Chapter Three
Ishmael Ali Returns
Dennis closes the door behind him. Midnight runs to the door after it shuts pouncing sideways at it as if he chased the visitors out. Tess goes over to her sink and pulls a bottle of Jack Daniel’s out from the cupboard below while I sit back down. She takes a glass down from the cupboard left of the sink and pores herself a double. Tess gulps the Jack down like a happy hour hooker. She looks at me questioningly as she pours another.
“Want one?”
“No thanks.” I do my best thinking when I’m clear headed. “How long you been watching me for them?”
“Since the time I slept with you,” Tess admitted, sipping her Jack. I’m happy she knows better than to lie. “They were mad I wasn’t seeing you anymore. The firm came up with the idea to sign you to a contract.”
“So you keep tabs on me while the firm stays in the good graces of our government… sweet.”
“I’m sorry, John.” Tess looks at me, her eyes starting to glaze a little.
I get up. “No harm done. I’ll call a cab.”
“No!” Tess is up and moving around the table to grab my arm. “Don’t go. You can stay tonight.”
“Sorry.” I grin down at Tess while gripping her shoulders gently. “I’m not staying tonight. When you get my package leave it with Tommy or wait for me tomorrow night after the fight. It’s in the same place as tonight. Can I use your phone?”
She’s pissed, but hands me the kitchen phone. I know Yellow Cab’s number by heart. They tell me ten minutes. I tell them I’ll be out front. Midnight tries to block my way. I give him a good roughing up, leaving him purring on his back. Tess hurriedly pours herself another and follows me out front.
“I know why you didn’t tell me a lot about your background now,” Tess tells me, as she sips her drink, shifting from one foot to the other.
“It appears you’ve known my background for quite awhile. Take some advice, Tess. Don’t let Dennis talk you into gigs like the one tonight. If your firm does an up and up legal consulting service for the government then there’s no harm done. Don’t let it get beyond that.”
“Why would you care?” Tess asks me with a little more attitude than necessary. I figure the Jack she’s chugalugged since our visitors left is behind it.
“I care if something happens to you, Tess,” I reply truthfully.
“I can take care of myself.”
“You thought that the night those guys took you into the alley too. I’m trying to tell you the same hard put down could happen if you’re not careful with Dennis and his little section of the government.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve!” Tess pokes me with her right index finger for emphasis, barely avoiding a drink spill from her left. “You go out street brawling as a hobby and I’m the daredevil idiot?!”
“Think it through, Tess. My livelihood depends on staying sharp. Chances are I won’t die in the street, but if-”
“Blah… blah… blah…” Tess cuts me off. “You do it for kicks when you probably have enough skills to make six figures a year without getting your head busted.”
“You win, Tess.” I turn away to face the street, hoping the cab gets here soon.
“Nailed you, huh?” Tess lets the liquor add smugness to her attitude.
“Actually… you’re getting funnier with every remark. I’m afraid if I start laughing, you’ll get even more pissed off.”
“Why you arrogant worm!”
I start laughing. Yellow Cab arrives a moment later.
“Goodnight, Tess.” I slid into the cab’s backseat like I was entering the getaway car from a bank heist.
“John… wait… I…” Tess is trying to come up with a coherent thought. I just wave and the cab pulls away.
I have a few problems to work out now. Allowing Tess to complicate them will not be one of the options. Samira’s being used, but I serve only one master. My country takes care of me. I take care of my country. Sometimes I have to adjust the attitudes of people working for my country in relation to what I’ll do for them. Everything has flaws. If I can keep Samira alive, while getting info on a terrorist cell, made up of guys who shouldn’t have been allowed in America to begin with, then great, sign me up. The fact the idiots I’m working for think nothing of involving civilians and law firms in our business probably makes sense to somebody. Last, but not least, the thought has crossed my mind maybe one of the geniuses higher up has decided me and Samira are expendable for a greater cause. That doesn’t work for me. Shipping out to Afghanistan for another tour is starting to be more appealing.
