HARD CASE (A John Harding Novel - Special Ops, Cage Fighter, CIA Agent)

by Bernard L. DeLeo

  I nodded my understanding while I popped Alexander’s clip and cleared the chamber before shoving it back into the holster under Ray’s coat. “Nothing personal then, just precaution?”

  “Honest to God, John. We wanted you to hear us out. Now we’re in a world of shit. We saw your set to with the Russians outside the Warehouse Bar on YouTube.”

  “Meaning you and Ray here realize I didn’t tip everyone off about the ‘dive’ offer.” I led the two through the house and into my kitchen. I poured us all a shotsky and gestured for them to have a seat. I set the shot glasses down in front of my guests with the bottle within our reach. Both men downed the shot while I sipped mine. Bonasera refilled their glasses. “Although I sympathize with your plight, how can I undo our little talk? Even the councilmen were talking dive at the bar according to my cop friends. The Russians put out the word on you guys quick. It’ll be near impossible to put that genie back in the bottle.”

  “We…we figured the Russians tried to get you to do the same thing,” Alexander rasped out in obvious pain. He threw down another shot.

  “Did you tune up the Russians because they wanted you to take a dive same as us, John?” Bonasera kept his voice in a low key modular tone.

  “Nope. It’s always business with me, guys. One went for my companion and I had to make a statement. Then during the negotiations for exactly what you figured the Russians were there to offer me the big guy decided he wanted a piece too. After I changed his spark plugs, me and Alexi Fiialkov came to an agreement I would not be taking a dive. I agreed to put my fight career on hold just as I promised you two. The only difference being the Russians weren’t dumb enough to get recorded offering a fix.”

  “That was stupid. We got greedy and threw a very profitable business right out the damn window.” Bonasera chugged his shot and refilled all the glasses.

  “They set us up,” Alexander added.

  I smiled as a nice puzzle piece slipped into place. “It was Fiialkov’s idea to approach me, huh?”

  “Fiialkov’s man there was at my side the moment you smashed Rankin’s face when he charged you,” Bonasera explained. “He knew they were in for a big loss the moment it happened.”

  Nice hedge. Even I didn’t know for sure at that moment. “How much?”

  “Fifty thou if we signed you for a rematch on their terms.” Alexander’s voice was making a comeback but his attitude wasn’t. Good thing for him.

  “You have to understand, John, nobody thought Rankin would lose,” Bonasera stated. “The bigwigs and the Russians lost a bundle. Fiialkov played us to offset losses and take over our gig. Now, Ray and I are radioactive.”

  “If you know I didn’t bug you guys and I’m not in league with the Russians, what am I supposed to do about your situation?”

  “Can you come clean on the Russians offering you money to take a dive in the proposed rematch?” Bonasera pleaded. “We can spin it so-”

  My laughter cut Bonasera off. I didn’t get it under control for a little bit. I kept the coincidental meeting with Fiialkov to myself. “Jim, I like you. Your loss of employment grieves me deeply. We’ve had a decent business relationship but you and Ray here are on your own with the Russians. I’m actually doing you a favor. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if Fiialkov has you boys followed 24/7. If I did what you wanted me to do, they’d figure it out in two seconds flat and you and Ray would be in a landfill somewhere. My advice is make peace with the Russians and offer to run the fight game for them.”

  “Shit, Harding! We’d-”

  I pointed a warning finger at Alexander. “Inside voices, Ray, or I’m going to change your spark plugs.”

  Alexander took a moment to swallow his rage past the bruise on his neck. “We’d be bottom dwellers in the racket we created. We gave you your start when-”

  I held up the stop sign on that one. “Oh please don’t start the violins. You two gave me nothing and you made a nice tidy sum on every fight I had because I’m a good draw. Either start again somewhere else or play ball for the Russians. Those are the only two safe options open. I’m sorry, but Fiialkov nailed you guys. I’m out too. Luckily I have a day job.”

  “But listen-”

  “Forget it, Ray.” Bonasera stood up and tugged on his partner’s jacket. “Let’s go. John’s right. We screwed up. There’s no use dying for it. I hope the Russians aren’t following us, John. They’ll be leaning on you if we led them over here. I didn’t even consider that angle.”

