Beer, Bait, and Ammo

by Harper, Chap

  “Angel, this is Ashley. I guess you’ve met. You must be Lester’s girl, Debi?” Vander said as he shook her hand and kissed Spider on the cheek.

  Tammy wasn’t on the plane. Vander explained she wanted to visit her home in Oklahoma. He didn’t know if she would travel with him in the future. He didn’t seem concerned.

  Debi had expected him to be a grey-haired, pot-bellied man wearing a used car salesman’s clothing. He surprised her in every aspect. He was tall with a dark complexion and dark hair that only had a touch of grey around his temples. He had a handsome face with deep, dark eyes and strong features. He was muscular, with broad shoulders and a flat stomach. He wore prep-school-yellow Ralph Lauren slacks, lime green polo shirt, and tassel loafers without socks. His smile was contagious and sincere. Debi realized how this man could recruit pretty women for the call girl business. He was exactly the opposite of what she had pictured.

  The driver of the refueling truck handed the ticket to Ashley and drove back to the terminal. Angel grabbed her go bag and walked towards the plane with Vander. Ashley kissed him good-bye, then Angel motioned for Debi to come over to the plane with her. As Debi approached, she handed the keys to Ashley.

  “In thirty minutes give the keys to Debi,” Spider said and turned to Debi. She smiled and walked over to her.

  Angel put her arm around Debi and said, “You take care of Lester. He’s one of my favorite people in the world and you are one lucky-ass girl.”

  “I know…and thanks,” Debi said with a smile.

  “Give him this for me,” Angel pulled Debi in close with her arm around Debi’s waist and kissed her on the lips, a very sweet, lingering kiss. She then turned and got on the plane with Vander. For a moment, Debi stood frozen, eyes wide with shock. A strange realization came over Debi that there was some good in Angel—maybe a lot of good. She snapped back when she thought of all the guns and illegal drugs Spider had sold and how many lives had been affected.

  When she turned around, Ashley had pulled up a chair for her and was sitting across from her with her purse in her lap—her hand was in her purse. Debi got the picture.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lester and Rich wore bandages on various parts of their body where pieces of metal and glass had missed their body armor and penetrated their skin. If anyone doubted the effectiveness of the jackets and helmets, they just needed to look at those who had been near the line of fire when the Minigun tore loose. Shards of glass and metal stuck out of the body armor and helmets like a pin cushion, only these had the sharp edges pointing out. Everyone was careful about touching either of these items in fear of being severely cut. As they bounced around in the back of the ATF SUV, the officers who were on the other end of the building and saw no action were amazed by all the crap stuck in their gear.

  In about fifteen minutes, the SUV turned onto the dirt and gravel road leading to the S.G. warehouse. In the distance, they could hear gun fire. The single fire seemed closer and the automatic fire appeared to be farther off. Ahead, DEA men in full body armor were lined up at the front of the S.G. Crystal building. They were taking fire from the woods on both sides and inside from the production floor. The ATF vehicle slid to a stop off the gravel road behind several other cars. Two ambulances were parked to the side and paramedics worked on several downed officers. Lester and Rich entered the gate as the DEA guys laid down a huge amount of covering fire into the woods. Once inside the office, they crawled along the inside wall until they came to a double door where officers were positioned on each side.

  “Jim Webb, it’s nice to see you get out in the field occasionally,” Lester said as he took a position across from Jim at the partly-opened double door.

  “Lester, you have several holes in you. Did you have trouble ducking?” Jim asked.

  “Hard to duck a thousand rounds from a Gatlin gun. I don’t think we had Miniguns listed in our catalogue of available weapons,” Lester said.

  “We’ve been stalled out here because there are three machine gun nests on that big warehouse floor. A couple of M60s and a BAR with a big magazine. They’re behind sandbags and those huge piles of ore. Got any ideas?”

  “Can you get that Apache I saw parked on the way in back in the air?” Lester asked.

  “No problem. They sat down to reload the chain gun. Took out Stick Hennessey in his deer stand.”

  “My God! Is Jake okay?”

  “Yeah, he has a crease in the center of his skull, but he’s going to be fine. Word is, he and Stick had a hell of a shootout. Old man held his own,” Jim said.

  “Okay, here’s the plan,” Lester said. “Have one of your men count the metal ribs on the west side of the building and tell me exactly where the machine guns are in relation to those. Next, is the third machine gun in a nest?”

  “No. He’s mobile and I’ve been told he’s one of Stick’s war buddies. Right now he’s at the other side of that little house. They did the count and two ribs for the first one and six and a half ribs for the second one.”

  “Get the Apache in the air and have it rake the woods with that chain gun when they see me go around the side of the building. As soon as I take out the machine guns, have your guys pitch a grenade behind the house and flush him out. Have the copter rake the other side of the woods afterwards. Got it?”

