The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus

by Michael Anderle

  I have a fucking sense of humor. I almost won a contest.

  Tyler blinked and stared at the text, wondering when Brownstone had been in any sort of comedy contest. He shook his head and tapped another message into the phone.

  I swear this isn’t about screwing you over. This isn’t about jokes. This is about the most important thing in my life.

  What’s that?

  Money, of course.

  A minute ticked by before the bounty hunter finally responded.

  Fine. I’ll consider it and come by the Black Sun later. Try anything and you’ll regret it.

  Tyler didn’t bother to respond. All he needed was for Brownstone to show up. Once he pitched his plan, even the arrogant bounty hunter would have to agree.

  He acts all high and mighty, but he was more than ready to bet when he knew it could make him money.

  James opened the door to his F-350 and stepped inside. He’d received a text telling him to stop by and chat with the Professor about the job. The thought of a little righteous ass-kicking would help him work out some of the tension suffusing his muscles after his little exchange with Tyler.

  Fucker probably has some new betting pool he wants to set up. Always trying to profit off assholes killing me.

  His phone rang and he yanked it up, not bothering with speakerphone since he was still in his garage.

  Blocked number.

  “Oh, now that?” he muttered. “Who is this?” he demanded.

  “Heather.”

  “Oh,” James replied, his tone softening. “You find something?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Right now, it doesn’t seem like there’s a single source of video. It’s multiple people recording Parkour Penny.”

  “’Parkour Penny?’”

  “That’s what they’re calling her online. That way everyone can quickly track down the new videos.”

  James chuckled. Shay would hate being called “Parkour Penny.”

  “And you’re sure it’s not the same person recording the videos?”

  “Yes,” Heather replied. “If it’s not, someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to fake it otherwise. Different cameras, different encodings, different background voices. I’m thinking people might be looking for her to record things. It doesn’t smell like a conspiracy or some organization if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  James grunted. He was more worried about the cops than conspiracy, but Heather didn’t need to know all his business.

  “Is there any way you can set it up so I know when a new video comes out?”

  “Sure. That’s easy.”

  “I mean, so they can’t easily connect you and me.”

  Heather scoffed. “Don’t insult me, Mr. Brownstone. I’ve got a bunch of different ways to do that, including having your phone text you through the web.”

  “Okay, good.”

  Heather snickered. “I’d say I’m great, but sure, good will do.”

  A text popped up with only a number.

  “Did you just send me a text, Heather?”

  “Yep. That’s my fee.”

  James looked it over. Higher than he wanted, but lower than he’d feared.

  “I’ll transfer the money right away.”

  “Then I’ll get to setting up your Parkour Penny alerts.”

  By the time James sat down in front of the Professor the other man had already downed several beers. Familiar rosy cheeks decorated his face, along with a smile.

  “It turns out I blamed the wrong man,” the Professor explained.

  “Oh? You get your plaque back?”

  The Professor shook his head. “No. I still need your help in recovering something from a man who is trying to sell back something that is mine. Yes, the plaque.”

  James frowned. “Okay, I’m confused. You said this Sanderson guy was supposed to deliver it to you.”

  “Sanderson can’t because he no longer has the item, and it’s my damned fault.”

  “Now I’m even more lost than before.”

  The Professor gulped down some more beer and let out a sigh. “I allowed something to happen that should never have happened.”

  “Maybe if you showed me or something I could understand better.”

  The older man pulled out his phone and flipped it around so James could better see the screen. “Sanderson doesn’t have it anymore because he gave it to a courier to deliver to me.” He tapped the phone and a video started.

  A nervous-looking man in an ill-fitting suit handed a suitcase to a beautiful Asian woman with bright-green-dyed hair.

  “Hey, I know her. That’s Addie, the courier. She helped us before.”

  The Professor sighed. “Keep watching.”

  The nervous-looking man hurried away and Addie took a few steps, a wide grin on her face. A few seconds later, her body shimmered and a man in a white suit stood there holding the briefcase.

