by E B Corbin
“Interesting.” The man squinted as he looked Henry over from top to bottom. “You seem to be in pretty good shape. What do you do?”
“Nothing at the moment. After fifteen years, the Navy decided they didn’t want to have anything to do with me any longer.” It was partially the truth. If this guy was connected to Buckley and the state senator had any contacts with the Navy, he would find that Henry had been dishonorably discharged.
That wasn’t what actually happened. Henry was acquitted of all charges brought against him by his team leader, who couldn’t keep it in his pants, but Henry had had enough by that time. He wanted out and never bothered to press for the “dishonorable discharge” to be removed from his record.
Sam knew the truth, though, and that was all that mattered. If he ever needed to find another job, he’d cause a ruckus to set the record straight. For now, it did not matter and might even prove a benefit.
“You were a sailor?”
“Not exactly: a highly trained member of a SEAL team.” Let the guy think he was blowing his own horn. These people seemed like the type to do the same.
The man raised his eyebrows. “And they kicked you out? Must have done something extremely irregular.”
“I guess it depends on how you look at it.” Henry looked around as if he were disinterested in the conversation. “Does this group have a name or something?”
The man smiled. “Oh, nothing official. We’re just a group of like-minded individuals.”
“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t see what you have in common with a bunch of tattooed chowderheads.” Henry tensed, ready to make a break for the door if necessary.
The man took in a deep breath and turned away to peer around the room. Henry hoped he hadn’t gone too far, but he needed to prod something out of this man.
He relaxed when Patterson said, “It may appear that way, but believe me, we intend to win this battle.”
Henry shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what war you’re fighting.”
“You’ll find out in good time, my friend, all in good time.” The man kept an eye on his surroundings. The warehouse had been slowly emptying out; only about ten remained, clustered around one of the men with the armband, talking in low voices.
The burly man who had approached Henry stood about two feet away, his arms crossed, glaring at him. “Well, seeing as I still don’t know what this is all about, I may have to take a rain check.”
“Don’t be too hasty. How can we get in touch with you, Mr. Samuels?”
Henry gave him his cell number and waited while Patterson signaled to the burly guy to write it down. “If that’s all, I think I’ll be going.”
He stepped back, half expecting to be detained by Mr. Clean. With only a slight buzz in his head, he took his time leaving. No reason to appear too anxious to get away, though his pulse pounded with the urge to run.
Chapter Sixteen
The officer jumped into his cruiser, pulled out behind the taxi, and followed them down the road. When White Cloud signaled to turn into a paved entrance to yet another closed warehouse, the officer allowed him enough space to maneuver into a three-point turn and drive in the opposite direction. The cruiser did the same.
As they approached the meeting place, White Cloud slowed as much as possible with the policeman on their tail. Sam turned the receiver up and listened for any sounds of distress.
Nothing came through except the clamor of chairs being pushed around and that of a door slamming. Sam’s hands clenched into fists until she heard Henry’s whispered voice. “I’m out. Meet you at the gas station by Eighty-Four.”
White Cloud picked up speed and continued along Marine Drive, passing a few more warehouses but mostly empty fields on one side and trees along the other. They came to where the road widened into four lanes and soon passed underneath the interstate.
The baby policeman behind them must have had enough because he turned onto the ramp leading to I-84.
Sam had been glancing out the back window to keep an eye on their tail and breathed a sigh of relief when he turned away. For the past couple of miles she heard nothing but static in the receiver, but she kept it on just in case.
She hoped Henry didn’t turn off the transmission when he felt he’d made a safe exit. Anyone could have followed him and waited to make their move until they were far enough away from the meeting site.
She shook the receiver. “Maybe we should turn around and meet Henry on the road.”
At the Chevron station, White Cloud pulled into a parking slot near the entrance to the convenience store. “If you wish… but he may take another road and we will miss him.”
Sam pushed her hair behind her ears. “I guess we’ll wait.”
He turned off the motor. “I am going inside to get a Coke and some chips. Do you want anything?”
Sam shook her head. What was it with men and food? She couldn’t swallow anything until she knew Henry was safe. She watched White Cloud enter the store before she twisted and stared out the back window hoping to see a bright orange truck.
A knock on her side window made her jump. The phony foreman stood with a gun pointed at her. “Open up.”
Sam shook her head again. Did he really think she’d just open the door for him? She knew if he shot her, he’d never get the information he needed to claim the reward. But he might be so frustrated at this point he didn’t care.
Too late she remembered the rear doors to the taxi were not locked. The man jumped in, poking her shoulder with his weapon. “Now, missy, you’ll get out and come with me.”
“No.”
“Maybe you’d rather see your Indian friend’s brains splattered all over the windshield?”
Aw, shit. Where was that baby cop when she needed him? Sam turned slightly, but the gun remained plastered to her shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you anything. However much my father is paying you, is it worth spending the rest of your life in prison?”
He laughed. “Only if I get caught. And I have no intention of doing that.”
“What if I paid you more?”