The cab pulls up in front of my little three bedroom place on Lyon Avenue in Oakland. Tommy’s the only one ever been here. I make pretty good money with much of it socked away in case I have to disappear. I don’t spend it on places I sleep. I tip the cabbie good and get out. Even Tommy kids me about living in the demilitarized zone of East Oakland. It’s not so bad. My neighbors leave me alone. The place suits me. I own an old 1979 Chevy Malibu which nobody bothers. I keep anything of value locked in a safe up in the crawl space attic.
Some of my neighbors had trouble with break-ins which the Oakland PD didn’t seem to think amounted to much. They know who does all the stuff but they don’t have the backing to do anything about it. I don’t care much for the PD’s let bygones be bygones outlook so I did some detective work. It didn’t take me long to find out what bunch of lowlifes were pulling the jobs. I found out where the leader slept. I sliced and diced him and left a note for the rest to stay away from my area pinned on his chest. No more neighborhood problems. I have a couple weaknesses. I like music and a few TV shows so I have a nice 1080P LCD TV on the wall set up with a first class sound system and Blu-Ray disc player. It would be disappointing coming home and finding I no longer had them.
Tomorrow’s Friday, still a workday. I’m expecting even my questionable neighborhood to be quiet. Unfortunately, tonight was just not my night. A six pack of mixed race goons are waiting for me on the sidewalk. I see a few of my neighbors peeking out their doors and windows. I grin appreciatively. One of the guys is Ishmael Ali. He’s such an idiot. I don’t know how he got out but the last place the moron should be is here. I wave.
“Hi, guys. What’s up?”
“Told you I’d come for you, Harding,” Ali tells me. “We goin’ to teach you some respect.”
“Should’ve tried this with a rifle, Ish.” I shake my head while moving in closer. They may think I want to keep my distance. I don’t.
“Harding… John Harding…” one of the guys says. He backs out of the semicircle with his hands out in placating fashion. “I’ve seen him fight over on the wharf. I got no beef with him, partner. Unless you plan on shooting him, you better step off.”
“I got that…” the guy next to him says, reaching under his shirt.
I move in real quick. My short right drops him like he was hit by a car while I wrench his Glock nine mil out with my left. Spinning around, I’m suddenly holding the nine mil on them. They’re all getting second thoughts, even Ali. Of course that won’t do him any good. He should’ve taken my Dad’s address and tried settling up with him. One way or another, Ali will not be looking over my shoulder again. I show them the business end of the nine mil.
“What’d you guys plan to do in front of my house?” I’m curious. “Did you all figure to have a group stomp?”
“We… we wasn’t thinkin’,” the guy who’d seen me fight said.
“Anybody else packin’? Pull up the shirts and spin around, especially you, Ish.”
They do what I say. Ali’s on the verge of a meltdown. I guess his unconscious buddy still sleeping on the sidewalk didn’t make an impression.
“Big man… holdin’ us down the barrel,” Ali says.
My easy going nature is gone. I don’t like this punk. I pop the clip out and clear the chamber. I heave the clip before tossing the Glock to the one who saw me fight.
“Hold this,” I tell him
. “I play this straight if the rest of you keep your hands where I can see them. Anybody else takes a hand and I’ll have to open up. We clear?”
The guys look down at their unconscious comrade and then over at the seething Ali. They’re looking at each other for confirmation when the one who knows me nods in compliance.
“I’m cool with that. You want this man, brother, here’s your chance,” he tells Ali.
Ali is so mad he’s dancin’ on his feet. This guy really wants me.
“Come get some, Ish.” I beckon him on with my hands.
It’s over in seconds. I’m not playing anymore. Ali throws the first punch. I slip under and behind him. His neck snaps with the sickening sound of life leaving its host. I’m pumped, because frankly… I don’t give a shit. I drop the punk and step away from the still twitching body. One of my neighbors called the cops. I hear sirens drawing near. I hear the sound of a chopper too. Some of the guys are ready to bolt.
“If you guys run they’ll probably stop you.” I turn to the guy holding his friend’s Glock. “Better put the piece on the sidewalk. Just tell the PD the truth.”
