The Reluctant Warrior (Warriors Series Book 2)

by Ty Patterson

  Chloe shook her head and smiled faintly. ‘That’s low profile?’

  Bear grinned. ‘For me, yes.’

  They left half an hour later after the owner had waved away their attempts to pay the check. They passed Bwana and Roger on the street and exchanged the barest of nods with them.

  It was late in the evening, nearly nine p.m., and Broker and Tony were playing cards on a bench in front of the restaurant when a black BMW sedan circled the service station twice. Broker threw down a card. ‘Maybe something here.’

  The BMW went away, returned after half an hour at an idling pace and nosed inside the forecourt, reversed and backed up against the glass doors. A slim man in a loose shirt slipped out of the passenger side and headed inside. They could see him talk briefly to the pimpled guy behind the counter and return to the waiting car with two bulging plastic shopping bags.

  The BMW sped off, and a few minutes later, Broker saw a dark Ford SUV merge in the traffic three cars behind it.

  ‘He’s checking something in the bags… maybe counting.’ Roger’s voice was clear in their earbuds over the hum of the traffic. ‘Bear, Chloe, where’re you guys?’

  ‘Behind you, four car lengths away. You can’t see us, but I can see your black top.’

  Broker looked at his cards. ‘Keep behind them. My guess is they’ll collect a few more takings before heading to Hamm’s garage. Tony and I’ll be here just in case we’ve got the wrong car.’

  ‘What if we’ve got the wrong car? Might be Joe Public picking up stuff?’

  ‘We’ll flash a wad of cash and make good any hassle.’

  They hadn’t got the wrong vehicle.

  The BMW stopped at another service station and a strip club and then headed downtown, taking the East Side Highway.

  Broker and Tony folded their cards. ‘Take them.’

  They all donned black masks, Chloe tucking her hair in, as Roger closed the gap on the Beamer, tailgating the cars ahead till they dropped off, and saw Bear overtake them from the corner of his eyes. The last car stubbornly remained in place and gave way only after Roger drove to an inch of its rear, but not before the driver rolled down his window and flipped them the finger.

  Bear’s brake lights flared red ahead, and Roger surged, motion and machine slamming into the Beamer, ramming it against Bear’s truck. The Beamer was strong, German engineering at its best, but it was no match for a Ford SUV sandwich, its hood and trunk grating and buckling under the impact.

  Steam and smoke roiled and shadows moved, and the shadows became Bear and Bwana.

  They loomed silently, looking down at the hoods, who were dazed and slapping away at the deflating bags and the powder in the air. One of them, Loose Shirt, reached for his waist, and Bwana smiled against his mask – he’d spotted the 5Clubs tat on the thug’s neck. He smashed his Glock in the man’s mouth. ‘Don’t.’

  Bear bored his gun in the driver’s temple and gestured silently for his weapon and handed it to Roger without a backward glance. Bwana disarmed Loose Shirt and reached down and hauled the bags out.

  ‘You fucks–’ the driver started, and Bear slashed his jaw. The driver looked in his eyes showing through the holes in the black hood and saw a world of hurt and kept quiet.

  Cars and trucks slowed down and then sped off when Chloe’s hooded face trained on them, her gun shining and hard and visible under the streetlights.

  Bwana tossed plastic ties across the roof to Bear. ‘Hands,’ he said to Loose Shirt.

  Loose Shirt hesitated for the slightest moment, then put his hands forward, and Bwana secured them tightly with the ties. Bear cuffed the driver, pulled open the glove box, and riffling through the papers, pocketed them. ‘We’re done here, bro,’ he said to Bwana.

  Their trucks were dented, but the engines turned over smoothly, and they disappeared into the night.

  Broker counted the bundles in the bags. ‘Enough to buy an apartment downtown. Whoever said crime doesn’t pay didn’t know shit.’

  They were having dinner after checking into another anonymous joint and handing over the SUVs to Tony and his stringy colleague. The vehicles had untraceable number plates and, after being wiped down, hosed, and valeted, would be left on a crime-ridden street with the keys in them. And would be stolen.

