Witness Rejection

by David R Lewis

  Puma leaned forward, both her voice and face without expression.

  “Ooo. Aaah. Oh, Baby. Don’t stop. You’re gonna make me come.”

  Crockett sipped his iced tea and shifted the subject. “How big is the lodge?”

  “Eight bedrooms, a big great room with a fireplace and stuff, a big kitchen, and three bathrooms. It’s all logs, two-story, got a four-car garage, a generator shack, a machine shed, and a storage shed. Usually three or four cars on hand, you know, SUV’s and shit. Sometimes there’s only four or five guys, sometimes seven or eight.”

  “Know a man named Boster?”

  “Not by name.”

  “Around fifty, going gray, a little overweight, looks and acts like a cop.”

  “Sounds like Cooper. I went with him once. Kinda creepy.”

  “He hurt you?”

  “No. Nothin’ like that. Wanted me to hurt him. So I roughed him up and shit. I slapped him around a little bit, used my heels on him, beat on him with his belt for a while, and did him in the ass with this dildo he had. I even choked him with a cotton rope while he beat off and came. Cried like a baby. He never did fuck me. Not even a Beejay. Got a couple a hundred tip outa the guy. Easy money. He wanted some real sick shit, but I said no. Now he uses Charlene. She likes fisting. Not me. I ain’t shovin’ my whole fuckin’ hand up some guy’s poop chute for just a lousy three hundred bucks. Yuk.”

  Crockett showed no emotion. “Anybody else come and go out there that you know of?”

  “I hear the guys take a stylist and a manicurist out there once a week or so from a salon, but they weren’t there whenever I was. Probably right though. Mister Phillips likes to look good.”

  “Have you noticed any security devices on the property? Cameras? Lots of exterior lighting? Anything like that?”

  “There’s a big light on a pole, but that’s always been there.”

  “Ever see any guards being posted outside at night?”

  “The nights I spent there, everybody was partying inside.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Smoke, coke, X, crystal meth, stuff like that. The guys like to get a little ripped before they fuck. You know. Makes them think they’re good at it.”

  “How long since you’ve been out there?”

  “A week or two ago. I probably won’t be going back for a while.”

  “How is the place situated on the terrain? Is it in a valley, on a hill?”

  “It’s near the top of a ridgeline. The road that leads to it, Cotton Gulch, stops at the Lodge.”

  “Other ridgelines near it?”

  “It’s the Black Hills. There are hills and valleys and ridges and gulches everywhere.”

  “Okay. If I went into that area on foot, are there places around a half mile or so of the lodge where I would have a good view of the property?”

  “Sure. Lots. And closer than that.”

  “Great. Now here’s the tough stuff. Only you and your granddad know who I am or why I’m in town. He won’t say anything, and I sure as hell won’t. That leaves it up to you. If you mention our meeting or conversation to anyone, and it gets back to Phillips or his people, you are as good as dead. Believe me, he would have you killed and not even roll over in his sleep. If you’d like to avoid that, all you have to do is keep your mouth shut.”

  “That’s why you wouldn’t stay at Cadillac Jack’s with me, huh?”

  “Correct.”

  “And that’s why we didn’t come here together. So you and I wouldn’t be seen with each other.”

  “Correct again.”

  “Wow. You were takin’ care of me, huh?”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “That’s really nice.”

  “So what are you gonna do?”

  “I’m not gonna say shit to nobody.”

  “There ya go. Thanks a lot, Terri. You’ve been a big help.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep. We’re done. I have information and you’ve got two grand. The room next door is empty and paid for. If you’d like to take the rest of the night off, you are welcome to stay there through breakfast tomorrow.”

  “No kidding?”

  “No kidding.”

  “And just sleep?”

  “Or watch TV, or soak in the tub, whatever you’d like. The room is yours if you want it.”

  Terri got up, walked to the connecting door, opened it, and peered into the room. “Why are you giving me a place to stay?”

  “I’m an incurable romantic. Thought maybe you could use a night off.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.” Crockett watched her gather up some things out of his bathroom, grab her purse, and walk through the connecting door. In a moment she returned and looked at him. She appeared to be puzzled.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I, dear Terri, am going to put on some sweats, crash on the bed, wish I didn’t know your grandfather, and watch television until I go to sleep.”

  “You’ve been nice to me.”

  “My pleasure,” Crockett said.

  “You sure you don’t want a blow job or something? Nothin’ like getting’ your rocks off to help you relax. I got no gag reflex and I swallow. You’ve sure as hell paid for it.”

  Crockett smiled at her. “Goodnight, Terri.”

  She shrugged, walked into her room, and closed the connecting door behind her.

  He got up, locked it, flopped on the bed, and stared at the ceiling for a while, feeling very old and sheltered. Only then did he realize that not once during the entire time they’d spent together, had she ever called him by name.

  Then again, his name wasn’t John.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Reparations and Preparations

  Crockett took a sip of warm tea and leaned back from the table. Virgil and he had landed at Ivy’s only moments before; and Crockett was attempting to settle his motion sickness down before lunch. Clete looked at him and grinned.

