The Fixer, Season 1

by Rex Carpenter

  Viewing the news reports later, Duke would realize he was only playing dead for about two minutes. Lisa popped the ambulance up on the sidewalk like a pro. Stopped very close to Duke. Theo and Lorraine were out in a flash. Theo had told Duke what to expect. A needle in the arm with saline solution. Some probing. Some chest pounding. Maybe some mouth-to-mouth. But that was it. The plan was to get Duke on the stretcher and in the ambulance as fast as humanly possible, then off to the vehicle exchange before any real police or EMTs showed up.

  Everything was going according to plan. Until Kowalski decided he wanted to ride along in the ambulance.

  “I’m sorry sir, but that’s not gonna happen,” Theo said, firmly but oddly. Duke guessed he was trying to disguise his voice. Kowalski recognizing Theo’s voice was a very real possibility.

  “This man was a suspect in the murder of Senator Marcus,” Kowalski said.

  “He’s dead,” Theo said. “He’s not a threat to anyone anymore.”

  “I’m not letting him out of my sight.” Kowalski said. Moved to help Theo with the stretcher.

  Theo lost it. Reached forward with his left hand, covered in Duke’s fake blood, planted it on Kowalski’s face and shoved him backwards. Kowalski’s gun was in his hand before he regained his footing.

  “Go ahead and shoot me,” Theo growled. “Live TV. Smart choice.” Stepped forward. “You just killed this man. There is no way you’re getting in the back of my ambulance.”

  Kowalski put his gun away. “There’s no way you lay your hands on me and walk away,” he growled back. “You just assaulted a federal agent. On live TV.”

  “We have to go,” Lorraine said. “Meet us at Cedars Sinai, agent. Feel free to arrest him there. But it’s against regulations for you to ride with us.” She was pulling the stretcher to the ambulance by herself. She had used the growing argument to plant one piece of evidence; a wallet containing fake ID that identified Duke as JC Bannister. In the confusion, a black wallet dropped on the ground was unseen.

  Lisa started up the emergency vehicle. Tigran, still seated, looked around for threats, keeping his AR-15 hidden. Lorraine and Theo loaded up a very much alive Duke in the back, covered with a sheet, trying very hard to hold his breath as much as possible, not make the sheet move. And they drove away as the cameras kept rolling.

  Chapter 69

  Benched

  “You thought you could do what?” JC exploded as Duke hung his head.

  “I thought I could bribe him. Give him the money, the fees we were paid. Figured if I could give it to him, maybe he’d back down. Pin the assassination on someone else. Like we planned to before Henderson.” His voice was quiet but firm. The voice of a man who knew he’d screwed up, knew he was in for an ass-chewing. But still believed he’d done the right thing.

  “Boss, I…” Theo started to say. Joan’s glare cut him off. JC didn’t even bother to look at him. Lorraine sat quietly next to Theo, holding his hand.

  Lisa was sitting on her stool again. No longer an outsider, she could not lose herself in the glow of her smartphone. Her head was hung like Duke’s, but since she was not currently the focus of JC’s wrath, she was watching the people she’d thrown her lot in with as much as she thought she could get away with. Tigran had wisely decided to just walk away as this wasn’t really his fight.

  They had all met back in the garage belonging to Theo’s cousin. It was a risky move. JC called the place on the way over. Theo’s cousin told him it was clear. As far as he could tell the garage wasn’t under surveillance. Said he’d mollified the police about the stolen motorcycles. JC figured it was relatively safe meeting there. Or at least slightly less dangerous than a new place. Besides, Theo’s cousin told JC he’d done him a big favor; Theo’s family had spoken to all their contacts in the criminal underworld and every person they knew was busy calling in false sightings of suspected assassin JC Bannister. From San Diego all the way up to San Francisco, law enforcement agencies were being stretched to their bursting point.

  JC and Joan had taken a taxi from the Palms Inn. Paid the driver a thousand dollars to make it in record time and avoid the roadblocks. The man had earned it. Just to be safe he had the taxi driver circle the block a few times slowly. Saw nothing out of the ordinary. Guessed law enforcement resources were being better spent elsewhere.

