Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books)

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Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books) Page 70

by Bernard Lee DeLeo


  “Seems like all the more reason for us to go along,” Jess replied. “He doesn’t know the three of us. We could walk right in and take him down.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Jess, but I don’t want any new faces in on this.” Or witnesses. “We know the bar pretty well. We’ll go over there early. Tommy knows the guy tending bar tonight. He claimed Halliday’s been in there every night when Tommy called him.”

  “They don’t know him from shit, and Frank didn’t know he was on the run. I guess Halliday’s not too popular in there. He pushes around the regulars, and screws with the waitresses. On top of all that, the clown hogs the Karaoke, sounding like gravel in a can… sort of like when the Dark Lord here sings.”

  I waited until the yuck-yucks subsided. “If we get there early, we’ll pluck him before he gets inside. He gets one halt, and then we light him up like Christmas in Times Square. It would be just my luck, I’d get another quick draw McGraw, and have my damn chest aching for another six weeks.”

  “Yeah, unless he shoots you in the head, John,” Jafar chirped in.

  “We’re going to surprise him, you tater head. Besides, the B Street Bar has a stone/cement separator between the street and the bar. We’ll have our ear thingies in. I’ll sit there next to the entrance. Tommy can be in the car watching for his approach. He tells me Kevin’s coming, and I cut him off from the door. He gets romantic, and we gronk him.”

  “It seems so simple when you put it like that, John,” Jafar said. “I’m sure Tommy will be real thrilled about approaching the psycho.”

  Tommy chuckled. “This isn’t our first ticket to the bad guy dance, kid. When we face off with some of these crazies, I have my riot gun pointed right at their heads when John puts the plastics on them. We’re pretty good at this. We have to be here in Oakland. When the bond companies decide to send pros after their skips, it means we’re their last option.”

  “I could see John doing it, T,” Jafar continues down the same slippery path. “Would you use the riot gun?”

  I shook my head at Tommy. “That’s enough of this talk, kid. We’ll bring in Halliday. Believe me. If Tommy needs to use deadly force, he’ll use it. See you all back here when we get through in LA at ‘Torture-is-Us’.”

  I headed for the shower we have after our goodbyes. Twice in the past, we’ve had to forego our collection because Tommy had to get my back. If a target pulls a piece ten feet away when I yell halt, there ain’t a hell of a lot I can do. Tommy and I have a signal. If I put my hands up in surrendering form while backing up, Tommy caps them. Then I take them somewhere no one can locate the body. There’s no outcry in the public or PD about these deadly suckers. If one of them disappears, they don’t issue an Amber Alert. They slap high fives and go on about their business. That’s exactly how it will go down with Halliday. But yeah, twice in the past, Tommy’s had to put the final touches on our hoped for collections. We’re a team. We don’t die for this business, but we have made more than a few murdering SOB’s die for it.

  See, I don’t get Lucas and Casey involved in this type encounter with the everyday pickups of slime-balls like Halliday. Clint and Lynn are different, because they have real FBI affiliation. Lucas and Casey would be a problem because of CIA operating on US soil. I’m the shadow-man. I have enough deniability, and cover activities, with my fighting, that I can coast on some occasions. Even with Clint and Lynn, I don’t waste their talents and possible exposure on someone like Halliday. I know I’ll need them on a special case here and there, and they have to be used with care. I smiled as I stepped into the shower. I’ve never had the kind of comfort level I have now with this crew. We’re family in a very horrific scope, in that we have levels of confrontation which continue until we’re all dead. We believe in each other. It’s up to me as Denny-light to deploy our resources carefully, and keep all of us alive. I don’t take my responsibility lightly. I’m the one this idea of a West Coast Murderer’s Row was built around. I’m ending Halliday one way or another. He’s a threat.

  * * *

  I sat in faded, worn-out jeans, windbreaker, and dilapidated Oakland A’s baseball cap as I sat next to the stanchion near the entrance to the B Street Bar. A slight breeze blew by in the late afternoon to add a slight chilling effect off the ocean. Tommy’s voice in my ear provided the only input I had as I faced the bar. We kept quiet, waiting for our mark. It’s boring, tedious, and we don’t even know if he’ll show. That’s the business. I don’t know what Tommy does for entertainment, but I’m going over details and plans for our Voyage of the Damned if the Senator gets on board to lend her support.

