The Fixer, Season 1

by Rex Carpenter

  *****

  An hour later JC, Joan and Duke were walking together through the lobby of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. Kowalski was waiting for them. To be precise, his agent was. The agent stopped the team. Spoke into the sleeve of his left arm. Listened. Pressed the earpiece against his ear.

  “Wait here.”

  JC saw no point in fighting his way through this man. Decided to sit. Watch people go by. Relatively few times in his life had he been able to relax. Truly relax. Just sit down without a care in the world. Like now. He wondered if he would be able to after this job was done. After he closed the company.

  Kowalski showed up after five minutes. Waved off the agent standing next to JC and his team. “Come with me.” Turned. Walked back to the elevators.

  JC followed, Joan and Duke behind him. The ride up was quiet. Fourteenth floor, Governor’s Suite, private access. Kowalski stopped in front of a door flanked by two agents. Turned to JC. “You know she’s pissed about Meier. Quiet pissed. Not angry pissed.”

  JC looked at his former friend. “Do you really think I did it?”

  “That’s what you do. Isn’t it?”

  JC shook his head. Refused to answer.

  “Go easy with her in there. She’s had a pretty hard time of it,” Kowalski said.

  “Or what, Guy?” JC was once again irritated by this man. Something about him seemed to push JC’s buttons too quickly. “You think you threaten me? Think you scare me? I’ve already kicked your ass in front of your team once. Would you like me to do it again? Or maybe let Joan knock you out again?”

  Duke turned to Joan, wide-eyed.

  The two agents, trained to see and say nothing, stood stock still.

  “You shut your damn mouth, Bannister,” Kowalski growled.

  “What are you gonna do, Guy?” JC said, taunting. “By my count, two thirds of my team has already knocked your dick in the dirt at least once. Want to see if we can make it three for three? Let Duke give you a chance to redeem yourself?” JC leaned forward. “I gotta warn ya, though. He’s a sneaky little devil. Joan and I were happy to just kick the crap out of you. Duke might want to do a little more than that. Might try to slide a knife in between your ribs. Shiv ya right good.”

  Kowalski cocked back his right fist. JC saw it coming. Extended his chin out for him. Challenging. Insulting.

  The door flew open. “You two knock that off this instant,” Senator Marcus barked at them.

  Kowalski sheepishly lowered his arm. JC looked at her. Unafraid.

  “Now get in here, all of you,” she continued. Opened the door fully. Walked inside, leaving them to close it.

  Kowalski entered. Head lowered slightly, like a schoolboy. JC followed with Joan and Duke trailing after him.

  Marcus led them into the main room. Wonderful view from the windows. Sofa, armchairs. Medium sized table to the left, littered with paperwork, laptops, water bottles. Bedroom and bathroom on both the right and left sides of the main room. No kitchen. Marcus sat on the sofa. JC sat in the largest armchair, facing the door. Duke stood, as did Joan. Kowalski sat in the chair closest to the sofa. Indicated to the three agents in the room to leave. They closed the door to the suite behind them.

  The senator was rubbing her forehead. JC waited. Still irritated by Kowalski.

  “I don’t recognize these agents,” JC said to him. “Did you have to dig up some new ones after our meeting at the library?”

  Kowalski ignored the bait. His clenched jaw showed that it required an enormous effort.

  “What, the last bunch lost all respect for you?” JC continued. “Couldn’t command them anymore?”

  “James, just be quiet.” Marcus said quietly. “For a damn minute. Please.” Marcus didn’t stop rubbing her head. JC acquiesced to her request and stopped talking.

  “You heard about Daniel?” she asked.

  JC nodded.

  “Guy tells me you were out of the country. I have to ask. Did you kill him?”

  JC shook his head slightly. Hesitated before diving in with both feet. “Senator Marcus, you know what I do. You know I am one of the best. If I wanted to kill Meier it would have been done quickly, quietly and with absolutely zero indicators that it was anything but a suicide. That is why you hired me. That is the level of professionalism I provide.”

  Marcus let her shoulders sag. Relieved. She may not have entirely bought JC’s denial. But her relief indicated she was willing to accept it on face value.

