Samira not only speaks out. She does so in venues where she puts herself at risk every moment in public. I’ve gathered the West Coast Avengers together in order to make our own statement on her behalf from now on, along with our benevolent Company boss, Denny Strobert, sometimes known as the Spawn of Satan. Samira and Jafar are still in their teens, but both have seen death in the most gruesome of ways. Jafar has dealt death out in the same manner. He’s my kid brother by choice. Anyone messing with Jafar or Samira messes with me, and I’m a killer – not one of those Hollywood movie types. I’ll gut you and throw your body into a landfill somewhere like you’re a fly on my chicken salad sandwich – and I have backup.
Then it happens. It’s one of those goofy instances you wish you had planned for. One of the Al Jazeera mutts screams out whore in Arabic, rips off one of his shoes, and throws it at Samira. Everyone on the platform ducks comically like he was throwing a bomb, complete with screams of anguish – everyone but Samira and Jafar. Samira stands stoically without moving while Jafar plucks the shoe out of the air. By then, my minions, Lynn Montoya and Clint Dostiene, are standing right next to mister shoe thrower. Because of their value in undercover assignments, both are dressed like MIB’s, along with Lynn wearing a red hair wig, and Clint with a goatee and his hair blond.
I smile because I can’t control everything, and I take my entertainment where I can get it. Lynn gives the shoe thrower a pop right between his eyes with the butt of her Glock 9mm. He cries out like a five year old that falls off a swing on the playground, lurching backwards with hands gripping his wounded head. Lynn’s unimpressed. Clint moves into the face of shoe thrower’s cameraman. Lynn laughs that insulting, dick shrinking he-haw that can make men impotent in a heartbeat. She nods at Jafar who tosses the man’s shoe to her. Lynn spins and whaps the guy across the face with it, before holding it up to the other media morons.
“Anyone else want to throw something at my little sister, Samira? C’mon. Step up!” She smacks the cringing shoe thrower again in the head. “How about you, pussy-boy? Want to take a shot at me? I know Samira could kick the crap out of you, but I handle all her light work.”
Lynn motions for shoe thrower to come get some. “I see it in your eyes, you needle dicked asshole! Don’t be bashful.”
“I would rip you apart, whore!” The shoe-man gestures at Clint. He’s dancing around, his hands waving vainly to express the twisted featured vitriol his face radiated. “It must be very comforting to have a bodyguard when you mouth off bitch!”
Clint laughs and grabs shoe-thrower’s cameraman. “You come with me. Take her on, Sissy-boy. You’ll find out my partner there isn’t as easy a target as you think. You’ll be free to do anything you can. Any of you other stooges pop in, and we’ll pop you.”
Clint guides the reluctant cameraman away from the scene. I have the deadliest men on earth watching the rest so I’m not worried. Lynn Montoya is the whole package – unarmed combat, no conscience, and she’s as good with a knife as a gun. I can see already that without backup, the media idiot is looking for a way out. That’s when Lynn decides to prompt him.
Lynn drops her hands and laughs at shoe-boy. I’ve worked my way down to the edges of this get together. At my size, that ain’t easy. “You are so cute! I bet your mommy dressed you in burkas so in case you turned out to be a girl, didn’t she?”
Even some of the other media boys couldn’t keep from a chuckle at that remark. Shoe-boy exploded. He went for Lynn with death in his heart and eyes. Lynn dropped down under his attack, spinning and fisting him on the back of his head so he dropped to the ground like a head of lettuce. Lynn laughs again, clapping her hands in delight.
“You are so cute! I bet you want to be a real boy. Well, pumpkin, jump back up and let’s do this before your tiny dick shrinks all the way into your belly.”
Yeah, I laughed. Montoya is an artist at provocation. Dipshit should have walked away. He didn’t. He jumped up, and got into a fighter’s stance, keeping his rage in control. Lynn matched him with a smile. I already knew from training her that pain didn’t bother her. Shoe-boy went full defensive. Lynn went full offensive. She launched a roundhouse kick to his temple that ended the fight before it began. Shoe-boy dropped unconscious to the ground in a heap. I intercepted a guy of Middle Eastern descent running at her from the blindside, catching his right arm and holding him in suspended animation.