The guy looks at the Glock like he didn’t know how it ended up in his hand. He drops it. The friend I dusted is groaning and sitting up. I hold my hands up. The others follow my lead as three squad cars drive up. The cops exit the first squad car, guns drawn, and their backups do the same. I know the two cops in the first car. One is Earl Taylor. Earl and I were in the Corps at the same time. He starts laughing when he recognizes me, his white teeth gleaming in contrast to his nearly ebony skin. Earl puts his piece away. He moves over to get a closer look at Ali’s body, still chuckling.
“What have we got… oh my God…” Earl stopped smiling. He stood up and motioned for his partner, Enrique Rodriguez, who was shaking his head at me. “Did you know Ishmael Ali was out?”
“Hell no!” Enrique is stunned when he crouches down with his flashlight and sees who it is. “Damn! How the hell he get out and why didn’t we get a warning? You do this, John?”
“Yes.” What’s the point of long discussions? I’m going downtown anyway.
“He pull a gun on you?” Earl asked as he bagged the Glock.
“No. The guy on the sidewalk tried to pull the Glock. I tossed the clip into the yard when I took it off him.” I keep my hands up as I walk over and point at the clip. I knew where I threw it, even in the dark. “Okay if I pick it up for you?”
“No, I’ll get it,” Earl comes over and bags the clip. He walks back and has a conference with the other cops who had arrived.
I hear the chopper go over with its spotlight on. I turn away in time not to get the flash full in the face. It keeps going once it passes. Enrique does a quick check for weapons on Ali’s buddies while another officer watches. I see the other cops spread out to knock on doors while Earl returns to the group, taking a better look at the crew. He recognizes all of them.
“What the hell you bunch doing backing Ishmael Ali’s play? The murderin’ son of a bitch could have gotten all of you killed.”
“If we spite Ali, he come over in the night and torch the house, man,” the guy who brought the Glock says, still groggy from my attitude adjustment. He gets some quick verbal backup from his friends.
Enrique chuckles a little, looking down at Ali’s corpse. “Looks like Ali ain’t torchin’ anymore places. Ding dong, the witch is dead.”
This pronouncement gets a laugh from everyone.
“Sorry, John.” Earl walks over to me. “We have to take you in.”
“I know.” I turn around and put my hands behind my back. I glanced over at the crew Ali brought. “It would be a good idea if I don’t see any of you bunch in the near future.”
“You want me to call Tommy?” Enrique asks while Earl cuffs me.
“No. He has to take the kids to school. He needs his beauty sleep.”
“How about that lawyer lady you work for?” Earl adds questioningly. “She’s always around.”
“I’ll wait this out on my own,” I reply as Enrique guides me into the backseat of their squad car.
“Suit yourself but you better behave in lockup if it comes to that, John,” Earl cautions me. “The city’s still paying off on the dental surgery for those three gangbangers you kicked the crap out of the last time I had to put you inside overnight.”
I shrug. “Those guys wanted to get romantic. Let me stay home. You have my word I won’t go anywhere.”
“You killed a guy. The coroner has to be called. ‘Rique and I have to make out tons of paperwork. Even if we could let you go, I wouldn’t let you sleep while I’m writing reports.”
“I’ll sleep anyway.”
Both cops laugh and ‘Rique closes my door. At the station I get a few hellos from cops I know. Some have watched me fight and made money. After a couple hours sitting around dozing in my chair and helping them fill in my info, Earl stops back by, all smiles.
“Good news, John. I hear if the DA was in his office, you’d be walkin’. As it is, we’ll have to keep you overnight until the DA comes in tomorrow morning. It seems Ali’s lawyer screwed us in court on some technicality. It put one of the new prosecutors on the hot-seat with the DA for blowing Ali’s conviction. The kid knew Ali would go out and kill somebody. He wanted to come over and spring you himself but he’s on suspension.”
I nod at the appropriate moments during Earl’s news flash. “Sounds good. I guess you’re here to escort me to my room, huh?”
“We have a very entertaining crowd in lockup tonight,” Earl tells me with a big smile as I follow him. “The only thing I can guarantee is there aren’t any weapons. A couple guys you know will be sharing lodging with you: Devon Constantine and Terry Nelson.”
“Oh goody.”
