No matter how much power he had, he was not the boss.
JC stood. Adjusted the cuffs on his own suit. Not Saville Row. Wouldn’t be prudent to wear one of his Saville Row suits to a meet like this. Good chance of getting blood all over it. Besides, it was hard to have his favorite tailor in London adjust for the two Glock 23 handguns covering his kidneys. Or the deep carry Kahr MK40 riding in his crotch, to the left of his package. Or the knives. JC finished adjusting his cuffs and touched his tie.
“You ready?”
Meier nodded. Stood. “Yes, I’m ready.”
JC stepped forward, throwing Meier off guard. He adjusted Meier’s red and blue striped silk tie then fixed his coldest gaze inches from Meier’s eyes.
“No you aren’t, son. Not by half.”
Meier broke first, trying to control the fear spreading through him. His limbs began to shiver slightly from fright. He moved towards the side exit to mask and hopefully end the panic that nearly made him shut down. “This way.”
JC walked by his side, not allowing Meier to lead. Duke fell in behind them. Meier noticed him for the first time, stopped and turned as if to order him away, not realizing he was with JC. Duke stopped as well. In one move, he cocked his head sideways, pulled back his black lightweight North Face rain jacket with his left hand, exposing a Heckler and Koch MP5 hanging from a shoulder holster while simultaneously drawing a nine inch Japanese kaiken knife halfway from its custom made sheath tucked into his waist belt with his right.
“I’m your huckleberry,” Duke said in his best Doc Holliday drawl.
Meier’s comment stuck in his throat. Duke nodded forward to the side exit. Meier turned woodenly and began moving forward, JC continuing as before. Duke eased back slightly.
JC leaned his head towards Meier as they walked.
“You know what you are?”
Meier was regaining a hint of composure. “What do you think I am?”
“You’re an errand boy. Sent by grocery clerks.”
The smile on Duke’s face went from ear to ear. There was no need for JC to turn around to see it. He knew it was there.
Chapter 6
Old Friends
The limo was sandwiched end-to-end between two SUVs. The third was parked on the driver’s side of the limo, totally protecting it from any threat approaching it from the outside, save an RPG. The drivers of the SUVs stayed in position, but their passengers were fanned out across the immediate area. Most were white, a few black. All wearing variations of the standard Secret Service black suit. JC saw a few of them with earpieces in, knew they would all have them, would all have the mike “concealed” in the sleeve of their non-dominant hand. He only saw two with M4 assault rifles but knew there would be heavier firepower in the vehicles. He counted twelve agents.
Joan had come around the side of the library. Her SIG Sauer P229 was in her hand. One of the agents holding an M4 trained it on her. Smart.
Duke peeled off, went to stand near the Santa Fe. The other M4 agent moved towards him, his rifle at the ready position, pointing directly in Duke’s direction but at a forty-five degree down angle. Threatening but not fully engaged. Duke stopped.
JC stopped as well. Meier continued to the limo but pivoted towards the rear SUV when the passenger side door opened. A tall Asian man stepped out. Meier approached him and they conversed briefly. Meier went to the limo while the other man walked towards JC. As he moved away from the headlights of the SUVs and into the orangish glow of the city’s streetlights, JC saw his deep set eyes, strong nose with a high bridge and realized he wasn’t exactly Asian. He was half Korean, half Polish. JC’s bunkmate from basic training.
“Guy? Guy Kowalski?”
“JC Bannister. In the flesh.”
The two men embraced as they met. Old friends. For the moment.
“How long has it been? Fifteen years?”
“Longer than that, I think. Last time was when you were shipping out, right?”
“No, you’re forgetting the Philippines, man.”
“Oh, man, Manila. How could I forget those three days?”
“So you’re running this show?”
“Naww, man. I’m the head of security for the person in that limo.”
“I heard you joined the Secret Service. How is it? Treating you well?”
“Can’t complain. How you liking the private sector?”
“Ups and downs. Having to deal with dickheads like Meier isn’t so good, but running into old friends has its perks.”
“Yeah, Meier’s okay once you get to know him.” JC knew it was a lie and not even a good attempt at one. Kowalski was telling him to back off. “He’s got the ear of the person in there, so, you know.”
JC didn’t say anything, just continued the old friend routine. Big ol’ grin. Congenial. Waiting for the next lie he knew was coming.
“Look, man, sorry for this dog and pony show,” Kowalski said. “If I had known it was you we were meeting, we wouldn’t have needed all this, all these guys.”
There it was. No way Kowalski didn’t know who the meet was with. If he didn’t, he should have been fired or refused to allow it.
“Aw, that’s okay, Guy.” JC kept smiling. “It’s cool. You only brought a couple of friends. No big deal.”
Kowalski’s smile toned down a shade as he realized what JC had just told him: Kowalski’s team would have a real hard time if they had to actually go toe-to-toe with JC and the two people he could see. He had insisted that his boss allow him to bring more agents but the request had been declined.
“Listen, Guy,” JC said, “you know what this whole thing is all about? Can you give me some kind of heads up before it starts?”