  Broker took a long pull of his beer and settled in his chair, the dim light shining off his hair. ‘I made some calls. NYPD picked up those guys within fifteen minutes of your leaving. They got a description of three hooded men and nothing much else to go on. They’ve diligently noted their report and have assured them they’ll investigate the holdup. They’ll probably check camera feeds and ask for witnesses to come forward, but will get nowhere. If we’d left their guns behind, those guys would have some explaining to do their own selves.’ He grinned. ‘We’ve got our first report filed against us, you know.’

  Chloe shrugged. ‘I’m sure it’ll keep us awake at night.’ She nodded at the bags. ‘What do we do with those?’

  ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘Maybe some charity can have a pleasant surprise tomorrow?’

  ‘You got it. Name your charity, and we’ll leave it on their premises at night. Now something else. Remember that phone Roger picked up in Arizona? I juiced it up and went through its history, directory, everything that it had.’

  He took another swig, letting the silence build and, when Chloe rolled her eyes, continued. ‘Wasn’t much in it, other than a few numbers. Four numbers, in fact.’ He nodded at Roger and Bwana. ‘There were three other numbers you guys didn’t spot. Two of those were numbers in L.A., one of them a New York number, and the last was a voice mail number.

  ‘Now the two L.A numbers belong to a scrap dealer… a junkyard where they make scrap out of old bangers. This junkyard is owned by 5Clubs; the LAPD know about it and have a watch on it.

  ‘The New York number is an untraceable one, most likely a disposable one. And the last one is interesting, a mailbox number. I think that’s how they pass messages, by leaving messages on a voice mailbox that everyone can access.’

  ‘Have you tried these numbers?’ Bear asked him.

  ‘Only the New York one, and that turned out to be a dead one. Shall we try the others?’

  Bwana’s emphatic, ‘Hell yeah,’ made him chuckle. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the phone, a Nokia model that smart phones had rendered almost obsolete.

  Bwana picked it up and scrolled through the history. He frowned. ‘This isn’t…’ and the phone rang.

  He turned on the speaker and placed it in the center of the table.

  A young voice came out, tinny and hesitating. ‘Zeb?’

  Part 3

  Chapter 25

  They filled Elaine Rocka’s dining room, Bwana silent and large at one end of the table, Bear bookending at the other end, and Roger, Broker, and petite Chloe in the middle.

  Elaine sat in silence, her eyes narrowed, her dogs, German shepherds, sitting either side of her, ready to attack at a word. Shawn had called the number every day, increasingly in despair than hope, and she had seen his face transform when the phone was finally answered.

  ‘So run it past me again. Just who the fuck are you?’

  No one was going to meet her babies without her approval.

  ‘Ma’am, we’re friends of Zeb. We all served in the army together, and once we left the army, we set up a security services firm.’ Broker was economical with the truth with strangers, and this was the strangest situation he could recall having been in.

  They had blurred through the city after hanging up, each one of them lost in their own worlds.

  ‘Zeb’s phone was dead and lying in my room for ages. Looks identical to the phone Roger had. I must have charged it by mistake and brought it with me,’ Broker said after a long while.

  No one replied, and he sped faster, allowing the traffic to imprint itself back on them, keeping the memories at bay. His phone rang just as they reached the Bronx.

  ‘Tony, what’ve
you got?’

  ‘Elaine Rocka, early forties, lives alone in the Bronx, owns her house. Divorced several times, received quite a payoff from the last one. No kids. Works part-time in the mayor’s office, in the payroll department. Now, get this. This is where the connection could be.

  ‘Has a sister, Coralyn Rocka, who was married to one William Shattner. Shattner was an E-5 in the army… was dishonorably discharged. Served in Iraq at the same time as Zeb.’

  Tony paused and carried on when there was no reaction. ‘Shattner and his wife separated when he was in Iraq; she’s now in Miami with some other dude. Shattner got custody of the kids, two of them, a boy, eleven years old, and a girl, eight years.’

  Chloe broke in. ‘Tony, any specific connection to Zeb? We had enough feet there to populate a small city, and Zeb would have interacted with many.’

  ‘As of now, nothing’s come up. Will keep digging and call if I get anything. Broker, let me know if you need anything else.’

