The Fixer, Season 1

by Rex Carpenter

  Kowalski was looking around the room. Intense. Eager to sell them on the concept. He had obviously convinced himself.

  JC didn’t know what it was, but something about this wasn’t right. Made him uncomfortable. Couldn’t put his finger on it yet. Needed more details.

  “Okay,” JC said, “what exactly are we bringing out?”

  Kowalski pointed at the map. “This here is their main hall. We’re not sure what it is actually used for. Our thermal imaging cameras haven’t been able to penetrate it, but it’s where we think they store their weapons. They just received a shipment of five .50 caliber sniper rifles last week. You’ll need to get one of those as well as various other rifles and handguns.

  “You want us to steal a .50 caliber sniper rifle?” Joan asked.

  “Yes, amongst other things,” Kowalski said.

  “And we’re going to use that to assassinate Senator Marcus?” Joan continued. ”Shoot her in the head with it?”

  Kowalski nodded.

  “No way are we doing that,” Joan said.

  The General started shaking his head. JC put his hands on top of his head.

  “There is no way on God’s green Earth that I am going to shoot her in the head with a .50 caliber sniper rifle,” JC said. “No goddamn way. Do you know what that does to a person, Guy?” JC said.

  Kowalski was nodding. “I know, I know, it may seem…”

  “No you don’t, Kowalski,” JC said. “It will explode her head. Literally. I mean, literally. Explode her head. I’ve seen it.” Duke was nodding as JC spoke. “I’ve done it. Bad guys, sure I’ve got no problem with it. But not Marcus. Not this way.”

  The General leaned across the table, raising his hand to try and calm down the rising tension between Bannister and Kowalski. “Why the .50 cal? Guys like this, gun-runners, dopers, they probably have other capable weaponry lying around JC and his team could get their hands on.”

  Kowalski shook his head firmly, walking to the window. “It needs to be the .50 cal.”

  JC raised his hands from his head. Walked away from the table with his hands in the air. “This makes no sense. Whatsoever.”

  “Politics,” Jacob Meier said. The first word he had spoken.

  JC’s eyes widened at the revelation. Turned slowly back to Kowalski.

  “Is he right?”

  Kowalski nodded. Said nothing.

  “Gun control? That’s why you want to pop the senator’s head like a blood and brain filled balloon in front of thousands of people?”

  “Gun control, politics. Half a dozen other reasons, yes. This comes straight from the senator.”

  “The hell it does,” The General said. Crossed his arms, sat back.

  Joan was breathing heavily. Her face was full of anger. Duke was slowly shaking his head from right to left, his mouth set in a disapproving frown. The General had withdrawn from the situation. Meier had said nothing more but was watching everyone.

  “No,” JC said.

  “No what?”

  “We’re not going to do it. If these are her conditions, we pass. She may have had the idea, but I know you didn’t fully explain it to her, Kowalski. Explain what was going to happen to her.”

  Kowalski threw up his hands. “How the hell could I, JC? I mean really? You want to go upstairs? Go into the fine details of what a .50 caliber bullet will do to her?” Kowalski paused. “Besides, it’s a little late to back out now, isn’t it JC?” Hint of a threat.

  JC sat down. He had agreed to do this job because of his friendship with the senator. Because he knew she was going to kill herself one way or the other. The General had influenced him to do it because of Senator Marcus’s unwavering support for service men and women, despite what others in her party had done. Once he had agreed to the job, the conditions continued to get worse. Every change he had acquiesced to because they had been small changes. But this? This was too much.

  Two thoughts popped into JC’s head. The first was, Only way to get out clean is to go straight through.

  The second: Screw Kowalski. I’ll do it my own way.

  “Okay,” JC said.

  “What?” Joan exclaimed.

  JC didn’t answer. Ignored her. His eyes were locked on Kowalski.

  Joan went silent. Waited for her time.

  “We’ll do the job,” JC said. “What else do we need to know?”

  Kowalski looked pleased. A slight ripple of power crossed his face. JC knew by the look that Kowalski thought he had bested him.