“Wish I did, man, but honest to God, I’ve got no idea why we’re here. Well, other than the obvious reason, you know — meeting you.” Kowalski wasn’t lying this time and JC saw it. He had no idea what the real purpose for the meet was other than the introduction.
They stood there for a second. Waiting. Smiles fading. Not really wanting to start because the start of this meet could mean the end of their old friendship. Or even their deaths.
JC spoke first. Attempting to gain control. “Well, let’s get started, buddy.”
“Yeah. Good idea.”
Kowalski turned towards the limo waiting about fifteen feet away. JC followed. One of Kowalski’s agents moved forward as if to frisk JC before he got any closer to the vehicle.
“Uh, Guy?”
Kowalski continued for a half step, not wanting to start the conflict. He stopped, turned. “What’s up?”
JC indicated the agent who was moving towards him with his hands outstretched, ready to frisk him. JC made no effort to conceal his growing anger.
“Come on, JC, he’s just doing his job. You know that.”
“Yeah, and you know I’m loaded. I wouldn’t walk into this meet without walking in loaded. So what’s the point of this sack of dicks trying to frisk me?”
Friendship was out the window at this point.
Joan had been edging closer to the agent with the assault rifle trained on her. He spent more time watching the growing tension between Kowalski and JC. Likely figured she was just a girl, what could she do? Problem was, she was close enough now to be able to snatch his weapon from him and he didn’t even know it. Duke’s agent was better trained and he was unable to move.
“Look, JC, there’s no way you’re getting any closer without my agent finding out what you’re carrying.”
JC planted his feet. Unbuttoned the button on his single breasted suit jacket. The only person on Kowalski’s team who knew how bad things looked for his team right now was Kowalski. And the person in the limo. They were the only ones who had read all of Bannister’s files. The official reports. And the unofficial ones.
“Not gonna happen, Guy.” JC was speaking to his old friend but looking straight at the agent who was attempting to frisk him. The agent had also stopped. Caught between the order his boss had given him and t
he sneaking fear working its way up his spine. “Not going to happen.”
“JC?” Kowalski said, spreading his hands. “One way or the other, man.”
“He comes any closer, he loses both his hands. At the elbows.”
The window of the limo cracked. A woman’s voice, mildly rebuking.
“Gentlemen, please!”
“Ma’am…” Kowalski began. JC squinted his eyes, still facing the agent who was backing away now, worrying about his hands. And elbows. JC had heard the voice from the limo before. From TV news, sure. But before that, too.
“I know you’re doing your job. But James isn’t going to hurt me.”
The window went down even further. JC looked over. Senator Catherine Marcus. JC’s mouth hung open.
“Come here, James, and say hello to your old friend.”
Kowalski’s mouth hung open almost as much as JC’s. He had no idea that the senator knew JC. And he had never heard of anyone call JC by his first name. Not even The General.
The senator opened the car door and stepped out. JC walked forward, politely helping her. His mind was running almost as fast as his heart was. Senator Marcus took JC’s hand, turned and gave him a hug, which JC returned.
“How have you been James? How is your mother?”
“I’ve been okay. Mother passed on.”
The senator was taken aback. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I truly didn’t know. She was such a wonderful woman.”
“Thank you.”
“When did it happen? How?”
“About three years after my dad died. After his accident, she just, well, deflated. Started going downhill fast.”
“I am so sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you,” JC repeated. “How is the doctor? The girls?”
“My husband and girls are well, James, thank you.”
JC looked at the woman, an old family friend. He had absolutely no idea why she would want a meeting with a fixer, a solutionist, a hitman like himself. And he had no desire to find out.
“It was wonderful seeing you again, Mrs. Marcus. Have a good evening, Senator.”
He turned and walked away, towards his waiting Hyundai. Shaking with anger and doubt.
He passed Kowalski.
“You screwed up,” JC growled as he passed
*****
“Calm down, man.”
Kowalski caught up with JC before he reached his SUV. JC got ready to yell at the slightly larger man but held himself back at the last minute. When he did speak, his voice was far quieter and more damaging than if he had yelled.
“You know what this looks like, right?”
“I know, I know.”
“Do you? Because to me it looks like a goddamn setup.”
“Believe me, if I were in your shoes, I might think the same thing.”
“A senator, Kowalski? A sitting US Senator? Chairwoman of the Armed Services Committee? Rumors have it she’s on tap to be one of the candidates for president, man. Jesus, Guy. I used to play with her kids! I grew up going to dinner parties at her house! What the hell?”
Kowalski’s hands were held up, trying to placate the man currently dressing him down. JC scanned the scene: Joan had moved closer to him, alternating watching for his lead and searching the horizon for movement, the hint of a sniper rifle. If Kowalski had shooters hidden down, they probably wouldn’t be stupid enough to make any mistakes, but you never know. One communication glitch and everything could go south at an instant. Duke had gravitated back towards the rear door of the Santa Fe and was watching Joan. Ready to follow her interpretation of JC’s lead. Ready to grab the belt-fed light machine gun inside and start cutting down any and every one he could. He was JC’s computer guy, a goofy kid who loved surfing and movies. But he had been an Army Ranger. And when his team needed it he was a stone cold killer.
