“Anybody still standing in this cell when I finish counting to three, party’s with me like Nelson over there. One… two-”
Where there weren’t enough seats, guys dropped their asses onto the cell floor. I looked around and smiled amiably.
“Good. Now that the introductions are over, you gentlemen go about your business. Sorry for the interruption.”
Constantine starts laughing. The rest of my cellmates at least give it a chuckle. Just like that, all the conscious guys in the cell are friends now.
“So,” I reengage the kid, “your old man wasn’t drunk enough to let you get out of the state with his car, huh?”
“Hey… ah… thank you for… you know…”
“Forget it.” I wave off his thanks, pointing at Nelson. “That wasn’t about you. Nelson and I had some history to sort out.”
The kid nodded his understanding. “I was stupid. If I’d let him rant and slap me around for a while, I could have split when he finally passed out. If not for my Mom I would already have been gone. She pretends everything’s okay but I can’t take it anymore. It took her nearly four years to immigrate to the United States.”
I perked up believing I was right about his heritage. “Immigrate from where?”
“Iran,” the kid answered. “My Great Uncle vouched for her. He lived in Detroit. Uncle Sayyed married her off to my Dad. She thinks my Dad bought her which is a common practice.”
“You speak Farsi?”
“Yes,” the kid answers, getting a curious look on his face, “and Arabic.”
“No need to steal cars. The government would kill to get interpreters. Kick free of the family and you’ll be able to get fast tracked in the military or government. I might have a proposition for you on the outside. Think you’d be interested? I’m John Harding.” I stuck out my hand which he shook.
“I’d be interested, Mr. Harding. My name is Jafar Kensington.” The kid looked at me like I had just landed in a UFO.
“Your Mom snuck in an Iranian first name for you, huh?”
“Mom says my Dad wasn’t always like he is now. She’s right. He wasn’t so bad when I was younger. He worked as a computer engineer at a company over in Silicon Valley. The company folded up a few years ago and he’s been working odd jobs ever since.”
“He might snap out of it. I could-”
“Damn it, Harding!”
It’s Earl. He’s seen Nelson. I look up and wave as Earl arrives outside the cage with ‘Rique laughing his ass off.
“I told you…” ‘Rique chortles, holding out his hand. “You owe me twenty, compadŕe.”
“Shut up!” Earl slapped ‘Rique’s hand down, still staring daggers at me. “John… haul Terry over to the door, will you? He ain’t dead… is he?”
I sighed, getting up. “No… just terminally stupid.
I walk over to Nelson and prop him up against the bars. I check his vitals and feel for any breakage in his head. Once I’m sure Nelson won’t croak when I touch him, I start bitch slappin’ the prick - little wake up smacks that have my cellmates laughing. Nelson begins to groan.
“Wakey… wakey… my little man.”
“Wha… what the fuck… get away…” Nelson squirms back from my continuing wake up call. Terry blinks his eyes around groggily. He looks like a badly carved Halloween pumpkin. “How the fuck I get here?”
This draws wild laughter.
“The officers saw you sleeping on the floor. They wanted to make sure you’re okay,” I explain to him. I see the light bulb of recognition glowing through his mean little eyes. “Get up and say hello or I’ll punt you over in front of them. Take your pick.”
Nelson scrambled over and away from me, using the bars to help himself up on his feet. “I’ll kill you man. Nobody do me like this and live.”
“You know… Ishmael Ali told me that. In fact, he told me he was going to kill my whole family.”
“You dead then, man.” Nelson snorts, snapping his fingers at me. “Ali burn you down. Look out… dead man walkin’ here.”
“Ali’s dead, genius,” Earl informs him loud enough for the whole cell to hear. “He went over to visit Harding tonight.”
“Now his head’s pointed the wrong way on his neck,” ‘Rique adds with a twist of his hands. “C’mon out of there, Nelson. We don’t want the same thing happening to you, at least while you’re in our cell anyway.”
Nelson scoots around me with agility, offering his hands behind him at the door to be cuffed without comment. Earl opens up and takes Nelson out by the arm.