  “You’ll go in, like I said,” Kowalski continued, “take one of the .50 caliber sniper rifles and a few other weapons. Grab whatever computers and paperwork you can find. Make it look like stuff was stolen by someone on the inside. Not broken into.”

  Kowalski moved back to the table in the middle of the room.

  “We’ll have a team waiting here,” he said, pointing at the map. “Once you’re gone, they’ll come in from the west. Swoop in, grab whatever people they can from the camp. Arrest them. A day or two later we’ll release some of them. Issue a press release that the investigation is ongoing and that people are cooperating.”

  “What good will that do? Why not release all of them?” Duke asked.

  “The ones we claim to release? Some will actually be released. Some will be rendered to another country, a partner with us in the war on terror. Only they won’t survive the trip.”

  The General stood. Threw his hands in the air. “I’m totally lost.”

  Duke and Joan started talking at both JC and Kowalski. Kowalski tried answering their questions while JC said nothing. The room was a noisy mess.

  “It’s a good plan.” Jacob Meier’s voice cut clearly through the room, quieting everyone. “It’s a good plan,” he said again, quieter. “Similar tactics have been used against organized crime for decades. Arrest most of a group. Release some and spread the rumor that they are cooperating. The remaining members of the group start to panic. Start moving up plans, accelerating timetables. Sometimes members of the organization are murdered due to suspicion of cooperation. Shakes everything up. In many ways better than a full on prosecution.”

  Kowalski was nodding. The General sat back down, intrigued.

  “With Kowalski’s plan,” Meier continued, “once you’ve officially released some of the members, you can carry out the hit on the senator and have it look like a disgruntled employee has moved up the timetable. Perhaps performed the assassination to show his loyalty to the group. The ensuing media storm and prosecution decimates the group. The one guy who is claimed to be responsible for the killing is gone forever, rendered to a foreign country. Your case quietly goes away.”

  JC was impressed. Both with Meier and Kowalski. He would never admit it, but it was a good solution.

  “With a willing press, which the senator will have, and a tragic victim, which she will be, it will be an easy sell,” Meier concluded.

  “One more thing,” Kowalski said, “we’re going to have a drone up above watching the op. Thermal imaging cameras, high quality. With the right conditions they can track a person by the footprints they leave in the sand. It will be run by a mobile command unit under the guise of a training exercise.” Paused. “If you’re thinking about backdooring us on this, think again.”

  JC shook his head. Grim faced.

  “This deal keeps getting worse all the time,” Duke said. Theo nodded in agreement.

  JC shot a look at Duke. Turned back to Kowalski. “Give me a minute. I need to discuss things with my team.” Turned away from Kowalski without waiting for confirmation, walking into the suite’s bedroom with Duke, Theo and Joan following. A beat later, Meier went in also.

  Meier closed the door behind them. “Did my son know of this? Know why you were hired?”

  “To my knowledge he did not,” JC said. “Most of this plan has been cooked up after he left D.C.”

  “Good.” Meier fell silent.

  “JC,” Joan said, “we can’t do it. Not like this. Not w
ith a .50 cal.”

  “Yeah dude, we’ve seen that before. It ain’t no way for a US senator to go out,” Duke said.

  “Don’t worry,” JC said. “We’re not going to.”

  “I don’t know, man,” Theo said. “Kowalski looks like he’s got things locked up tight.”

  “You heard what Kowalski said about the drones,” Duke said. “I’m telling you, that’s no joke either. That footprint stuff? I’ve done it in Iraq. Conditions there aren’t so different than the area in Nevada we’re talking about.”

  JC put his hand on Duke’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry,” he repeated. “Kowalski wants to see a show, we’ll give him a goddamn show.”

  JC smiled. Aggressive. Hungry. A predator. Then he let the mask slip back in place. Joan understood. Smiled as well. Duke shrugged off JC’s hand. Stepped back. Eyes darting between JC and Joan.

  “You guys are scarin’ the hell outta me,” he said.

  Meier nodded. “I’m glad I’m on your side.”

  “You got that right,” JC said. “Now, follow my lead.” Opened the door. Walked back into the main room. Kowalski looked up. Expectantly.

  “The job is off,” JC said. “No way are we doing it like this.”