Kowalski’s eyes had never left JC. That worried him.
“I’m telling you. It’s on the up-and-up. It’s a legit meet.”
“Legit as in on-the-books? Approved? Officially sanctioned?”
Kowalski’s placating smile turned grim.
“JC, if it was, then you know there’d be no reason to call you. Right, buddy?”
JC didn’t reply. He knew it was true.
“You turned that page seven years ago when you told The General to go fuck himself.”
JC started to argue but knew there was no point. He had said those exact words seven years ago. To a standing general in the United States Army. His commanding officer.
“The senator needs your help,” Kowalski said. “She has a situation that only someone in your position can help her solve. Someone with your skill set. With your temperament and discretion. Listen, I truly didn’t know you guys knew each other. She told me to find you. Told me and Meier to set up the meet. Gave us your file. Honest.”
His old Army buddy’s soothing words and posture worked.
“I’ll hear her out. But we’re taking my car. Just me and her. We’re going to take a ride.”
*****
“Forget it. Not going to happen.”
Meier was adamant.
“Mr. Bannister has questions, Meier,” Kowalski said. “Reasonable questions that need to be asked.” Meier was shaking his head. Arms crossed like a little boy. He looked like he might be ready to stamp his foot. “If I was in his shoes, I would require the same thing.”
“You’re a known entity, Guy, a proven asset. I don’t know who this man.”
Kowalski sighed and shook his head at Meier’s use of the word “asset.” He looked at Meier. “Yes, but I do know him. Look. You know me. You trust me, right? Then trust me.”
Senator Marcus put her hand on Meier’s elbow. She smiled. Disarming. Engaging. And commanding.
“It’s okay, Daniel,” she said. “Nothing will happen to me. I’ve known Mr. Bannister since he was a boy,” the senator said.
Meier’s arms stayed crossed but his resolve seemed to soften. Senator Marcus walked over to JC. She was in her mid-fifties, silvery hair once blond cut in a long bob about an inch above her shoulders. Attractive, strong face. Kept up her running schedule in the Senate gym.
“Besides.” Her mouth and face continued their disarming smile but her eyes did not. “Mr. Bannister knows that if anything happens to me while I am in his care, Guy and our other friends will kill him and his little friends and leave nothing behind but piles of ash for the Arlington PD to sift through in the morning.”
She took his arm, a senior stateswoman requiring a younger and stronger man to lead her across the sidewalk to his waiting car.
“And I don’t think he wants that to happen.”
JC was compelled to lead her to his waiting vehicle. He had issued a demand and received it. However, it didn’t feel like he was in charge, despite the win.
“We’ll be back in a bit, Mr. Meier,” Senator Marcus said over her shoulder. “Thank you for the introduction, Mr. Kowalski.”
JC and the senator walked over to the Hyundai Santa Fe. JC opened the rear passenger door and helped her inside. Moved around to the front and slid the seat forward for her. Got in, backed up and then drove directly forward, hopping the curb and driving straight into Quincy Park adjacent to the Central Library.
He stopped after about thirty-five meters. Left the car running. Turned on the radio, loud. Pushed a button and let Duke’s setup conceal any conversation they would have. The vehicle was quiet and secure.
JC turned to the senator sitting in the back seat.
“I truly am sorry to hear about your mother,” she said. “If I had known, I would have come by. She was a good friend back then.”
“I understand. I was out of the country when she passed.”
Tears came to her eyes. One of her greatest fears was dying alone. JC saw it in her face. He held out his hand and took hers.
“She wasn’t alone when she passed. Her side of the family was all there. She was in one of the best hospitals on the East Coast. It was p
ainless.”
“Still.”
JC gave her a moment to compose herself. And himself, but for different reasons.
“Listen, Senator.”
“Please call me Catherine.”
JC smiled. “How about Mrs. Marcus? That’s what I’ve always called you.” She nodded and JC continued. “Mrs. Marcus, you arranged this meeting. I don’t know how you got my name and frankly it’s not important. Whoever gave it to you had good reason to do so.”
Mrs. Marcus nodded her head, not wanting to interrupt.
“I have to tell you I’m at a bit of a loss. Now is usually when I explain to a client what it is that I do.”
Mrs. Marcus nodded again. Listening.
“But you know what I do. Because whomever gave you my name told you all that.”
She was ready.
“James, I…”
“JC, please. Everyone calls me that, now.”
“OK. JC.”
She still didn’t start. Looked out the window. Pursed her lips. Sighed.
“JC, I have a problem. I need your help.”
“I understand. This vehicle is secure. You can explain without fear of anyone hearing.”
“This isn’t easy to say, JC.”
She paused.
“I need you to kill someone.”
JC nodded. He’d heard that phrase many times before, from men and women. But this was the first time it had made him feel ashamed about what he did. He didn’t say a word. Always allow the client to explain with minimal vocal urging or cues. One of the rules of the meet.
“Oh, JC, this is so hard to say.” She looked out the window again, at the small park they were in the middle of. Streetlights washing out the colors of spring. She gathered her resolve.
[JC Bannister 01.0] The Fixer, Season 1 Page 4