Revenge School (A Pay Back Novel Book 1)

by Myles Knapp

  “What’s he do with that stuff?”

  “Fucker doesn’t tell me.”

  “Finally something I believe.”

  “Rich guys would be good targets for blackmail.”

  “Can’t blackmail a guy for getting a lap dance. Tell me about the Middle Eastern guys.”

  “Can’t be blackmailing them. Towel heads we get at the club can barely cover the entry fee. None of them ever tips the girls. Dancers hate them.”

  “Destiny into anything else?”

  “You mean like hooking?”

  “What the hell you think I mean?”

  “The other girls call her ‘The Virgin.’”

  “Need more about who pays you.” Pay pointed his baton at Duncan’s shoulder and he started to cry.

  “Fat man sends flunkies with cash.”

  “Describe ‘em.”

  “They’re just punks, and they change all the time. The latest one is about five-foot-two, young, mixed race Asian and black. He has dyed bright red hair. Wears hip-hop clothes with pants hanging below his ass. Bright yellow tattoo of two skeletons fucking on his left forearm.”

  “Even a dumb shit like you would have tried to climb the food chain. Where’d you follow them to?”

  “Always lost them in North Beach.”

  “Where?”

  “They all jumped the rope at one of the dance clubs on Broadway. Last two I lost in The Black Cat.”

  Jaw tense, Pay ground his teeth. “Tell me about the head guy.”

  “Told you. Saw him once. Just a huge, big, fat guy.”

  Pay scowled. “Need more than that.” He smashed his baton through an end table’s leg and it collapsed on Duncan’s head.

  Blood burst from a cut above his eye and his mouth shifted into high gear as he tried to prevent more damage. “Guy’s fat, but he’s got lots of muscle. Black and grey goatee. Shaved bald. Swarthy skin. Might be Italian or something.”

  “Heard that before.”

  “I got nothing else.”

  “Tell me about the rich guy Destiny danced for.”

  “Guy blew into the club like he was the President. But he looked sort of scared. He says, ‘Hey, big man. I’m kinda in a hurry. Here’s $100. Take care of the entry stuff.’”

  “So you grabbed the cash.”

  “I followed him down the hall, gave him the standard high roller spiel the fat man taught me.”

  “I need to hear it. Word for word.”

  Rock took a big breath and went into his routine, like a second grader at the Christmas play: “I’ll be glad to take care of everything, sir. Just tell me what you need. And if you are in a hurry, let me set you up with Destiny. Real pretty brunette. Friendliest girl in the house, if you know what I mean. She’s onstage right now. But I can have her with you in a booth in about ten minutes. First dance is on me. You can’t lose with Destiny.”

  “Then he gives me two hundred bucks, tells me to get him a VIP booth and a drink. So I’m thinking, two hundred bucks! I tell him my name and that I’ll get him anything he needs. But we don’t serve alcohol anywhere on the premises. Our license doesn’t allow it.

  “He looks at me like I’m crazy, and says, ‘How’s this place different than any other old topless club?’”

  I says, “‘It’s just like topless, sir. Except the girls are nude. And because we don’t serve alcohol, the girls can be younger. A bunch of them just turned eighteen.’”

  “Dude laughs in my face and says, ‘So, Rock. Here’s what I think. The normal shmuck can’t buy a drink here. But I don’t think management gives a damn about me drinking here. Just like they don’t care about the semi-pro hookers, or jailbait, or drugs in the dressing room or janitors working without green cards.’”

  “You are allowed to bring in your own bottle.”

  “He gives me that look. You know, the one rich assholes give to guys like me. ‘You got $200 of my money. Get me a drink. In fact, get me a sealed bottle of Belvedere. I’m going to be a while. And if Destiny doesn’t like vodka martinis, get me a girl who does. There’s another $100 in it for you if you’re back in less than ten minutes.’”

  “Then what?” Pay tapped the baton in his palm. He was getting impatient.