  Although Duke and his band of renegades had yet to arrive when he and Joan pulled up, JC knew they would be there before long if Duke was not seriously injured. Even if he was, they’d need to show up there sooner or later. They arrived ten minutes before the ambulance crew did.

  The one thing that was bothering JC the most at this point was the time. His meeting with Kowalski was in just over an hour. He still had precious little in the way of a plan to deal with the man. Other than kill him. And he had to waste time trying to tie up loose ends here with Duke. Like trying to herd cats. His father’s voice in his head. I’m turning into him more and more each day.

  “JC, I have no desire to be off the team,” Duke said, “you have to know that.”

  “Great. All you had to do was be at the Roosevelt Hotel when I asked, how I asked,” JC answered. “But you claimed you needed to keep Lorraine safe. So you take her on a mission and get her face on national TV. Good job, buddy.”

  “If I had known about the Sons of Liberty being back in play, I could have done things differently,” Duke pressed.

  “If you had done what I asked, we wouldn’t have this problem at all!” JC was letting lose the reins of his anger.

  “He was trying to save your life,” Lorraine said.

  JC turned slowly to Lorraine. Nobody speaks up when the boss is pissed, especially when they are out of his direct rage. And especially when they’re not really on the team.

  “He was trying to save your life,” Theo joined in. “If he could neutralize the threat then you wouldn’t have to walk into that hotel room tonight.” Shook his head. “But you’ve got your heart set on going head-to-head with that maniac. Can’t even consider other plans.”

  “You didn’t give me the chance to consider this plan!” JC said. “If you would have come to me—”

  “You would have said no,” Duke said.

  JC and Joan started talking at the same time, as did Theo and Duke. Lisa took the opportunity to join in as well. Voices were rising and nobody was listening to what anyone else said.

  “He wants to kill you all!” Lorraine’s scream rose above the rest. Silencing them. She looked around the empty band practice area at the people she had known for less than eight hours. “Kowalski, is it? He wants to kill you all. Can’t you see that? He was willing to shoot Duke in front of hundreds of people. In front of cameras and cellphone videos. Almost shot Theo, even though he didn’t know who he was. He wants to humiliate you and then kill you.” Turned to JC. Glared at him. “Duke was trying to protect you.”

  Joan stepped towards Lorraine. Duke and Theo simultaneously moved to shield her. Lisa rose off her stool, backing away, almost falling over the drum kit. JC held out his hand, blocking Joan’s path. She stopped. Duke and Theo sat back down. JC’s eyes had never left Lorraine.

  “You’re right. He is trying to kill us all.” Turned to Duke. “And the only way to take care of that threat is to kill him first. Before he has the chance to eliminate us. Bribing him won’t do it. Reasoning or negotiating with him won’t do it. He needs to die.” JC was moving now. Not exactly pacing. Not exactly talking to himself. But almost. “But we can’t just gun him down. Do that and we’ll never make it out alive. It needs to be… neat. And messy.”

  JC stopped talking. Stopped moving as he stood in front of Lorraine. “Thank you. For the clarity. We’ll discuss your situation tomorrow. Once Kowalski is dead.”

  Turned for the door. “Joan, you’re with me. Duke, Theo, you’re benched. I can’t trust you guys to back my plays right now, so you’re on the sidelines.” JC was almost to the door with Joan half a step behind him.

  “What about me, boss
?” Lisa said.

  JC almost smiled at her use of “boss.” But this was no time for levity and his face was stern. “We’ll discuss your situation tomorrow as well.” Opened the door and walked into the field of dead cars. Took out the keys to a beat up Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Theo’s cousin had loaned him.

  “You’ve got a plan?” Joan asked. Walking side-by-side with him.

  “Yeah, I do. You’re not gonna like it.”

  “Does Kowalski die?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m in,” Joan said. Smiling.

  “I need to ask you to do what I swore I’d never ask you to do again.”

  Joan was quiet. They were almost to the car.

  “Kowalski will die?” she asked.

  “Yes. Badly.”

  “Then I’m in,” she said again. She wasn’t smiling this time.

