by Siegel, Alex
The Price of Disrespect
Alex Siegel
The Price of Disrespect
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2012-2013 Alex Siegel
Revision 11/26/2013
ISBN: 978-1-300-89198-7
For information about this book and others in the same series, please visit:
http://www.grayspearsociety.com/
The Gray Spear Society series is a long-running saga. It is recommended that the books be read in a specific order. The current list is:
1. Apocalypse Cult
2. Carnival of Mayhem
3. Psychological Damage
4. Involuntary Control
5. Deadly Weakness
6. The Price of Disrespect
7. Tricks and Traps
8. Politics of Blood
9. Grim Reflections
10. Eyes of the World
11. Antisocial Media
Chapter One
Aaron looked across the street. There was a brown brick apartment building on the other side which offered some dark shadows to hide in. Somehow he had to reach one of those inviting shadows without being seen. It was Saturday evening in Chicago, and it was also the first warm weekend of spring. Many residents from the thickly populated neighborhood were enjoying the pleasure of walking outside in the fresh air after a long, snowy winter. Not being seen was going to be a challenge.
Aaron turned to his two companions: Smythe and Norbert. All three men wore black and gray camouflage tights over their entire bodies except for their eyes and mouths. They were crouched in the shadow of a house. Darkness made them almost invisible as long as they didn't step into the light.
"Suggestions?" Aaron whispered.
The legionnaires of the Chicago cell of the Gray Spear Society were engaged in a nighttime training exercise. The goal was to walk from Harlem Avenue to the Ryan Expressway while being invisible the entire time. The journey was seven miles long and went through some of the roughest parts of the city. Aaron had chosen this night in particular because the streets were unusually busy. Furthermore, he had imposed a two hour time limit. He liked nearly impossible challenges.
Smythe contemplated the street in front of them with his blue eyes. It was a major avenue and breaks in the traffic were rare. According to the rules of the exercise, the team couldn't allow any drivers to see them.
"It's too open, sir," he said, "and there are too many lights. I think we'll have to try another spot."
"Laramie runs all the way north and south," Aaron said, "and it's this busy everywhere. There isn't a better spot. It's time to get creative, gentlemen. Act like this is a real mission and it matters."
He already had several ideas for how to cross the street, but he wanted his team members to have thoughts of their own. This was a training exercise for their minds as well as their bodies.
"If that were the case," Smythe said. "I'd blow something up to create a distraction. But this is just training. I don't want to destroy private property."
"Still, it's an idea we can build on. Norbert?"
"We could call the twins, sir," Norbert said. "They could mess with the traffic lights and stop traffic in both directions for a couple of minutes."
"That's also a good idea," Aaron said.
Norbert smiled.
"But it feels like cheating," Aaron added. "This is training for us, not the twins. Let's focus on Smythe's suggestion. How can we create a distraction big enough to clear the street without causing much property damage? Did anybody bring pyrotechnics?"
"I have a pocket demolitions pack," Norbert said.
"Excellent. I have a cigarette lighter. Always useful in a pinch. Smythe?"
"I just have my usual assortment of light weapons, sir," Smythe said.
"Did you bring burglar's tools and lock picks at least?" Aaron said.
"Lock picks. No tools."
Aaron frowned.
"Sorry, sir." Smythe lowered his gaze.
"Let's explore a little and see what we can use."
Aaron led the way down the street. Small homes were on this side, and they were generally just two stories. The lawns were in poor condition, and some had more weeds than grass. Loose litter had collected against fences and under bushes.
The men kept to the darkest shadows and made no noise. Pedestrians were walking along the sidewalk nearby, but they never even glanced in the team's direction. This is good practice, Aaron thought.
He came to a small, green car parked in a driveway. A cardboard sign in the window read, "FOR SALE $500 CASH." He nodded.
He turned to his companions and whispered, "We'll set the car on fire. That should stop traffic."
"But, sir," Smythe said, "I thought we wanted to avoid property damage."
Aaron took a cash roll out of his pocket and peeled off five hundred dollars. "It's our property now." He ran over to the front door of the house and shoved the money through the mail slot.
He snuck back to the car. The door was locked, so he spat at the glass. A glob of yellow sticky material bubbled furiously. The greasy smoke smelled like burnt toast. A hole formed in the window which allowed him to reach the lock. He opened the door, released the emergency brake, and put the transmission in neutral.
Smythe and Norbert were crouched outside the car.
"Norbert," Aaron whispered, "put your demolition charge under the gas tank. Three minute delay."
"Yes, sir." Norbert nodded.
When the bomb was set, all three men pushed the car down the driveway almost to the street.
"Follow me," Aaron said.
At a quick pace, he led his legionnaires away from the car. They were three houses down when the bomb exploded with enough force to lift the car off the ground. An impressive amount of fire spewed out and the wreck continued to burn afterwards.
Aaron went another fifty yards before signaling for everybody to get down. The team hid behind a line of bushes. It took just a couple of minutes for the police and fire departments to arrive. The authorities closed off the street at both ends while they tried to put out the car fire. The pedestrians watched the show with interest. It was great entertainment for a Saturday night.
