Revenge School (A Pay Back Novel Book 1)

by Myles Knapp

  CHAPTER 73

  At the hospital, Richard and Brooke took turns working the phones. Cell phones were blocked in the room so they rotated. One always stayed with Chase while the other went outside.

  Thanks to her job, Brooke had the most extensive contact list, and the most friends in high places. So the bulk of the calling fell to her.

  Richard only knew a few people who might be able to help. His first call was to David Hunter at the Chronicle.

  “David, its Richard.”

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “Ok. Remember that Pay guy I asked you about?”

  “Sure, how did that go?”

  “He turned out to be the real deal. Got us a great lead. We can’t prove anything yet, but the guy we’re interested in is a felon, Vincent Morano. We’re trying desperately to get a lead on him. I’ve tried the usual stuff, like Google, Facebook and LinkedIn. But, I’m coming up blank. I figured you might know some way to track a guy.”

  “I’ll check into our records and see what we’ve got. But we don’t keep much personal info on criminals. Does the guy own any property?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “It’s surprising how stupid some of these crooks are. They use throwaway phones, drive cars with stolen license plates and work hard to keep a low profile, but then buy a house or something else using their real name. Any realtor or title company can do a search and the owner’s name pops up in seconds.”

  “Thanks, I’ll check that out.”

  Richard hung up and hurried back to Brooke. “Know any realtors?”

  “Several of the guys at the club own real estate firms.”

  Fifteen minutes later one of her contacts emailed them a list of every property in San Francisco, Marin, Alameda and Contra Costa counties, where the recorded owner was named Morano, V. Morano, Vincent Morano, or Vinnie Morano.

  The bad news, was there were over 200 properties. But lots of the properties could be eliminated. First, they got rid of all the mansions. If Morano could afford a multi-million dollar piece of real estate—and with the apparent success of his blackmail ring, he could—there was no way that he’d be stupid enough to bring Pay and extreme violence to its doorstep. Then, they went on to eliminate anything that listed a ‘Mrs.’ as a co-owner.

  Richard suggested Morano wouldn’t have gone too far away, so they started with buildings he could drive to in about half an hour. Once they had a list of likely properties, Richard had Amy research them on the internet. Internet photos helped eliminate more. Others were dropped because they were for sale. Morano couldn’t stash Pay at a place where a real estate agent could drop in without notice.

  Then, they started calling the properties to see who answered.

  It took a few hours, but they ultimately narrowed the list down to a derelict building on the Richmond waterfront. Google Earth photos showed a neighborhood of dilapidated, mostly single story metal buildings with rusty walls, surrounded by abandoned equipment.

  CHAPTER 74

  Jon D took Morano’s call.

  “Want my videos. Send Richard, alone. Midnight. I’ll give you a location later.”

  “I need to talk to Pay.”

  “Sure.” Morano chuckled and kicked Pay’s wounded shoulder.

  Pay swore.

  “That’s all you’re gonna get.”

  Jon D tried a different approach. “Richard is out of it. He’s not one of us.”

  “Even better. Anybody but him shows, I’ll send them back in a box. Along with Pay’s important parts.”

  “Richard can’t do it,” Jon D lied. “He got hurt bad during training. Can barely walk.”

  “I don’t give a good god damn. Get him a crutch or your fucking chair.” Click.

  Richard looked questioningly at Jon D. “What do you mean I’m not one of you?”

  “Listen Rich, you’re a client. You didn’t buy into this.”

  “But what about Pay?”

  “We’ll think of something.”

  “You haven’t got much to work with. Chase is in the hospital, which leaves Brooke, a blind midget, an assistant self-defense trainer, BJ, who has to protect Mary Ellen, you and Denny. And he’s almost as new as I am.”

  “I’ll work with what I got.”

  “Plus, Morano specifically asked for me. Why the hell did he ask for me?”

  “I don’t know and it’s not your problem.”

  “Pay taught me to think like a man.”

  “So you’re in?” Jon D sighed.

  “Yes, God help me. Why did you tell him I couldn’t walk?”

  He looked Richard directly in the eye. “I’ve been doing this stuff since you were a baby. I suppose I thought you might man up. And if you did, I didn’t want to send you in there with nothing but a box of videos and some fighting lessons.”

  CHAPTER 75

  Pay’d been drugged.

  He remembered being on the floor in a pool of freezing water with his arms tied behind him but he’d been moved. Now, he was sitting upright, zip tied to a wooden chair.

  The bullet wound in his shoulder oozed blood. It hurt like hell, because every time Morano turned away Pay yanked at his bindings. He pulled until Morano looked back or his vision began to fade. Pay wanted to be ready when the team arrived. He’d lost to Morano for the last damned time.

  The bad news was Pay was sure Morano was looking away on purpose, just to see how long he could go without passing out or bleeding to death. The good news was the chair was starting to come apart.

  Pay was thirsty as hell. Probably from the shock, but maybe from a lack of blood. He’d refused to beg when he needed to go to the bathroom, and Morano’d laughed like hell when he’d pissed his pants. Morano’d tossed another pail full of ice water on him, “To keep the smell down.”

