
At the roof, the forms of Cody and his brother grew smaller. Jordan bit down an oath and sprinted for the escaping duo.
All this for a couple of drug dealers…
"Give it up, Cody!" Jordan shouted. No sooner than the words left his lips, the Randoms disappeared off the side of the building. Jordan’s right brow climbed an inch. He skidded to a stop at the roof’s edge. The pair jumped off the building to the next, a floor shorter. E-Man arrived a second later.
"After them," Jordan said.
"You mean, jump?"
Jordan backpedaled a few steps. "If they can do it, so can we." He set off in a run and cleared the distance between the buildings. E-Man flew next. The chase was on once more.
The Randoms gained a lead, but not much. Another building approached. The brothers jumped again. Prepared, Jordan and E-Man leapt the gap without missing a beat.
"This is the last building on the block," Jordan said.
"We've got 'em!"
Random rotated around and fired his gun. Jordan ducked. E-Man dove to his left. He slid and fought for balance at the building’s edge. He lashed out and caught the edge. He screamed for his partner.
Jordan fell on his stomach and reached to pull up E-Man. "You OK?"
"Yeah. Shit, where's the Randoms?"
Jordan whirled around. The roofs were empty. A wave of anger traveled through his body. He willed it away. With no building to jump to, the Randoms had few options. Jordan sprang to his feet.
If I were Cody…
"He climbed over the edge." He spoke the words like they were fact. "Down a fire escape."
E-Man sprinted for the right side of the building. “I'll go this way and cut him off." He found a fire escape and descended. Jordan headed forward. He found another fire escape leading to the alley. A quick check revealed the Random brothers weren’t below him. Jordan went down. He stretched out with all his senses. He couldn’t see either brother, but he knew the criminals couldn't be far. On the ground, he spun in a tight circle. No Randoms. The alley blackened with the oncoming twilight. He heard something to his right. The Glock before him, he moved toward a dim figure of a man. The out of place blond mane identified him as Cody Random.
"Freeze, Cody."
Random jerked. He was before a door, apparently locked. Slowly, almost casually, he turned. A sly grin played on Random's lips. It was the first time Jordan and Random were ever face to face, but Jordan knew his opponents' features well. Mug shots gave him a glimpse of Cody Random's thin colorless lips and wild blue eyes. He knew much about Random from the files but still wondered what he was thinking. Did he feel cheated his career as an international criminal was coming to such an anticlimactic end? Jordan tensed and prepared for the possibility Random’s cocky smile was because he had no intention in going quietly, but in a blaze of glory.
"It's strange, ending like this," Random said. His voice
was like a crooner from some bygone age of nightclubs and speakeasys. "My brilliance, snuffed out in a darken alley." He smiled as if he was talking about a bad day at the race track and not the beginning of imprisonment.
"Yeah, it was all that," Jordan said. "Probably shouldn’t have killed those airmen back in Germany. The Air Force’s funny about that sort of thing. Now put your hands up, you're under arrest." The word felt uneasy…out of place in his mouth. Arrest. He was an intelligence officer - a spy. What the hell was he doing here?
Random's mellow mood didn't change as he raised his hands. Ten digits pointed upward far too casually for a man looking down the business end of a Glock 19. "Whatever you say, officer."
Jordan felt the fingers of emotions claw at his steely resolve. Random’s cockiness got to him. He was clearly captured, with no hope of escape. Alone. No one could get away from a gun pointed at his head.
Wait. Where was his gun?
The click of a revolver’s hammer was like thunder in the alley. Jordan whirled around and the training took over. Two rounds spit out of the Glock. The whole scene lasted a second, but it seemed to take years for Michael Random's body to fall to the ground. With a wild howl born from a man filled with rage and sorrow, Random tackled Jordan to the ground. Blows rained and Jordan curled into a ball and cursed himself for letting his guard down. Random inexplicably went limp and collapsed next to him. Jordan looked up to see his partner's hand extend to help him up. He took the gesture and came to his feet.