  “Thank you. Still. If I find out you had any part in his death? I will bury you. Completely,” she said.

  JC wasn’t fazed.

  “I don’t know what Kowalski’s been telling you, but I am a professional. Killing Meier would provide me with no advantage. I don’t enjoy killing. It is simply a marketable skill that I have. I can assure you I have only killed for three reasons. In defense of country, in defense of self and in service to a client.” He paused. Looked at Kowalski. Continued speaking to Marcus. “Can your agent here say the same thing?”

  Kowalski stood, moving forward. It was time. Duke and Joan moved in to guard their boss. JC expected them to come to his defense. He raised both hands to block them. He wanted to have it out with Kowalski. Once and for all. No outside help.

  “Enough!” Marcus yelled. Shrilly. Like a mother at the end of her rope, dealing with children who simply would not listen to her.

  Kowalski stopped. Sat. Joan and Duke stepped back. JC lowered his arms. Looked at the senator. He had heard that tone before. In his youth. When playtime with her children had turned into fighting. Only now he wasn’t a little kid anymore.

  “I have been on the phone all morning dealing with Meier’s suicide,” the senator said, a slight quiver in her voice. ”His father was here for several hours. He is distraught. Beside himself. Daniel’s mother died years ago. His son was all he had left. The president called. Concerned about my safety. I told him Kowalski here would be leading the investigation. Other senators have been calling. My husband.” Her hand was still at her forehead. It had stopped massaging her temples and was now shaking. Trembling. Her voice started to crack. “And all I can think about is ‘What am I going to do?’ ‘What’s going to happen after I’m gone?’ ‘Is it going to hurt?’“

  She stopped speaking. Cried quietly. JC stood. Sat next to her. Put his arm around her. Gave her his pocket kerchief. She turned into his shoulder. Began sobbing. Holding onto him. The man she had contracted to kill her.

  He said nothing.

  Her crying slowed. Stopped. “I think about the pain I’m in every single day. I can’t endure it much longer. I can barely eat. Every day feels like more than I can take. But then there’s another day. And another. And another after that. All filled with more pain than I can imagine. And I know it has to stop.”

  She stood. Walked to the window. Right arm across her midsection, holding her left elbow. Left hand dabbing her eyes with JC’s kerchief. Nobody in the room spoke.

  “But I can’t do it like this. Not like Meier. Leaving the people he loved behind to pick up the pieces. I can’t do that to my family. My girls.” Her voice caught again.

  JC stood. Walked to her side. “I know this may be indelicate, but I promised you compassion. I promised you discretion. I will keep my word. You will not feel it. There will be no pain. It will be swift and quiet. Nobody except the people in this room will ever know.” She turned to him. Hopeful. “There will be an autopsy,” JC continued. “I guarantee it. The rest of the world will then find out about your cancer. Be surprised at how long you were able to keep it a secret. Marvel at your strength.”

  Marcus shook her head. “And then what?”

  JC looked at her, nonplussed.

  “What happens after that?” the senator pressed. “After I am gone? How does my passing help anyone but myself?”

  She returned to the sofa. “Everyone knows there are rumblings about me running for president in the next election. I had planned to,” she said. “Even though my energy lev
els had decreased and I was often sick, I still planned to run for president. It was my time. But after the diagnosis, I knew it would never happen. But there are ways I can still help my party. Still help ensure the right person gets elected.”

  This conversation was beginning to sound like ones JC had in smaller countries across the world in the last seven years. Conversations about overthrowing governments. Influencing elections. Killing presidents. One thing his father told him years ago had always helped guide him in this business. It had never steered him wrong. When he heeded it. And the more the senator spoke, the louder it got in his head.

  Don’t shit where you eat, son.

  “Senator,” JC said, stopping her, “I’m not sure where you’re going with this. But let me be clear. My team is not a political assassination squad. While I may have done things like that years ago, that is no longer a service we provide.”

  “Really?” The senator’s eyes flashed in challenge. “Tell me about Germany.”

  JC said nothing. Glared at her.

