by Matt Elam
THE FIRST IMMORTAL
A Johnny Jo Novel
Matt K. Elam
Copyright © 2019 Matt K. Elam
All rights reserved.
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Formatting by ebooklaunch.com
To my kids: Kiana and Ty.
Thanks for keeping life interesting, you two.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
The Johnny Jo Volume I Fitness Regimen
Prologue
THE NEW YORK GIANTS’ offense broke from its huddle. They turned to face a strong-looking and slightly fidgety 49er defensive line, which included defensive tackle (three-technique), Johnny Jo. The Giants’ left offensive guard, number seventy-two, lined up in front of Jo. At three hundred twenty-five pounds, the man’s arms were the size of an average male’s thighs. Jo barely acknowledged the behemoth, however, choosing instead to focus on the football. When the center placed his hand on the brown sphere, Jo took his trademark sprinter’s four-point stance with ass high in the air.
A deafening roar surged through Levi’s Stadium.
“Green! Ninety-one!” yelled the quarterback.
“Rip! Rip! Rip!” growled Ken Gladwell Jr., 49ers middle linebacker.
Jo slid to the outside shoulder of number seventy-two.
“Set! Hut!”
The ball was snapped, and like a cannonball shot from its cannon, Jo was out of his stance and punching seventy-two in the numbers, one hand on each digit. The initial strike had rocked the back pedaling guard, causing his arms to flail upward.
Jo took his second step forward.
Feeling susceptible to the bull-rush, seventy-two braced hard, lunging his torso, helmet, and hands toward the defensive man accelerating at him like a bullet train.
Whack!
Jo’s left hand smacked the inside shoulder pad of the guard, which was immediately followed up by a swim maneuver. Jo was now in the passing lane. The quarterback never saw him coming.
Crunch.
Jo wrapped the QB up with both hands and nearly suplexed him to the turf.
The crowd went berserk. Jo thrust his fist in the air. Several of his teammates slapped his helmet while others jumped on his back to celebrate with him.
“And that’s the fifth sack tonight, for Johnny Jo,” said Play Man.
“This guy is unstoppable,” said Color Guy.
“Indeed he is.”
“You know, the only reason Jo was the very first pick in the second round was because he’s an undersized tackle. I guarantee you, had he been a three hundred pounder, he would have gone first, second, or third in the first round. Easily,” said Color Guy.
“Well, those teams that passed him up are regretting it now,” jabbed Play Man.
“I bet they are too, Ben. I tell you what. If Jo keeps playing like this, he’s going to have one of those golden jackets from Canton, Ohio some day.”
After one season in the NFL, Johnny Jo would leave the league. He just simply disappeared from the public eye.
One
FIFTEEN YEARS LATER. BARB’S Diner. Little Hong Kong. Detective Donald R. Jinx sat in his favorite booth nestled in one corner of the restaurant. He had to always sit with his back against the wall so he could see everything that might help him or hurt him. It was a Marine thing. He sipped his coffee slowly, grateful to be inside and out of the cold.
“How we doin’, hon?” said Barb. “Can I warm that up for you?”
“Yes ma’am,” replied Jinx, with a smile. In his two and a half decades of combined military and police service, Jinx had witnessed things that had made him lose his faith in humanity. Not old Barb, though. She was a good human being. He and Jo had joked that her parents named her Barbie because she looked like the doll. And if she were twenty years younger, they would have asked her out. Or tried to, anyway.
“So, where’s your buddy today?” she asked as she topped off his coffee.
“Who? Rodriguez?”
“No. The hunk. Johnny.”
Jinx rolled his eyes. “Barb, I was feeling good about myself until you said that.”
Barb laughed. She had an infectious laugh. “You’re still fine, baby!” But you’re married and I don’t mess with that. You’re cute friend isn’t.”
“Good save, Barb,” he chuckled. “Now I’m going to leave a tip.”
“You better!” She laughed again and walked away.
Jinx went back to his coffee. Just then, his mobile went off in his jacket pocket. He tapped his earpiece with his free hand.
“This is Jinx,” he said.
“Detective. We have a one-eight-seven and a two-thirteen on Eisenhower Boulevard, sir. Multiple victims,” said the voice on the other end.
“Copy that.” Jinx took one more swig of his beverage and then placed the cup down. “On my way.” He took a couple one-dollar bills from his wallet and tossed it on the table.
Murder was part and parcel for Little Hong Kong. But a two-thirteen? he thought to himself as he began to walk toward the exit doors. He flashed back to Iraq. What the hell’s happening to my city?
Two
HALF OF EAST EISENHOWER seemed to be marked off by yellow crime scene tape. Detective Jinx was getting the low-down from a patrol officer who had arrived an hour or so before him. He glanced up to see the district attorney entering the lot. This was a big deal. He thanked the officer and turned to face Little Hong Kong’s DA.