  The Professor shook his head. “I’ve used her so many times that I didn’t bother to ask about passphrases when I contacted her.” The Professor sipped more beer. “I contacted her again yesterday and learned she’d never talked to me. I must have been talking to this man the first time.”

  James grunted.

  “Sloppy and stupid, lad. She has procedures for a reason, and I ignored them and sent an imposter straight to Sanderson.” He sighed. “He’s been trying to avoid me because he realized shortly after that he’d been conned and was afraid how I’d react. But we’d both been conned.”

  “Shit happens.” James shook his head. “Not gonna say I would have questioned her before if she hadn’t made me use your dirty limerick passphrases.”

  “That’s all in the past. The important thing is that I now have a name and address for the person trying to sell my item. The only advantage we have in this is that the thief is far too arrogant. One Gregory Schwartz is far too desperate to unload my artifact. It’s made him as sloppy as I was.”

  “You have his address? He still in LA?”

  “Yes, for now. He seems to be renting a place, and I suspect he plans to leave as soon as he makes the sale.”

  “Well, he’s got illusion magic, or an artifact at least.”

  The Professor nodded. “I suspect he’s got a lot more than that. I haven’t had time for a deep dive into his background, but I’ve confirmed he’s stolen artifacts from others before. He usually sells them, but we can’t be certain. He might also have hired guards.” He shrugged. “On the other hand, you’re you. You might be able to intimidate him into surrendering.”

  James shrugged. “Kind of tired of dealing with people pretending to be someone else, but at least I don’t have to get on a plane or spend days driving.”

  “Aye.” The Professor smiled. “I’m hoping you can clean this mess up for me without too much trouble.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Any bounty on this guy?”

  The Professor shook his head. “The only people who have any clue about him are people in my field. He’s a very selective sort of criminal. I don’t appreciate getting conned, but I suppose I can take some small solace in how selective he is.” He finished his beer and grinned. “I should be honored.”

  James gave a feral grin. “He’s gonna be very sorry he fucked with you soon. He shouldn’t have decided to give you that honor.”

  8

  “Man, I already miss our easy money,” Trey grumbled.

  He kept his hands tight on the wheel and rolled the SUV slowly down the street, looking for the man he’d been told could provide some information.

  Shorty stared out the window. “This is shit, Trey. We can’t be handling all this with just one set of wheels.”

  “You’re right. I’ll talk with the big man about getting another car or some shit.”

  “Also, you sure about this?” Manuel asked. “If we find the bounty we’re looking for, it’s gonna piss off the Mafia. Brownstone okay with that?”

  Sho
rty and Trey snorted in unison, but the other men in the vehicle kept skeptical looks on their faces.

  Manuel frowned. “It’s not a stupid question.”

  Trey shook his head. “Nope, but I think y’all forget at times who the big man is. Motherfucker laid out the entire Harriken, all the way to Japan. We work for Brownstone now, so we don’t back up from no organized crime shit. Besides, who gives a shit if they are organized crime? We’re fucking organizing bounty hunting.”

  “Don’t be a pussy,” Shorty added. “Besides, this Bruno fucker is twisted as shit. We need to get him off the streets. Fucking beating women so severely they end up in the hospital. Fucking messing their faces up on purpose.”

  “He don’t kill them, though,” Travis offered. “And they mostly hos, right?”

  The man withered under Shorty’s intense glare. “I don’t give a shit if they hos or not. That’s bullshit. Strong men don’t beat down women.” His hands curled into fists. “I hope Bruno Thomas tries to put up a fight. I’m gonna show him what a real beat-down is.”

  Trey spared him a glance but didn’t say anything. The Brownstone Agency was supposed to keep it professional, but Bruno Thomas was a piece of crap. Like Shorty, Trey half-hoped he would put up a fight so they could get in a few free hits.

  Shorty didn’t like to talk about it, but his father had been an abusive asshole. The only reason he stopped beating Shorty’s mother was that the teenager had stabbed him.