  “Joan? Want to tell me about Germany?”

  “If you have questions, ma’am, address them to Mr. Bannister, please,” Joan said. Cold.

  Marcus ignored Joan. Turned to Duke. “Or should we talk to Mr. Ellsworth about his little Saudi business?”

  “Ma’am?” Duke said, an uncomfortable look on his face.

  Marcus didn’t wait for more of an answer. Turned back to JC. “You’ve managed to effect regime change or attempt regime change in major countries all over the world in the past seven years. Big ones, small ones. But you’re unwilling to help me in what I am asking?”

  “Regime change and political assassination are rarely the same thing,” JC said. Paused. “You should know that, senator. Let’s be clear. What exactly are you asking us to do? On United States soil?” he said. His personal connection to her, her sacrifices for the country and the fact that he had already agreed to a contract with her prevented him from walking out the door.

  Marcus stared at JC.

  “You will publicly assassinate me. You will put a bullet in my head. You will use a particular rifle to do it. And you will frame others for the crime.”

  JC stared back at her. The air in the room had dropped about twenty degrees. Duke and Joan didn’t move. JC glanced at Kowalski. There was the barest hint of a smile on the agent’s face.

  “OK.” JC said. Duke and Joan quietly voiced their displeasure. He silenced them with a raised finger. “If the client wants to change the terms of the contract, then it is open for renegotiation. We will fulfill the contract per your new stipulations.”

  Marcus looked pleased. Slightly relieved.

  JC wasn’t finished.

  “For twenty million dollars.”

  Kowalski’s slight smile disappeared.

  “On top of the five million you’ve already paid.”

  Marcus shot up. Shaking. Ready to explode. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?” she hissed.

  JC glanced at Kowalski. Dark eyes, full of hate. But no action.

  “You’re surprised?” JC said to Senator Marcus. “You go from a calm, quiet death to a very public, very messy death that needs to be plausibly pinned on someone else? One that is likely to upset the balance of power in this country. In an attempt to influence the next presidential election? And you’re surprised that the price has changed?” JC paused. “Do you really think I’m the one who has lost their goddamn mind in this negotiation?”

  Senator Marcus picked up her water bottle. Her hand was shaking. Drank. Closed it. Threw it across the room at the flat screen television above the fireplace. It bounced away impotently. She stared at JC. Shook her head.

  “You’ll get your filthy money. Tomorrow. Enjoy it, you little bastard. Selling out your friends, your country. Dishonorable. Despicable. Revolting. You make me sick.” Her face was twisted in hate and rage. “Now get out of here. You will coordinate with Kowalski from now on. I don’t want to see you ever again, you son of a bitch.”

  JC rose. Looked at Senator Marcus. Looked at Kowalski. Then walked to the door. Duke and Joan followed.

  “Oh, and another thing,” the senator called out after them. “The General is coming. He’ll be here later today. I asked him to keep watch over this whole operation. Over you and your team. Personal favor to me. I don’t trust a damn one of you. This whole thing was supposed to be a discrete ending to a woman’s life. Now it’s turned into a political sideshow. Thanks to you.”

  She picked up another water bottle. Threw it at the departing team. This one did not have the top on it. It splashed water across the room.

  The senator swore, then dropped back into her chair as the tears of frustration came.

  Chapter 22

  Doused in Motor Oil

  Kowalski followed them out. Theo was waiting in the hall, out of breath. His casual beach attire had been replaced by a lightweight linen-colored suit. Loose-fitting and dapper, it flattered his bulkier frame and likely hid a number of guns. He stood next to the agent who had stopped JC and his team earlier.

  “Sir,” the agent said to Kowalski, “I tried to stop him, but he said he had a meeting with you.”

  “It’s all right, Shaw,” Kowalski said. “Return to your post.” Turned to Theo but the man was already talking to JC, ignoring Kowalski.

  “You’ve got two tails.”

  “What?” JC said as they stepped away from the group together.

  “Duke and Joan have one tail each. You’ve got two. Took me this long to figure it out. Second tail was following the Maserati. Guess they figured the boss would be driving the most expensive car.”

