Urban Justice
Page 1
Urban Justice - Jack Lamburt 2
John Etzil
For my Aunt Sophie, the last of the Greatest Generation.
You guys are awesome.
Copyright © 2017 by John Etzil
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Epilogue
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Fatal Justice Chapter 2
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Airliner Down Chapter 2
Airliner Down Chapter 3
Airliner Down Chapter 4
Airliner Down Chapter 5
Airliner Down Chapter 6
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
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1
Cosmo grabbed Debbie by the ponytail and pushed the business end of the sawed-off shotgun against the underside of her chin. With a slight chuckle, he tilted her head backwards, forcing it until it couldn’t go any further. A shiny gold-toothed grin spread across his face. His voice was soft, almost friendly, and I had no problem hearing what he said in the dead quiet of the Red Barn.
“It’d be a shame to spread this pretty lady’s brains all over the ceiling, so which one of you is going to tell me what I need to know?”
Silence.
There were a handful of us inside the Red Barn that night. The bad guys had arrived a few minutes earlier, guns drawn, and forced us all to lie down on the floor. Except for the bartender, my girlfriend, Debbie.
“No takers? Let’s make this a little more interesting, then.” He pried open Debbie’s lips with the tip of the shotgun. “Come on, open up that pretty mouth of yours.”
She did, and he slid the barrel in so deep that she coughed, her upper body flexing forward in response to the gag reflex.
“Better not do that again.” He smirked and nodded to his shotgun. “She’s cocked and ready to blow. I can’t promise you that your gagging won’t set her off.”
Debbie regained her composure, her eyes never losing that focus that I’d come to love. She didn’t sniffle, whimper, or tremble. No beads of sweat broke out on her forehead or upper lip. She glared into his eyes. Defiant until the end.
He kept the gun jammed in her mouth and turned her around so that her back was to us. He raised the handle of the shotgun, pointing it downwards towards us and forcing her to lean over backwards.
“Now. I’ll ask you folks one more time before I splatter her brains all over you. Who hired you to take Catherine?”
Nobody inside the Red Barn knew Catherine, or anything else about Cosmo and why he’d paid us a visit. Except for Debbie and me. The others all looked at each other, the expressions on their ashen faces switching from fear to confusion and then back again.
Rodney was the first to speak up, the two-beer superman effect having lifted him from the floor and into a standing position.
“She don’t know nothing. Now you leave us be. Take your kind and get out of here.”
“My kind?” Cosmo’s voice crackled, his eyes widened, and I could tell that he was about ready to blow a fuse. “My freakin’ kind?” He removed the shotgun from Debbie’s mouth and leveled it at Rodney.
Uh-oh…
2
A few weeks earlier, I had been sitting at the bar in the Red Barn in Summit, New York, where Debbie was fielding compliments from her liquored-up admirers. Located about an hour’s drive west of Albany, Summit had a population that hovered around a thousand, and the Red Barn, being the only entertainment in town, did a nice little business.
It was a simple place, a single restroom in the side wall next to the kitchen, an old jukebox that actually spun 45 records, and a sawdust-covered dance floor for when the customers drank enough beer to kill their inhibitions.
As soon as I walked in, my number one fan signaled me from the far end of the bar and waved me over. Frances was at it again. Perched on her stool, straight as an arrow, the ninety-four-year-old white-haired lady that was the spitting image of Granny Clampett raised her glass of whiskey and smiled at me. “Sheriff Joe, come drink with me. I’m buying.” She sucked on her cigarette and blew the smoke out through her toothless grin.
My name’s really Jack, and I’d replaced Sheriff Joe after he retired a few years ago, but Frances didn’t seem to remember.
“Sure, just give me a minute. I’ll be right over.” She’d been hounding me to drink with her since the first day I’d walked into this place, and I hoped that after a few minutes, she’d forget my latest acceptance to her offer and not have her feelings hurt when I didn’t cozy up next to her.
I sat down on my usual stool at the bar, where I could watch the door, and my Debbie, as she worked the barstool crowd and fattened her tip jar. God, she was good at what she did.
I’d met Debbie my first night back in town, and like every other schmo at the Red Barn, her beauty had captured my heart the moment I’d seen her. It wasn’t just her long legs, big breasts, Hollywood smile, and almond-shaped eyes that lit up when she saw me. It was the way she carried herself. Hidden under all that flirty tip-gathering banter was a commanding presence that was impossible for me to miss. Some guys never saw it, others might be intimidated by it. But not me. I relished it.
