The Hard Core

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The Hard Core Page 6

by Allen Manning


  Roland showed him the screen as Parker wrote the number down in his notes. The windows rattled slightly, and Roland sat up straight, on full alert. He stood and looked around, ready to make a break for the weapons.

  “That’s John and Detective Hunter,” Parker said, as the deep rumble of John’s pick up approached. “Let’s see what they found.”

  * * *

  “It was a dead end,” John said. “Someone cleaned out the storage facility before we got there.”

  “Maybe they’ve been trying to clean this mess up for a while now,” Roland said.

  “No, we missed them by a few hours,” Chance said. “We’re getting too close, and it’s got someone spooked.”

  “So what’s the play here?” Parker asked.

  “Sit tight for your contact,” John said. “We rest up and wait.”

  “Right. But in the meantime, I think I can keep my computer running, see if we can chip away at the info we’ve got,” Parker said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, like with the location of the storage unit.”

  “It’s as good a plan as any,” Chance said. “Until then, I gotta make a call.”

  “No,” John said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t call your precinct yet,” John said. “We don’t know who’s involved in all of this, and until Roland is completely safe, it’s too risky to let anyone know where you are.”

  Chance held his phone in his hand, pointing a finger at John. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you call the DPD dirty, or insinuate that we’ve got a rat. I need to call this in and see if we can get any more information about who wants the kid dead.”

  John stood up straight. “Just wait for the contact to show up. Then you can call in the cavalry.”

  “That’s a bad move,” Chance said. “We’re flying blind here, and you want me to trust a bunch of strangers.”

  “Please, Detective,” Roland said. “I’m a stranger to you, too, and I say we go with John’s plan. I trust my contact, and I know he can help us.”

  Chance shook his head and slid his phone into a pocket. “Unbelievable. We’re making a huge mistake, and it’s going to cost us big time.”

  “You’re free to leave. None of this has to blow back on you,” John said. “I’m just asking that you not involve the police yet.”

  “No, I’m in it for the long haul now,” Chance said, looking over at Roland. “I promised a friend.”

  CHAPTER

  14

  Parker sent the last of the reports to Travis. He wheeled his chair away from the desk, the comforting thoughts of a nap pulling him away from his work. He glanced up at the monitor and saw a strange pattern on the map.

  Most of the CARR Group’s activities, involving Silver Creek have been centered around Detroit. But something caught his eye further east. He had mapped the key locations, sorting them to find the most likely spots to find the information he needed.

  Sitting further back, his eye picked out the location flagged and placed further down on the list. The only distinguishing feature was its location in relation to the rest.

  “What are you doing out there, little guy?” Parker asked, scooting up to see the mark on the map. “Pennsylvania?”

  His program deemed the likelihood of such a remote facility containing what they needed as low. John and Chance couldn’t risk driving all that way for nothing when more probable places were still on the list.

  But something about the entry tugged at his curiosity. Gotta make a call, Parker thought, patting his pockets for his phone.

  * * *

  Atlantic City, New Jersey

  Smoke swirled through the air, a mix of overpriced cigarettes and underpriced cigars adding to the atmosphere. A young Asian man glanced down at his phone as it buzzed. Hitting the Cash Out button, he pulled the ticket from the slot machine and stuffed it into the pocket of his two-hundred-dollar jeans.

  He adjusted the platinum chain around his neck, settling it on the outside of his faded Bruce Lee t-shirt as he walked toward the exit.

  “New phone, who dis?” Ty said, answering the call.

  “Ty? It’s Parker.”

  As a Shadow Courier, Ty Octane operated in a gray area that often put him at odds with law enforcement. When Parker and John chased down Warren Ratcliffe, in search of technology that could reshape the face of cyber warfare, Ty’s skills were instrumental in accomplishing their mission.

  “What? Man, I haven’t heard from you since last year.” Ty put a finger to his ear to block out the fanfare from a slot machine paying a winning player nearby. “Hold on, let me get somewhere quieter.”

  “I hear casino noises. Are you back home?” Parker asked.

  “Nah, I decided to check out AC,” Ty said, stepping out into the parking lot. “Figured I needed a change from Las Vegas, the bedazzled armpit of America.”

  Parker chuckled. “So how does Atlantic City compare?”

  “Same,” Ty said. “But without the deodorant. So, is John in trouble again? Do I have to go and kick some more Russian asses?”

  “I think we’ve taken care of the Russians. This is more of a local issue.” Parker said.

  “What, he needs some styling tips for that hairy caterpillar on his lip?” Ty asked. “Wait, he’s not on the line, is he? Hey, John, two words, handlebar.”

  “I think that’s one word, and no, he’s not here.” Parker said. “Listen, Ty, I know this is a big ask, but we need your help with something.”

  “Shoot,” Ty said, putting on his expensive sunglasses. “Actually forget I said that. Last time I helped, I got my fill of shooting. How may I be of assistance?”

  “John and I are helping a guy with something, and we’re having trouble finding what we need.” Parker said.

