by E B Corbin
Henry smiled as he put his arm around Sam and pulled her closer. “We have a bit of a problem with that. We’d rather keep our location to ourselves for the moment.”
The bartender lifted an eyebrow and gave them a smug look. “Well, ain’t none of my business. Anyhow, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout Toby being missin’. He closed up the place last night and don’t have to be here until later, like I told you.”
“Was there anything unusual when you came in today?”
“Like what? The place was neat and tidy like it always is.” He rolled his eyes.
“Nothing to indicate any kind of a struggle or fight?”
“Nah. Like I said, it was just the usual mess.”
“Did you see anything unusual last night?” Sam snuggled closer to Henry to reinforce the relationship they were portraying.
“Wasn’t here last night. If there’s trouble, I usually get a call. Didn’t hear a peep.”
“Was anyone working last night besides Toby?”
“Nah. Lola comes in when we need her, but Toby clears it with me before he calls her. Must have been slow ’cause he didn’t ask for help.”
“Is there anyone you can think of who might have been here last night and might know what happened to Toby? One of your regulars maybe?”
The man frowned and scratched his chin. “Ya know, I ain’t so sure I should be tellin’ you any more without talkin’ to Toby.”
“You can try to call him, but he isn’t answering his phone. We already tried that.” Henry helped Sam onto a barstool and took the one next to it. “We can wait.”
Mac threw the dishcloth into the soapy water. “If you’re going to take up seating space, you should at least buy a drink.”
“Fair enough.” Henry pulled out a twenty and put it on the bar. “Two beers for us and a Coke for our driver over there.”
The bartender eyed White Cloud before he moved to get their drinks. He poured a Coke from a tap into one of the clean glasses and whistled at White Cloud to pick it up. Then he pulled two Budweisers from a cooler under the bar with his left hand while his right hand grabbed an opener and popped the tops. “This is what we got. If you want one of them fancy beverages like Dead Man’s Ale or something, you’re in the wrong place.”
Henry took a pull from the bottle. “This is fine. Now can you tell us who might have seen Toby last?”
“Do you get many skinhead types in here?” Sam asked before the man could answer Henry.
The bartender threw her a surprised look. “What makes you think that? Mostly it’s loggers or old-timers, but lately there’s been an increase in those shaved-head types. Can’t say as I like it, but a customer’s a customer.”
“Do you know if any were in here last night?”
“Don’t have a clue. No one here but Burt and a couple out-of-work loggers when I left. The loggers might have trouble with tree-huggers but not with skinheads. Mostly each group keeps to themselves.” Mac shrugged. “Not that there’s that many of either of them. Maybe five or six loggers, same with the skinheads, and one or two regular old-timers. The joint ain’t exactly hoppin’. Ya know what I mean?”
She nodded. “So nothing unusual happened last night?”
Mac shrugged. “Far as I know, all was well. Unless them damned FBI geeks showed up again askin’ more questions.”
“The FBI was here?” Sam faked ignorance.
“Last week, I think. Came in here askin’ all kinds of questions about a couple of my customers.”
“Do you know these people they were asking about?”
“Nah. Unless they’re regulars I don’t bother with them.” Mac picked up the dishrag and started wiping the bar top. “Or unless they ask a lot of questions, like you two. Come to think of it, Toby was responsible for the feds being here. I don’t know what he was thinkin’. The law shows up it scares people away, and we don’t have a lot to begin with.”
Sam figured they weren’t going to get any more out of Mac. Either the man was a skilled liar, or he truly didn’t know much. She handed him a card with her name and cell number on it. “If or when Toby comes in tonight, could you have him call me?”
“You think he might not show?”
It was Sam’s turn to shrug as she took another swig of beer. “Might not. His mother’s a bit concerned.”
Before they stood to leave, the door opened, letting in more dim light. Two large men, running more to fat than muscle, sauntered inside. Their biker boots made loud thuds as they approached the bar and looked around. Spotting White Cloud in a booth, the first man called out, “Well, lookie here. Didn’t know you let those types in the place.”
