by James H Roby
“Sure, Jack.”
~
It was a few hours after the gunfight and a sense of normalcy had returned. Jordan had already talked to the police and was not taken into custody. He wouldn’t have spoken to the police at all if E-Man hadn’t needed medical attention. He wasn’t about to abandon his friend. Of course, Jordan left out the whole scene on Grand River and Livernois.
Jordan left the lobby and went to the stairs leading from the main doors to the parking lot. A pair of repair men placed a wooden panel at the window Jordan shot through earlier. Leaning against the far wall was Agent Stiles.
“Knew you come,” Stiles said, shaking out a cigarette. He looked every part the secret agent. Dark suit. Sunglasses. Even his face had a mysterious air to it. Deep lines and leathery tanned skin told a story of a man who been to far exotic places and done things never to be told. Beneath his shades, his eyes, tired and worn from seeing those things, knowing too many secrets.
Jordan was unimpressed. He wasn’t busting the James Bond image – still, his kakis, T-shirt and A2 jacket carried enough of the ‘been there, done that’ look. Maybe not as long as Stiles but he knew the life and burdens of a spy.
“Where’s Thomas?” Jordan asked.
“He’s around,” Stiles said without looking at Jordan. “He’s somewhere with a high-powered rifle to keep you from repeating your stunt from earlier today.” Jordan got a smile out of the judo move he put on Thomas. He scanned the parking lot as much as he could without looking like he was scanning it. He didn’t want Stiles to know he had the upper hand. Unable to find Thomas, Jordan comforted himself with the fact he had no intention on repeating his ‘stunt’ and therefore no reason for Thomas to discharge his high-powered rifle.
“You probably want to know what’s going on,” Stiles said, “and I’m going to tell you. Not because you deserve it. Just so you understand the scope of the situation.”
Stiles turned and stared at Jordan under his sunglasses. Jordan was still unimpressed. Huge ‘scope’ didn’t concern him. He had been involved with his share of enormous things. If Stiles thought he was going to impress Jordan out of the picture, he had another thing coming.
“Go on.”
“This goes back to when Random was working for us. The Company.” ‘The Company’ was the way the CIA referred to itself. “You know he was doing some chemistry work for us. Back when you were sent to capture him.”
“Yeah,” Jordan said, “Except he wasn’t doing what he was supposed to. He was making drugs.”
“We know. Don’t be so blind, Noble. Random had a talent and we used it. He was good at making explosives, but better at making drugs. So, we capitalized on it.”
“What?” Jordan wasn’t expecting that.
Stiles ignored Jordan’s outburst. “He provided a service we needed. We could get explosives anywhere. But the drugs he was concocting, man, that was something. It’s like this. Since the Cold War ended, the good ole days of ‘us’ vs. ‘them’ were over. Once upon a time, all we had to worry about was the Soviets. Now, everybody wants to play. China, North Korea, Iraq, Iran…hell, Apple’s got an intelligence branch. There was a lot more players on the board. Loyalty could be split a lot of ways. Politics, religion, not to mention, good ole self-interest. We in the spy game found it hard to keep our contacts on our side. That’s where Random’s little potion came into play.”
“How?” Jordan asked. “We tested it. One use kills. What good is that? And what did you have planned? Turning your informants into junkies? Why do that? How could you trust them?”
Stiles nodded. “Yeah, well that’s the thing. Random’s crush, in its pure form has those effects. It does have, after all, cocaine as its base. It’s also based on something else, a truth serum. One of ours. The cocaine is there to get the user hooked, not high. Imagine an informant hooked on your truth serum.” Stiles laugh slightly, “He’d have to come back and he always told you the truth. Pretty handy, huh?”
Stiles paused and took a drag of his cigarette. He allowed his words to sink in. Jordan nodded as he considered what Stiles had told him.
“OK,” Jordan said after a few seconds, “I can see that. Probably violates a dozen different international agreements, but I see what you’re doing.” Jordan paused. “So, what happen? Why did Random go off the ranch?”
Stiles took one last, long hit on his cigarette and then flicked the butt into space.
“Money, pure and simple. Random found out that he could get rich off his drug and took off. In not so strong a dose, Crush can make cocaine look like a sugar high. The truth serum makes a person relax, feel more cooperative. You know that. Combined with coke, man, that’s a rush.”
“Yeah, sure. Well if this stuff was so potent and so useful to ‘intelligence’ not to mention a money-maker, why’d you let Random rot in prison for six years.”
Stiles smiled. “Once Random killed that airman in German and you arrested him in Miami, he was too hot to touch. Everything he did for us was classified. We couldn’t just spring him out of jail. That’s the way it goes sometimes. Hey, we survived.”
“That’s why we got involved,” Jordan said. “To create a distance from the Company and Random.”
Stiles nodded. “He had to be removed from the board. And while the DIA didn’t usually go after drug dealers. Since he capped an airman, there was a reason for you to go after him.”