  “Cool. Just let me know what you’re looking for, so I can pick it up and swing by,” Ty said.

  Parker sighed. “I wish it were that easy. I don’t know exactly what we’re looking for, but I’ve got a lead. There’s a small company listing its primary address in Pennsylvania.”

  “You just need me to sweet talk my way until they hand over what we need?” Ty asked. “That’s easy enough, bro.”

  “I was actually thinking that we need you to sneak in and grab what we need.”

  Ty let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re not serious, are you? I’m not a cat burglar, I’m a courier. If you want me to add breaking and entering, I’m going to have to redo my whole resume.”

  “Didn’t Han Solo also break into places?” Parker asked.

  “I don’t know, I’m not a nerd like you,” Ty said. “Also, Han was a smuggler, I’m a courier.”

  “We’re in a tight spot here,” Parker said. “Isn’t there anyone you could point me to, so I can ask them?”

  “Relax, Parker. I have someone in mind that’s perfect for the job,” Ty said, fixing his spiked hair in the reflection of his car. “She’s like a ninja. This is right in her wheelhouse.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  Detroit, Michigan

  Letting out a loud yawn, Parker raised his arms over his head and ended with a loud vocalization that was half sigh, half grunt.

  “Did you get any sleep, Parker?” John asked, offering a fresh coffee.

  “I think I passed out on that stack of papers over there for an hour or so,” Parker said, accepting the cup.

  Chance stepped into the workspace wearing a fresh change of clothes, black t-shirt, and dark BDU pants, matching John’s look. “I don’ know who’s idea it was to put living quarters with showers in this building, but they seriously thought ahead.”

  “This is a decommissioned safe house,” Parker said. “CIA or FBI, I think. I’m guessing they had several people working out of this building around the clock.”

  “I’m about done with this place,” Roland said, laying across a pair of desks. “I just want to meet my contact and take the CARR Group down.”

  “You have trouble sleeping last night?” John
asked.

  “Every night,” Roland said, still staring up a the drop ceiling. “Since I got back from my last deployment, anyway.”

  “Why don’t you try getting some rest now,” John said. “We’ll grab you if there’s anything important.”

  “Nah, I’m just going to hang here with you guys for a bit,” Roland said. “Anything to help keep me focused, you know?”

  John nodded.

  “Speaking of our mysterious stranger, have you heard anything from him?” Chance asked.

  “Nothing yet,” Parker said, spinning to face his keyboard again. “But I did find something out. I dug around all night, or at least my computer did, and I’m almost certain I’ve discovered the identity of our mystery man.”

  “Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Chance said after a brief pause.

  Parker never took his eyes off the monitor as his fingers danced across the keys. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Travis Chambers.”

  “What’s his background?” Roland asked.

  “Central Intelligence?” John asked.

  “Well, I discovered his identity, but I’m still mostly at a loss about his history. Much of this has been classified or redacted. All of these are from the eighties.” Parker brought up several files.

  “Special Forces. Green Beret, maybe,” John said. “That’s cold war era, so he probably operated overseas against the Soviet Union. It’s not uncommon to see this kind of stuff from key military personnel back then.”

  “That’s where things get a little strange,” Parker said. “I see one or two mentions of the Soviets, but get this, Chambers wasn’t military. He was a vice detective in the Metro-Dade area.”

  “Miami Vice? You’re joking, right?” Chance asked.

  “No joke. Officially retired in the late nineties, but there’s not much else after that. He’s like a ghost now.”

  “He must be working for the CIA now,” Chance said.

  “Possibly,” John said. “But there would still be a record of that in his files. It isn’t like being a secret agent in the movies.”

  “Who is this guy?” Chance asked under his breath.

  “We’ll have to worry about that later,” John said. “Parker, did you find out anything about Faust or the CARR Group that can help us?”

  Parker turned in his chair. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of info, but I’m not sure how helpful it’s going to be, though.”

  “Just give us what you’ve got.”

  “First of all, it’s no secret that there’s a big push for more privatized prisons. It’s a big business right now, and lobbyists are out there big time,” Parker said. “But now they’re worming their way into juvenile and immigration detention centers.”

  “It’s been heading that way for a while now,” Chance said.

  “Yes, it has. But here is a report sent out to CARR Group shareholders, showing the financial projections for the next five years,” Parker said.

  Chance raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think we’re locking up that many perps.”

  Parker lifted a finger and spun his chair to face them. “That’s what’s interesting about this report. The projections aren’t for the CARR Group. It’s meant to entice a few of the big investors to look closer at a company that they’ve got close ties with.”

  “International Security,” John said.

  “Using the estimates that Roland gave me, I put this chart together,” Parker said.

  He twisted one of the monitors so they could see a graph that matched the first part of what appeared in the financial report.

  “What exactly is that nice little red line supposed to represent?” John asked.

  Parker tapped the screen with his finger. “This is an educated guess of the number of inmates that have decided to join INSEC.”

  “So you’re saying they’re only recruiting from private prisons and not from the general public?” John asked.