She came over to me, placed a Molson XXX on the bar, and smirked at me. “You know, Frances’s been asking you to have a drink with her for a while now. It’d be nice if you made her night.”
“She’s just so touchy-feely.” I took a sip of ice-cold beer and smiled. “She’s lucky I
don’t arrest her for sexual assault. The list of guys she’s ass-grabbed is pretty expansive.”
“Oh, stop, she’s harmless. Just deal with it. You know she’s crazy about you.”
“Fine. But I’m taking you home tonight.”
“Oh? I don’t know about that.” She head-waved over towards Bobby, a local drunk with a super big crush on Debbie. He was sitting in his usual place at the middle of the bar. Getting drunk. “Bobby did his good deed for the night. He went over and chatted with Frances for a good half hour.”
“At your suggestion, no doubt.”
“True. But just the same, him taking the time to do that has him looking pretty fine to me tonight.” She smiled her appreciation over to Bobby, who replied with a wink and a smile of his own.
“Okay, fine.” I grabbed my beer and headed over to Frances.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Debbie go over to the middle of the bar and wash some whiskey glasses in the sink in front of Bobby. I looked in the mirror behind the bar and watched his eyes triple in size when he caught sight of her cleavage. He smiled so hard that I thought his face was going to crack. Now I knew why he always sat on that same stool every night.
Frances spotted me walking over to her and smiled at me. She slid the stool next to her away from the bar and patted it. “Sit, Sheriff Joe. Take a load off.”
“Hey, Frances. How you doing?” I sat down and placed my beer on the bar.
“Fine, Sheriff. How about you?”
I looked over at Debbie and frowned. She was really giving Bobby an eyeful as she leaned over into the cooler and retrieved a frosted mug for another one of her loyal fans. “Oh, just fine.”
“She really likes you, ya know.”
“Huh?” I turned to Frances. “You mean Debbie?”
“No, I mean Aunt Jemima. Of course I mean Debbie. I can tell by the way she looks at you.” She reached across the bar and picked up her pack of Lucky Strikes, shook one out, and put it between her lips. “Ahem. A real gentleman would light his lady’s smoke.”
I looked down at the white pack of cigarettes with the big red circle. “I thought you gave up the Luckies?”
“Nah. I tried those Marlboro Reds. They just didn’t do it for me. Not strong enough.”
I grabbed her silver lighter from the bar and flicked it open. I was in full disclaimer mode. “Okay, but this goes against my better judgment.”
She laughed. “What’re you, a lawyer now?”
“No, ma’am, please don’t ever accuse me of that.” I chuckled and drank some beer. She laughed and blew smoke out in the other direction.
“I’ve been a people watcher for a long time. I can tell she really likes you.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Stop playing so nonchalant. I can also tell you really like her.”
“Yes, I like her.” I took a sip of beer and changed the subject. “So what’s new with you?”
“New with me? Jack, dear—and yes, I remember your real name—I’m almost ninety-five. Nothing’s new at this age. So stop trying to change the subject.” She took a drag on her smoke and pointed to Debbie. “She reminds me of someone else that used to look at you like that. Remember? In high school?”
Oh, jeez. Here we go. Nothing’s worse than an old fogey reminiscing about something from thirty years ago. I knew I shouldn’t have sat next to her, but I had to be pleasant. “What do you mean?”
“When you were a junior, or senior, at Richmondville High School. I can’t remember which. It was my last year there before I was forced to retire. You and I didn’t have a lot of interaction, me being a librarian and you being a jock and all. But I do remember a certain someone who used to look at you the same exact way that Debbie does. I can’t remember her name, but I’ll think of it…”
“Ah, yeah, high school. The good old days.” I drank some beer and looked at Debbie. She winked at me and smiled. I couldn’t wait to get her home. I started daydreaming about how I was going to pour her some red wine, light a small fire for atmosphere, put on some Barry White, and—
“Meredith!” Francis banged her hand on the bar and jolted me out of my fantasy. “That’s her name. She’s Mary Sue’s mom, married to that doctor guy. I see them around here once in a while.”
Meredith? What the? Where was this going? I did my best to sound disinterested. “Oh, yeah. She’s married to Stuart. He’s a heart doctor. Is he your doctor?”
“My doctor? Heck no, Jack. I don’t need no stinking doctor. They’ll just kill you.” She took a deep drag on her cigarette and flicked an ash on the floor. “Anyway, I see the way you look at Mary Sue too.”