“The Honorable Patricia Sawyer, District Attorney,” he said with a wry smile. “What brings you to our humble crime scene?”
“Oh, get stuffed, Donald,” said Sawyer, in her typical sultry voice.
Jinx chuckled. Johnny Jo had once said that her voice made men’s trousers tremble wherever she went.
“I’m here as a request of Mayor Chang and -”
“Oh, so you’re taking your orders from the mayor now?”
She slapped him softly on the shoulder. “And if you would have let me finish. As a favor to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes.
The mayor wants to make sure that the Global Security Initiative team stays out of your way.”
Jinx could not believe his ears.
“And I need to make sure they don’t lay one grubby hand on this crime scene,” said Sawyer, looking around the area.
“Who are they sending,” said Jinx.
“Von Lector.”
“Jesus Christ, Patti!” said Jinx. His face twisted in disgust.
“I know. He’s a galling son-of-a-bitch.”
“I don’t know what that means, but if it means annoying as hell,” he said pointing his finger at Sawyer, “Then yes, he really is.”
“Remember, the GSI has no power in the U.S.,” said Sawyer. “They’re simply here to observe.”
“Mmhm,” mumbled Jinx, looking unconvinced. “That’s probably what the Jews said when Hitler and his merry bunch of Nazis moved into town.”
DA Sawyer could not repress a smile. “Well then, let’s get a jump on this before they get here,” she said, interlocking her arm in his.
The crime locale was fairly gruesome. Four dead laid out in relatively close proximity to one another. Two bodies were severely burned and the other two bodies were full of bullet holes. Detective Jinx gave the forensic team time to investigate each body. He followed up with eyewitnesses while the CSIs did their thing.
The head of CSI, Doctor Samuel Kwok, waved Jinx over. Jinx excused himself from a conversation with another officer and made his way to the doctor.
“What do we have, Doc?”
“Well, obviously these two bodies here were severely charred. We’ll do a skin autopsy back at the lab and try to determine the two men’s identities.”
The eyewitnesses weren’t all that helpful in that department, thought Jinx. He was hoping forensics would have an answer. Or two.
Jinx moved toward the corpses with bullet holes. “Standard death from guns shot wounds, Doc?”
“Yes. It appears so,” answered Doctor Kwok as he followed Jinx from behind. “Judging by temperature of skin. I’d say, oh, these men have been dead for going on three hours now.”
Jinx thanked the doctor and asked to be contacted as soon as the autopsy results were in.
Doctor Kwok agreed to do so.
“Putting it together yet, Detective?” said DA Sawyer. Her arms were crossed over her navy blue blazer. She threw her head back a bit to remove a long strand of dark chestnut hair from her face.
“Did you notice the tats on the two stiffs with -”
“Two dead bodies,” corrected DA Sawyer.
“Yeah. The two stiffs with the bullet holes to the chest,” continued Jinx.
“I did. Triad, right?”
“Yup. The LHK Tigers. This gang is notorious for running guns and prostitution.”
“A turf war, perhaps?” said Sawyer.
“Maybe. We have to wait and see what forensics turns up.”
A row of dark colored SUVs appeared in the distance. With mounted red lights flashing, the vehicles looked like large four legged monsters with the tops of their heads on fire.
Here comes von Lector and the rest of The Gestapo, thought Donald Jinx.
Three
PETER VON LECTOR WAS the first one out of the lead vehicle. He ducked under the tape and made his way to the parking lot where Detective Jinx and DA Sawyer were standing.
Jinx perceived that the only thing colder than the night’s air was the man’s facial expression.
“Be nice,” whispered Sawyer.
“Madame District Attorney Sawyer,” said von Lector as he approached. Sawyer extended her hand to which von Lector grasped and lifted it, kissing the dorsal part softly.
Jinx could not suppress a smile. The look on Patricia’s face said a boatload of what she thought of that move.
“And Detective Jinx. Nice to see you again.”
“You’re not going to kiss my hand, are you?”
Von Lector tittered. “I assure you. No.”
Jinx shook the man’s hand. It wasn’t his European accent that bothered Jinx. The guy just gave off a weird vibe.
“So, if possible, could you bring me and my men up to speed, Detective Jinx?”
Plus, he hated the fact that von Lector pronounced his name, Y-i-n-x rather than Jinx.
“Certainly.” Jinx looked around the lot for a moment and then waved down an officer on scene. “Agent von Lector. This is Officer Damien Briggs. Officer Briggs was the first lawman on the scene and would be more than happy to inform you and your men on the details of this case.”
“Don’t tell them shit,” whispered Jinx in the young constable’s ear.
Peter von Lector began to protest, but Jinx was already walking away. Dr. Kwok was summoning him.