“Maybe he doesn’t like that kind dragging down the reputation of his establishment.” The second man said. “You want some help to get rid of him?”
Henry swung around on his stool. “He’s our driver. Leave him alone.”
“Your driver? Well, whoopee, ain’t you the one.” The first man took the stool next to Sam. “And who’s this pretty little lady?”
“Nobody of any interest to you,” Sam said throwing him a disgusted look.
“Well, now, why don’t you let me decide that?”
“Because you don’t look as if you can dress yourself let alone make any decisions.” Sam eyed the black leather vest he wore without a shirt.
A flash of anger lit his tiny eyes. “You got a smart mouth for a pretty lady.”
Sam shrugged with indifference as the biker poked her arm with his elbow. She tensed then relaxed her muscles, ready to knock him on his ass if need be. Beside her she heard Henry slide his stool back, but she touched him arm. She would prefer to see if they could get out of this without causing a scene. She smiled at biker number one. “Honey, you ain’t heard nothing yet.”
“Well, now, missy—”
Before he could continue, the outside door opened again. Three young men strode in, stopped at the end of the bar, and swiveled their shaved heads. “Hey, Slim, good to see ya.” The man next to Sam raised his arm at the newcomers.
“Aw, shit,” Henry whispered in Sam’s ear as the buzzing in his head rose to a crescendo.
Sam peeked around his shoulder to see one extra-large man—he had to be three hundred pounds, at least—followed by two skinny dudes in dirty white T-shirts, their arms covered in the exected tattoos. “We can take them,” she whispered back.
Henry pulled Sam closer. “Not without a lot of broken bones.”
“Theirs, not ours.” Sam grinned and poked her elbow into Henry’s ribs.
Henry gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head and slid off the stool. He threw another twenty on the bar. “I guess we’ll be going. This should take care of it.”
“Not so fast.” The first biker stood and grabbed Sam’s arm. “We ain’t done talkin’ yet.”
“Oh, but we are.” Sam yanked her arm back as she wound her leg around his knees and dropped him to the floor. He landed on his back, then started to rise on his elbow when she kicked his arm out from under him.
“Goddam, bitch. You’ll pay for that.” He tried to grab her foot to bring her down, but she twisted and dodged his hand.
When he started to get up, Sam said, “I’d stay down if I were you.”
“You need to be taught a lesson.” The biker rolled onto his knees and growled. “Stupid bitches don’t know when to give up.”
|He was halfway up, his hands in fists, when she grabbed her beer bottle and smashed it over his head. He collapsed and didn’t move. She held the broken beer bottle in front of her as the second biker stepped forward. “Don’t.”
“You think a little cut glass is gonna stop me?”
“No, but he might.” Sam nodded behind him to where White Cloud approached. The Native American reached out a hand, squeezed a point on the biker’s shoulder, and the man folded like an accordion.
Sam looked at the taxi driver with wide eyes. She had intended to use White Cloud as a diversion, never expected the Spock-like move. “
How’d you do that?”
White Cloud merely shrugged. “It is a gift.”
“Hey, now, what ya go and do that for?” The three-hundred-pound giant named Slim took a step forward. Henry braced to take him down if he moved any closer.
“We don’t want trouble. We’re going to walk out of here now.” Henry held his hands in front of him. “Peace, okay?”
The large man snickered. “Sure, peace.” Then he telegraphed his next move by balling his hands and putting one foot forward.
While the guy was off balance, Henry punched him in his colossal paunch but he just grinned and swung one ham-sized fist. Surprised his punch had no effect on the Pillsbury Doughboy, Henry grabbed the man’s hand and twisted until he heard a snap but not before the giant managed a swift punch to the side of his head with his other hand. He felt the skin split over his eye and stumbled backward into Sam.
She pushed him forward again to reach the bully. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she saw blood running into Henry’s eyes and she started toward the mountain of a man, anger and fear her motivation.