“Ali really dead?” One of Nelson’s cohorts asks Earl.
“He better be. He’s on a slab at the morgue,” Earl answers, looking at me again. “No more trouble tonight, John… hear me?”
“Hey, we’re all gettin’ along fine, right guys?” I look around and immediately get confirming head nods from my overnight buddies.
“Just for the record, anyone see what happened to Nelson here?” ‘Rique asks.
“He trip… went straight into the bars,” the guy who asked if Ali were really dead answers.
Another confirming wave of head nods and murmurs wash through the cell, prompting a laugh from Earl. Nelson’s fuming. I can tell the news of Ali’s demise has enlightened him somewhat.
“Well, all right then,” ‘Rique says happily. “Good night to all, and to all a good night. Thanks for the twenty, John.”
“You’re welcome… if I knew what you were talkin’ about.”
“Yeah, thanks a lot, John,” Earl mutters before guiding Nelson out.
“Man… you staked Dracula,” the crony of Nelson says to me - the one who said Nelson tripped. “Never figured anyone’d kill that crazy son of a bitch.”
A murmur of approval buzzes through the cell. Devon Constantine perks up at the news.
“You goin’ down for it?” Nelson’s buddy continues.
“No. The DA’s as happy as you are about it,” I answer, sitting down again.
“The mayor should give you a key to the city,” Devon remarks, sparking a new round of laughter. “Are you sure he’s dead? Cats like him got nine lives.”
“Ishmael’s dead, Dev,” I assured him while the others laugh at Constantine’s remark. “When he hit the sidewalk, black slimy mist creatures poured up from the cement and ripped his soul right down into hell. Can I get an amen, brothers?”
Cacophonous laughter and amen’s rang out through the cell.
Chapter Four
Recruiting
“John Harding?” An officer’s voice calls out from the cell door.
“Over here,” I stood up. Everyone should spend a night in lockup. It gives you a whole new perspective of the world. The kid looks startled. The night passed with a minimum of problems… other than it being the drunk tank. I had a proposition for the kid but it’d have to wait until I could spring him. Devon looks up at me from across the cell and we lock eyes. He nods. He’ll look after the kid. I give the other guys a little wave at the door which draws a laugh and away I go. Tess is waiting for me. Oh boy.
I smile at her and gather my belongings. She looks a little hung over, but hey, it’s Friday. Besides, she had a big night playing spy.
“You stink, Hard-head.”
“A night in the drunk tank will do that to you. How’d you hear I was in?”
“You made the Oakland Trib in time for their morning addition. Since you didn’t call me, I assumed you’d called Tommy until the precinct told me you were still here.”
“Thanks for checking. I need two others out of there, on my dime of course: Devon Constantine and Jafar Kensington.”
To her credit, Tess didn’t question me for a second. She gestured to a line of chairs by the wall.
“Have a seat. I’ll look into it.”
“Thanks, Tess.” I lean against the wall. I’ve been sitting enough. Twenty minutes later, Tess walks toward me with two folders. She looks damn good in her white blouse and thigh high black skirt, hangover or
no hangover.
“Constantine’s no problem.” Tess looks over the folder. “Minor altercation at a bar. The Owner says he’ll settle for damages. I called Kensington’s Father. His Mom answered. She says they won’t press charges but she sounded scared. Anything I should know about?”
“Drunk Father kicks crap out of son. Son splits with the family car. Father reports it stolen.” I’m always in awe of how quickly lawyers can get the wheels of justice moving, especially ones as good as Tess. “The kid’s half Iranian. I think I can use him.”
Tess catches on fast. “I see… he’ll need a place to stay. His Mom told me his Father doesn’t want to see him anytime in the near future.”
“I’ll find out where he’s going to school from the parents and pick up his stuff. When can they be released?”
“Who do I get to bill this to?” Tess smiles because she already knows what I’m going to say. When I don’t answer, she waves me off. “The government it is then. I will forward all inquiries to you.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll have them out by noon. We’ll take a release of custody form over to the Kensingtons. You can pick up some stuff for him then.”