  He didn’t serve time because his father was too afraid to get the cops involved, but he forced Shorty out of the house. Everything ended after that. His mother left his father and moved out of state.

  Trey slammed on the brakes, and everyone strained against their seatbelts.

  “What the fuck?” Deshawn yelled from the back.

  “It’s the guy we’re looking for. Come on, bitches. Let’s start earning our money.”

  Trey threw open the door and sauntered to a tall, pale man in a trench coat lingering near a building, more an emaciated ghoul than a human being.

  Look at this fucker. He looks like a freak. No sense of style at all.

  The rest of the bounty hunters emerged from the vehicle until a half-dozen suited men loomed around the man in the trench coat.

  The man looked at Trey and licked his lips. “Shit. You Jehovahs are getting a lot more in-your-face these days.”

  Trey chuckled. “We ain’t here about God. It’s more like we’re looking for the devil. People tell me you’re called Captain Happy?”

  “Yeah, brother, I’m Captain Happy. I’ll make you happy. Is that what this is about?” He pulled open his trench coat to reveal pouches lining the inside. “I got lots of shit. You like dust? I got premium dust.” The drug dealer looked at the gathered bounty hunters. “I’ll even give you a group discount. Don’t want no one ever saying they left the Captain unhappy.”

  Trey shook his head. “Ain’t here for drugs. Brownstone Agency don’t do drugs.”

  “Brownstone Agency?” Captain Happy’s eyes widened. “As in James Brownstone?” He swallowed.

  Trey offered the man a cold grin. “The one and only. We’re his boys, and we do shit for him in LA and Vegas.”

  The drug dealer shook his head. “This is bullshit. I don’t got no bounty on me. None. I’m a criminal. I’ll cop to that, but no fucking bounty. So no fucking bounty hunter should be coming at me.”

  Trey snorted. “Hey, now, don’t piss yourself.”

  The bounty hunters chuckled. Deshawn, Shorty and Travis circled around to cut off Captain Happy’s escape.

  “We know you got no bounty,” Trey continued. “We ain’t here to bring you in, and as far as I know, you ain’t shoving drugs down kids’ throats or nothing, so we ain’t even here for a free beatdown.”

  The drug dealer’s breathing turned ragged. “Then what are you here for?”

  “A little info. Fuck, we’ll even pay for it. We ain’t thugs. Not no more anyway.”

  Trey wondered if Smooth Trey would be a better persona for dealing with Captain Happy, but the problem was that the guys didn’t respond well when he shifted away from the gangster speak they were used to.

  “O-okay. I can give you some info. Sure, sure. Like I said, don’t want anyone leaving Captain Happy saying they’re unhappy.” He laughed nervously.

  “So a little birdie told me that you know where Bruno Thomas is hiding out.” Trey braced an arm against the wall over the drug dealer’s shoulder. He leaned in. “I need to fucking know where he is. ‘Cause that bitch, he does have a bounty. Big one.”

  Captain Happy shook his head. “If I squeal on him he’ll kill me.”

  Shorty grunted. “Maybe he won’t get the chance if you don’t.”

  “Come on. He’s Connected, you know. Even if you get him, they might come for me.”

  Trey leaned in to whisper, “We’re not leaving Vegas without Bruno. I don’t know what my boys will do if you say no.” He leaned back and grinned.

  Brownstone would beat our asses if we thugged out on someone like this bitch, but it’s not like he knows about it.

  The drug dealer scrubbed a hand down his face. “Okay, okay, okay. I’m just a businessman, you know? I don’t even know the fucker. I happened to see him because he’s staying in this fancy house on my weekend sales route. Nice neighborhood.”

  Trey snorted. “You sell in a nice neighborhood?”

  “Yeah, sure. At a premium. The soccer moms get off on buying their drugs from a sleazeball, you know? It’s kind of a show. I really play it up.”

  Trey couldn’t hate the man for his game—at least as long as he cooperated.

  “Give me an address, and me and my boys disappear from your life like a nightmare that you forget when you wake up.”