Jordan narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t believe the callousness of Stiles. He capped an airman? Jordan blew out a long breath. Stiles was probably trying to upset him. He let it go. “And now?”
Stiles started down the steps heading for the parking lot. “Now, we make Random disappear. Look, his crush is cool. Can’t say we wouldn’t like it. But the biggest issue? He’s connected to us. Can’t have him walking the streets, talking out of school.”
Mistrust on his face, Jordan turned to face the CIA man. “No loose ends, right?”
Stiles bounced a shoulder.
“And the money, the money made by turning crush into the next cocaine? You guys just forget about that?”
Stiles sighed. He lowered and shook his head. “Noble, we don’t care about that. The Company’s got more important things to do than to make some nickels and dimes off of the street corners of America. If we want some money, believe me, we can get some money.”
That part, Jordan did believe, but he still had doubts.
“So, who’s behind this? Who is Random and Small working with?”
Stiles gestured. From the far side of the parking lot, a car, the same car Jordan had almost hit earlier, pulled up. Agent Thomas was driving. He pulled up to the entrance of the hospital as Stiles went around to the passenger side.
“I don’t know,” Stiles said. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find him. We’ll catch him.”
“You’ll kill him.”
Stiles paused and added with a tone of seriousness, “If it comes to that. Look, I need you out of the way. This is not your affair. Stay out of it. I won’t ask again.” Stiles got in the car. Thomas pulled off, but not before giving Jordan one last dirty look. He watched them pull off. He still wasn’t sure if Stiles was wrong. Maybe he should back off, swallow his pride and let the professionals handle this. Still, what about Robin? Could he just stand back and let her take her chances? And if he didn’t, did he have the right to get E-Man and the others involved in a matter that was purely personal?
The sun sank into the west. The streetlights started to twinkle on. If an answer to Jordan’s troubled mind was to be had, the darkening sky didn’t give it to him.
Chapter Nineteen: Point of No Return
Guilt is a lousy companion and it stuck with Kevin Small all day. It burned like acid deep in his gut. The waiting was the worse. He didn’t know exactly what Random had planned – only that it was going down today. Every person in the office, every casual glance became an accusation. The phone rang and it was like thunder to him. He jumped and made a sound tha
t could be described as yip. He knew who it was and what he wanted. Fear clutched his heart as he picked the phone up from its cradle.
“Hello?”
“I need you here,” Random said.
Small felt the air leave his lungs. “Why? I thought you didn’t need me for this -”
“The situation has changed,” Random’s voice was the crack of a whip. “Come here immediately.”
The line went dead. Small sat for a moment with the dial tone playing in his ear. He looked around the office. Through his window he could see the other employees going about their business. He had an odd sense of the surreal. The whole world was just doing what they always do, and he was involved in a plot to kidnap his girlfriend.
He didn’t like this plan, not one bit. It wasn’t so much he was upset about something happening to Robin. Random had hit that point square on. Small wasn’t really in love with Robin. Sure, he liked her and she was good in bed, but, he had no intention of spending the rest of his life with her. He was sure she didn’t know, but that was her problem. No, she was definitely short-term. Robin would never go along with his plans to renew his criminal life. And she was still hung up on Jordan, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
But, still, kidnapping? Who was he kidding, if Random was going to kidnap her, he was going to kill her. Random had given him a choice: Stay with him or go. Staying with Random meant Small must go along with this kidnapping plan. Random was sure that would keep the bothersome Jordan Noble out of their hair until they could complete the transaction. To go meant that Robin would live, but Random would probably kill him. He knew too much and was in too deep. He had seen all the major players, except one. The person Random called the benefactor. So, he agreed to the kidnapping as an act of self-preservation. Again, he wasn’t really in love with Robin…
He put on a black jacket made from some stretch material over a blue shirt. He exited his office. In the outer office, just standing in the center of the room, was a man he had never seen before. One look, however, and Small knew he was one of Random’s men. Dead, loveless eyes. A graying shadow of a beard hanging on his face, the man looked like something out of a cowboy movie with the long tan duster he wore.
“You’re wanted,” the man said, “Come with me.” Small followed him to an alley at the rear of Unlimiteds. They were only there for a second when a Volvo pulled up.
“Get in,” the driver said. He sported a duster as well. Was it a kind of uniform or a means to hide something under its folds – Small couldn’t tell. He and his escort got in the back seat. The car dropped into gear and motored off.
They headed toward the city. The scenery changed from brick front shops and condo parks to houses losing their bricks to looters and grassless parks. The pit in Small’s stomach grew. The view outside was just as dreary as his memories. Random told him the night before to somehow get Robin out of Unlimiteds and he would grab her. Small set up a late lunch date with Robin at her favorite French restaurant. She would come running, he knew. After that, all he had to do was make up an excuse, something came up – a new investor or something to recover from the fiasco of the Fashion Gala. Random would do whatever it is he does.