“If you move, I’ll clock you.”
My informative interception made the right impression for the big guy heading their way. He’s an inch taller, and motivated. He grins at me. Sucks to be him. I Gronk him. It’s an expression my step daughter Alice created for neutralizing a perp. I couldn’t let myself be distracted by some newbie. I had to be ready for something happening with deadly weapons. Lynn couldn’t let it end like that of course. Her adrenaline’s flowing. She’s getting cranked up, but only entertainingly so… so far. I drag big boy along with me in case he turns out to be a person of interest when I send his picture to my boss, Denny Strobert.
“Well… c’mon,” Lynn screams out while dancing around over her last dance partner. “I want all of you media hypocrites! You spit on your country, and crap on anyone who speaks out to reveal the truth about perversion. I’m sick of this shit. At least have the guts to betray your country openly. Here I am! Take a real shot, instead of backing wife beating morons who strap bombs onto their own children!”
Lynn smiled, as of course no one took her up on the challenge. She kicked shoe-boy in the ribs with disdain. “Yeah… that’s what I thought. On your feet my big brave shoe thrower.”
Apparently, Clint had been working on the previously ‘who the hell cares’ Montoya. I liked it. Sometimes when a new recruit passionately embraces their country, perceptions change as long held hidden values resurface. See, we minions of the military complex don’t blindly follow directions, but we damn sure know right and wrong. We also believe there is not a more benevolent country on earth than the United States of America. Yeah, it’s personal. It’s great Lynn has embraced our perception.
Clint moved in then when she had no takers at all for her offer, and plastic tied shoe-boy’s hands behind his back. He traded one liners with Lynn for a while, smiling at his partner. Lynn then reluctantly nodded and grabbed shoe-boy by the ear. “You’re coming with us, cupcake. Make a bad move on the way out and I will make you wish you’d never been born. Do you understand?”
I watched the toned down shoe-thrower nod his head in agreement as I walked up. “I believe that’s the end of this press conference, folks. Please walk away politely so my friends and I don’t have to disperse you. Believe me, you won’t want that.”
The media walked away with the usual grumblings and the smiling promptings from two huge, dark well-dressed men, Devon Constantine and Jesse Brown. When they wave for you to leave an area, you leave the area. Casey and Lucas had walked up to take charge of the guy I Gronked. Casey plastic tied his hands while Lucas patted his groaning face. I gave Jafar the signal to escort Samira down to us.
“I liked your public attitude adjustment, Lynn.” I held up my i-thingy. “Hold bright boy up until I can get a nice mug shot.”
Lynn of course jerked on shoe-boy’s ear to get his head up, and then posed with him, her face a smiling mask that cracked the rest of us up. I clicked one of shoe-boy’s cameraman as Clint encouraged him to keep his head up or have it smacked down to the cement. The guy Casey and Lucas held up between them, stared at me with one of those death stares these clowns are so good at. Yes, we’re cognizant of the ACLU lawyers all these jerks have waiting in the wings. They made the first move, which means they can be charged. Denny rings me back within moments of sending the photos. I tense up a little because he has his game face on, peering at me from my i-thingy screen.
“They’re all bogus, John, including the big one not pretending to be part of the media. I wish to hell I was there instead of Washington, damn it! Give me half an hour to see if I have some people i
n your area for holding those guys.”
“Wait one, Den.” I look over at Clint. “They’re all phonies. Tie the cameraman up too, Clint.”
There’s a slight commotion I have to wait through as the cameraman doesn’t want to be restrained. Clint shows him how voltage travels through the human body when contacted with stun-gun electrodes. He gets quiet and complacent then. Casey has already frisked them, and handed me the fake ID’s they did have on them. I go back on with Denny.
“Okay, we have them. We can take them over and hold them at the House of Pain if you want. Something tells me you’re working on a barter system for these three?”