  “Not just any prisons. This is only from Silver Creek,” Parker said, looking over at Chance.

  “Don’t places like INSEC like to pull people in from the general public?” Chance asked.

  “Most defense contractors will reach out to former military for their ranks,” John said. “This is beyond abnormal. It has never been done before.”

  “Not to mention immoral, and possibly illegal,” Chance said.

  “This is a pilot program,” Parker said. “Or at least that’s what I’m gathering from the files and these reports.”

  “We can’t go by the numbers alone,” John said.

  “Correct. Without actual data, this correlation is spurious at best.” Parker turned his display to face him again. “So, we’re just going to have to go right to the source.”

  Chance narrowed his eyes looking at the photograph on the screen. “Who is that?”

  “Owen Blythe,” Roland said, leaning closer to the image.

  “Correct. This is INSEC’s number one recruiter, responsible for bringing more men and women into the ranks than any Uncle Sam poster ever could,” Parker said.

  “Seriously? Owen Blythe?” Chance furrowed his brow. “Sounds like the name of a guy that got bit by a werewolf a hundred years ago.”

  “Where is he now?” Roland asked.

  “Lansing, Michigan.” Parker pulled up a map.

  Chance jabbed at the display with his finger. “That’s not far from the State Capitol building. About an hour and a half away from here.”

  “He’s the key,” John said. “We’re going to have to grab Blythe, and bring him back here.”

  “Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Chance asked.

  John folded his arms across his chest. “It’s the best one we’ve got. Parker, you should get some sleep. You can’t do anything else with what you’ve got.”

  “What about me?” Roland asked.

  “Wait here for us,” Chance said.

  “No way,” Roland said. “I told Parker everything I know about the CARR Group. I’m not just going to sit around and wait when I can do something else to bring them down.”

  “Faust knows we’re after him,” John said. “He beat us to the storage facility, and if he knows we’re after Blythe, we could run into some heavy resistance, and we can’t risk you getting hurt.”

  “John is right, kid,” Chance said.

  “But what if you need my—”

  “I’m not budging on this, Roland. You’re staying here, and that’s final,” John said. “Your contact, Travis, should be here any time now, and you can’t be running around town with us when he arrives.”

  “Fine,” Roland said, still scowling.

  “Hey, if we miss our shot at Blythe, didn’t you say there was another location we could check, besides the storage units?” Chance asked.

  “Yes, but Blythe is the better option for now,” Parker said. “The second location is a little out of your way.”

  “Where?” John asked.

  “Pennsylvania,” Parker replied.

  “Wow. Yeah, that is a bit out of the way,” Roland said.

  “We can always check it out after we grab the werewolf,” Chance said.

  “Already on it,” Parker said. “I called a guy we worked with a while back. He’s going to check it out for us.”

  * * *

  Langley, Virginia

  A chilled gust of air whipped across the tarmac. Engines spooled up in the distance, their whine growing in intensity. Travis buttoned his coat, tucking the scarf inside as he climbed the steps into the waiting craft.

  “Welcome aboard, Mr. Chambers,” a cheery young man said. “Can I take your jacket?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I could use a cup of coffee, though.” Travis sidestepped his way to the middle of the plane.

  “Right away.”

  He looked around at the mix of government employees on board. They were a collection of men and women from the alphabet agencies, but most were from the CIA this time. Travis recognized a couple, but didn’t know them
well enough to strike up a conversation, instead opting for a polite smile and wave. It was perfect for his needs. The flight time would be enough to let him go over what Parker had sent that morning.

  “My apologies, Mr. Chambers.” The plucky flight attendant returned with a faux mask of disappointment. “The captain says we should be taking off shortly, so the coffee will have to wait until we are in the air.”

  “That’s fine,” Travis said. “I’ll just catch up on some light reading.”

  He pulled the laptop from his bag and started in on the new batch of files and reports. The first showed mostly what Travis had already suspected. The CARR Group pushed for changes in existing laws to allow their privatized prison enterprise to expand.

  Travis reread the report, making note that while the data wasn’t perfect, it was enough to show a possible link between INSEC’s recruiting practices and the CARR Group’s recent flux of early releases from their Silver Creek facility.

  More and more, Travis felt that his decision to bring the former Hostile Response Division operatives in on this was the right call.

  A set of alerts popped up, delayed by his computer’s previous slumber. Travis had to pause for a second. His eyes widened, scanning the messages. Parker had dug into Travis’ contact information and found enough to dig up his identity. This Parker guy is something else.

  “You sure know how to pick them, Van Pierce,” Travis said under his breath.

  CHAPTER

  16

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  The bass rattled the windows and shook the fenders of Ty’s car, a 2015 Final Edition Lancer Evolution X, as he pulled up to the curb. He lowered the volume to a bearable level of obnoxiousness.

  Two young women stood on the corner. The oldest, Millie, turned to face the younger one. She straightened the girl’s shirt sleeves and brushed an imaginary crumb from her shoulder. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone, alright?”

 

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