  “Fine. Then return the money,” Kowalski said.

  “The hell I will. It stays. As a consulting fee. Won’t take but a few phone calls to start a Senate Ethics Committee investigation into where she got it from. Her legacy will go down in flames,” JC said.

  Kowalski shook his head. Disgust clear on his face. “That goes both ways. A few whispers in the right ears and you’re investigated for money laundering. Pretty soon all your little businesses and friends are under investigation by the Secret Service, the IRS, the DOJ. ATF. You name it, it’ll come down on your head.”

  JC looked around, appearing to become increasingly angry.

  “No way you’re keeping twenty-five million dollars,” Kowalski said.

  The General and Meier both turned to JC, wide-eyed.

  “I oughta be your partner, not your lawyer,” Meier said.

  JC ignored him, shaking his head. Agitated. “Forget it, Kowalski. You can take your drones and your .50 cals and all your stupid requirements and shove ’em up your ass. Matter of fact, you can take this whole goddamned thing and go fuck yourself.”

  JC’s words had their desired effect. Kowalski was running around the table before JC had even finished, lowering his head, aiming to plant his right shoulder directly in JC’s gut. JC sidestepped the messy tackle, pivoted on his left foot and kicked Kowalski hard in the ribs and solar plexus with his right foot as the agent passed him. Kowalski was knocked off balance, stumbling and falling into the table. Got tangled up in the folding chairs. JC was on Kowalski before he had a chance to recover. Throwing chairs out of the way. Swinging. Connecting. Kowalski couldn’t defend himself fast enough. JC straddled the man’s chest, pounding Kowalski’s face with his fists.

  “Seem familiar, Kowalski? Seems like every time we fight I end up beating the ever-loving crap outta you,” JC taunted between punches.

  Kowalski was scrabbling with his hands, trying to find something to hit JC with. JC let him grab a chair and swing it at him, dazing him. Kowalski brought his feet high up, curled his heels around JC’s head and neck and then straightened his body. The force of it pulled JC from atop Kowalski’s chest. He soon found himself on the bottom, with Kowalski taking a turn pounding him in the face.

  Exactly as he wanted.

  JC wanted Kowalski to feel like he had the upper hand. In his experience, that was when most people put their guard down.

  Which made the reversal that much more painful.

  JC was starting to regret his decision. Kowalski was getting some good punches in. JC continued to fight, but his pretend losing was actually turning into real losing. His right eye was starting to swell. Blood was flowing from his nose.

  JC saw the chair swing into view a quarter of a second before it hit Kowalski in the head.

  Hands helped him up. Theo and Meier. Duke stood over Kowalski with the chair still in his hands, chest heaving in anger, not from any real exertion. The door flew open, two agents running in, guns drawn. Kowalski raised his hand, calling them off. Stood. Dusted off his jacket. Straightened his tie.

  JC was regaining his senses. Shook off the helping hands. Wiped some of the blood from his nose and mouth.

  “You do the job as specified,” Kowalski said. “Or you will disappear down a very deep, very dark hole. All of you.”

  The Secret Service agent turned and walked out of the room. Duke still held the chair in his hands and was about to go after him when JC’s phone rang. He dug it out. Coletti. Answered it.

  “JC,” Coletti said to him, “there’s been an accident.”

  “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

  “Kinda. The boys were out for an early morning training ride. Mercier was leading them. Vargas was hit by a car.”

  JC swore. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s in the hospital. He’ll make it, but he’s pretty banged up. Broken bones. Concussion.” Coletti paused. “JC, it was George Ziccardi.”

  JC said nothing. Started breathing heavier as his rage built.

  “JC?” Coletti said.

  “I’m here.”

  “He hit him with the car you gave him. Then he backed up and ran over him again.” Paused. “He tried to kill him, boss.”

  “I’m on my way,” JC said. “You have the overwatch, Coletti. Nobody else on my team gets touched. You hear me, Tommy? Nobody.”