“Yeah, something suspicious has come up. I may if I can get the right exchange rate, John. I’ll call you right back.” Before I can turn and explain things to my crew, Lucas starts hammering me to the amusement of the others.
“Well, Denny-light? We heard you schmoozing with your master, the Spawn of Satan. I noticed you have the Strobert management dialect down perfectly. Do we get to play with these three, or did Spawn cut you out in favor of a deal he’s going to cook up in hell?”
I hang my head to much laughter, including from my protégé Jafar and his wife, Samira. “You guys are really hurtful. At least Lynn has the class to recognize I’m doing my best to help all of you.”
Lynn stayed silent with a big grin.
“Lynn?”
She shrugged. “Sorry, Dark Lord. You’re in thrall to the Spawn of Satan. Lucky you, we haven’t staked you through the heart… yet.”
Gronked again. The laughter puzzled our prisoners to no end. “Have I told all of you ingrates I have a long memory?”
“Thank you all for your support,” Samira said without prompting. “I am sorry I have caused all of these problems.”
“Spawn’s using you as bait, kid,” Montoya said with conviction. “He lets you choose the venue, and then we rack up the targets. They can’t resist honing in on you. They’re dumber than a bag of rocks.”
Lynn gets an energetic verbal reinforcement from her audience. Our captives are eyeballing each other with angry glares.
“Mr. Strobert never pushes me. He has tried as my Father and Jafar urge, to have me tone down my speeches.” Samira pauses while looking around at all of us with that disconcertingly intense look of hers. “It is not Mr. Strobert’s fault that I do this. I do it in spite of his objections. I am bait by my own doing.”
Montoya, as if anticipating our captives’ wish to spew out of their pie holes, spun on them, her butterfly knife click-clacking into fully extended murderous readiness. “Go ahead boys. Say something. I won’t shut you up. I’ll bury Mr. Pointy here right in your dicks up to the hilt.”
Silence… birds chirping… horrified captives’ faces. The rest of us stayed solemn. No need to reinforce a very real threat. Dev and Jesse had already shoed away the other media, and now watched for anyone approaching, while trying to edge back to hear our exchanges.
“We don’t kid ourselves here, Samira,” I told her. “There are interconnecting interests in most of what’s going on. If you thought we were blaming Denny, don’t. He’s the best at what he does. We minions of the Spawn keep him in line as to his requests, although my fellow West Coast Avengers think I’ve sold out to management.” I pause as I draw some laughter. “What we really need to worry about is Lynn. She’s out of control. Clint, for God’s sake, take the knife away from her. She needs an intervention.”
Lynn gasped in stunned outrage as my plea drew wild amusement. She finally shrugged and started giggling. She smacked Clint, who was laughing the hardest. “We have to hold our own against the boy’s club Dark Lord is forming, Samira. Fight the darkness, sister… fight the darkness.”
Lynn’s plea even drew laughter from Samira. My i-thingy signaled the return of the Spawn. I didn’t want to take the call in front of our detainees so I walked away to confront my supposed puppet master. “Yeah, Den, go ahead.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences, John. Whoever sent those three nabbed Laredo. I just got word earlier this morning. I tried to gather more details before letting you all know. They must be aware of Clint’s relationship with him, which means our presence on the West Coast is getting on the radar of our enemies. We knew this day would come. I wish it wouldn’t have hit us before we consolidated the gains we’ve made. I’m not dictating this. These guys may or may not know where Laredo is. Talk it over with the crew and call me back.”
Uh oh. “If you can work a trade, we’ll handle the exchange. It will be a trap, and many will die.”
Denny nods. “That’s how I figure it too. They’ll make some ridiculous demand involving trading Samira. I’m sure that’s what this media impersonation was. They took a shot with the intention of sending a message. Even those idiots know we wouldn’t hand over Samira, but they probably have another agenda involving her being silenced. She’s killing them in the press. The converts she’s making overseas are even carrying her picture with them in protests against their governments. The ones behind this didn’t figure on their team of fake media watchers getting taken. Let me see if they’ll be enough for an exchange.”