  Elaine Rocka lasered Broker. ‘So why isn’t this Zeb here?’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  Elaine Rocka didn’t like it one bit. It showed in her face, in her body language, and the dogs sensed it. One stood and walked around them, the other growled.

  ‘So if he’s dead, why are you fuckers here? You could have said that on the phone.’

  ‘Ma’am, we wanted to see what the connection to Zeb was. Why would the boy call Zeb?’

  ‘He called because the SOB who passed for his dad left him a message to call this Zeb if anything happened to him. He doesn’t know anything else.’

  ‘Did he say how he knew Zeb?’

  Elaine Rocka shook her head. ‘You aren’t hearing me, mister. Shawn doesn’t know anything else. The prick, his dad, didn’t say much in his entire life.’

  Broker chose his words carefully. ‘The boy’s father, he’s not around?’

  ‘Prick disappeared three months back. Left the babies here and said he had some work to attend to.’ She snorted. ‘Work! Asswipe never did an honest day’s work in his life.

  ‘Not a peep from him since then. No way to contact him. My babies… just as I got them on the mend, you fuckers show up.’ Her look burnt the air around them.

  Broker kept his voice neutral. ‘He’s been missing for three months? Ma’am, have you reported his absence to the police? Do the children know he’s missing?’

  If a glare could burn, Broker would have been ashes.

  She spat. ‘William Shattner is a thief. He was sacked from the army for stealing and selling arms. When his wife, my sister, broke up with him, he conned the judge into granting him custody of the kids. He drifted all over the country with the kids in tow, never stayed in one place for long, doing odd jobs. I kept track of him because I wanted the kids, wanted to bring them up. He started dealing in arms again, supplying them to gangs.

  ‘When he brought the kids here, they came home.’ The word filled the room.

  ‘I go to the police, they’re going to want to speak to the kids, go to their school… you think I’m going to subject my babies to that? I’ll tell the police in good time. My good time.’

  Chloe broke the silence gently. ‘Elaine, we’re here just to understand the connection to Zeb, not say or do anything that will hurt the children. We aren’t here to change any circumstances. Perhaps we could speak to them? Talking might help them remember.’

  The lasers turned on Chloe. ‘Honey, I work in the mayor’s office. I deal with smooth-talking scumbags all the time. I know all the tricks in the book and those that aren’t. I know what you’re doing with your sweet-as-syrup voice. Won’t work. You aren’t talking to my babies. I’m going to make life good for them, not remind them of that worthless piece of shit, their dad.’

  She glared at each of them, the dogs barking once to punctuate her.

  Roger’s voice rumbled in the room, surprising them all. ‘Ma’am, we lost Zeb over a year back, and while we are moving on, the pain is still fresh. If you were in our place, wouldn’t you want to know what the connection was?’

  ‘Just what do you guys do? If your Zeb was that no-account’s help line, then I’m guessing you guys are up to no good too.’

  Broker was unruffled. ‘Ma’am, I’m taking a leap of faith here. We are a Special-Ops unit… we do stuff that cannot be done by any government agency. Commissioner Forzini and Deputy Commissioner Rolando know us and know me personally. I can give you more references if you wish.’

  Elaine Rocka studied him, thinking it over. Shawn and Lisa meant the world to her, and her rage at the way the kids had been brought up was matched by her determination to give them a happier life. Broker had mentioned those names easily, an ease that came with familiarity. The quicker she got them out of her house, the sooner she could get back to her kids and restore normalcy, and maybe it was the only way.

  She got up abruptly and left the room, signaling the dogs to stay behind.

  She came back shortly leading a tall, brown-eyed, brown-haired boy with her, holding his hand. The boy walked hesitantly and glanced up at Elaine, who smiled at him reassuringly.

  Bwana leaned forward, a broad smile splitting his face, lighting up the room. ‘Hey, I’m a Yankees fan too. This guy here’ – he glanced pityingly in Roger’s direction – ‘he supports the Sox.’

  Shawn relaxed immediately and, patting his sweatshirt, grinned in return. ‘All of us can’t be perfect, I guess.’