  “I like your idea about the leg hit,” Tommy inputs to me out of nowhere.

  “Me too, if I can pull it off without breaking my toes coming across. Even I can’t do much if I mistime the strike, other than gimp around hoping for a miracle. I watched the vids on the Destroyer again last night. I got nothing for a plan other than that leg strike. We both know what he’ll be gunning for.”

  Tommy laughed. “Yeah, I think we can figure on him making you do your best defensive ploy: blocking every punch with your face.”

  “That’s just… hurtful. I remember you being much more supportive in the old days.”

  “Yeah… I’ll bet you do, meat. I remember you being a hell of a lot less needy. You used to walk into that dingy warehouse, mouthpiece hangin’ out of the corner of your mouth, dressed in those dingy sweats, all business. You had a tight lipped snarl on your face and dynamite clenched into your fists. What the hell happened to you… you pussy.”

  I know he could see my shoulders heavin’, trying with all my might not to start howlin’. Damn. T’s on his game today. “Stifle yourself! I’m on the job here.”

  “What job. You ain’t worked a real job in five years. You sit around looking at Lora all day either at the office or home, go out and pick Al up from school, and pretend you’re a contender. What work?”

  Now he’s laughing in my ear, and then he’s not. “Coming up on you on your right. It’s Halliday in a black windbreaker and jeans with hands jammed into the pockets. If he’s packin’, it ain’t in those pockets. He’s still a block away, John. When he gets about twenty feet from you, I’ll get out of the car behind him.”

  I stood up, with the gray hoodie I wore up over my head, leaning on the stanchion. Halliday’s view of me would be partially blocked until he got real close. There would be no real confrontation or talking today. Like I’ve mentioned, we know how violent this guy likes to get. He proved it to those poor Hollywood skip tracers. Tommy and I would do this nice and easy, or if he even blinks, then rough and hard.

  “Twenty feet,” Tommy says as he opens his car door.

  Halliday hears the car door and turns toward Tommy. I can’t have that. “Hey, Halliday, long time, no see. Time to go back to LA.”

  Halliday spun again, hearing my voice. I could tell he recognized me by his features twisting into a death mask. “What the fuck you want, Harding?”

  He kept his hands jammed into his pockets, so it may be we can simply take him in. Most skips don’t start any dialogue first unless they’ve made up their minds to not make trouble. “We have your ticket, Kev. You done wrong down in LA. I have to take you back down there. It doesn’t have to be hard. Kneel down and lace your hands behind your head. I’ll plastic tie them behind your back. Then after a gentle pat down, you’ll be going on a road trip. I’ll even let you listen to your favorite music on the way if you behave.”

  “Your fuckin’ partner got a Taser pointed at my back?”

  “Yep. We’re all business today, Kev. Like I said, we can avoid any unpleasantness if you drop down on your knees, and lace your hands.”

  “I got friends inside. I yell out, and you’re going to have a bad day.”

  I smiled. I didn’t blame him for trying that bullshit. “You don’t have any friends, period. You certainly don’t have any in there. We checked.”

  His face didn’t lose any of its rage element
, but he nodded. “I’m going to take my hands out. Don’t Tase me.”

  “We won’t, but if you have anything in one of your hands when it comes out, I’m going to break it for you. Take them out slow.” I didn’t want Tommy or me getting close to him until he was on his knees with hands laced. Use your hands to get on your knees, Kev. Then lace them.”

  Halliday surprisingly did as told. When he was on his knees, he laced his hands behind his head. Tommy moved to the side, Taser pointed at Halliday’s face. I took each hand down behind him before locking them at his wrists with double plastic ties. I helped him up then. Putting on my Nitrile gloves, I patted him down with thoroughness. Besides the usual petty cash, false ID, and knife, Halliday had a little .32 caliber auto in a hideaway pocket of his windbreaker. I popped the clip, cleared the chamber, and put it in the plastic bag Tommy held out for me. I clapped Halliday on the shoulder.