  So, there he sat; freezing, woozy, scared and pissed, in more ways than one. “Hey Morano, you heard from the guys?”

  “Trading you for the videos tonight.”

  “So you gotta keep me alive a little longer.”

  “Funny, I thought it meant I’d get to kill you while your friends watched.”

  “Chase must be out of the hospital.”

  “What the hell’s Chase gotta do with anything?”

  “He’s the only one who can make the trade.”

  “Talked to Jon D. Told him I wanted my stuff. He said Chase was unconscious and he didn’t know where the videos were. Told him to sell that stupid shit to some other fool. He don’t deliver, I’ll send over a few of your spare parts.”

  “Brooke’s going to deliver?”

  “Nope.”

  “Jon D?”

  “Hell no! I don’t want that murdering bastard anywhere near me. “

  “Who’d they decide to send?”

  “They didn’t decide nothin. I told ‘em to send that Richard guy. Anyone else shows up, I’m killing them and sending bits of both you and them back in a box.”

  Morano thought the biggest problem with being a mostly one man operation was when things went to hell, you didn’t have any expendable foot soldiers to soak up enemy bullets.

  He called Fitness. No answer.

  Next, was messenger boy—the kid with the skeleton tattoos. “Five hundred bucks for you and any of your friends if they can make it to my warehouse in less than an hour. A grand if they come armed.”

  “Ain’t getting shot for you.” Click.

  He dialed from the encrypted line in the office. “It’s me.” Morano called his unknown master. “I need some help tonight. Three or four guys. Machine pistols.”

  “Remind me how you stay outside.”

  Morano knew he wasn’t talking about staying out of Folsom or Pelican Bay, but staying out of whatever black ops dungeon Homeland Security would put him in if his operation ever became worth less
than the potential exposure.

  “I run anti-terrorist surveillance in titty bars watching for towel heads who use nudie bars to celebrate their impending death and heavenly date with 99 virgins. You provided the seed money. After that, I fund things by blackmailing rich guys. A twist on the way the CIA used Air America to move cocaine and generate funds for their own covert activities. ”

  “Anything to report?”

  “Well, no towel heads in any of the clubs getting ready for their moment of bliss.”

  “What else keeps you a free man?”

  “Maintain a low profile.”

  “Machine pistols aren’t part of the deal.”

  “They want to keep this thing going?”

  “I’ll communicate your request.” And the line went dead.

  CHAPTER 76

  Richard checked his twelve gauge Remington 870. With Jon D’s help, he’d cut the barrel down to nine inches. If things went to hell and he couldn’t take down Morano with the sawed off, he and Pay would both likely be dead.

  Jon D was sitting on his scooter making some final adjustments to a cardboard box. He flipped the box over, showing Richard the plastic shotgun clips attached to the bottom.

  “What you’re going to do is fake a bad leg and ride my chair in holding this box of flash drives and DVDs in your lap. We’ll dress things up with a flexible cast, and a cane to help sell it. It’ll look like you’re crippled but you’ll still be able to run.”

  “These the real videos?

  “No. Just bait to get Morano close to the chair.”

  “Won’t he be pissed when he figures out they are fakes? And won’t he find the shotgun when he picks up the box?”

  “He better. I want him to find it. And I want him pissed off. This plan only works if he does something stupid. So we’re going to give him lots of encouragement and opportunities to do exactly that.”

  “He seems pretty smart.”

  “Only thing you can ever know for sure in combat is your plans are going to go to hell when the fighting starts. So you have plans, back-up plans, then ‘oh, holy shit plans.’ Holy shit plans are the ones that count.”

  “Ok.” Richard felt sweat break out on his back.

  “If things go the way I want them to, when he gets close, you shoot him with the shotgun. If we’re lucky, you kill him and it’s all over. Nothing against you, but with the adrenaline, fear and everything, chances aren’t too good for that. You gotta make sure you take the first shot. He’s got to see the first blast. After that, he’s going to take the gun away from you. Won’t be anything you can do about it. I want both his hands busy with this shotgun. It won’t matter if he shoots anybody.”

  “It will matter to me.”

  “First round in this gun is lethal. Next three rounds are non-lethal loads. While he’s messing around with a shotgun loaded with non-lethal crap, you shoot him with this.” Jon D pulled out a spring loaded derringer holster. “This will be up your sleeve. It’s loaded with buckshot. Give him both barrels.”

  “What if he shoots me or Pay?”

  “Probably will. But he’ll figure out that the ammo’s no good real quick. Then he’ll toss the shotgun, probably after the second or third round. That’s why I’m loading it with three non-lethal loads. After that it’s full of double-ought buck. When things go all to hell, if you get another chance at the shotgun, grab it and start shooting. Morano won’t care. He’ll figure it’s full of non-lethal crap.”

  “If he doesn’t fall for the shotgun and you can’t get him with the derringer, then your job is to get him as close as you can to the front of the chair.”

  Richard stopped his nervous pacing. “Hey Jon D? What happens if nothing works?”