“I guess you better take me home first so I can shower and put on some visiting clothes, unless you’d rather I take a cab.”
“I have my notebook computer and portable printer with me. You can cook me breakfast while I do the paperwork.”
“It’s a deal,” I agree without objection. I’m not a bad cook. “Will you need my special hangover breakfast?”
“That obvious, huh?” Tess leads the way briskly out of the precinct. “What does your hangover special consist of?”
“Cheese and tomato omelet with rye toast and Advil on the side.”
“Yummy.”
I direct her to my house. Everything seems okay. My little indicators tell me no one has breeched my perimeter while they knew I was in lockup. Tess scopes out my house without comment on the way to the kitchen. I get the coffee maker going while Tess sets up her notebook computer and printer. By the time she has the preliminaries done I have the coffee made and a cup in front of her. It only takes me fifteen minutes to shave, shower, and put on a respectable outfit for visiting the Kensingtons. I wear my strap t-shirt into the kitchen and carry the pullover black Henley I planned to wear. No use getting my cooking errors all over the clean shirt. Tess figures out why I drape the shirt over the kitchen chair instead of wearing it, and laughs.
“That’s so cute. Maybe you should get one of those aprons with ‘Kiss The Cook’ on the front.”
“Yuck it up. That’s my favorite black pullover and I’m not getting egg yolk on it,” I play along. It’s so nice being in my house instead of jail everything is a treat, even getting needled.
I pour myself some coffee and get the omelet cooking over a just barely visible fire. After the cheese and tomatoes are cut up, the omelet’s cooked enough to add them, and flip over the side. While the omelet simmers, I make rye toast. I see Tess is impressed with my culinary skills as I spread my feast out on the table with orange juice and the promised Advil. Tess pops the Advil, chases the pills down with orange juice, and takes a bite of her omelet.
“Delicious, I could use a cook around at my house… with special skills.”
“Sounds interesting,” I reply, sitting down in front of my plate. “I don’t take orders well and I’m always on the outs with connivers who go behind my back.”
“Ouch! You aren’t going to let my hookup with the government go any time soon I see. Having a lawyer on call is pretty valuable, especially when as many people end up dead as seems to happen around you. Want to fill me in on the details from last night?”
“I thought it was in the paper,” I counter, taking a bite of my breakfast. “What kind of details do you need? Ishmael Ali visited my house with a crew along. There was only one death. I’d call that restraint.”
“What are we bailing out Mr. Kensington and Mr. Constantine for? You said Kensington is Iranian.”
“I think I could use him. He speaks Farsi and Arabic. I know Samira speaks Arabic and Pashtu, as well as Dari, which is Persian/Farsi. It would be another set of ears.”
“I thought you were a loner.” Tess grins as she sticks the needle in again.
Jafar’s Samira’s age. I could use a little more muscle and I trust Devon Constantine. “There you go, talkin’ like you know me.”
“I’m sorry about last night, John.”
“It’s in the past, Tess. You don’t understand what you’re getting yourself involved in. It’s a free country and those idiots will use you if they can. They don’t care if you screw up because they’ll tie up loose ends in a heartbeat. I appreciate you coming for me this morning.”
“Hey… what are partners for?” Tess shrugged with a laugh at my look of distaste. “This is a first class breakfast, Hard-head. My hangover has eased considerably.”
“I’m glad.”
“Are we going to the Kensington’s house first?”
“We might as well get the distasteful crap done first.”
“Are you going to back out of the fight tonight?”
“Nope.”
“You’re nuts, John. What the hell drives you to do all this shit?”
“I like to keep busy.” I’m good at what I do and explaining it to Tess over and over won’t make it any clearer for her. “Probably the same reason you thought it was a good idea to play spy.”
“I walked into that one.” Tess turned to her notebook computer while I cleaned up the dishes. “Do you have any folders lying around?”
“Plain manila be okay?”
“Perfect.”