  “You did good, Kev. Name your poison for music. We have one of those cable radio hookups in the GMC we’re taking you down in so we get anything.”

  “Country?”

  “Damn it!” Tommy doesn’t like it. “I knew he was going to say that. It’s better than rap though. You don’t go for that twangy garbage, do you?”

  Halliday shook his head as I eased him into the GMC backseat. “I like the new country. You don’t like rap, huh Sands?”

  Tommy shrugged. “Some of it. Most of it is punk ass shoutin’ about rape, pillaging, and murdering people. Never thought we’d be talkin’ music, but it’s a hell of a lot better alternative than what we thought we’d be doing.”

  I shut Halliday’s door and called Lora while Tommy climbed in to drive. He hates my driving. Her FaceTime features boinked into view with a look of apprehension. “You okay, John?”

  “Yeah, hon. It went real good, and no damage on either side for a change. Since things worked out, we’re shooting right down to LA with him. Call it in for us, will you?”

  With a look of relief, Lora smiled. “Of course. I’ll call if there’s any problem. It would be best if you picked up one of their people on the way to drop him off after you get there. They’re really upset about the agent that issued the bond on him. I think they’re facing a lawsuit from the bounty hunters they hired to get him. I put the address of Lane and Sterling Bail Bonds on Tommy’s pad. Talk to Jan Sterling when you get there. She’ll be the one to take along. If that changes, I’ll call. Have a safe trip, John. I’m glad there wasn’t any trouble.”

  “Yeah, me too… I think. Lately, things have been going so right, it’s getting creepy. I feel like ramming my head into the side of a building just to even up the ledger.”

  Lora laughed. “I’ll have to tell Al that when I pick her up from school. I love you.”

  “I love you too. See ya’.”

  In the GMC, Tommy had found a country rock station Halliday liked, so we were ready to go. “Lora’s calling ahead. We’re to take one of the Bail Bond partners with us: Jan Sterling.”

  Tommy glanced back at Halliday before he drove away. “How come you went nuts when that crew down in LA came for you?”

  “They disrespected me… and… I was cranked up. The assholes pulled up next to me in their shiny black MIB van. Three jerks pile out of it dressed in more gadget shit than you ever saw before, with those fingerless gloves, sleeveless matching black vests, and tattoos so thick on their arms they looked like sleeves. They all face me down with their arms crossed while this fourth clown starts filming. I thought I was being punked by someone.”

  Entertaining so far. Even Tommy’s chuckling. “You got us hooked, Kev. What happened?”

  Halliday looked down at his feet. “This bitch dressed in black, and long blonde hair tied back, like some kind of tattooed Buffy the Vampire Slayer jumps out in front of the three shits already posing for the cameraman. She starts pointing at me, screaming ‘get on your fuckin’ knees, slime-ball. We’re taking you in’. I said fuck you, and started looking for a place to run. She starts Kung Fuing me with all these shouts and shit like she’s Bruce fuckin’ Lee. They put the damn girl on me. It was disrespectful… and I was cranked up like I said. I admit it. I threw a couple of punches, one under her ribs, and the other broke her nose. The Buffster went down, threw up, and started crying. Jesus… guys… she was tryin’ to kick my nuts off and bust my knees while the rest of them filmed it and smirked. I felt so bad about Buffy sitting there holding her nose and crying, I pulled my piece. I shot the fancy steroid jerk when he started yelling orders to get me with the Mace. The guys with him turned and ran.”

  “I shot him in the knee, so he’s down screamin’ like the pussy he was. I helped the Buffster over off the sidewalk. I put the cell-phone I found in her damn Batgirl belt rig in her hand. I told Buffy to call an ambulance. Then I stole their ride to get out of the area. Shit, they probably got me down for murder now. I should never have done that crank I got. That’s what messed my head up when I got out of the joint. I busted up some guy in a bar down in LA, and got booked into jail for assault. I had enough money put away to get out on bail. Then I didn’t show in court, and they put the Dawg type on me. I figured they’d lock me up and throw away the key, so I hitched up here. I’ve been cleaning joints to make livin’ money.”

