by Michael Todd
“Now, is the beer or the scotch for you, honey?” the bartender asked. He looked away from the TV that displayed a college football game.
“Beer’s for me, thanks.” He chuckled as he put the money down for the drinks. She smiled and winked at him once again before she turned to another patron.
Savage picked the glass and bottle up and pushed through the crowd to the booth where Anderson waited, his gaze on the door.
“Could you be any more obvious?” the operative asked as he set the glass down in front of the man and slipped into the seat across from him. “I think only the truckers playing pool on the other side of the room aren’t aware that we’re here on a stakeout yet. Don’t get me wrong, they’re still suspicious, but they don’t know the details.”
His boss scowled and shook his head. “I’m not used to this part of the job. The waiting, the looking invisible to anyone and everyone who might be watching.”
“It’s literally the easiest part, dude.” He chuckled and took a sip of his beer. It wasn’t the best but it was cold, and that was all that mattered in this heat. “You sit back, have a talk, keep one eye on the TV or whoever you’re having the conversation with, and another eye on the door.”
“And who are we watching for, exactly?” the other man asked as he leaned forward, his voice pitched low.
Savage put his forefinger on Anderson’s forehead and pushed the former colonel back into a natural sitting position. “Well, considering that Anja wasn’t able to narrow our target down, look for someone who looks out of place. Believe me, from the folks I saw in that facility, any one of them who steps out of a place like that and into a place like this will stand out like the sorest thumb in history.”
Anderson nodded and swirled his Scotch. “It’s easy for you because you have all these distractions. I’m a man of focus. When I do something, I like to keep my attention on it.”
“Hey, I’m a man of focus too,” he asserted. “But I know when to turn it off and have some fun, even while on the job. And what do you mean, all these distractions?”
In answer, the other man reached out and turned the beer bottle to reveal a name and number written on the brand label, as well as a time.
“Oh, well… I guess our bartender’s name is Cindy with a Y,” Savage muttered and frowned at it. “And it looks like she gets off work at about eight. Fun times.”
His boss chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I guess this whole…strong, silent, mysterious persona you wear like a fucking jacket is a huge panty dropper.”
“Really?”
“How the fuck should I know? I’ve been out of the game for a while, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Well, I assume you and Ivy do something to keep the romance alive. Bondage, food play, something like that to keep things spicy.”
“Firstly, how my wife and I keep the romance alive in our marriage is none of your business.” Despite the mock-offended tone, he chuckled “Secondly, it’s different. She and I know each other. Things are different when the two of you know a thing or two about each other.”
“Well, I know that Cindy with a Y gets off work at eight.”
“That’s not the same thing and you know it.”
“Well, I stand to get to know her a lot better if I end up being able to pick her up at eight,” Savage pointed out reasonably.
“You might have to fight the other five guys she invited to pick her up at the end of her shift,” the other man retorted.
“I have a gun. I won’t have to fight anyone.”
“We’re in Texas, grunt.” Anderson laughed. “I’ll bet you half the patrons are packing a lot more than you are.”
“Fair enough,” he replied with a bleak nod but paused when he saw Anderson’s expression change. He leaned back in his seat and caught the reflection in the mirror in front of him to see who had walked in.
They were both surprised to see Dr. Chance step into the bar. The man looked about as out of place as Savage had thought. He wasn’t as geeky as the other researchers they’d run into, but he was way too clean and way too sober to hang out in a dive like this.
The fact that Anderson and Savage seemed to fit in so well was a statement of character that the operative wasn’t a fan of, even if it did work for them at the moment.
“Not a supervillain,” his boss noted and took a slow sip before he set his glass down slowly. “But a villain anyway. I’d say we found our mole.”
“Now we need to identify the handler,” Savage murmured from behind the top of his beer bottle. He continued to watch Chance’s movement through the bar with the mirror, adjusting his position slightly to keep him in sight.
The researcher seemed oblivious to the fact that he now had an audience and pushed through the crowded room toward the bar. Cindy with a Y was there to greet him. The operative couldn’t make out what she said, but he assumed she had asked if he wanted a drink. Chance indicated in the negative. After another few words were exchanged, the woman directed him to another corner of the room near the back exit.
He moved out of the range of vision with the mirror and Anderson kept an eye on their target while Savage took another sip of his beer. Keeping his movements natural was of the utmost importance.
“He’s moved to the corner,” his boss said to keep the conversation going since it was important that it didn’t look like they’d suddenly stopped talking when the man arrived. “He’s…shaking hands with a big guy. Like…linebacker big.”