By the time I hunt down the folders, Tess has three piles of papers printed out. She labels each folder, and puts the papers inside. Tess stands up and turns into me. She reaches up and pulls my face down. I wish I could say it was against my will. Our lips meet. Soon the breathing changes and our tongues become involved. It’s a quick rollercoaster ride. She pulls back breathlessly. Mine’s a little ragged too.
“Just… just wanted to test my breath on you. Did I pass?”
“I have a spare toothbrush.”
“Brat,” Tess snorts. “Show me and we’ll be on our way.”
“One more test before you brush so I’ll remember the test sample.” This time, I throw a little more urgency into it. We nearly begin to consummate our breath testing endeavor when her cell-phone goes off into some rock/rap ringer pulse. She pulls away with genuine reluctance and answers it. I see her smile.
“Yes, he’s right here.” Tess hands me the phone.
“Man, why didn’t you call me last night?” Tommy asks.
“It was no big deal, T. Tess came down to bail me out this morning. Besides, I met a couple guys I might need for this gig we’re doing with the Afghani girl. It’s going to be a bigger deal than I originally thought.”
Tommy laughed. “You did for that murderin’ bastard, Ali - then you went recruitin’ in the lockup. Only you, brother, only you. I figured Tess read the same write up I did. I took a chance and called her first. We still on for tonight?”
“Oh yeah, that turd Rankin wants me bad.” Rankin and me have some issues. “If I excused myself from the meet up, he’d be trashin’ me all over the East Bay. I don’t care about the money, T. I’m not playin’ around with him tonight. He’s a pro. He says he wants to-”
“Calm down, John… I heard what he’s been sayin’. Straight up is how we’ll do this one and to hell with entertainment. Bet you were surprised to find Ishmael on your doorstep.”
“Not in this day and age,” I correct him. “No crime is so bad a raving lunatic murderer can’t get released in this country.”
“He won’t be getting released anymore.”
“Amen to that. After Tess and I get some of my recruitment details straightened away I’ll go back to my house and get some sleep. What time do you want to meet up?”
“Fights
at Midnight. No need to get there too early. I’ll swing by and pick you up at 11:30.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be waitin’.”
“Until then.”
I hand Tess back her phone. She puts it away and moves into me. I’m not adverse to this play but I’m a little raw thinking about last night again. Tess sees it in my face. With an annoyed sigh she pushes away.
“For God’s sake, I didn’t hire you killed, John.”
“It’s a process. Let’s see if we can clean up things a bit today. Want to call the Kensingtons before we pay them a visit?”
“Already done while you were showering. Mrs. Kensington will be greeting us at the door with a suitcase. She’ll sign and we won’t have to meet Mr. Kensington.”
“Works for me.”
“You’re disappointed.”
She’s right. I wanted to see for myself what kind of jackass jerks around a good kid like Jafar. The meet-up might have been educating enough for the old man that the kid could have stayed. I guess he’ll have to bunk in with me for a while. “He reminds me of someone from a long time ago with the same problem. I figured maybe to get his old man on the right side of this.”
Tess chuckled at the notion of me discussing anything. “I don’t think so, John. Another death would look very bad for you at this time.”
“Oh, you don’t think I can be persuasive in other ways besides my fists? I was going to explain to him how lucky he was to have a son like Jafar and how close to losing him he came by sending his kid into the lockup.”
Tess looks at me with interest. “That might have worked. I know it would have on his Mom. Maybe you’ll get a chance once the car theft is a few weeks in the past. I guess we better get going. Jafar turned eighteen last month which is why he ended up in a cell with you last night instead of juvy.”
“Good. I’ll make sure he gets to school but I can do without any complications with housing an underage teen.”
* * *
A dark complexioned woman in her late thirties answered the door, looking at Tess with tired resignation. I can hear a guy swearing in the background out of sight. Mrs. Kensington opened the screen door and wheeled out a large suitcase as quietly as possible and closed the door behind her.
Cold Blooded Assassin Book 7: Hell on Earth (Nick McCarty Assassin) Page 37