  “Damn it,” Alexander mumbled, getting to his feet and heading for the door with Bonasera. “I’ll have to sell the Benz.”

  I followed them to the door. “That’s better than someone else selling it for you to buy a coffin with. Since the Russians won’t let me fight in a match they’ll be hosting I could see my way clear for upfront money to fight an opponent in a couple months with you two hosting. That is if it’s possible to shore up your reputation by then.”

  Both men swiveled around with mouths open in surprise. Hell, it’s just business. Besides, they haven’t heard my price yet and they’ll need an opponent I haven’t already beaten that will look like he has a chance. After Rankin, that won’t be easy.

  “You mean that?”

  “Sure, Jim, but it’ll cost you.”

  “How much?”

  “Five thou up front and the usual arrangements for everything else.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  Bonasera hushed his partner up and extended his hand. I shook it. “Agreed, John, but it will all be riding on whether we can find an opponent for you – someone from out of the area with their own draw. Ray and I will have to small time it until then. Some of our clients won’t want to deal with anyone new. Are you sure it can’t be sooner than two months?”

  “Positive. I have a security gig to get clear of Tommy and I are working on. Besides, I didn’t come out unscathed from the fight.” I lifted up my shirt.

  “You ain’t kiddin’.” Alexander whistled softly checking out my solid black and blue tapestry. “I should have got me a piece.”

  “Shut up, Ray!” Bonasera rightly figured Ray was getting ready to commit suicide. “John would bury you before you could launch a punch. Let’s go before he changes his mind. Thanks, John. If we ever get up and running again, it’ll be straight up. Do you think the Russians are following us?”

  “Yep. Don’t let them play you using anything they claim I say after tonight. They won’t get shit from me. I’ll be around.”

  I stayed inside the doorway as Bonasera and Alexander walked down to Alexander’s Mercedes and got in it. Their tail was two houses back on my side of the street. Moments after Alexander drove away, the black Ford Five Hundred I spotted followed them. When they were all out of sight, I walked to the Chevy and motioned for Jafar to come in.

  “That Ford didn’t park back there until you were in the house. I wrote down the license number.” Jafar closed the Chevy door and handed me a piece of note paper.

  “Well done, J. I saw them and memorized the license but I’m glad you noticed.”

  “They are following the others?”

  “Yeah, they’re Russian mobsters looking to get control of the backstreet fight game. The ones I talked to are the two dummies who formerly ran the fight game. The Russians duped them into asking me to take a dive and got a live recording of it. The dummies were here trying to get me into the same shit pile they’re residing in. I told them the Russians were probably following them. I bet they’ve bugged the car too.”

  “I saw the way you handled them going into your house. What are you going to do?”

  Not wanting to speak outside, I motioned Jafar inside and we went into the kitchen after locking up. The couple shots I had with Alexander and Bonasera tasted so good I poured another to sip and sat down. “Get a glass if you want. It’s been a long day.”

  Jafar went to the refrigerator for a soda instead. He sat down opposite me.

  “I agreed to fight on a ticket they put to
gether in a couple months without the Russians. Naturally they’ll be starting again from scratch but I have a hunch people won’t like dealing with the Russians. They’ll have to scramble around for a while until I can get back into shape. Their biggest problem will be staying healthy while competing against the Russians. It’ll be interesting. Our priorities involve Samira and the assassin Chardin. I did what I could to keep those two nitwits alive, but I don’t want the Russians adding to our real work. We don’t need any mobsters tailing us while we’re escorting Samira.”

  “You were screwed when they led the Russians to your house. By getting them into competition with the Russians it will mean the Russian mob won’t be looking at you as a middle man.”

  Jafar rattles this off as if it were a point of interest. This kid was catching on so fast it started to annoy me in a humorous way. Jafar smiled at me as if reading my mind.

  “I have guessed correctly. I am the man.”

  “You’re definitely right about one thing – when they led the Russians over here they put me in a spot. I’m sure I’ll have at least one conversation with the Russian boss.” I quickly filled Jafar in on Fiialkov being the little girl’s grandfather at my Pseudo-Dad elementary school meeting.