No more crap with maybes. We need to get in front of this. Laredo meant a lot to all of us, but it will make Clint mental. What upsets Clint unleashes Lynn. Since joining us on the coast, they’ve been invaluable, but they feed off of each other. A drone strike would be less deadly than having those two launch. “See what you can do in a hurry, Den. I have to let Clint know immediately about Laredo, and make sure he knows you’re on it full bore.”
“Understood.” Denny disconnected.
My crew knew by the look on my face it was time to buckle up. “As usual, we have more trouble than a few dimwits with cameras and a shoe fetish. Denny got word earlier today, Laredo Sawyer was taken. He thinks these guys are part of the message we’re getting sent: one, they know who we are, two, they want Samira to stop the speeches, three, they think they can barter Laredo for us to stop Samira. Denny believes they didn’t know we’d have a force on hand for the speech today, and that’s how we ended up nabbing the three quacks. Spawn is bartering to get Laredo in exchange for shoe-boy and his partners.”
“Do these guys know where Laredo is, John?” Clint eyed our guests with a slight smile, and Lynn’s engine of destruction was revving up in anticipation.
“He’s gathering info as we speak, Clint. Spawn wants to get our thoughts. The exposure we’ve been getting in the local news these days with our legal business front may finally be causing us some problems. We were all laughing at the article in the Tribune about Oakland Investigations, Bond Retrieval and Security being listed as home for a new crew of ‘Expendables’ like in the movies. Notoriety will make some of what we do from now on extremely difficult. No matter what this exchange will be like if Denny can get it set up, it’s going to get messy.”
“Laredo’s comin’ home,” Lucas stated. “How many get sent to hell for the homecoming will be just icin’ on the cake.”
“I like that ‘Expendables’ tag,” Casey added. “So… does Spawn want Lynn to give these boys her ‘Ginsu’ knife demo?”
Clint gestured at shoe-boy. “Let her carve him up first while his partners watch. I’d bet a thousand bucks they’ll sing like lovebirds in a cherry tree.”
Casey shakes his head. “I wouldn’t touch that sucker bet.”
Lucas walked over to smile at shoe-boy’s horrified face. “This cherry’s ready to pop right now. I can tell he thinks we can’t do anything bad to him, but he’s not sure.”
Lynn then saunters over to play her part in softening these three up, and she is very good at it. Dev and Jesse had moved in to make sure our guests stayed in place. I saw Jesse cringe as Lynn smiled her happy psycho smile as she stroked shoe-boy’s face with her hand.
“Ah, he’s just anxious to get started, Lucas. See, we know you three are here illegally. We also know no one but your bosses know you’re here, which means no one’s going to miss a
ny of you.” Lynn’s face lost all joviality in a slow melt down into a narrow eyed grim promise of pain. Her voice came out in a whispery soft wave of menace. “Oh, sweetie, you and I will have such a good time. I bet you never believed those stories about people being skinned alive. They’re all true, but the skinner has to be very patient. The tip of the knife can’t be inserted too deeply. If the knife is sharp, you won’t feel much of the slicing, but oh baby… as the air hits the raw fiber of your being when I lift the skin away, it’s intense. My friend Lucas is right. When your two friends see what’s in store for them they’ll do anything so as not to have the same thrill you’re going to have.”
Lucas, Casey, and I have had to do some creative interrogating when someone needed a monster to talk. Lynn usually only has to talk to them, and they tell us everything. It saves on cleanup time. It was my turn now to fill in for Denny, who gives the monsters a little glimmer of hope. I see Jafar try to guide Samira away, but she refuses. I move over to look into shoe-boy’s face.
“Now see what you’ve done, Lynn? The poor guy is terrified. You’re supposed to give him his other option before you tell him about plan B.”
Lynn gets outraged. “What other option, Denny-light? I skin him like a Thanksgiving Day turkey, and his two pals tell us everything we want to know so as not to become turkey B, and turkey C. What’s with this plan B shit?”
She grins at me, because my mouth may have tightened when I got called Denny-light again. The little brat. I put my arm around shoe-boy in protective fashion. “What’s your real name?”
Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books) Page 60