  “Headed out to get his booze, that’s what. Wanted as much of the guy’s money as I could get. Needed to keep him happy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m on my way out for the booze and this little dude in a turban stops me.”

  “Ah crap.”

  Pay’s eyelid twitched, and Rock’s pulse skipped a beat. “Guy comes on real polite says, ‘Excuse me, sir. I need your help.’ I tell him, Buddy, I’m in a hurry.’ He says, ‘I’ll pay you.’ I told him I was listening and kept walking. He hustles along beside me, wants me to watch the guy I just set up with Destiny. So I say, what’s in it for me? And he says $100. And I say, why don’t you just go in and watch the guy yourself?”

  “What’s he say?” Pay’s impatience shone in his eyes. He wants to beat the crap out of Duncan, but knows if he does he won’t get any more information.

  “Guy says something like, ‘I cannot. My religion forbids strip clubs,’ and I say, sucks for you. Then he says, ‘Will you do it?’ And I tell him, ‘Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna go to that liquor store and buy a bottle. Then I’m going back to the club. After that, if you’re still around, you got sixty seconds to tell me your story. And it better be good ‘cause nobody pays anybody $100 just to spy on a guy in a strip club.’ Turned out he thought the big spender was banging his wife.”

  Pay figured he’d gotten what he was going to get out of Rock. “Chase, you find anything?”

  “About eighteen hundred dollars, mostly twenties, small bag of white powder, four prescription bottles filled with Oxycontin-one for Ms. M. Wong, one for Mr. S. Alioto, one for P. Spitzer, and one with good, old Duncan’s name. Plus three bottles of injectable Anadrol with his name on them. Looks like Mr. Duncan didn’t come by those muscles naturally.”

  “So minor drug beef at best?” asked Pay.

  “Yeah. It’s barely gonna be worth the cops’ time.”

  “Any suspicious thumb drives?”

  Duncan twitched; his eyes got wide.

  “Based on shithead’s body language, answer’s yes on that one.”

  “I’ll look some more.”

  Pay unfurled his baton. “Aw, just give me a second here.” Pushing himself up off the dining room chair, he took a step toward Duncan, who screamed, “Envelope taped behind the dresser! Envelope taped behind the dresser!”

  Pay stroked Duncan’s forehead with the baton. “Got it. Now, shut up while I decide what to do with you.”

  “Can’t you just…” Duncan stuttered, “I mean…” The shakes of adrenaline-pumping fear overtook his voice. “I gave you everything you wanted; can’t you just leave me alone?”

  “I got three options. Option 1, kill you.”

  Duncan went limp, tears running down his face. He knew he was staring at his own death.

  “Seems kinda extreme, though. Option 2, call the cops; minor drug beef should keep you out of my hair for a while. Or, I could just let you go.”

  “Just let me go. Please. Please. Please don’t call the cops, the drugs will take me down. I’ve got two strikes.”

  “Chase, OK if I let this shithead go?”

  “Hell no. At least break his legs or something. I don’t need him out walking around trying to get even.”

  “Bring me the Oxycontin and a glass of water, ok?”

  “Sure, just as soon as I get this envelope loose.”

  Pay helped Duncan off the floor, got him comfortable in a recliner, and lightly poked his broken shoulder with the baton.

  “You pulled a gun on us. I can’t let that go.”

  Duncan whimpered and r
olled into a sideways fetal position, protecting his damaged arm.

  Pay shook out a couple of Oxys and handed them to Duncan.

  “Here’s the deal. The Oxys should take the edge off. When you can manage it, sling up and get to work. Nine, maybe 10 PM a high roller’s gonna drop in. You text the number and tell them you’ve got a new sucker. A real hot one. When’s the pickup guy usually come?”

  “‘Round midnight.”

  “Tell him you got a number and a name. And the mark is complaining his wife’s a bitch. Got it?”

  “What name am I gonna tell him?”

  “High roller will show up with the info you need.”

  “But if I lie to the fat guy, he’ll kill me.”