  I looked at Tommy, and he gave me a slight shrug. “I have to say, that’s a damn entertaining story, Kev. I’m glad we didn’t have to take you down hard.”

  Halliday looked up. “Thanks for that. I learned my lesson last time you guys picked me up. San Quentin taught me everything but how to stay the fuck out of trouble. It looks like I’ll be getting my second dose.”

  “So it was the bar-fight that Lane and Sterling bailed you out for? The way I understood it, you were arrested for everything from armed robbery to murder. We wondered how the hell anyone was stupid enough to post bail for you. Your story makes more sense, although you really messed up shooting the pretend Dawg the Bounty Hunter, and roughing up his sidekick. I’ll look into it when we get you down there. I know a lawyer in LA owes me a favor.”

  “Damn, Harding… you mean it?”

  “He means it,” Tommy said, sighing. “John and I probably could have ended up in the same boat as you at one time or another. No promises, but if we do manage to help you out, there won’t be any more second chances.”

  “Won’t need one. Help me stay out of Quentin, and I’ll join the damn Salvation Army. I have to put that shit behind me. Seeing the Buffster cryin’ in the street after I tagged her really screwed me up. I ain’t ever hit a woman like that.”

  He looked shaken up for real. “You probably saved her life. It was a great lesson. She may have gotten a busted nose, but she could have jumped some guy that simply blew her head off. Some folks don’t learn the easy way. You’re a walking billboard for that. I bet she doesn’t do her Buffy act on anyone else. Those reality shows stir up people into thinking they can just run out there with a cameraman, some tats, and a scowl, and actual badass dudes will just lay down for them. I’m surprised one of them hasn’t gotten killed already.”

  Tommy gestured with his right hand flippantly. “We have a few teams of those jokers up in Oak-Town. They increase our fee rate when a bond company sends them, and they get tanked. Then the bond company has to come get us.”

  “I hope the Buffster feels like it was a lesson,” Halliday said. “One way or another, I’ll find out where to send her an apology. I ain’t sending that asshole I shot anything.”

  “The gun will be the toughest part. We may have to get Hollywood to recant anything he has on you with the cops. We can say you didn’t have a gun on you when we took you in, but if he’s pressing charges, it could be bad. My lawyer acquaintance used to be a prosecutor. Now he’s a defense attorney, but he won’t take hardened criminals. If he’ll handle your case, I know that will be the first thing he’ll tell us we have to fix for him to have a chance.”

  “John, they filmed it,” Tommy spoke up with some excitement. “These jokers can’t resist put
ting anything they do on YouTube.”

  “That’s right.” I FaceTimed Jafar. “Hey, kid, I need you to find any videos about LA area bounty hunter wannabes getting owned within… hold on.” I looked back at Halliday.

  “Three weeks ago,” Halliday spoke up.

  “Three weeks ago. The bond company that sent them is Lane and Sterling Bail Bonds. Their target was Kevin Halliday. Can you send whatever you find to T’s iPad?”

  “Sure John. Wow, this is a change. Where are you now?”

  “On the way to LA. We’ll collect on the bounty, but I think Tommy and I are going to stick around and help Halliday out.”

  “On it. I should have something sent to his inbox in the next hour.”

  “Thanks, kid.” I disconnected and looked back at Halliday. “We need to see how bad this incident looks on video before we meet with the lawyer. Tommy’s right. These people can’t get enough of themselves. Even when things go bad, they’ll still post the video.”

  “I hope it’s not as bad as I think it will be,” Halliday replied. “I don’t know that I could have done anything else once Buffy started wailing on me. I should have let them take me in, but with that idiot filming Buffy doing her ‘get on your knees’ act, it really pissed me off.”

  I hate to think it, but I might have done the same thing. “We’ll wait for the video. If we see where you didn’t really have enough time to react before she went all wild thing on you, that would be a start.”

 

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