  Jim nodded.

  “I’ll wait to go until I see the Apache blasting away. And get me that count.”

  “You know the whole place might go up because of meth fumes, Lester,” Jim said.

  “Then clear them out before you throw it.”

  Lester and Rich crawled along the wall and then exited the building. An ATF officer outside the door traded Lester the BAR with the big capacity Polish drum magazine for the small round MAC-11. Rich and Lester hugged the front wall of the building until they came to the corner. When Lester turned to ask Little Richard to cover him, he noticed a BAR in his hand. He must have made a trade as well.

  “We’ve got to get some of those babies. Best big bullet hand-held ever made,” Lester said.

  A roaring sound above them suggested the Apache was about to rain fire down on the forest.

  Again the twisting tunnel of red-orange fire snaked through the woods, knocking down trees and catching brush on fire. Lester ran with his face toward the metal on the side of the building. Rich watched the woods for any movements but saw nothing but trees falling over from the chain gun. Lester suddenly stopped about thirty feet from the end of the building and stepped back a few feet, adjusting the muzzle of his big automatic rifle. Once he was satisfied he had the right angle, he discharged about fifty rounds into the side of the building, above the second rib.

  Inside, the two men working the machine gun nest near the back of the warehouse stood up as the first few rounds came through on their position. Then several large 30.06 bullets tore into them.

  At the second machine gun bunker about thirty feet away, three men working behind sandbags started to move out but were cut down by Lester through the side of the building. His count on the metal ribs of the building had been accurate at six and a half, deadly for the men on the machine guns. Insulation and drywall floated in the air above both of the machine gun placements. Almost immediately after Lester stopped shooting, a grenade went off in the warehouse. Harland Antoine, who had set up his BAR as a bunker weapon, dove for cover when he saw the grenade roll in. When it exploded, his eardrums burst. He was still alive and was holding his weapon when the DEA and FBI rushed in, firing at everything they saw. Harland remained hidden in the corner behind a few sheets of plywood. Lester checked his weapon to see if he had some rounds left and entered the warehouse from the rear.

  Five rounds left—should be fine.

  He came around the corner with Rich behind him and observed the chaotic activity in the warehouse. The gunfire had subsided and the employees that weren’t killed or wounded had their hands up. He walked to the center of the warehouse and watched as Jim supervised the crime scene investigat
ion. It appeared that it would just be paperwork now. Jim spotted Lester across the large warehouse floor and waved him over. Lester was preoccupied. Something didn’t seem right.

  “Rich, where is that third machine gun guy? He had a BAR. I recognized the distinctive sound it made.”

  “Jim said he was behind that house up there. Wow! Half of it’s blown away,” Rich said. Lester kept trying to figure out what was out of order. Just as Jim Webb started walking toward Lester, both Lester and Rich saw movement in the front corner of the warehouse behind some plywood.

  “Jim, get down!” Lester screamed and watched Jim drop face down to the concrete floor.

  Harlan emerged from behind the plywood with fire coming out the end of his BAR on fully automatic and a callous “don’t care if I die” look on his face. Rich caught a bullet in his shoulder. One went through Lester’s calf, causing him to pull his first round slightly to the right. Remarkably, the round caught Harlan in the chest. The audible “clunk” from the metal plate insert knocked Harland to the floor. He recovered, only to be sprayed by Rich’s BAR. Most of the shots were to his body armor and non-lethal areas of his body. He went down again, and this time when he got up, he had the big BAR aimed in Lester’s direction. He hesitated a fraction of a second too long, and Lester hit him on the bridge of the nose, misting his brain on the big round’s exit out the rear. It was truly over.

  Medics were all over Rich and Lester to stop the bleeding and clean the wounds.

  “Hey, Lester. I owe you lunch for saving my ass,” said Jim Webb.

  “No, Jim, you owe Debi and me dinner in Little Rock. Say, Sonny’s Steak House,” Lester said.

  He suddenly realized Debi was probably worried and wondering why she hadn’t heard from him.

  Lester dialed her cell. Her phone rang several times but no answer. Before he had stuck it back in his pocket he got a call. It was Debi.

  “Hi, Baby. I’m still alive and it’s all over,” Lester said.

  “That’s great! Are you hurt?”

  “A few scratches, but all of our people survived.”

  “Does that mean you had your dick blown off and you have no arms and legs?” Debi asked, knowing it was always more serious than he let on.

  “Oh, by the way, do you remember that cute crime boss you were looking for?”

  “Spider?”

  “Well, she kidnapped me today. Took me to the airport and flew off with that Vander guy.”

  “What the fuck! Are you okay? Where is she now?”

  “Riding a frigging cloud, I would say. Going to some country that doesn’t have extradition.”