  Chapter 70

  The Last Person

  The Roosevelt Hotel was Old Hollywood through and through. Built in 1932, it had seen grander times as well as leaner years. Redesigned, reimagined and rehashed, it retained a fair measure of the grandeur and majesty of its yesteryears.

  None of this registered with JC Bannister as he walked through the lobby. The Art Deco interior failed to move him because he simply didn’t see it. His cordovan cap-toe oxford shoes fairly rang as each step hit the highly polished wooden parquet floor. JC heard it but in his mind it sounded like the punches he planned to beat Kowalski with. He had promised the man he would beat him to death earlier in the day. Tonight he intended to keep that promise.

  The meeting with Kowalski was at midnight. JC planned to be there at least twenty minutes early. Waiting for the man when he knocked on the door. But that was with his original plan of Joan as a sniper across the street and Duke on the comms positioned across the hall. Which was now shot all to hell. Improvisation was required. With Joan in play he needed to show up at the room at twelve oh five. Put him banging right up against his other scheduling. He had told Garcia to be at the hotel at twelve thirty. Called Oldham with the same information. He knew they would be. But he couldn’t have them arriving too early. Then everything would be ruined. They would go to jail for the rest of their lives. If they were lucky enough to escape lethal injection. And Secret Service Special Agent Guy Kowalski would go free for the murder of Senator Catherine Marcus. A good woman JC had known most of his life.

  JC wasn’t about to let that happen.

  At twelve oh one he knocked on the door of room 1132. He hadn’t bothered to try and check in. Didn’t waste time asking for a keycard. He knew Kowalski was upstairs waiting for him. Knew he had already found out Theo’s alias for the room: Mr. Pink. As he waited for the elevator JC looked around the lobby. Tried to see if there was anyone who could be easily identified as law enforcement. The print of a handgun against a suit jacket. Too much eye contact, or too little. But all he saw were rich tourists, exhausted sightseers and hungry starlets.

  In the elevator ride up, JC did a brief self-assessment. In truth, he wasn’t ready for the confrontation. His mind was. His heart was. But his body wasn’t. The kidnapping, the torture, the car accidents, the sleep deprivation. They had sapped him. He knew it. Knew walking away and getting help from the team was the smarter move. But he also knew win or lose, Kowalski was his responsibility. His mind and his heart would just have to pick up whatever slack his body couldn’t.

  Theo had been unable to get a room facing Hollywood Boulevard. JC’s plan to have Joan as a sniper wouldn’t have worked anyway. He glanced up and down the hallway. No maids with cleaning carts taking too long to do their job. No doors opening. No foot traffic. JC took a step back from the door. Slightly to the left, allowing himself to see as much as possible inside the room once the door was open.

  He didn’t have to wait long. The handle clicked as the automatic deadbolt unlatched. The door swung inward just a bit. Kowalski’s face and then body appeared from the dark. No words were said as Kowalski stepped back cautiously, allowing the door to start to swing closed. JC reached out with his left hand, stopping it, then pushing it open as he walked into the room. Kowalski kept backing up, keeping his eyes on JC. The room was large, like old luxurious hotels used to be, but redone in a modern style. Dark hardwood floors. More chrome than there should be, but still tasteful. Theo had booked a suite so there was a sitting area with an uncomfortable looking leather sofa, a dining area and off to the left a closed door for what JC imagined was the bedroom. He took it all in with his peripheral vision while keeping his eyes glued to Kowalski.

  “About time you got here,” JC heard someone say, off to his right. Not Kowalski. “Thought the punctuality I drilled into your head had seeped out after so long in the private sector.”

  JC knew the voice, but he turned anyway. Tearing his eyes away from Kowalski and the immediate threat he posed.

  “I have to say, you are the last person I expected to see here tonight,” JC said.

  Paused.

  “Sir.”

  Chapter 71

  Every Man In This Room Deserves To Die

  General Marvin O. Robinson sat in the shadows, engulfed in a modern version of a Parisian club chair. He was dressed exactly as he was earlier in the evening at the Palms Inn with Detective Garcia. Pressed khakis, green polo shirt, navy blue casual jacket. Smiling.