“Nope. I took the job, and I intend to finish it. Now get out of this taxi.” He poked her harder.
Sam glanced in the store and saw White Cloud at the counter paying for his bottle of Coke while he talked on his phone. She didn’t want to put him in a situation where he might be killed, but there was no way she was going with this man.
She started to open the door when an old orange pickup pulled into the space beside them. She did not acknowledge the driver as she slowly climbed out. She hoped there was some way Henry could surprise and overpower this guy.
Slamming her door closed, she took a quick step toward the front of the taxi, while her abductor was left standing between the taxi and pickup. She half expected to feel a bullet in her back any minute. But she suddenly heard an “oomph” and looked back in time to see Henry swing his door into the gun the man was holding, much as he had the last time this goon tried to grab her. (The idiot never learned that car doors were dangerous.)
A shot exploded into the air as Henry pulled back and gave the guy a swift punch to the jaw. The man staggered but remained upright and began to struggle. He tried to throw a punch, but Henry blocked it easily.
Sam searched the area for the gun and finally spotted it underneath the orange truck. It was too far back for her or her assailant to reach.
Her first impulse was to jump in and help Henry, but she could see no opportunity to do so. She grabbed her phone and called 911, for all the good that would do; they’d probably arrest Henry for assault.
White Cloud remained at the checkout, not looking in her direction, although she knew he had to be aware of the commotion.
In a few minutes, she noticed those familiar blue and red flashing strobes again, only this time they were welcome—well, somewhat welcome. She didn’t relish explaining the situation to another baby cop, but it couldn’t be helped.
The same officer wh
o’d followed them, opened his door and stood behind it while he talked into a mike. The coiled cord stretched full length before he jerked to a stop. Sam saw him nod once and re-attach the device to the dashboard. He remained behind the door making no attempt to approach. Sam wondered why.
She stopped bouncing around on her toes like a boxer and stepped closer to the man who was now spread-eagled against the taxi. Henry held both the man’s wrists behind his back with one hand; the other gripped the man’s jacket collar. When she was sure no one was watching, she gave him a swift jab to the ribs. “Maybe you’ll stop following us around now.”
The man grunted in pain and mumbled, “Bitch.”
“That’s Miss Bitch to you.” Because she was angry that he’d almost taken her, she pulled her arm back to give him another shot, when an unmarked police car pulled up next to the cruiser.
A welcome sight stepped out of an unmarked car as Henry applied more pressure to his captive. The man squealed like a baby. Another two seconds and Henry could have dislocated his shoulder.
Detective Matthews approached and nodded to them. “We meet again.”
Matthews was James Munroe’s younger partner and not nearly as by-the-book as the older detective. They’d first run into the detective and his uptight partner when they were snooping around in a couple of murder cases when they’d first arrived. In fact, to Munroe, they’d been major suspects, but they managed to clear their names by uncovering the real culprits.
Breathless, Henry managed to blurt out, “Am I glad to see you.”
“Nice to know I’m appreciated. Is this the guy you saw at the hotel?”
“Yep. Guess he didn’t learn his lesson.”
“I didn’t do nothin’. This’s police brutality!” the man said. “This guy attacked me! And the bitch punched me. I’m the victim here.”
Matthews ignored the outburst and turned to Sam. “I expect you want to press charges?”
“If I have to. I’m not too keen on spending the rest of the evening in a police station.” Sam pointed to the ground. “You’ll find a gun with his prints all over it underneath this pickup.”
“Let me see what I can dig up on this guy. Might have some outstanding warrants. And that gun under the truck needs to be tested. Should be enough to hold him for a while.”
Matthews glanced at the truck. “That is the ugliest thing I ever saw.”
“It runs like a champ,” Henry said.
“It’s yours?” Matthews turned his attention to Sam, who stood with her arms crossed in front, a slight grin on her face, tapping her foot and glaring as she watched the two newly arrived uniforms handcuff the perp. “I thought you had better taste than that.”
Henry caught the detective’s glance at Sam. “I do. This belongs to a friend of mine.”
Matthews shrugged. “Well, I guess beggars can’t be choosers. I’d better follow those guys in, make sure they don’t fall for this turd’s story and release him before I can check him out.”
A third cruiser pulled into the lot as the first two pulled out. Matthews patted Henry on the back, saluted Sam, and left to speak to the two officers that pulled in behind the detective’s vehicle. He pointed at the truck before he drove away.
Sam’s shoulders tensed when she felt someone approach from behind but felt relief when she identified White Cloud in her peripheral vision.
“It appears we will not have to worry about him for a while,” said White Cloud.
She nodded and stepped out into the circle of light cast through the convenience store window. She had an urge to hug Henry, but she settled for grabbing one of his hands and holding on tight. “You showed up just in time.”
Henry’s dimple showed. “That’s what you pay me for.”
“Hell, I was just sitting there waiting for you when that bastard came out of nowhere. He had a gun on me before I could do anything.”
Henry put his other hand on top of hers and squeezed her fingers. “That means Jules is still tracking us.”