When the way was clear, Aaron led his men safely across the street to the brown brick apartment building. He worked his way around to an unlit alley in back. It would provide them safe passage for at least another half-mile.
There was unexpected activity in the alley. Two African-American men were holding a third by the arms, and they had him against a brick wall. A woman was punching the captive in the gut, putting the full weight of her body behind each heavy blow. Two other men watched from a short distance away with their arms crossed.
The attackers were dressed in brown sweat suits with hoods over their heads. Blue ski masks partially concealed their faces. The victim wore a plaid shirt and dirty jeans.
The woman fascinated Aaron. She was big and strong, but not so much that it took away from her femininity. He wondered what she looked like under the ski mask. She hit like a man, an angry man. She had a special quality that Aaron couldn't quite put into words. She stood out from the others like a tree in a field of grass.
He faced Norbert and Smythe. "Cover me."
"Sir?" Norbert said. "Why are you getting involved in this?"
"There is a story here. I'm curious what it is. We'll suspend the training exercise for a little while."
Aaron walked down the middle of the alley without trying to hide his presence. He allowed his footsteps to be loud. The woman stopped beating her captive and looked at Aaron.
"Hi," he said. "What's going on?"
The
woman took a bold step towards him. She seemed to be the leader of the gang. "Are you a cop?"
"No. Just a concerned citizen."
He walked right up to her. The top of her head came up to his nose, and his arms were as thick as her thighs, but she didn't seem intimidated.
"Get the fuck out of here," she said.
He heard movement as one of her companions got behind him.
"Stop," Aaron said. "I'm warning you. I don't like being attacked from behind."
He heard another footstep. He launched a back kick at his unseen opponent and connected with something soft. Aaron glanced over his shoulder. One of the men was lying on the ground and clutching his gut. He made soft choking noises as he tried to breathe.
Aaron faced the woman just in time to see her coming at him. He grabbed her wrist when her fist was just inches from his face. She flailed at him with her other arm, so he grabbed that wrist with his free hand. She tried to knee his groin. He shoved her against the wall to express his annoyance with her antics. When she still didn't settle down, he twisted her arms until she gasped in pain.
"Calm down," he growled in her ear. He turned her around so he could keep an eye on her friends. "Stay back, or I'll break her arms!"
The captive ran away. Aaron was now facing four male adversaries, but one of them was still on the ground.
"Let's start again," Aaron said. "Why were you beating up that man?"
Nobody responded to the question. The woman continued to squirm despite her arms being in a very painful hold. She was quite strong and determined to escape.
"There is one thing you need to know about me," he said in a flat tone. "When I ask a question, I always get an answer. This is the last time I ask nicely. Why?"
"He's a dealer," the woman said.
"So? A lot of people sell drugs around here. It's the main industry."
"He was selling to school kids."
Aaron furrowed his brow. "Why do you care?"
"I care because it's a bad thing! Kids should be safe from that shit."
He contemplated that response for a moment. It wasn't what he had expected to hear.
"I'm going to let you go," he said to the woman. "Don't try to fight me or run away. I just want to talk. Do you promise you'll behave?"
She made a noncommittal grunt.
"I didn't hear you." He squeezed her wrist hard enough to grind the bones together.
She winced. "I promise."
He let go of her.
She immediately backed up and yelled, "Get him!"
Three men attacked Aaron simultaneously. He needed just five seconds to put them on the ground. They never even touched him.
The woman ran down the alley.
"Stop her!" he yelled.
Norbert stepped out of the shadows. She wasn't paying attention and ran straight into him. She bounced off his chest like she had hit a rubber wall. He grabbed her when she was still stunned and marched her back to Aaron. Smythe followed a few paces behind.
Aaron glared at the woman. "You made a promise."
"To a cop." She returned his glare defiantly.
"I already told you I'm not a cop. What's your name?"
She kept her mouth closed. Norbert had her arms locked behind her back.
Aaron threw back her hood and pulled off her ski mask. She had a smooth, pretty face, and her skin was the color of milk chocolate. Her brown eyes smoldered with anger. Three silver rings in each eyebrow gave her a savage appearance. Wavy, black hair went down to the middle of her back. She seemed to be in her mid-twenties.
One of the men on the ground started to get up.
Smythe drew a pistol. "Stay down!"
The man stayed down.
Aaron searched the woman until he found a thin, purple wallet in one of her pockets. He examined its contents.
"Give that back, you cocksucker!" she yelled.
Aaron stepped away. He took out his bulky, gray phone and called Bethany back at headquarters.
She answered immediately, "Hello, sir."
"Hi," he said. "I need a quick background check on a woman. Tawni Williams. Illinois resident." He read the identification number from the driver's license in the wallet.
"Found her," Bethany said after a few seconds. "She lives on the west side of Chicago, near your current location. There are five warrants out for her arrest."
"Five?" Aaron glanced at Tawni.