  Jafar looked worried during my retelling of the event. “You are leading a most complicated life. It’s hard to imagine where that meeting could lead to.”

  “My life used to be uncomplicated but then I got a bunch of people inadvertently shoved into it - more people, more complications. You were a loose end I noticed because my government bosses decided we needed to win the hearts and minds again with Samira’s speaking campaign. Of course they threw in the little item of an international assassin possibly wanting to shut her up while leading a crew to do something nasty to the American civilian population. See, one week I’m knocking someone around for money, pulling skip traces out of backrooms for money, and watching a little HDTV. Now it’s complicated. There’s an upside and downside to both complicated and simple.”

  “What’s the upside to your past complicated week besides hooking up with me?”

  Cute. “I broke Ishmael Ali’s neck. I was keeping things simple, making money on skip traces, and dead or alive doesn’t cut it in that line of work with the police. Because of that and making money I turned Ali in to the cops so Tess’s firm would give Tommy and me a big payday. I knew I should have gutted him but I was keeping things simple. That could have gotten me killed if not for Ali being dumber than a pet rock. I’m trying to tie the loose ends together with my new business idea. It will be complicated but it won’t be boring. The past week has my juices flowing. I’m bored with simple.”

  “It will be exciting working with you if I live long enough.”

  “Have you given my answers about God any thought?” Might as well see where I’m at with Jafar’s religious outlook. I don’t want him conflicted when my ass is hanging out in the cold breeze.

  “There are many good aspects to Islam. I believe there is only one God and God is complicated with many questions and few answers. I asked my Mom about our faith. She told me knowing right from wrong is how human beings know God. I know right from wrong and I am learning everything in between from you.”

  That cracked me up. I nodded finally in appreciation after a few moments of hilarity. “Your Mom’s right. Human beings will bend anything into their own truth using any tool including religion. Aside from psychopaths, our guts twist when we do something we know is wrong. Sometimes we’re stuck doing the lesser of two evils. To some they’d rather do nothing because both choices are evil. That leaves a few of us to choose the lesser evil, thereby giving the Snow Whites a chance to survive while they wring their hands in agony over our methods.”

  “Ms. Connagher thinks you’re a psychopath, doesn’t she?”

  “Yeah J, and I doubt that will change. I’ll always be too near the dark side for her comfort level. That reminds me. I’m supposed to go over her house but I think it would be a good idea to stick close to home. I’ll phone her. Unless you have something else to discuss you’re on your own.”

  “I think I’ll pick out a bloody adventure movie to watch. It might wipe away the thoughts of Samira that are jamming an ice pick into my brain.”

  “Good luck. I’ll come in and watch with you if this phone call goes the way I expect it to.” I took a fresh shotsky into the entryway where I’d left my phone. Tess answered on the first ring.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  “Hello to you too.”

  “What are you doing, mooning over my sister?”

  “I had a few complications after Jafar and I handled our business.”

  “Do you need a lawyer?”

  “No. I’m good, Tess – no bodies.”

  “How about a redhead in a black dress?”

  “Mama Mia.”

  Tess giggled. “I’ll be over in a half hour.”

  “I’ll leave the light on for you. Better yet, I’ll be waiting outside for you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mobster Debt

  I sat with Jafar watching one of the ‘Bourne’ discs after telling him we’d be having a visitor. The action flick didn’t do much to dispel thoughts of Tess in the black dress but it kept me from pacing the sidewalk in front of my house like a teenage boy on prom night. A half hour came and went. In the business I’m in, an extrasensory feeling develops after many years in combat situations. It’s not really a sixth sense like ‘I see dead people’ or a vision of where I left my car keys – it’s more like if I don’t get moving I will be seeing dead people. My subconscious mind analyzes all the threads pinging around inside my head and warning alarms start going off.

  If something had come up to interrupt Tess’s plans she would have called. Being punctual with Tess bordered on obsession. When an hour passed I resisted the urge to call her like any other sane human being would do. In my life very few situations called for sane actions. I admit to overreacting occasionally in trusting my inner paranoia. It’s the main reason I’m still alive along with a bunch of other people I’ve crossed paths with. I figure no blood, no foul. I motioned for Jafar to shut off the movie. He did so, looking at me curiously as if he thought I was going to send him to bed early.