  “So how ya feelin’ there, pard?”

  “Bite me,” Crockett said.

  “Find out anything?”

  “In some ways, more than I wanted to. Thanks to a young woman one might choose to lease for an evening, I have acquired certain information that could be invaluable in our quest for truth, justice, and the American way.”

  Clete’s eyebrows went up. “You leased a lady?”

  “I purchased some time from a young woman with the unlikely name of Puma. Puma’s grandfather once owned the property in question. It was he that told me where to locate his eminently rentable granddaughter.”

  “And you rented her.”

  “Two grand for a couple hours of stimulating conversation and fine dining.”

  “A grand a hour?”

  “Somewhat above her usual level of remuneration I would imagine,” Crockett said.

  “Christ, I hope so or she’s gonna be pretty lonely. Them’s Park Avenue rates. What’d she tell ya?”

  “She told me that Razor gets violent sometimes, Boomer likes to ass fuck, that the two of them double up on her, but the money’s good enough she can take a little time off to heal if she needs to.”

  “What?”

  “She also told me she had no gag reflex, and that I was a nice man. Even offered me complimentary fellatio to help me get to sleep.”

  Carson and Satin rounded the corner from where they’d been eavesdropping on the conversation, stopped, and looked at Crockett. Neither of them said a word.

  Crockett winced. “Perhaps I should start this charming tale from the beginning.”

  Clete grinned. “Only if you don’t want to bleed,” he said.

  “So Virgil flew over the place then circled for a while. I got a pretty good look at the terrain. Ridgelines everywhere. Cover everywhere. I think we should wait a while before we get too froggy, though. Tourist season shuts down out there in another week or so. If we were to go around the end of September or early October, we should have a lot less tr
ansient population wandering around.”

  A light lunch of finger foods was completed, and Stitch and Goody had joined the conversation.

  “Right,” Goody said. “A bit of time to put things in order, then. Jolly good. In view of the mission and the terrain, I will have some new toys and things to prepare for you lads.”

  “We haven’t exactly decided on what we’re gonna do,” Clete said.

  “You’ll do what I trained you to do,” Goody went on. “On our last venture, as I recall, you got all dressed up and then had no place to go. You, Cletus, were lying on my sofa with food poisoning, and Crockett had his giblets removed from the hearth by a kidnapped child swinging a baseball bat. Nothing as wasteful as training never used. We will have to brush you up a bit, sharpen your skills somewhat. Shouldn’t take long. Much as riding a bicycle, it would seem.”

  “Back to crawlin’ around in the weeds, huh?” Clete said.

  “You two are good at it, dear boy. Hole up and watch the enemy encampment to get a sense of logistics and such, pull out to re-supply if necessary, then carry out the mission.”

  “And the mission would be?” Crockett asked.

  The little man’s eyes grew cold. “Termination with extreme prejudice, I should think,” he said.

  “I guess so,” Crockett said. Goody peered at him.

  “Do you suppose any of these lads are without guilt?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think it is safe to assume that everyone there takes orders from Metzger, Phillips, or whatever his name is?”

  “Yes.”

  “The bomb in your car, your near death at the airport, the assault on this house and the subsequent death of the valiant Ruby LaCost were at his desire, were they not?”

  “I’m sure they were,” Crockett said.

  “Fancy a bit of a lash at this lad, then?”

  “I just don’t want to get any civilians hurt.”

  “Hence the observation of the target and the judicious application of situational flexibility.”

  “Good old situational flexibility,” Crockett said.

  “It saved your great Scottish arse the night you got the young lad Zeke away from those idiots in their enclave, did it not?”

  Crockett smiled. “That it did.”

  “And it shall again, lad,” Goody said. “It shall again.”

  During the next three weeks, Crockett resurrected some of the fitness equipment that Ivy had installed for his therapy when recuperating from the loss of his leg and went to work. He dropped nearly ten pounds, toned up considerably, and dedicated himself to a life of total leisure once everything was settled in South Dakota. Satin brought it up one morning over early coffee as he lurched, sweating, into the kitchen.

  “Over three minutes on the Stairmaster,” she said. “What a man!”

  “Kiss this,” Crockett said, staggering to the coffee pot.

  Satin grinned. “Not unless you shower first.”

  “Can I use the spray nozzle in the sink? I don’t think I’m strong enough to go all the way up to my room.”

  “You been working out a lot, huh?”

  Crockett nodded, taking a seat across from her and lighting a Sherman. “Have to. If I’m gonna drag my tired old ass up and down a few of the Black Hills, I got no choice. As you may have noticed, thirty is only a distant memory for me.”

  “You at thirty,” Satin said, staring into the near distance. “The mind reels.”

  “I was six inches taller, had three percent body fat, a fifty-two inch chest, a thirty inch waist, coal black hair, and was of Swahili extraction. You would have loved me.”

  “I do love you.”

  “I love you, too, pal.”

  “How are you and Carson getting along?” Satin asked.