“I figured you’d like the company.” Earl laughed. “I saw you fight Constantine. He never fought again. You were a guest with us because of Nelson the last time. He harboring any bad feelings for you?”
“Nelson put the bangers on me the last overnighter you were talkin’ about.”
“He tried to mug somebody you were escorting around, right?”
“Yeah. Tommy set up a sweet gig with this out of town couple who wanted to see Jack London Square and the pier. So Tommy’s drivin’ the limo. I’m doing the escorting. Nelson walks up and tries a quick pick and pull on my clients as they get out of the limo. I hurried around to tell Nelson to keep moving but he’s dumber than a bag of rocks. I broke his arm. Naturally, you gentlemen of the law arrested me.”
“You know how it is, John,” Earl tells me as he opens the cell door. “We always have to haul in the one still standing, especially when the one on the ground has to visit the ER. It didn’t help your cause when the couple refused to press charges against Nelson.”
“They were scared. Tess got me off quick but it cost me two freebies with her firm. I hate freebies.”
Earl laughed. I walked into the cell and trade looks with my bunkmates for the night. “I’ll check on you later.”
“Thanks, Mommy.”
Constantine’s over sitting on a bunk against the wall. He gives me a nod and closes his eyes. Nelson hasn’t seen me yet. He’s jawin’ with a few of his jail brethren. Nelson makes his appearance in a detention cell at least once every few weeks. I stay out of his view range and find a spot I can keep an eye on things. It looks like mostly drunks. The cell smells like urine and puke, just like home with my Dad. A kid seventeen or eighteen walks over hesitantly. He sits down a few feet from me. I can see his whole life is passing before his eyes as he looks around the holding cell. He has nearly black hair cut above his ears and dark complexion. From his features, I’m guessing he has some Iranian blood. Having spent some covert time in Iran’s border communities I recognize a few similar features.
“What are you in for?” I ask him.
“I stole my Dad’s Town car and tried getting out of the state,” the kid answers a little shakily.
“Did that once myself.”
“You did?” The kid wants to grasp for anything to take his mind off where we were.
“Yeah, my old man whooped me one too many times. It didn’t end well for him.”
“You…you killed him?”
“I don’t know for sure. I took off for parts unknown and didn’t look back. A little while later I managed to join the Marine Corps.”
“I didn’t kill my Dad but if I had… you know… stayed any longer at home, he would have killed me. He gets smashed out of his mind about half the week. Those are his good nights. The bad ones are when he doesn’t have enough booze to get smashed out of his mind.”
“Maybe we’re related.”
The kid laughed. He remembered where he was, shutting up instantly. It attracted Nelson’s attention. When he saw me his eyes lit up. One of those smiles you see on a snake formed but with crooked, missing, and broken teeth. He whispered to his homey’s and jay walked over slowly toward me. I leaned over toward the kid.
“Keep your mouth shut. No matter what, stay seated.”
The kid nodded, open mouthed, his eyes focusing on the unknown rather than the known. I’m under no delusions I won’t meet up with someone badder than me. I just don’t care.
“What’s so funny, pussy?” Nelson asks the kid, never taking his eyes off me.
“Talk to me, Nelson. I’m the kid’s attorney. I’ve advised the kid to plead the fifth.”
Nelson and his buddies laugh, snorting and jiving like they’re so cool, the birds sing when they see them. I’m cynical. They look like low life punks to me. I see Devon Constantine open his eyes. Devon looks at Nelson’s posse. He smiles, leaning back with his eyes shut again. Nelson gives me the head shake like he’s incredulous.
“Stay the fuck out of this Harding.”
“I’m on commission. My client is simply following my advice. I have some advice for you, Terry. Take a hike before you get hurt.”
“What’d you call me? You talkin’ like you know me. You don’t know me… you-”
I kick his right ankle out. When Nelson drops forward, I meet his face with a right forearm snapped at just the right moment. He flies to my left, hits the bars, and slides to the cell floor, unmoving. His homey’s don’t know what to do so I help them out.
Cold Blooded Assassin Book 7: Hell on Earth (Nick McCarty Assassin) Page 36