Henry saw stars, but he managed to shove Sam out of the way before she had a chance to lock on to the gorilla. Then, angry at the fat bully for getting in an effective punch, Henry lowered his head and rammed the marshmallow stomach with all his weight. The man bent in half as his breath rushed out in a blast of hot air, the odor nearly making Henry gag.
While the behemoth was trying to catch his breath, Henry grabbed his good arm and twisted it behind his back until he heard a pop. The man cried out and collapsed onto the floor, rolling around like a giant toy top.
The two men remaining took a step away and held up their hands. “Hey, we don’t want no trouble.”
“Then get out of our way so we can leave.” Henry glared at them.
They stumbled out of the way, and Henry took Sam’s elbow to lead her out. Without a word or a glance, White Cloud followed.
“Hey! What about my bar? Look at all the damage you caused,” Mac called to them.
Sam waved at him from the entrance. “We’ll send you a check!”
Chapter Twenty
They wasted no time piling into the taxi. Henry jumped into the back with Sam instead of his usual spot. Sam saw the blood still running down from his forehead onto his shirt. She pulled several tissues from her purse and tried to press them against the cut.
Henry jerked away. “Stop it! That hurts.”
“You’re bleeding all over the place. I’m sure White Cloud doesn’t need blood on his back seat.” Sam held the tissue to his forehead. “We need some alcohol and a bandage. It’s possible you don’t need stitches, but it’s hard to tell since head wounds bleed so much.”
Henry took the tissue from her and pressed it harder. “I’ll do it.”
She gave him an annoyed look. “Are you being a little boy?”
“No, I’m being realistic. It’ll stop in a minute.”
The taxi sped along the blacktop, White Cloud keeping his eye as much on the rearview mirror as on the road. “It does not appear that anyone is following us.”
Sam sighed. “Good. We can stop at the first drug store we see.”
“I don’t need anything.” Henry held out the tissue. “See, it’s almost stopped.” As he spoke, more blood trickled down his temple to his cheek.
“Sure.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “White Cloud, stop at the first drug store.”
Henry gave up arguing, sat back with a tissue held steady on the cut, and mumbled under his breath.
Sam ignored him and jumped out as soon as the taxi came to a stop in front of a Rite Aid. She bought alcohol, cotton, and a small pack of assorted Band-Aids since she didn’t know what it would take to keep the wound closed. When she returned to the taxi, Henry scowled at the bag. “I don’t need all that.”
“You don’t even know what’s in it, so shut up and sit back.”
“I will wait until you are finished before I pull out.” White Cloud scanned the parking lot. “I do not see any danger at this time.”
Sam poured alcohol on a cotton pad and touched it to Henry’s forehead.
He hissed in a breath. “Jesus! Take it easy.”
“Don’t be such a baby. Hold still.” She chose a medium-size Band-Aid and carefully stuck it to the wound, hoping it would pull the split skin together enough to stop the bleeding. “There, all done.”
Henry muttered something, felt his forehead, and sat back. “I’d like to know how you two managed to come out of it without a scratch.”
“I guess we’re just smarter than you.” Sam smiled. “Besides, White Cloud turned into a Vulcan and did something to that guy’s neck that made him pass out. I’d like to learn to do that.”
“It’s an old martial art move first tried around 1050 AD.” Henry watched the taxi driver’s back. “It’s tricky. You have to be real careful or you can cause serious damage.”
White Cloud nodded. “It is a move Uncle taught me. I do not know where it came from, but it does the job. Uncle warned me to use it only sparingly.”
“That’s because too much pressure on the carotid artery cuts off blood to the brain and can cause brain damage or death. It must be done just right. I was taught the move from a grandmaster martial artist friend, but I’ve never tried it. Always afraid to use it.”
“Hmmm,” Sam said. “One of you will have to teach me.”
“You don’t need to know.” Henry frowned at her.
“It takes much practice.” White Cloud slowed to turn onto the interstate leading to the city. “Uncle will not teach it to everyone. Only those he believes can handle it.”