  “Who are they? The second tail?”

  “Bolivians, JC. The Mexican sent them.”

  “No way!” JC tried to keep his voice down but it wasn’t working well. “He’s in jail. Forever.”

  “You and I both know South American jails are fluid places,” Theo said. “Doesn’t matter. Inside, outside, he’s still got the money and juice to order a hit. On you. For old times’ sake.”

  JC rubbed his forehead.

  “It’s a four man team,” Theo continued. “They’re loaded up like Neo in the Matrix. Bags of guns, dude. I really don’t think they give a damn about killing a lot of people.” Theo’s phone rang. He answered quickly. Hung up. “They’re downstairs right now.”

  JC looked around. Kowalski was glaring at him. Duke and Joan were ready.

  “Did you hear me, man?” Theo said. “They’re walking in the lobby. We’ve got to get out of here. Now!”

  JC grabbed Kowalski’s arm. Started marching him to the stairwell, talking as they moved.

  “Guy, they’re going to tear this place apart if they find me. Is the senator secure?”

  “Jesus, Bannister, I told you to clean up your own mess befo—”

  “Is she secure?” JC yelled at Kowalski.

  The Secret Service agent hesitated.

  “Make her secure,” JC said. “That is your first priority. I won’t let her be cut down in some old feud of mine by some pasty-faced thugs. There’s no time. Do it now.”

  Kowalski turned around. Jogged back to the senator’s room, talking into his sleeve-mic.

  *****

  JC, Duke and Joan took the stairs. Running. Fast as they could. Two, three stairs at a time. Theo followed, surprisingly nimble for a man of his size. They got to the lobby in under a minute. Opened the fire door cautiously. Saw the four hitters across the lobby, waiting for the elevators on the other side. As soon as the four men entered the elevator JC and his team were running for the hotel’s front exit. Theo took the lead. Led them to a beige Ford Crown Victoria that looked suspiciously like an unmarked police car. Duke and Joan jumped in the back while JC took command in the front passenger seat. Theo had the car moving before the doors were closed.

  “Nice car, Theo,” Joan said as they were pulling away.

  “Yeah, man, where’s the General Lee?” Duke said. “Or the Maserati?”

/>   “Those cars are useless for what we need,” Theo said, merging into traffic on Wilshire Boulevard. “This baby is my little project. Runs like a freakin’ stallion. Phone books and Kevlar weave line the doors and the seat backs. Bulletproof glass. Run-flat tires.” Checked over his shoulder for traffic as he passed a double-parked Lamborghini. “It may look like a rolling garbage bag but it’s an undercover tank.”

  “It’s perfect,” JC said.

  “Do I come through or do I come through?” Theo glanced in the rear-view mirror. “There they are.” Accelerated. “Got two cars, rotating tail. The four guys from the hotel are in the lead car if we’re lucky.”

  “And if we’re not?” Duke asked.

  “Then they’ve split up and we’ve got two cars of killers to deal with.”

  “Can the teams that were doing surveillance for you run interference?” JC asked.

  “Cop teams don’t want to get involved. Bad guy teams would cause more problems than they would help.” Theo glanced over at JC quickly. “It’s just us, man.”

  Duke looked between them. “Hold up. What surveillance teams?”

  “We’ve had tails on us since D.C.” Joan said. “Theo gave us different cars to drive so he could follow the people tailing us.” Paused. “Didn’t you know?”

  Theo glanced at her in the rear-view mirror as JC slowly turned around. “You knew?” JC said.

  Joan shrugged. “Yeah, I knew. Figured either the Secret Service was going to run interference with them or you guys would.” She leaned forward. “The Maserati was too nice to say no to, anyway.” Winked at JC. Leaned back.

  Bullets pinged against the back of the car. Hit the back window, turning it into a network of cracks. Duke and Joan ducked.

  “How bulletproof is that glass, Theo?” Joan asked, concerned. Voice raised.

  “Bulletproof enough to get us to Glendale.”

  “What do you mean ‘enough’?” Duke said.

  “Why the hell are we going to Glendale?” Joan asked, loudly.