  “Holy shit! Jim, get over here.” Jim had only taken a few steps and turned to see what he wanted. “Spider skipped town with Vander in his plane. We need to call the FAA or whoever to try to catch her ass,” Lester said. He couldn’t believe they had let the principal criminal slip out of their hands.

  “Don’t really have enough to convict her on anything. Everything was in Stick’s name. The massage parlor, strip clubs, bait store, S.G. Crystals, and all the gun sales, and even Spider’s condo—all in Stick’s name. We have a lot of circumstantial evidence, and maybe we could find an employee stupid enough to testify against her. Other than that, we got nothing. Keep in mind we have just taken on one of the biggest crime operations in the US and brought them down.”

  Lester and Rich looked at each other and shook their heads. Apparently, crime did pay, and pretty well, if you kept your name off the deeds and contracts.

  Mike Adams walked up as the medics worked on the two.

  “Big fucking mess you made here, boys. Glad we don’t have to clean it up.” He shook hands with both of them. “You guys did good today,” Mike said.

  After bumming rides, Lester and Rich found their way back to the sheriff’s office, where they picked up their cars. Lester was happy to see his red Yukon and was so glad he didn’t work out of it on this day.

  All the familiar places seemed so special today. As he passed the racetrack, he admired the new addition to the casino. He passed by Stubby’s and smiled as he thought about their ribs. When he drove by the mall, he tried to read the titles of all the movies that were playing at the theater.

  Pulling up to his apartment, he saw Debi running out to meet him. She had tears in her eyes. Lester got out of his car and hobbled toward her. She immediately assessed his bandaged areas, counted his body parts, and put her arms around him.

  “I have something for you, Lester.” She kissed him with about the same intensity as Spider had kissed her. “That kiss was from Spider. She wants me to take care of you.”

  “Spider kissed you on the lips?”

  “Yes, and it was nice. Maybe I’m part lesbian?”

  “So, every time I kiss you—I’ll be kissing two pretty women at the same time?”

  “Yes—I guess so.”

  “Well, let’s get started.”

  The End

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later

  Sheriff Jake, Lester and Debi sat in a booth at the Mt. Ida Cafe. It was a beautiful fall day, and to make the day more interesting, a Razorback game in Fayetteville was on Lester and Debi’s schedule for later in the afternoon. They had stopped at the cafe to buy Jake’s lunch before traveling up the road to Y City and then up to Fort Smith where they would take the four-lane highway that rose up and cut into the Boston Mountains and then went through Arkansas’s only road tunnel on the way to Razorback stadium.

  “Looks like the head wound is healing, Jake, but it’s going to be a battle scar,” Lester said.

  “Hell, it don’t even show if I wear a hat. Kind of proud of it if you want the truth. Old Stick woulda killed me if I hadn’t pulled the trigger a fraction of a second before he did.”

  “Are things boring for you now?” Debi asked.

  “Plenty to do with meth labs popping up all over the place, and there’s always domestic fights. Usually there’s drugs or alcohol to blame. Hope we never have a big deal like Lester uncovered—made the national news, it did.”

  A bone-weary waitress laid a tray on the table next to their booth. The first Cafe sandwich was set in front of Jake. Next they were placed in front of Debi and Lester. Debi gasped, “Holy mother of God.”

  The sandwiches before them were beyond belief. Yes, there was a hamburger bun involved, but between the bottom one and the top were at least three huge beef patties, cheese on several layers, one fried egg, onion rings, lettuce and tomatoes. On the top and going all the way through the center of each giant burger was a well-placed butcher knife stabbing through the sandwich to hold it together.

  Lester and Jake grinned like monkeys. “My treat, Jake!” Lester said as he attempted to find a place to bite into the behemoth.

  “Where’s your salad, Lester?” Debi asked.

  “I ate salads until I could read. A little deal I made with myself. And I appreciated that you never asked me about it.”

  “I knew there was a reason and that you would tell me sometime. It was like a game you were playing.”

  Debi just stared at her giant burger. She finally got out her iPhone, took a picture, and posted it on Facebook.

  In a few hours there were more than a hundred likes.

  Charles L. (Chap) Harper

  Chap Harper is a native Arkansan and retired insurance executive who moved from California to share a cabin on Lake Hamilton in Hot Springs with his wife Susan. Writing was always something he did even in his youth, and in 2012 he published his first novel Once Upon a Reef, which drew heavily on his love of scuba diving. Since then, in 2015, he published Once Upon the Congo (Smoking Gun Publishing.) His latest novel is Beer, Bait, and Ammo by the same publisher is a thriller that is set in the south. A fourth book is in the wings that takes place in French Equatorial Africa in 1933.

  Other Books by This Author

  Once Upon a Reef - 2012

  Once Upon the Congo - 2015

  sp; Harper, Chap, Beer, Bait, and Ammo