  Bwana chuckled and exchanged high fives with Shawn. ‘Damned right.’ He apologized immediately. ‘Excuse my language, ma’am, Shawn. What can I say! These heathens with me lack refinement and try their best to drag me down to their level.’

  Broker had his game face on but smiled inside when he noticed the almost imperceptible relaxing in Elaine Rocka. That was almost an approving nod.

  Bwana introduced all of them, Broker last. ‘Yes, he’s really called Broker. He peddles information, so we all started calling him that, and the name stuck.’

  Broker deadpanned, ‘They couldn’t remember my real name, had to call me something.’

  ‘Does your dad have any nickname for you, Shawn?’

  He shook his head. ‘He says he wouldn’t have named me Shawn if he wanted to call me something else.’

  Elaine Rocka shifted subtly in her seat, the pleasantries were over.

  ‘Honey, what did your father tell you about Zeb?’

  Shawn’s smile faded. ‘Dad left a note along with a phone in my school bag. It said if there was any trouble and he wasn’t around, I should call Zeb. He would know what to do. He wrote Zeb’s number on it.’

  ‘Did he mention where he was going, Shawn?’ Chloe asked him.

  Shawn shook his head, his eyes glimmering. ‘No. He worked in a garage and tended to keep late hours, but he never went away for days. He said there was some work stuff he had to attend to and got Lisa and me out of school so that we could stay with Aunt Elaine.’

  He bit his lip to keep it from trembling. ‘I waited a couple of days to hear from him, and when I didn’t, I told Aunt Elaine, and she said we should try calling Zeb. We’ve been trying for more than two months.’ He looked accusingly at Broker.

  Broker looked pained. ‘Shawn, your aunt might have mentioned, Zeb died over a year back. After that, I just stopped charging his phone. I juiced it up by mistake yesterday and got your call.’

  He gave Shawn a searching look. ‘Your father say anything about how he knew Zeb?’

  ‘No. He never talked about his past. He said just once that if there was anyone in his life who he would go to for help, it was Zeb. I asked who that was, but he didn’t say anything. Is he really dead?’ His voice trembled slightly, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

  ‘Yes, honey, he died a while back,’ Chloe said gently. ‘Where did your dad work? Did he leave you with anything else, other than the phone?’

  ‘He was a mechanic in Brownsville Autos, over in Brownsville.’

  The bright eyes turned to all of them, strug
gling to find hope in a world gone bleak. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to my dad… Lisa cries at night and asks me, and I tell her he’s gone for work.’ His hands balled into fists and angrily brushed away the tears rolling down.

  Elaine Rocka crushed him in a hug, her eyes shut tight, and when they opened, she reduced all of them to the size of insects.

  Chloe cleared her throat, meeting her eyes, hoping she understood, but knowing she didn’t care about their reasons. She turned to Shawn. ‘Honey, I’m sure there are good reasons why he’s been away. We’ll ask at the garage. Maybe they’ll know.’

  The battle-axe broke her silence. ‘Did. They’ve shut down. Checked records.’ She nodded in the direction of One Police Plaza, the NYPD headquarters. ‘They’ve disappeared.’

  She glanced down at Shawn. ‘Shawn, why don’t you go play with Lisa? I’ll finish up with these people and join you soon.’

  He stood slowly, glancing at them, hope dying in his eyes, knowing what that usually meant in adult-speak, and turned to leave. He stopped when he saw the head peeking through the door.

  They all turned to look.

  Blonde curls framing her expressive eyes, Lisa asked them, ‘Will you find my dad?’

  Chapter 26

  ‘Brownsville Autos is 5Clubs owned.’ The words hung in the air, sinking slowly in them, as Tony turned his laptop screen toward them, showing them a complicated ownership trail of the garage he’d drawn that led back to the gang.

  They had driven back in near silence from Elaine Rocka’s home, each lost in their thoughts, Broker breaking the silence once to call Tony to, ‘Get off your ass and earn your money.’

  They were in another café, the ‘don’t-even’ vibe around them keeping the waitress away.

  ‘Jose Cruz, the chapter head, was based out of the auto shop till a few months back when the garage closed abruptly. About the same time as Shattner went missing. I haven’t yet been able to find out why, nor where the gang is working from now.’