“Okay, look away for a sec so I can get a view,” he instructed with his eyes fixed on his drink until a few seconds after Anderson complied. He shifted back in the booth and put his foot up. The new position gave him a more natural view of what was happening. Anderson hadn’t lied when he said the man was big. He was seated, but if his shoulders were any indication, he was a mountain of muscle.
“What are they meeting for, though?” the other man asked after a moment of silence. “And are we sure they’re not meeting up for anonymous sex or something?”
“Well, far be it from me to keep a potential relationship off the list of possibilities,” Savage replied. “But if I had to guess, the linebacker looks like he’s top and Chance seems a little too tense for that to be a comfortable situation.”
“Oh, God,” Anderson snapped and shook his head vigorously. “Why…what makes you think that I wanted that image in my head?”
He merely shrugged and tilted his head with a speculative gleam in his eye. “Okay, right. We can’t let this meeting end. I need you to circle to the back exit, and I’ll make sure Chance comes around to meet you there. You can take him, right?”
“Who, Doctor I Dig Rocks? Are you kidding? The question, of course, is if you can handle the mountain over there.”
“Of course I can handle him.”
“Without using weapons? If you intend to do this, we need people to be alive afterward, and it needs to look like a bar brawl or something. If the cops come along and see a dude with a bunch of needles in him from your fancy new gun, or see him professionally sliced and diced, they might take it more seriously.”
“Right. The cops might get involved anyway, so why don’t you take…this.” He drew his pistol from the holster and passed it to Anderson, who slipped it quickly under his coat. Not having his weapon was the downside of being the corporate mogul. Who needed to carry when you had a bodyguard like Savage?
“Good luck.”
“I…guess I might need a little luck,” the operative admitted as Anderson slid out of the booth and eased through the crowd toward the front entrance before he stepped out the door. After a moment to give the man time to get into position, he took another slow sip, shrugged, and stood. He needed to be as obvious as possible. Chance didn’t look focused enough to pick up on it, but the man he was talking to seemed professional enough to identify him without delay.
He took another deep, calming breath as he made his way to the bar and tilted visibly as he sipped his beer to watch the two
men as obviously out of the corner of his eye as noticeably as he could without seeming deliberately obvious. It took two or three tries but eventually, the man of granite made him. He tapped Chance on the shoulder and indicated for him to head out of the exit where Anderson hopefully already waited.
As the researcher half-stumbled toward the exit, Savage left his bottle on the counter and moved to intercept. He came to a sudden halt when he was blocked by a veritable human wall.
“Oh…” he grunted and allowed his eyes to climb all the way up the man until he met his gaze. “Shit. Oh, shit, you’re a big fella, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer and merely regarded him with a hard look. The massive muscles tensed under his shirt in much the same way as his tightened in preparation.
He could see Cindy out of the corner of his eye, but it seemed safe to assume that she’d seen enough bar fights to know when one was winding up. She stepped out from behind the bar and placed a hand on both their shoulders.
“Come on, boys, take it outsi—” she started to say, but he honestly wasn’t in the mood to let her finish. He needed every advantage he could get, and she had given him one, small though it was.
He stepped around her touch and drew her in closer and between him and the giant as he pivoted as if to step around the man. As his adversary moved to stop him, the operative checked his momentum abruptly and used it to power a pair of vicious hooks into the massive midsection.
With a muttered curse, he dropped back a step and cradled his aching fists. It had felt like punching a solid wall, and while he had actually tried that a few times on a dare, he hadn’t fought too many brick walls that could hit back.
First, he saw the man’s hand raise, and second, stars exploded across his vision and he catapulted back into the bar. People scrambled out the way, anxious to watch but also concerned to escape the melee.
“Okay,” Savage said aloud and shook his head to gather his senses again. He needed to adjust his fight plan. Anderson would have to take care of Chance on his own.
Cindy was pushed aside, and she shouted that she would call the police as the man strode toward Savage, who still leaned against the bar. He wondered vaguely if he looked the part of someone who had been caught by a concussion-inducing backhanded slap.
His assailant grasped the collar of his shirt and dragged him clear of the counter. The operative twisted to bring his right arm up and down hard on the man’s arm, but the hand remained locked on his shirt. His right foot lashed out at the man’s knees and managed to put him off balance for barely a moment.
Savage pivoted in place and thumped his left foot into the bar for leverage as his left elbow snapped up and hammered hard into his opponent’s solar plexus. The blow was enough to knock the breath out of the man’s lungs and he sagged. Not one to waste a valuable moment, he followed through the elbow with a driving tackle he hoped would actually have impact.
Both men tumbled with a shuddering thud. He knew better than to try to grapple with someone so much bigger than him, so he tagged the man’s jaw with a punch before he rolled off him and vaulted back to his feet.