  Captain Happy rattled off an address.

  Trey patted the man on the shoulder. “You’re all right, Captain.” He pulled his wallet out, yanked out a few bills, and slapped them in the drug dealer’s hand before he turned back toward the Expedition. “We got ourselves a gangster to chat with, boys.”

  Trey parked up the street from the two-story home. On their drive past, they spotted cameras and a drone. Bruno was a paranoid fuck, for sure.

  “He’s got a gate and a fence,” Travis complained. “How we supposed to get near him?”

  Trey snorted. “We climb it, bitch.”

  “The cops will be here in seconds if we start climbing some rich asshole’s fence.”

  “You still thinking like a gangbanger and not like a bounty hunter. We on the side of the law now, bitch.” Trey pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Brownstone warns the cops all the time about shit.” He tapped in a quick text to Sergeant Choi explaining the situation and how they were about to go after Bruno Thomas.

  “What if the cops show up right away? We’ll lose our bounty.”

  Trey’s phone chimed with a text from Sergeant Choi.

  Thanks for letting me know, Trey. I’ll pass the info along. Even if you don’t want to move on Thomas, keep him there until we can get there.

  Trey offered his best Brownstone grunt to Travis. “Shit don’t work like that. You fuckers should listen when I explain this shit. The cops show up and tag Bruno, we get a reward for that, but if we already have him when the cops show up, we get the full bounty.” He opened his door. “So, we’re not gonna pussyfoot around coming up with complicated plans.” He pressed the button on his key fob to open the back hatch. “I’m the only fucker smart enough to have a vest on. Get some vests from the back. Bruno ain’t playing, and give me that small case back there.”

  Everyone exited the SUV and walked to the back to put on the bulletproof vests, each of which were adorned with the words ‘Brownstone Agency’ in stylized letters.

  “When did we get this shit?” Shorty asked as he strapped on his vest.

  “Auntie Charlyce suggested it. It’s all about branding, you know. The suits, the vests… We want fuckers to know who we are and the pain we’re gonna fuckin
g bring them.”

  Deshawn handed Trey the case. “What’s in there?”

  “Now that we’ve been making some money and not acting like fools, the big man has been able to get some upgrades to our licenses.” He popped open the case to reveal three sonic grenades. “Which means we can use better toys.” Trey pocketed one grenade. “Shorty and Manuel, you each take one. Remember, you gotta use this shit from at least ten feet away unless you want to go down too. Everyone grab a stun gun from the box in the back, too.”

  A couple more minutes passed until the men were armed and armored.

  “Bruno’s an arrogant piece of shit, so I’m not worried about him running. We’re going right at him, and we’ll see what he has to say.” Trey nodded to the assembled men. “It’d be badass if we could all Sun Tzu Bruno into giving up without fighting and shit, but a fucker like him isn’t gonna piss his pants like Captain Happy. We need his ass alive for the money, but don’t be a fucking hero. Just because we’re in the Brownstone Agency don’t mean we’re Brownstone. You know what I’m saying?”

  The other bounty hunters nodded.

  “Good. Let’s do this shit.”

  Trey sauntered down the road, the other men falling in behind him in an inverted wedge formation. A few people peeked out their windows at the well-dressed bounty hunters in their vests, perhaps mistaking them for a stylish FBI team.

  They arrived in front of Bruno’s gate, and Trey decided to go for the direct approach. He pushed the call button near the gate.

  “Yeah?” came a rough voice over the intercom.

  “Bruno Thomas. My name is Trey Garfield. You have sixty seconds to get your ass outside and into my motherfucking cuffs. If you do that, you won’t end up busted up.”

  A harsh laugh came over the intercom.

  A few seconds later, a different rough voice responded. “Who the fuck is Trey Garfield, and why should I care?”

  “I’m a bounty hunter, dipshit. As are all my boys. I don’t care if you got a few friends in there.”

  “Bounty hunter? Listen, you piece of shit. Do you know who I am?”