  “You say that as if you aren’t getting regular reports from the lady in question. She’s an outstanding woman. How are you and Clete doing?”

  Satin flushed. “What?” she said.

  “You heard me. You and Clete doing all right?”

  “We’re, uh, fine.”

  “That’s, uh, good,” Crockett said.

  Satin snorted. “You don’t miss very much, do ya, Davey?”

  “I think you and Clete are probably very good for each other.”

  “He’s a good man, Crockett. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

  “No. Clete’s the best there is.”

  “About this whole mess in South Dakota,” Satin said. “You gonna go out there and just shoot these guys?”

  Crockett smiled. “That’s a little bit of an oversimplification.”

  “Are ya?”

  Crockett’s smile contained no humor. “Yes.”

  Satin thought for a moment. “I know you, Crockett,” she said. “I have seen you at your best and worst. You’re not a killer.”

  “I’m not?”

  “No, Dummy. And you know you’re not. But yet, you can go take a gun and shoot people. You shot two right here in this house.”

  “Some people need to be killed, Satin.”

  “No argument from me,” she said. “I think that, for me at least, deciding to do it would be harder than actually doing it.”

  “The less likely an individual is to respect my life, or the lives of people that I care for, the less likely I am to respect his life.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “Metzger has shown no respect at all.”

  “Do you think he’ll try here again?”

  “I don’t know about here, but I believe he’ll keep trying until he eventually kills Carson. His mission is based on ego. He has to kill her. He told her he was going to. For him to remain the person he sees himself to be, he must complete the threat.”

  “So you’re gonna kill him before he can kill her.”

  “Or you, or Clete, or Stitch, or any of us. That’s the plan.”

  “That night they came into the house, they would have killed us all, huh?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can’t let ‘em get away with that shit, Crockett.”

  “Didn’t. Killed ‘em.”

  “I mean him, too. Carson’s ex. The guy that sent ‘em. Can’t let him get away with that.”

  Crockett smiled. “Probably not,” he said.

  He and Satin were regarding each other with ex-lover’s eyes when Carson wandered in. In a massive robe, she was barefoot, yawning, and a long way from awake. Crockett chuckled and guided her to a chair. Once she was seated, he poured a cup of coffee and sat it before her.

  “Thanks,” Carson mumbled.

  “You never treated me like that,” Satin said.

  “It never took you an hour to wake up.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Carson asked.

  “We’re talking about how Crockett treats you so well, and how he always treated me like shit,” Satin said.

  Carson smiled. “No comment.”

  “Actually,” Crockett said, “we were discussing the flowering relationship between the marginally acceptable Cletus Marshal and the harpy that sits across from me at this very table.”

  Carson looked at Satin and laughed. “Told you he’d know,” she said.

  “Oh, shut up,” Satin growled.

  That afternoon, Goody summoned Crockett and Cletus to his basement workshop. “Do come in, Lads,” he beamed, throwing wide the door. “I’ve been mucking about a bit. Might have a thing or two you’ll appreciate.” They stepped inside the inner sanctum.

  While it was not the magnitude of the facility Goody had maintained at his home where he and Crockett had first met, the space bristled with firearms and pieces of firearms on pegboard and scattered across two workbenches. The air was acrid with the scent of solvent, oil, and smokeless powder. Goody wheeled himself to a low bench and presented each of them with a headset and pocket power unit.

  “Communications, Gentlemen. A significant upgrade from our last mission.”

  Crockett looked at the device he’d been handed. Th
e headset was of the two-ear variety that inserted both into the ear canal, and covered most of the exterior ear. It sported two additional straps and a small boom mic. He looked at it suspiciously.

  “Both ears?” he asked.

  “Indeed,” Goody said.

  “But that’s gonna interfere with normal hearing, isn’t it?”

  “Augment it, actually, should you need it to. You see, this unit is built to resist removal by either accident or design. There is the standard graphite compound frame for over the head, supported by a forehead strap, and another band to secure the unit with support around the rear of the head. The result is that it is very secure and stays where it is needed.”

  “Well yeah, but…”

  “This unit is voice activated and has adjustable output. That means that the two of you can set the transmission levels on your headsets where you can comfortably converse at whatever distance necessary, and yet minimize the transmission of power so that your batteries will have a longer life, and your target, being a significant distance away, cannot possibly receive your signal.”

  “That’s kinda slick,” Clete said.

  “In addition to that, the activation of the augmentation switch powers the headset to allow you to hear sounds from your surrounding environment three to four times better than you could without the unit. Sort of super hearing aids, as it were. Not only that, but horrendously loud sounds are suppressed by the unit to avoid ear damage, in no matter what mode the unit is functioning.”

  Clete finished adjusting his headset. “Feels real secure,” he said. “Take a pretty good lick to knock it off.”

  “The batteries aren’t charged at this point,” Goody went on. “I’ll do that overnight. The unit is very efficient. At fifty percent mission mode, a full charge will last thirty-six to forty-eight continuous hours.”

  “Why the sound suppression?” Crockett asked.