  “Not even close to your biggest problem. You got two more jobs. Number one: Make sure there’s no video of the high roller. None. If the pickup man asks, you tell him it was a technical problem. Number two: Tomorrow you use that eighteen hundred to pack up and leave town. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Pay nodded at Chase and flicked his eyes at the door. “Time to get out of here.”

  Rock sagged with relief, and Pay whipped the baton down twice on his shooting hand.

  Bones cracked.

  Rock bellowed.

  Pay bent over and whispered in his ear, “You ever point a gun at me again, I’ll cut off both your hands and stuff ‘em down a garbage disposal. Then I’ll cauterize the stubs with a blow torch before I turn you over to the cops.”

  Chase pulled the Bugatti’s door closed. “I’m not real happy leaving him alone and mobile. Aren’t you worried about him double crossing us?”

  “Hoping he will. But don’t really think he can.”

  “What exactly can’t he do?”

  “All he’s got is a text message number for the guy we want. He doesn’t know much about us. ‘Bout the worst he can do in the next couple of hours is use his one good hand to send the fat man a text saying a big, handsome, strong, white guy and his skinny black Tonto are causing trouble.”

  “He could get a couple of friends and wait for us to show up tonight.”

  Pay snorted. “Shit. You worried about the friends of a pissant second-rate hood like that? What happened, you miss a couple of testosterone injections?”

  “Just your faithful Tonto watching out for your ass, Mr. Ranger. And mine. Your leg is better, but without your pet dog, Duncan and a couple of friends with machetes might make you break a sweat.”

  “But you, me, and Blade?”

  “Good point.”

  “Print up a card for a dummy high roller. Make sure the phone numbers got caller ID and tracking. Add an email address. Our stooge can pass them around tonight. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the fat man or one of his gophers will contact us.”

  Chase nodded. “So, who are you thinking of having play the high roller?”

  “I figured one of those two guys from Brooke’s club. Ted and…what’s his name?”

  “George.”

  “George the one who told the stripper he loved her?” Pay laughed.

  “That was George. What an idiot.”

  “Let’s use him. Fool like that deserves it.”

  “I’ll tell him to be at Centerfolds tonight and that he needs to spread around a grand or two and the cards. And I’ll make sure he gets there no later than 9:30 and gone by 10.”

  “You need to be there tonight when the gopher arrives. Gonna have to tail him.”

  “How come I’ve gotta do the night scut work?”

  “Cause I’m the boss and you’re my faithful Tonto.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Early the next morning Richard found Pay at the team’s HQ. “Just got back from the hospital. Mary Ellen’s doing better. She’s no longer in a coma, but still on lots of drugs. She can’t remember anything about the beating except a bald, fat man with a salt-and-pepper beard.”

  “The bouncer at Centerfolds described the same guy. Last night we set up a trap but it didn’t work out.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “We’re spread a little thin. Might need you to do some surveillance.”

  “I’m ready. I’ve got my pepper spray and my cell.”

  “Bring your gun, too.” Pay was surprised at Richard’s eagerness. “No questions? Not scared?”

  “Of course I’m scared. I’m not nuts. But I’m starting to think I’m more likely to get hurt in class than I am by some low-level guy on the street.”

  “Probably right about that.”

  “Why?”

  “This afternoon’s class is how to win a gunfight when you only have a knife. Everybody gets hurt.”

  “It can’t be that bad. You don’t use real knives and bullets, do you?”

  Pay laughed. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  CHAPTER 53

  Barbara Jane and Pay walked back from a quick lunch at Gott’s in the Ferry Building. Pay finished off a chocolate gelato cone, while Barb scooped tiny bites from a cup of strawberry sorbet.

  Pay hadn’t yet made up his mind how, or if, Barbara Jane should be involved in the Mary Ellen thing. He knew he needed to test her somehow, but if she had the skills implied by her Special Forces pedigree, the team could use her. “Might be a good idea for you to meet Richard.”

  “Ok. When?”

  “How about this afternoon’s class?”

  “I’m on R&R for two weeks. And I’m not leaving until this thing with my sister is finished.”