  “Why are you here?” JC said. Turned to Kowalski without waiting for an answer. “Why is he here?” Louder.

  “Not my choice,” Kowalski replied. Backed up further. Took one of the uncomfortable looking chairs from the dining area. Turned it around. Sat on it backwards, facing JC, hands resting on the back of the chair. Slight protection from gunfire.

  But JC had no gun. Walked in feeling naked as a baby. He needed to have Kowalski relax a bit, needed some things cleared up before the fighting started. But with The General here, his plan was suddenly in jeopardy. He didn’t want a witness to what was about to happen.

  “You told Garcia where and when to meet you,” The General said. “Figured the twelve thirty time you gave her was fashionably late. Thought it might be a good idea to come down here. See what I could do to help the situation along.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” JC said. “He killed Catherine Marcus. Tried to set us up for mass murder. Shot and killed Duke.” Shrugged. “Any way you can see to wipe that all away?”

  “Marcus deserved to die,” Kowalski said quietly.

  “What’s that?” JC said. “How in your sick twisted mind do you think she deserved to die?”

  “Bannister!” The General said. Sharp, like a rifle report. “Keep this civil. We can all walk out of here without any ugliness.”

  JC noticed a glint of metal from The General’s knee. The .38 Smith & Wesson revolver he sometimes carried. JC hadn’t seen it when he came in. The General must have just drawn it.

  JC nodded. “You were saying, Kowalski?” The General said.

  Kowalski glanced between the two. A glint of hope in his eyes. “Marcus was a snake,” he said. “She didn’t give a damn about the troops, the soldiers serving. She just cared about her political career. Show up at the hospital her husband worked at, shake some hands, then have lunch. Always wiped her hands when she thought nobody was looking.” Shook his head. “Disgraceful. Can’t stand shaking the hands of warriors who sacrificed so much for their country then goes on to Capitol Hill and sends more people to their deaths. Voted for military action every chance she got. Putting people in danger. Losing limbs. Getting killed just so she can go back home, sit in some shithole barbecue shack and tell the stupid locals how much she believes like they do.” Kowalski’s voice was getting louder the more he spoke. Swinging his hands around. “Hypocritical bitch!”

  As he spoke JC was slowly easing himself over towards The General. Standing near the door provided no cover. He figured Kowalski had a gun. If he was close enough to the old man and Guy decided to start shooting, it may be the safest place in the room.

  “You’re w
rong about her,” The General said.

  “The hell I am.” Kowalski said. “I saw it all. Saw her going to the hospital, smiling for the cameras, then wiping her hand on her skirt after a real soldier shook it. Time and time again. Sickening.”

  The General shook his head. “Son, she wiped her hands because she had sweaty palms. Being in public, meeting soldiers whose sacrifices paled in comparison to her work always made her nervous. That’s why she wiped her hands off.”

  “That’s why you killed her? Because of her stupid sweaty palms?” JC said.

  Kowalski faltered. Looked around briefly as if searching his thoughts for a continuation of his justification for the murder. Found it. “Not only that,” Kowalski said. “She had no idea of the sacrifices of the true American soldier. None. No idea what they go through. She was just like one of those chicken-shit commanders, cowardly hiding behind the front lines while ordering stronger, younger men forward to get blown to bits. Going to war without the proper equipment or protection, binding their hands with ridiculous rules of engagement when the enemy is hiding behind every corner or under every dirty rag-covered door.”

  “Son,” The General said slowly, “I surely hope to God you didn’t just refer to a standing general in the Army of these glorious United States as a cowardly chicken-shit.” Paused while Kowalski’s eyes grew wide. “Because if you did, you are in for one rude awakening on this magnificent spring evening.”

  “No, no, that’s not what I was trying to say, sir.” Placating. Back-pedaling. “I know your record, I know you served with distinction and honor.” Shook his head. “But her? She just wanted votes. Saw it as a political football she could carry for a while. If she dropped it? Who cares! Pick up another one.”

  “Is that why you gave her cancer?” JC said.

  The General looked at JC then back to Kowalski.