Thank you, Sam, thought Jinx. But before he could snicker, he caught the details of the doctor’s face. It wasn’t good.
“What is it, doc?”
“These bodies here.”
“Yeah. Triad, right?”
“Not those. The charred bodies,” said Kwok. “I excised a small chunk of flesh from each of the deceased and had the samples teleported to our lab.”
“Yeah. You get the results?”
“Yes. And that is what’s deeply troubling me, Donald,” said the good doctor. “These men cannot be identified.”
“Did you use INTERPOL and GIS databases?”
“Of course I did,” spat Kwok.
Jinx’s intention was not to insult his forensics doctor. Jinx went silent for a moment.
There has to be a mistake here. GIS has all possible DNA samples due to the global security act.
“There’s more,” said Samuel Kwok.
“What?”
Like a turtle, Kwok protracted his neck toward Jinx and lowered his voice. “From the flesh analyzed…” He cleared his throat. “Each specimen contained alleles that are, well, not exactly human.”
Donald Jinx looked at Sam Kwok as if he’d grown another head. “Whatdya mean not exactly human, Doc?”
“I’m saying -”
Jinx put a finger to his lips.
“I’m saying that there were other species of mammal found in the DNA of each John Doe.
Jinx said nothing while reaching into his pocket to grab his mobile.
“Who are you calling?” said Kwok.
“A friend who happens to be as strange as this case.”
Four
SHE CALLED TO ME, but I couldn’t get to her. I was too young, too weak, and too small. I tried to reach for her, but strong hands held me back. Everything was swirling around like a kaleidoscope except for the image of her face. She looked scared. No. Terrified. She screamed something but I couldn’t make it out. She was being pulled further away with each passing second. Her voice was overwhelmed by a deafening siren, whaling over and over again. I yelled for her, but my cries were also drowned out by that terrible siren. I struggled to free myself. She was disappearing from view.
“No!” I shrieked.
My eyes popped open and my heart felt like it was close to penetrating through my chest wall. It took me a moment to realize where I was and that what I was experiencing was just a dream. No, strike that. A nightmare. One that visited me often.
Damn, I thought to myself. The siren in my nightmare persisted. I looked to my right to see my mobile lighting up like a Christmas tree. I reached for it, clicked the talk button, and said: “Hello?”
Christ, I sound like fucking Yoda.
It was Donald on the other line.
“Do you know what time it is?”
Apparently he did and didn’t care. He needed my expert opinion or some shit like that. I wasn’t really listening. He asked if I was alone.
“Yeah I’m alone.” That’s when I noticed the large lump beside me. I lifted up the sheets, which exposed a very tight, very tan naked female lying beside me. “Scratch that. I’ve got company.”
Donald went on to preach to me about morals and, safe sex, STDs, and so on and so forth.
“Alrig
ht, Mother Teresa. Fuck off.” I’ll be there in an hour.
He countered with thirty minutes and we eventually settled on forty-five.
I clicked the red end button and threw the mobile back on the nightstand.
I sat up and got to the edge of my bed. Naked as hell and smelling like a fifth of Rum and Coke, I slowly ascended into a standing position. I needed a shower.
“Mmmm. Where are you going, baby?” came the raspy female voice from my bed.
“I’ve got to go to work, doll face.” I did a one-eighty turn and plopped my bare ass back on the edge of the bed to steal one more juicy kiss. Then I stuck my hand out.
“Johnny Jo. Nice to meet you.”
I felt about fifty percent sobered up when I hit the road. “Xavier. Play Sinatra’s best hits.”
“Playing Sinatra’s best hits now, Mr. Jo,” said the AI from my center console. Fly Me To The Moon came on and I began tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. In all honesty, I was grateful for Donnie’s call. My private investigator gig had run a little dry and funds were tight. The last check I got from the LHKPD - for what I assumed would be doing similar work - kept the wolf away from my front porch. I kept my fingers crossed for more of the same.
‘In other words…hold my hand. In other words…baby, kiss me,’ I belted out. I bobbed my head to the glorious timbre of the immortal, Frank.
“Xavier! Turn this bitch up!”
“Turning this bitch up, Mr. Jo.”
Detective Jinx, DA Sawyer, and Agent von Lector formed an informal circle a few steps away from the corpses. It was past two in the morning, and Jinx wanted to get everything bagged and tagged and out of the cold already.
“Detective, what are we waiting for?” said von Lector.
“We’re waiting for a consultant, of sorts,” said Jinx.
“Oh? What type of consultant?”
“He has a knack for deciphering information in these special cases.” Jinx did his best to generalize his answers. Von Lector opened his mouth to ask another question and Jinx put his hands up. “I cannot speak further on the details of this investigation nor the personnel involved, Lector. You know that.”
“Who is it?” inquired Sawyer.
“Johnny Jo.”