Cheese Wrestling: A Lt. Jack Daniels/Chief Cole Clayton Thriller

by J. A. Konrath

  She navigated around several mattresses spread out across the floor, more girls sprawled on top of them. The room was crammed with four bare mattresses and the girl dropped down onto one of them, searching on the floor in the dark for something.

  “Where is it? Son of a bitch, I just had it,” the girl hissed, getting frustrated. Jack flicked on her flashlight and shined it in the girl’s direction. The girl muttered thanks as she came up with a half-filled syringe and said, “Thanks. Sergei makes me share mine with the other girls. It’s such bullshit.”

  She jabbed the syringe into the crook of her left arm and depressed the stopper, sending the remaining liquid inside the needle’s barrel into her vein.

  Clayton’s light shone around the rest of the room and stopped on the metal wires of a large dog cage placed at the far corner of the room. There was one next to it as well. Inside each, naked and curled up in the grip of heroin dreams, were two girls.

  “Jesus,” Jack said.

  He didn’t move to help them, and neither did Jack, though he could see the anger and revulsion on her face. They’d free them after they cleared the house.

  Two doors to go.

  Clayton took the first one, pushing the door open with one hand while keeping his gun in front of him, Jack positioned close behind him, watching the remainder of the hallway.

  Clayton went into the room a few feet, stopped and backed out into the hallway.

  “Two more,” he said. “In cages.”

  “Is one Alice?”

  Cole nodded. “Hard to tell, but I think so. Even if it isn’t, these are someone’s daughters.”

  Jack posted up on the left side of the last bedroom door and whispered, “Do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved in breaking a kidnapping ring that ties into the international slave trade?”

  Clayton smiled at her as he raised his gun and took the other side, getting himself ready. “No paperwork for me. This is an away game. I get to have all the fun and you get to clean up all the mess.”

  “Remind me to come visit your town someday.”

  He smiled and nodded and said, “On three?”

  Jack took a deep breath, then said, “Wait. What’s cheese wrestling?”

  He looked at her and said, “What?”

  “Cheese wrestling. You mentioned it earlier.”

  “Jesus, right now?” Clayton said.

  “I have to know.”

  “It’s when the bikers want to get into the club, they have to stuff their asses full of Cheese Whiz. Then they wrestle naked. The first guy to stick his finger up the other one’s ass and scoop it out and… um… eat it, wins.”

  Jack’s face remained stiff and still. “They call that a win?”

  “You asked.”

  “You shouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place. That’s not an image I’m going to easily forget.”

  “I apologize.”

  “How badly do you want to get into a gang in order to do that?”

  “Can we get past the cheese wrestling?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get past the cheese wrestling. What went through the mind of the guy who thought that up? Was he bored on a Thursday night, saw some canned cheese, and said, you know what I feel like doing with my buddies right now?”

  “I’ll ask Poop and Property of Poop when I see them at the arraignment.”

  “If you get an answer, don’t tell me.”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  They counted down to three in unison, taking deep breaths before finishing the count. Then both of them leaned back and kicked the door open as hard as they could. Loud shouts of “Police, don’t move!!” and “Police, hands in the air, scumbag!” and more orders followed, until they realized the man lying on the bed in the middle of the room was snoring too loudly to hear them. His round, hairy belly rose and fell with each snore, his arms and legs sticking out from under the thin blanket covering him.

  Jack calmly walked around the side of the bed and put the barrel of her gun against the man’s forehead and said, “Hey, Sergei.”

  No response.

  “Probably had a long day,” Cole said. “Human trafficking can really exhaust a fellow.”

  Jack tapped his skull with the gun’s frame, using it like a doorknocker. “Hey, Sergei! Wake up!”

  “Leave me alone, you stupid skank!” he growled as he rolled over slightly, starting to open his eyes. “I don’t have any smack left. Go to hell.”

  “Do you have this caliber of criminal in your town?” Jack asked Cole.

  “Not sure,” Cole said. “Should we check him for cheese?”

  “You said you wouldn’t mention that again.”

  “Apologies. That was the last time.”

  Jack holstered her weapon, and slipped a handcuff on Sergei’s wrist. Then she wrenched his other arm back to snap on the second bracelet, as he screamed in pain and protest.

  “Fuck! Who the hell are you people? You want to die? You know who I am, you bitch?”

  Jack sighed as she lifted her police badge off her chest and showed it to Sergei, holding it just inches over his suddenly-wide eyes.

  Jack shrugged at Clayton. “This is what always happens to me whenever I meet new guys. I try to make a good first impression and they call me names and tell me there’s no more heroin. Is it me?” She looked back at Sergei and said, “It’s me, right? It must be.”

  Within ten minutes, the block became a blinking sea of red and blue lights. Uniforms and detectives were scurrying around, getting names and talking to next door neighbors. Ambulance personnel were carrying the girls out one by one on stretchers, talking about which fluids they needed to start pumping into them immediately, which ones were on the brink of death from dehydration and starvation.

  The streetlights were off now; probably timed to go out when the sun crested the rooftops of the buildings in the Ukrainian Village. Every porch and stoop was crowded with people, all eager to see what was happening. They’d all say the same thing. “This isn’t that sort of neighborhood” and “Things like that don’t happen around here.”

  They don’t happen around anywhere, Cole thought bitterly, until you find out they do.

  He scanned the sea of people until he noticed Lt. Daniels, heading for her car. He jogged to catch up.

  “You just going to leave me here without saying goodbye?” he said. “I’m too wired to sleep, and was going to grab breakfast. Hungry?”

  She grinned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Cole, but right now the only thing I want to do is sleep. And I have you to thank for that.”