Small glanced down at his Rolex Cellini. Random had to be done with his end of the business by now. So, what did he want? Maybe something went wrong. Maybe Robin escaped and the cops were coming down on all of them. Small released a sigh. The Duster next to him chuckled through his teeth. Small didn’t care what this nobody thought. He did care about where they were headed.
The Volvo took the Chrysler Freeway down to Grand Boulevard. They followed the wide curvy street for a few miles, before making a left on Vinewood. The neighborhood had seen better days, that was for sure. Young men who probably should have been in school populated the street. They either walked aimlessly down the sidewalk or sat huddled on porches in groups of fives or sixes. The street ended in a cul-de-sac. The Volvo stopped in front of the only house that appeared occupied. It was an old two-family flat once a mansion for a lawyer or doctor.
Small got out of the Volvo and was greeted by Random on the front porch. He was in a surprisingly good mood. At least he didn’t have on a duster, choosing instead a white cotton shirt with dark slacks. Sitting on a chair near the front door was Slash. The knifeman eyed Small like he was his next meal.
Random greeted Small as he came up the porch. “Kevin!” How are you my dear friend.” He hugged Small and led him into the house. Six men sat around what was once a living room. They sat on upturned crates in a semi-circle. Each man looked at Small with sneers and tightened eyes. The room was in an incredible state of disrepair with no furniture and plaster falling from the ceiling and walls. A smell hanging in the air must have come from a decaying corpse. Sweat poured from Small’s pores as he realized this was going to be the last place on earth he would see. Random cocked his head to one side to look at Small.
“You look troubled. What’s wrong?” Random bodily turned him so they were face to face.
Small choked out a response. “You…you’re going to…”
Random tilted his head further. He started to chuckle. “You thought that I was going to kill you?” An uncomfortable pause crept passed. Random threw his head back and laughed. The other men joined in. It went on for several seconds. Small stood still, not knowing whether he should laugh or run for his life. He felt his bowels weaken and feared he was going to wet himself. Random got his composure but tears were in his eyes.
“Oh, my dear Mr. Small,” Random said, brushing away his tears. “The things you say. I’m afraid that you have been watching too many gangster movies. It is very bad for business to go around killing one’s partner. Makes you somewhat untrustworthy.”
Small stood searching for words. All he managed was a tiny unconvincing “Heh.”
Random patted Small on the shoulder and continued deeper into the house. It was as dismal as the living room. Small tried to recover from his embarrassment. “I hope this house is what you need.”
Random nodded. “The benefactor has fulfilled my needs expertly thus far. However,” Random suddenly stopped. “you understand there are still some things I,” he paused, smiled and when on. “we need to complete the transaction.”
Small quickly nodded, eager to please Random, especially in the company of all his armed friends. “Everything is ready. The building is all set up and the equipment is in place.”
“Good!” Random shouted as he began to move again. “And the meeting, it’s ready for tomorrow?”
Small was a step behind, “Yes. It took some doing, I had to call in every favor, but the buyers will be there tomorrow at two o’clock.”
Random stopped at the head of the stairs leading to the basement. “Tomorrow. Everything that we been working for will come to fruition.” He grasped Small’s shoulder and struck him with an intense stare. “Your sacrifices will not be in vain. You are going to be a very wealthy man. I don’t forget my friends.”
Random smiled and a wave of relief swept through Small’s body. He relaxed for the first time since the phone call earlier. “Thank you, Cody. I…”
Random interrupted. “But there’s one more thing we have to do.” Small looked like a dog, confused at his master’s command. Random waved his hand as if dismissing an errant fly and went down the steps. It may as well have been the gates to Hell to Small as he held his position. One look around at the company of armed men changed his thinking. He hurried behind Random.
Like the rest of the house, the basement was in bad shape. It smelled even worse than the first level, which was almost impossible. Small arrived downstairs and found more of Random’s armed drones. The furniture consisted of a television and a couch looking like someone rescued it from a garbage pile. All of this faded into the background as Small focused on one object. He froze in his tracks and felt the touch of fear on his soul. Strapped to a chair, stripped to her underwear, was Robin Summers. She sat with her back to the sta
irs so she had not seen Small yet. He shot a look at Random, who was grinning devilishly. Random walked around to the front of Robin. She lifted her head to see who came into her field of vision. The air in the basement held a chill, still sweat rolled down her spine. She was in a basement surrounded by men of the lowest caliber. The sanctity of her body as well as her very life were in danger of being stolen at a moment’s notice.
“Do not fear, my dear,” Random said, “You are quite safe, for the moment. I am your host.”
Robin spoke as if volume was at premium. “Who…who are you?’
Random smacked his forehead. “What a fool I am. I have not introduced myself.” He bowed deeply. “Cody Random. Late of the Federal Correctional System, at your service.”
Small tried to get a gauge of her reaction but from behind her all he could see was her head rearing back and shoulders rise.
Random nodded as if he understood her confusion. “Yes, you do not know me and have absolutely no notion of what I want with you.”