“Dammit.”
“It’s got to be the gun. Maybe now you’ll get rid of it or at least leave it in the room.”
“I’ll find another one tomorrow,” she said with a sigh, and this time she meant it.
✽ ✽ ✽
They watched the video when they returned to the hotel. The sounds came across crisp and clear, and the images were sharp and well-defined. But nothing on it was the least bit incriminating.
White Cloud rose to leave. “It appears we will have to do something else.”
“Not necessarily. That Patterson guy said he’d be in touch. I have the feeling he’s going to check me out before he goes any further.”
“That is not good.”
Henry grinned. “It might be great. I told him I was a Navy SEAL. If he checks into it, he’ll find out about my dishonorable discharge.”
Sam grinned back at him. “Could turn out to be useful.”
“You bet. They’ll think I’m a highly trained nut job.” Henry gulped some water. “Just what we want them to think.”
The taxi driver glanced from one to the other. “I do not know what you are talking about, but it sounds as if it is a good thing. Perhaps someday you can tell me about it.”
“No big secret. I was falsely accused of conspiring with the enemy by my lecherous unit commander. The charges were proved false, but I never bothered to have my discharge corrected. I had planned on doing it soon, but maybe I’ll let it stand for a while.”
White Cloud turned his gaze to Sam. “And you knew about this?”
“Yes.” Sam’s smile grew wider. “I found out the truth before I offered Henry a job, but I never thought it might prove to be useful to have a scalawag on my payroll.”
The Native American shrugged. “So there is nothing to worry about.”
“Not much. Especially since they arrested that shithead.”
Henry cleared his throat. “We still have to deal with that woman who left you that note.”
White Cloud’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “There is someone else after you already?”
“We think so. You were there this afternoon when we opened the note.” Sam smacked at a mosquito on her hand.
“I sort of assumed it was from the man we caught tonight. I do not understand how so many people can be after one person.”
“If the reward’s big enough, it can attract a lot of whackos,” Sam said.
White Cloud shook his head. “It is hard to believe.”
“Believe it,” Henry said.
“I think I need my tomahawk back.” He referred to the weapon which the police confiscated when it was used to thwart another attack on Sam at the Japanese Garden. He was never questioned about it and had never mentioned it before.
“It would be better for you to get another.” Henry pushed his hair back from his forehead. “One of the cops is still trying to find the person responsible for the attack on Big John.”
“It was necessary.” White Cloud nodded and started for the door. “Now I must take my leave. I will be back tomorrow morning around nine. If you need me before then, just call.”
Henry made sure the deadbolt was thrown after White Cloud’s departure. “Well, I guess we should get some sleep.”
“First explain to me how Matthews arrived so fast at the gas station.” Sam plopped onto the pillows on the sofa. “That was too damn convenient.”
“Not really. I noticed the gray sedan following us to the meeting and called Matthews before I went into that damn warehouse. I was afraid the guy would get to you before I could warn you. We need to set up two-way communication system. The way it is now, you can hear me but I can’t hear squat from you.”
“You can’t very well wear another wire. You’d be tangled up worse than a bird in a net.”
Henry paced from the table to the doorway leading to his bedroom. He fiddled with the pin still attached to his jacket. “Maybe I can rig this thing to work two ways.”
Sam pulled the r
eceiver from her purse. “You’ll probably need to do something with this.”
“Yeah, it shouldn’t be too hard.” Henry studied the pin. “This is going to be more difficult.”
“Do you think you can do it?”
Henry shrugged. “Maybe. I studied electronics in the Navy. Never thought I’d have much use for it after I bailed.”
“Do you need any kind of special tools or anything?”
“We’ll see. I need to look inside first. You don’t have to stay up. You can go to bed.”
“What if you need some help?”
“I think I’ll get more done without you looking over my shoulder.” Henry smiled to take the sting out of his comment.
Sam let out a loud breath. “Okay. If that’s the way you want to be.”
Henry nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
Sam brushed her teeth, slipped into her favorite nighttime T-shirt and, crawled into bed, certain she’d never be able to fall asleep.
She woke the next morning not believing she’d slept through the night without one concern about skinheads, missiles, or her father.
On their way to the hotel gym, in the elevator, she asked Henry how things went last night.
“Not too bad. It took me half the night, but I think I have it figured out.” Henry covered his yawn with the palm of his hand. “We’ll give it a try when we’re done with your kung fu practice this morning.”
“Are you sure you want to do that today? You must be tired. I might wipe the floor with your ass.”
Henry gave her a full-on grin. “I doubt it.”
The practice went well. Sam almost flipped Henry, and even though he staggered, he recovered in time. She’d started lessons when she was with the FBI but let it slide when she quit. Now she wished she had kept up the training and was thankful that Henry had his black belt and could teach her a few more advanced moves. She felt she was improving with each passing day.
She elbowed him as they rode the elevator back to their room. “Well, what do you think? I’m getting better, yes?”
“A little. You still have a long way to go.”