"Three for aggravated assault and two for illegal firearms possession. Let me check the police reports." He heard typing in the background. "Tawni is part of a gang known as the Lake Street Vigilantes. All of them are wanted for questioning."
He looked at the men lying on the ground. "I think we found this gang. What are they accused of?"
"A large number of violent offenses," Bethany said. "Mostly assault."
"Drugs?"
"Not that I can see, sir."
"Interesting." Aaron clucked his tongue.
"Is Norbert coming back soon? Leanna and I want to go home. We've been packing all day and we're tired."
"He'll be out with me for at least another hour. If you need to sleep later than usual tomorrow morning, I'll understand."
"Thank you, sir."
Aaron put away his phone. He walked over to Tawni and shoved her wallet back in her pants. "Tell me about the Lake Street Vigilantes."
She stiffened. "Never heard of them."
"That's funny. You seem to be the leader. There are warrants for your arrest."
For the first time, he saw uncertainty on her face. "We fight crime," she said after a hesitation.
"Don't the police do that?"
"They do a shitty job."
He couldn't argue with her assessment. The west side of Chicago was such a notorious slum that taxis refused to pick up passengers here.
He looked down at the four men on the ground. They had regained consciousness and were alert. They were staying down though, thanks to Smythe and his rock steady .45 caliber pistol.
"Go!" Aaron commanded. "All of you. Get out of here."
The men looked to Tawni for guidance. Aaron pulled a G36C from a holster under his shirt. The compact assault rifle fired at a rate of 750 rounds per minute, fast enough to empty the magazine in 2.4 seconds. Aaron had removed the stock to make it easier to conceal.
"I told you to run!" he bellowed.
The men scrambled to get away as fast as their wobbly legs would carry them.
Aaron went back to Tawni.
"What are you going to do?" she said with a sneer. "Rape me? You like chocolate?"
Her bravery impressed him. Most women would be crying by now. He also liked the anger in her eyes which made him think of his beloved Marina.
"Let go of her," he commanded.
Norbert released her arms. Tawni rubbed her sore shoulders and looked at the legionnaires on either side with an uneasy expression.
"Have you ever killed anybody?" Aaron said.
"Why?" she said.
He pressed the barrel of his G36C against the underside of her chin. "Answer the question."
"Once." She swallowed. "I was stationed overseas, and I shot an enemy."
"You were a soldier?"
"National Guard."
Smythe and Norbert were giving Aaron curious looks.
"You're obviously not a soldier now," Aaron said. "What made you become a vigilante?"
Tawni hesitated.
Smythe put the barrel of his gun against her ear and cocked the hammer. "The man asked you a question, miss."
"When I got back home," she said, "what I saw here made me sick. This neighborhood is worse than some of the shitholes I fought in. I had to do something about the crime. I had to make a difference."
Aaron saw understanding in the eyes of Smythe and Norbert. They got it now.
"A bold decision," Aaron said. "A young woman could easily get killed or worse doing what you're doing. Aren't you afraid?"
She stood a little taller. "I can't just sit
on my ass and pretend everything is fine. That's what my mother used to do!"
"Your mother?"
She looked away.
"Why didn't you just join the police?" he said. "They would give you equipment, training, and support. That would be much better than sneaking around at night dressed like chumps. Crime isn't something you can solve by yourself, no matter how brave you are. Do you have a particular problem with the police?"
She snarled but remained quiet.
He put his hand on her throat. "Talk!"
"I don't like cops."
"Why?"
"They aren't my people." She looked into his eyes. "They don't... feel right."
He smiled. She had given him a very good answer.
"Who are you?" she said.
"Ask a different question," he said. "Are we your people? Do we feel right? Am I the man you've been looking for your whole life?"
She studied him for a moment. Suddenly, she appeared startled.
He stepped back. "Gentleman, let's go." He headed down the dark alley at a brisk walk.
Smythe and Norbert jogged to catch up to Aaron.
"You want to recruit her, sir?" Smythe said.
Aaron nodded. "We'll have to do our due diligence first. I need to know a lot more about her before taking the next step." He cracked a smile. "This will be the first time I recruited a legionnaire. It will be a learning experience for me. What's your opinion?"
"She's raw. Very raw. She'll need a lot of training."
"I'm sure that's true. Hopefully, she'll be worth it."
"I don't think you made a good first impression, sir," Norbert said. "She already hates your guts."
Aaron shrugged. "Then it's a good thing I'll be her commander and not her boyfriend."
* * *
Aaron drove a moving van through the same neighborhood he had walked through last night. Bright sunlight gleamed from the windshield and made him squint. He was a little tired, but a couple of strong cups of coffee were compensating for a lack of sleep. The training exercise had been very productive, and he was proud of himself for devising it. It had just taken longer than expected.
He drove up to the red brick warehouse that had served as his headquarters until today. The blank walls didn't appear any different, but it was no longer an official stronghold of the Gray Spear Society. It was now just a place where death still lingered like a house guest that had overstayed his welcome.