  “Morano knows you aren’t stupid enough to go in unarmed. And he knows you are a newbie. Once he finds the shotgun, he’ll figure you’re defenseless. If he finds the derringer, he’ll know for sure.”

  “Won’t I be?”

  “Not when I get done, son.”

  Not one of them believed there was a prayer’s chance in hell Morano would let Pay live. He’d probably figure Richard for a scared coward. Might even kill Pay while Richard watched, or, vice versa. Just because he could.

  Everyone figured Morano thought Richard was the weak link.

  Richard knew they were right.

  To him, the rescue was surreal. Little more than a week ago he was afraid of Centerfolds’s bouncer. Now the job of taking on Morano had fallen to him. Morano. A professional killer. A guy who’d taken down Pay and put Chase in the hospital.

  Brooke pushed Richard down in one of the recliners. “Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I’m going to get.” He could feel the fear burn his eyes.

  “You don’t have to. I’m sure we could come up with something else.”

  Jon D rolled into the room. “Not with the time we got left. Morano demanded him. It’s going to be a bloody mess. Maybe Morano won’t kill you. He’ll need you to make sure we gave him all the videos, and he needs you to deliver his message back to us—something like leave him alone and we won’t wind up like Pay.”

  Amy was crying. “I agree with Brooke. You don’t have to go. No one will blame you.”

  Richard looked at them. “Pay said I’d be a scared little mouse until I learned to think different. He said I needed to learn to think and act brave. If I don’t go, I turn back into the old Richard. I’ll be that guy for the rest of my life. I can’t do that.”

  Brooke said, “I think we need a better plan.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything you can teach me in the next couple of hours I don’t already know. Unless there’s a secret lesson you’ve been holding back.”

  Peggy tossed Richard a switchblade. “There are a couple of advanced knife techniques I haven’t shown you.”

  Jon D scowled. “Morano gets his hands on Richard, game’s over. You could give him a hundred hidden switchblades; he’d still be dead.”

  “What scares me the most is going inside, alone, and not having any idea what I’m going to find.”

  “Maybe we could get a surveillance camera in there?” said Brooke.

  “Camera and a microphone would be better,” Jon D added.

  Brooke smiled. “Maybe Sam Hong could help. Doesn’t he invent stuff for the CIA?”

  “Call him. Now,” Jon D ordered.

  Brooke dialed and put the phone on speaker. “Sam, we need some help.”

  “Bad guy’s got Pay,” said Jon D.

  “How can I help?”

  “We think the bad guy’s got Pay in a warehouse. We need some surveillance inside.”

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Need real time audio and video.”

  “We need to send something in from outside. Something we can remote control. You know, like those drones the army uses. And we need it now.” Jon D’s voice was forceful, attempting to get the end game he wanted.

  “How many stories?”

  “We’re only concerned about the first floor. Even Morano would have a hard time carrying someone as big as Pay up a flight of stairs.”

  “Might have what you need. A prototype robot I designed. It has a low-res camera, microphone, and does all kinds of neat things. It can’t climb stairs, though.”

  “When can we get it?”

  “It’s sitting in the charger like it was waiting for your call.”

  The robot was amazing. About the size of a volleyball, self-propelled, coated in a soft, rubberized material, it was nearly silent. Manipulated by wireless joystick and painted a camouflage gray, it would be all but invisible in the warehouse.

  Other than Richard, Amy was their best video game player. So she’d been assigned the job of controller. She’d go to the warehouse early, park out of sight, and maneuver the robot inside. Gi
ven the age and conditions of the building in the neighborhood they were hoping she could find a big enough gap or crack in one of the metal walls.

  Once the robot was in, she’d locate Pay, Morano, and anyone else in the property. Then, she’d use the built in cellular broadband to broadcast real-time audio and video to the team. Jon D and Brooke would be able to see it on the van’s LCD. And Richard could see everything on the electric chair’s monitor.

  The plan was simple and risky. Richard would roll up to the door with the rest of the team, except for Barbara Jane, staying back far enough to be outside of the range of any possible surveillance cameras. Barb planned to use her anti-surveillance training to get as close as she could to the side door. She hoped her Special Forces city camo would be enough to evade Morano’s attention.

  It was getting close to midnight.

  Jon D was still tweaking his electric chair. “Rich, you got more stones than anyone ever thought. And this is happening way too fast. Couple of weeks ago you were afraid of that maggot, MacDonald. But you can’t go up against Morano even with a sawed off and a derringer. You aren’t that good.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Your job is to distract Morano. Remember that. Piss him off. Shoot him if you can. Once Amy’s got the robot in, we’ll know where he is—and if he’s got any friends. Twenty seconds after you’re in, depending on what I hear from the microphone in my chair, I’ll crash the van through the front wall. Since you’ve got my chair, I’m going to have a hard time getting around,” Jon D shook an aluminum crutch at Richard.

  He lifted up the right one and pointed at a hole in the anti-skid tip. “‘Course there are some advantages. I’ve built single round shotguns into these.”

  “Let’s go over what I’m supposed to do again.”

  “You’ve got to distract Morano and create chaos.”

  “First option is the shotgun, right?”