  Chapter 28

  Movie Star

  Joan was walking out the front lobby of the Beverly Wilshire. She had gone back to work for the senator the next day. Although the Bolivians were taken care of, JC felt there was no guarantee they wouldn’t figure things out and come after Marcus just to bring more heat on the team. After JC left for Boston, the team had moved from the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills to The Embassy Suites in Glendale. Quite a step down, but sufficient. The main reason for the move was to be closer to Theo’s field of influence. And protection.

  As a personal aide to Senator Marcus and with the heightened security, Joan ranked high enough to get her own personal escort. She had tried to persuade Kowalski to let her carry a gun, but he wouldn’t budge. Regardless, it was nice having an agent following her around. She knew he was basically worthless compared to her skill set, but it was amusing.

  Joan saw Duke sitting just outside the lobby. He stood and walked over.

  “Lunch?” he said.

  “Yeah. Bored?”

  Duke nodded.

  “Where’s that pretty lady cop? Why don’t you ask her out for lunch?”

  “She came over last night,” Duke said.

  Joan raised an eyebrow. Half smiled.

  “I tried. She said something about conflict of interest.” He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  The colleagues walked off together. Enjoyed a delicious but expensive lunch at a French restaurant. Stopped for ice cream at Baskin-Robbins then found a park bench, sitting down and soaking in the spring sun, feeling almost normal.

  “Duke,” Joan said, “Why are you so loyal to JC?”

  “You mean why did I hit a Secret Service agent with a chair like a pro wrestler?” he said.

  She smiled. Nodded.

  “I gotta admit, that felt pretty good. Theo’s right. Kowalski is a douchebag.”

  Joan waited. Duke took a bite of his ice cream.

  “JC saved my life,” Duke said.

  “You were in Iraq. He’s the only one who saved your life?”

  Duke was quiet, smiled a bit and looked down.

  “I join the Army. Kid living his dream in Hawaii, surfing. Army comes knocking. Figure maybe my old man will approve. Maybe he’ll be proud of me, even though I know he wouldn’t. Anyway, ended up going to Afghanistan because I could speak the language. So, we’re running through the desert one day, guarding a conv
oy of food and supplies. Passing through some town I can’t remember now. Reports said the town was safe, but we should’ve known. IEDs rip apart the supply trucks, RPGs take out the lead Humvee and one in the back. We’re all gonna die. Taliban just sit there taking shots at us, harassing us until all our ammo runs out. Take us hostage, me and another guy. Black dude, name was Killian. Like the beer. Anyway, the town was totally hostile. Take us out to the edge of town. Get a video camera rolling. Gonna saw our heads off, you know, same story. Before the camera starts rolling Killian’s dead from his wounds. Just me left. Thirty-five guys taking supplies to help out a village in the middle of the sandbox and it looks like everyone else is dead. Except me. I’m gonna be a goddamn movie star.”

  “Duke,” Joan said.

  “Anyway. I’m praying. Just praying hard, ‘Lord, please don’t let this be it. Don’t let this be the way I die. Not here, not now, not like this.’ Begging my nuts off. I look up to the sky. The head asshole knocks me to my knees, turns me around to the village.”

  Tears were running from Duke’s eyes now, although his voice remained even. Joan reached for his hand.

  “I’m praying, ‘Lord Jesus help me.’ He’s praying to Allah, ‘Guide my knife to cut through this infidel’s neck well.’ I know everything he’s saying, can understand every word. I know this is it, my time is up. I look up to the sky again, hoping the Lord hears my prayers and takes me up there when the bastard is done with me.”

  Duke started to smile.

  “Then I see it. A rifle barrel. About three hundred yards away, there’s a rifle barrel, just starting to poke out over the top of a building. Gigantically long barrel. ‘Is that a .50 cal?’ I say to myself. I squint real hard. See the speck of the scope. The bump of some guys’ helmet. Then his hand goes above his head, three fingers held up. Then two. Then one. Then the guy holding the knife to my throat… his head turned into this purple mist of bones and blood and brains. Knife drops to the ground. Right in front of me. Then the guy holding the camera gets the purple mist. Before his body is down, I’ve grabbed the knife and took out another two guys, cut one guy’s hamstring, planted the knife in another’s chest. Grabbed one of their rifles and I’m running for cover in town, just like all the other people.”