  He nodded. “I think I understand. Sometimes sleep isn’t easy in our line of work. I’m going to go over to the hospital and call Alice’s parents. I’m looking forward to making that phone call.”

  “I bet,” Jack said. She held her hand out and said, “It was good working with you, Chief.”

  Clayton took her hand in his, not squeezing it as hard as the first time, but holding it a little longer and said, “You too, Lieutenant. Take care.”

  He watched her get into her car, and figuring he’d never see her again, said, “I’m gonna send you something when I get home as a thank you. Keep an eye out for it.”

  “Not anything cheese-based, I hope.”

  “No. I was going to go with liquor. A celebratory drink is called for, I think.”

  “Let me guess,” Jack said. “Something from Tennessee?”

  “Tennessee? Do they make good vodka in Tennessee?”

  Her eyes crinkled at the edges. “I dunno. But I’ve heard they make pretty good whiskey there.”

  “Ah, I get those mixed up sometimes.” He raised his palm. “Goodbye, Jack Daniels.”

  “Goodbye, Cole Clayton.” She started the car, but before pulling away she unrolled the window. “Hey, if you’re heading to the hospital, I can drop you off.”

  “You sure it wouldn’t be any trouble?”

  “Nah.
It’s on the way home. But do me a favor.”

  “Of course.”

  Jack’s face became serious. “If we find ourselves surrounded by gangbangers, let’s shoot them this time.”

  Cole hesitated, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “Allow me to apologize, Lieutenant. It was all I could think of at the moment. I didn’t mean for it to be awkward, or to make you uncomfortable.”

  Jack’s stoic expression cracked, and she began to laugh. A deep, rich belly laugh. “Jesus, you really are Andy from Mayberry. Get your ass in the car, Cole, before I fall asleep where I’m sitting.”

  Cole began to laugh as well. “I was right. They sure don’t make them like you back home, Jack.”

  He took one last, long look at all the activity in the street, at all the good they’d done that night, and then got his ass into the car.

  The End

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Joe Konrath is the author of more than twenty novels and dozens of shorter works in the mystery, thriller, horror, and science fiction genres. He’s sold over two million books worldwide, and besides Bernard Schaffer he’s collaborated with bestsellers Blake Crouch, Barry Eisler, Ann Voss Peterson, Henry Perez, Tom Schreck, Jeff Strand, Jude Hardin, Iain Rob Wright, and F. Paul Wilson. He likes beer, pinball machines, and playing pinball when drinking beer. www.jakonrath.com

  Bernard Schaffer is the author of multiple titles in a wide-variety of genres including police procedurals, modern literature, sci-fi westerns, and historical murder mysteries. In addition to writing, Schaffer is the father of two children and a lifelong resident of the Philadelphia region. He spent his youth as a child actor and is now a decorated police veteran and expert witness in narcotics distribution. He’d like to thank Joe and Maria Konrath both for this opportunity and all they’ve done for the independent publishing movement.

  And for the record, he has never, ever cheese wrestled.

  ALSO BY BERNARD SCHAFFER

  Superbia 1

  Superbia 2 (featuring Cole Clayton)

  Superbia 3

  Cheese Wrestling (with J.A. Konrath)

  Snake Wine (with J.A. Konrath)

  Guns of Seneca 6

  Old-Time Lawmen

  Magnificent Guns of Seneca 6

  Immaculate Killers

  The Girl from Tenerife

  Whitechapel: The Final Stand of Sherlock Holmes

  ALSO BY J.A. KONRATH

  Jack Daniels Thrillers

  Whiskey Sour

  Bloody Mary

  Rusty Nail

  Dirty Martini

  Fuzzy Navel

  Cherry Bomb

  Shaken

  Stirred (with Blake Crouch)

  Last Call (with Blake Crouch)

  Shot of Tequila

  Banana Hammock

  Jack Daniels Stories (collected stories)

  Serial Killers Uncut (with Blake Crouch)

  Suckers (with Jeff Strand)

  Planter’s Punch (with Tom Schreck)

  Floaters (with Henry Perez)

  Truck Stop (short)

  Flee (with Ann Voss Peterson)

  Spree (with Ann Voss Peterson)

  Three (with Ann Voss Peterson)

  Hit (with Ann Voss Peterson)

  Exposed (with Ann Voss Peterson)

  Naughty (with Ann Voss Peterson)

  Babe on Board (short with Ann Voss Peterson)

  With a Twist (short)

  Street Music (short)

  Jacked Up! (with Tracy Sharp)

  Racked (with Jude Hardin)

  Straight up (with Iain Rob Wright)

  Cheese Wrestling (with Bernard Schaffer)

  Snake Wine (with Bernard Schaffer)

  Other Works

  Symbios

  Timecaster

  Timecaster Supersymmetry

  Wild Night is Calling (short with Ann Voss Peterson)

  Shapeshifters Anonymous (short)

  The Screaming (short)

  Afraid (writing as Jack Kilborn)

  Endurance (writing as Jack Kilborn)

  Trapped (writing as Jack Kilborn)

  Haunted House (writing as Jack Kilborn)

  Draculas (with Blake Crouch, Jeff Strand, and F. Paul Wilson)

  Origin

  The List

  Disturb

  65 Proof (short story omnibus)

  Crime Stories (collected stories)

  Horror Stories (collected stories)

  Dumb Jokes & Vulgar Poems

  A Newbie’s Guide to Publishing

  Be the Monkey (with Barry Eisler)

  Grandma? (with Talon Konrath)

  CHEESE WRESTLING

  Copyright © 2013 by Bernard Schaffer and Joe Konrath

  Cover and art copyright © 2013 by Carl Graves

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the authors.

  December 2013