  “Today’s lesson is knives versus guns. Wanna help? We usually need an extra or two. People get pretty beat up.”

  “Do I have to play client self-defense?”

  Pay tilted his head and squinted at her. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Do I have to let the students win? Because they’re paying clients?”

  Pay snorted out a laugh. “Hell no. Not in my world. In my world, skill, viciousness and the ability to use them, are the only things that count.”

  “Sounds fun,” Barb grinned. “Knife fight with a bunch of newbies. Are there prizes?”

  “Winners get something. Losers get nothing. Just like real life.”

  “So why’d you change your name to Pay?”

  “Change?”

  “Oh come on. You don’t expect me to believe your mother named you Pay, do you?”

  “Honest to God, name’s Pay. Says so on my birth certificate. Not that mom was any too happy about it.”

  “If I ever have children I think I’ll have the final say on names.”

  “Mom probably thought she would, too. But in my family things were different. You know how after Christmas or Thanksgiving dinner people play dominoes, cribbage, or something?”

  “Mary Ellen and I used to play fish for M&Ms.”

  “In my family the adults played poker. Games could be damn serious. Great grandpa Thomas on my mother’s side owned a poker parlor and billiard hall back in the day. Mom was a pretty good player, and my dad’s dad was a card counter. Sometimes they played $5, $10, $20—which back then was pretty big money.”

  “You were named at a family poker game?”

  “Pretty much. No limit Texas Hold ‘Em. Mom wanted to name me William like my dad and his dad and his dad’s dad. But my grandpa was dead set against it. Said the world didn’t need another William Back. Everyone called Grandpa ‘Bill Back’ and he hated it.”

  “So?”

  “So, Mom was holding pocket aces. Being the short stack, she had to be aggressive or she was gonna get bet out. She went all in. Flop turned over two kings. Next card was nothing. She figured two pair, kings over aces was a winner, but grandpa had more chips and overbid her.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She could have called short, but she was so sure she had a winner she offered up her gold
watch.”

  “And?”

  “Grandpa knew it meant a lot to Mom. Her grandmother’d given it to her. Gramps wouldn’t take the watch, he wanted naming rights.”

  “What happened?”

  “He’d been playing big slick, ace-king. Last card was a king. Mom had a full house, aces over kings, but that last card gave Gramps four kings. He cleaned her out.”

  “What did your dad have to say about that?”

  “They tell me dad said it was better than having another damn Bill.”

  CHAPTER 54

  Richard pulled a bottle of aspirin from his gym bag and swallowed down two with Gatorade from his water bottle. He’d survived the morning class undamaged, but was worried about the afternoon. So far, all Pay’s threats had come true.

  Making sure his pepper spray was close at hand, Richard set his iPhone so the alarm would go off fifteen minutes before class. Folding his sweatshirt to use as a pillow, he lay on the mats at the back of the room. Richard didn’t know whether it was the increase in physical activity or his body needing rest to repair the bruises, cuts and sprains, but since he’d started at the Revenge School, he’d needed a lot more sleep.

  Nodding off, he dreamed about Mary Ellen and tropical beaches.

  Richard woke to a warm, wet tongue on his cheek. At first he thought he was dreaming, but then Blade nipped his ear.

  Pay stood laughing about ten-feet away. “Was going to wake you myself, but saw the pepper spray and figured Blade had a better chance of not getting blasted.”

  Richard yawned and stretched, as the class straggled in and Pay got things rolling. “First I’d like to introduce a new student,” he pointed at Barbara Jane. “She’s a little late in the curriculum, but with her background we think she’ll get up to speed pretty quick. So, bad guy’s real close to you. Say, ten-feet or so. What’s better, knife or gun?”

  “Only an idiot brings a knife to a gunfight.” Richard snorted.

  “Great, I was looking for a volunteer.” Pay held up a holster and something that looked like a rubber band gun. “This is a training pistol. It fires high impact rubber band ammo as fast as you can pull the trigger.”