“So you both know how to do it and neither of you will teach me. That’s not fair.”
Henry sighed. “You’re too impatient. You’d try it before you had a handle on it. Either it wouldn’t work, or you’d kill somebody.”
“I am not impatient.”
Henry laughed but before he could say anything, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the caller ID. “I don’t know who this is. Nobody calls me but you.”
The ringing continued. He had programmed an old-fashioned tone that sounded like the ring of landlines in the sixties because he hated those new musical ring tones.
“Well, don’t just stare at it. Answer it.” Sam fought the urge to grab the phone from his hand.
Henry gave her a sidelong glance as he punched a button and said, “This is Henry.”
He listened for a moment then put his finger to his lips to signal Sam to be quiet. “Yeah, I remember.”
Sam used hand signals and mouthed “Who is it?” but Henry shook her off as he listened to the voice on the phone. Finally, he said, “I can be there, but you should know I’m no longer certain I want to be part of whatever it is you’re planning. Can’t say I like some of your members.”
Henry was silent again while Sam bounced in the seat, anxious to know who was on the other end of the call.
“Fine, tonight at seven. See you then.”
As soon as he punched off, Sam grabbed his arm. “Was that Patterson?”
“No, one of his goons. Says the boss wants to meet with me tonight to discuss something important. Didn’t mention Patterson by name, but I assume that’s who he’s talking about.”
“It could be a trick. They’re mad because we beat up three of their guys. And they probably don’t trust you.”
Henry shrugged. “Might not be the case. He apologized for the trouble this afternoon. Said those guys were out of line and they’ve been reprimanded.”
“Reprimanded? He used such a big word?”
“He said the guys have been told to straighten up or get the hell out. ‘Reprimanded’ was my word.”
“And you believe him? They might want payback. If you go alone, we won’t be able to help.”
“I didn’t say I believe him. But if he’s telling the truth and the boss”—Henry made air quotes to this word— “wants to meet with me, I
might be able to learn something. I’ll wear the pin, and you and White Cloud will be nearby. If it sounds like trouble, you can ride in like the cavalry and rescue me.”
“And you could be dead before we got there,” Sam said.
White Cloud cleared his throat and turned around as the taxi stopped at a red light. “He is correct. We cannot pass up this chance to learn more about their plan.”
Sam opened her mouth to protest, but White Cloud held up a hand. “We will be close by and ready to act, if necessary. We need to do it both for Nina and for the reservation.”
“You’re right.” Sam slumped in her seat. “And how did they find out about our altercation so fast?”
Henry shrugged. “One of the goons probably called them.”
“Seems strange they would spread the word since we beat the crap out of them.” Sam shook her head. “I don’t like it.”
“I’m not crazy about it, either,” Henry said. “But it’s all we have at the moment.”
“You have your gift.” Sam looked directly at Henry.
“What?”
“Your gift. Whatever it is that you and White Cloud have been keeping from me.”
“We haven’t been keeping anything from you.”
“And Thomas knows about it, too.” Sam crossed her arms. “I’m not deaf and blind, Henry. I see the way you and White Cloud have been sending each other silent signals. And Thomas spoke of it right out in the open.”
“Oh, that.” Henry touched the bandage on his forehead. “They seem to think my instincts are a gift. I’ll admit I have good hunches at times, but I can’t convince them it’s not a gift.”
White Cloud glanced at Henry in the mirror but didn’t say anything.
Sam caught the glance. “There, White Cloud knows you’re lying. Come on, out with it. What is this gift?”
“Nothing, honest.” Henry was not ready to fill Sam in on his early-warning system. She’d think he was crazy. Sometimes he thought he was crazy. Maybe in time he’d tell her about it, but not now. “I’m telling you, they call my highly accurate instincts a gift—maybe it is. But it’s certainly not anything special.”
Sam thought her instincts told her he was lying but she knew now was not the time to press him for details.