  “Tess is late. I need you to drive me to her house. We’re going to make sure everything’s okay over there. I’ll grab a couple things. Take your cell-phone with you. Meet me outside at the Chevy.”

  To his credit, Jafar didn’t ask me why I wasn’t calling or any other very logical questions I’m sure leaped into his skull. He simply nodded and began putting on his shoes while I opened my safe room and extracted the Ruger 9mm auto I confiscated the other night from the Russians along with my favorite butterfly knife. My ammo cabinet includes extra loaded clips for every popular automatic made. With two extra clips in my black windbreaker and the Ruger at my back I jogged out to the Chevy where Jafar stood waiting. I tossed him the keys and we were on our way to Tess’s house with the add-on GPS giving Jafar directions from the address I punched in.

  “When we get to her street I’ll jump out a few houses down the way. You park the car right in front of the house. I’ll check things around the perimeter. When I give you the signal, beep the horn three short hits and then look out the open passenger side window while looking expectantly up at the house. Don’t get out of the car. If I’m on my game a guy will come out to see what your story is. I’ll shut him up and put him in the Chevy. Drive around the block and stay three houses back until I call you on your cell. You getting this?”

  “Yes Sir. You think Ms. Connagher’s been taken hostage. I will do as you say. Do you think she’s okay?”

  “If she isn’t, a lot of other people won’t be either. Clear your head, Jafar. Don’t over think this.”

  He nodded his understanding and we rode on in silence. I had my government issue phone on hoping Tess would call. It seemed every time I decided to have a shotsky some entity rained on my parade. I know
reaction times drop with each shot of booze. A close encounter without gunfire would be best until I could figure out what the hell was going on. I’m sure Jafar thought this excursion to be an overreaction but we’d know soon enough.

  Jafar turned down Tess’s street and parked three houses away from her place. A few minutes later I had checked out the front perimeter, noting no porch lights were on but a couple rooms inside were casting light through the drawn blinds. Tess’s car was in the driveway. Luckily, a chilly breeze blew steadily, rustling the multitude of leaves blown down from the many trees lining front yards in the neighborhood.

  After making sure no one was sitting in a car near the house, I motioned Jafar into position while crouching down at the side of Tess’s porch steps. He parked, beeped three short horn blasts and peered out the open passenger side window expectantly. None of the neighbors looked out but Tess’s door opened. A huge figure looked out at Jafar. I peered up at him from the porch railing. When he opened the screen door my bad feeling churned up with all the bells and whistles. It was my sparring buddy from the other night. Viktor shuffled forward out of the doorway scowling at Jafar and motioning him away. Instead, Jafar beeped the horn again.

  Nice touch. Viktor practically leaped off the porch with a menacing growl. I slipped behind him, employing a technique I had perfected with a life size dummy over many years of practice. Viktor’s neck snapped under my hands as I wrenched his head sickeningly around to an impossible angle. His body danced spasmodically for a moment before lurching to a dead cat bounce on the sidewalk. I opened the Chevy’s back door and for the second time in a few days installed Viktor Kenig in a vehicle. Jafar watched in horror as Viktor twitched on the seat in his final movements. I closed the backdoor.

  “Get moving, kid!” My teeth clenched snarl snapped Jafar out of his temporary trance. He straightened around and drove away. In the next instant I quietly leapfrogged up the porch steps. My butterfly knife clicked to its full length with a snap of my wrist.

  Moving like I figured the now deceased Viktor would move, I tromped through the house to Tess’s living room. Alexi Fiialkov’s son-in-law glanced over at me from where he sat in front of Tess. She was tied up and gagged in a chair brought in from the kitchen. She seemed a little roughed up but from the bright look in her eyes when she saw me I figured Tess was okay. The son-in-law leaped up so fast the kitchen chair he sat opposite Tess in slammed to the floor. Luckily for him, he didn’t have a weapon in hand. His eyes stayed locked with mine so I had no doubt he was alone.