“Mary Sue? The waitress?” I scoffed at her. “Why, Frances! She’s young enough to be my daughter.”
“I know, that’s what I mean. She has your eyes.”
I looked at her and saw she was staring at me. No smile, no smirk, just a study in observation. I broke eye contact and stood up. “Well, nice chatting with you, Frances, but I’ve got to go play some pool with Max and Gus.” I pointed over to the pool table, where the two older men were battling away against each other.
“Hold on, Jack.” She placed a hand on my elbow. “Sit back down. I need to thank you properly.”
“Huh? What for?” I sat back in my stool and took a swallow.
“Remember when these two city hoodlums were here? And that one cracked me across the shoulder and made me spill my whiskey? Well, I never got the chance to thank you for taking care of business.”
I wasn’t sure if she winked at me or had smoke in her eye. “Oh, that’s okay. Just doing my job, ma’am.” I gripped the rim of my hat and gave it a tug, trying to look and sound like Marshal Dillon from Gunsmoke. “Now if you’ll excuse me, ma’am, I don’t want to keep my fellow pool players waiting.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Max and Gus. They ain’t going anywhere. Besides, I’ll make it up to them tonight after we get home.”
What the? Dear God, did she just say what I thought she said?
“Anyhow, I know that you did more than your job. When Mary Sue and Debbie were steering me away from the commotion, I noticed you sitting by the end of the bar, smiling. I thought that odd at the time. Anyway, while the ruckus was going on, I snuck over and found the shotgun that Debbie keeps nice and shiny behind the bar. I hoped I didn’t have to use it. That twelve-gauge makes such a mess, and it leaves a nasty bruise on my shoulder.” She grabbed at her right shoulder and raised her elbow in a circular motion, working out the imaginary soreness. “As luck would have it, our fine Summit men took care of the two scoundrels. I looked over to you, and you’d gotten up and left. Now I know you’re not running from any fight. So I think to myself, what’s our fine sheriff up to now? So I went over to the small window behind the bar. I stood on my toes and watched you let yourself into the backseat of their SUV. You stayed there until they drove away, and they were never to be heard from again.”
She took a sip of whiskey and a drag on her cigarette and continued, “A few days after that, I read an article in the paper about some missing mobsters. Turns out that our friends were the ones who went missing.”
“Yeah, I read that too. Seems that they joined the witness protection program. By this time, they’re probably at their new home in Arizona. Good riddance to them.” I raised my beer mug and we clinked glasses.
“You know as well as I do that they didn’t join anything, except the worm food club.”
I looked at her again. She was staring at me like before, except this time, she was smiling. “Don’t worry, Jack, your secrets are safe with me.” She nodded, downed her whiskey, and winked at me. “All of them.”
3
I played a few games of pool with Max and Gus, but I was just going through the motions. I couldn’t let go of what Frances had said. How had she figured all that out? Meredith? Mary Sue? Was it that easy? If she could see right through me, then I had big problems.
I finished up my last game and went back to the bar.
I took my normal stool and Debbie came over to me with a fresh beer. “I need your help with something.”
“Sure, babe, what’s up?”
“I’m worried about my sister. I called all my friends, her friends, our relatives, and nobody has heard from Catherine in months.”
“After the Sparky’s Massacre, I was afraid of that. Those guys she was hanging with are bad. Where was she last heard from?”
“I don’t know. Can you use TOR and HFS to look for her?”
TOR is an anonymous web browser that protects the user’s privacy. HFS, or Home Front Security, is a little-known domestic super spy agency that I’d helped start when I worked at NSA. After a couple of years I’d burned out from the spying. That’s what I told everyone, anyway. The real reason I’d left was frustration. HFS’s mandate was to capture terrorists in this country before they could act. So we spied on everybody. We uncovered a tremendous amount of bad people doing awful things. We found big-time drug dealers, mobsters, child sex traffickers, assassins, corrupt politicians, secretive white supremacist groups. A never-ending list of horrible people. But if it wasn’t terror-related, HFS wasn’t interested, so we just passed the info on to the FBI and forgot about it. The FBI had their hands tied. They couldn’t make arrests on illegally gained intel because the courts would throw them out. Their only option was to start an investigation and get their own intel. Legally. But they didn’t have enough manpower to open a case for each file we gave them, so maybe one in fifty was acted on.