The giant stood hastily as well, although he still struggled to breathe easily.
“Aren’t you a bucket full of surprises?” he asked in a surprisingly soft voice as he straightened his annoyingly massive bulk and regarded his opponent warily.
“There’s more where that came from, Hagrid.” Savage rolled his neck and grimaced at a satisfying click. He raised his hands in the classic boxing stance.
The man wasn’t intimidated, however, and barreled forward. The attack forced the smaller man to back into a wall and he raised his hands to block a huge haymaker aimed for his head. He knew what would come next and honestly, at that point, all he could really do was admire the fact that he’d been pinned down so easily.
Even with both his hands positioned to block, the overhead blow launched him powerfully into the wall behind him. There was no way to halt the uppercut that followed immediately and hammered painfully into the right side of his ribs. Those that hadn’t fully healed yet cracked ominously and he gasped reflexively for air.
Thankfully, he didn’t need to focus on the next series of motions that came naturally for him. Muscle memory, taught over long, rough hours of close-quarters combat conditioning, kicked in. He knew that while it wasn’t advisable to grapple with someone who was easily twice his size, that didn’t mean there was nothing he could do.
He brought his elbow down hard on the man’s wrist and felt more than heard the crunch that followed as it dug deep into the exposed soft tissue between the bones. As the giant struggled to pull himself away, Savage grasped the collar of his shirt and used it as leverage while he pounded his head forward. His forehead collided painfully with the man’s nose. Another crunch accompanied a growl of pain and he rapidly thrust his right foot on the wall behind him to propel himself forward. A superman elbow strike connected with the man’s exposed jaw and he stumbled back to sprawl on a nearby table.
The operative dropped once again and sucked in a deep breath. He couldn’t bring himself to press his advantage. As much as he was tempted to do so, he didn’t want to think he was in any way winning this fight. There was a reason why there were separate classes in professional fighting rings, and that was because someone as comparatively small as he was could land as many blows as he wanted on the bigger, slower target, and the man could take it. The giant, on the other hand, merely needed one good strike and he would be out like the proverbial light.
Hell, he’d landed a soft blow to his body, and that alone had left him almost ready to tap out.
“I have to thank you,” his opponent said in that annoyingly soft voice as he shuffled off the table and wiped glass shards from his clothes. “It has been a while since I’ve had a proper fight, and it’s good for the heart to get the blood rushing. You have to know that you can’t win, though, don’t you?”
Savage shrugged. “It never stopped me from staying in a fight before,” he responded belligerently.
It was false bravado, and they both knew it. He was almost tapped out of tricks and seriously regretted his decision to give Anderson his gun. Of course, it would be cheating, but at this point, he was involved in a fight with a man who was easily six inches taller and about a hundred pounds of muscle heavier. It wasn’t a fair fight, to begin with.
Then again, he’d already won the real fight he was there for. Anja would have let him know if Anderson needed help, which meant his partner had acquired Chance by this point and was hopefully extracting some useful and actionable intel from the man at that very moment. He merely needed to wait it out until the cops showed up.
And sure enough, a few seconds later, the welcome sound of sirens wailed. The bulkier man looked around before he relaxed and drew in a deep breath.
“I’ll beat you again sometime,” he said with a smile.
Every instinct in Savage’s body told him to take advantage of the larger man’s distraction, but he also knew that distracted didn’t mean unprepared. And honestly, he didn’t need to be knocked out and wake up in a holding cell. He lowered his hands as well and grimaced when his jaw and ribs suddenly ached as the adrenaline bled from his system.
“Another time, and another place, Fezzik,” he said and tried not to show any weakness while he raised his hands above his head. He couldn’t help a flirtatious wink at Cindy the bartender, but her interest in him had cooled, it seemed, and she merely rolled her eyes. A couple of cops burst through the front door with their guns in hand and yelled at the two men—who were already surrendering—to put their hands above their heads and get down on their knees.
He was a little slow to comply with the last instruction and his legs were kicked out from under him. The cold steel of the electric handcuffs snaked around his wrists.
The operative couldn’t help a bad feeling that he would run into this amicable mountain of muscle again when the police wouldn’t be around to bail him out.
But that was a problem for later, he decided as he was dragged out of the bar and shoved into a police cruiser. He had to hope that Anderson had better luck with Dr. Chance.
Chapter Twenty-Two
He’d had most of the night to deal with Chance. Thanks to Anja’s ability to dig into the man’s past—and find all kinds of nastiness there—and feed all the relevant information into Anderson’s ear, he was able to intimidate his captive without having to resort to violence. He wasn’t sure who, but someone out there had to admire his restraint. Leaving Savage behind to deal with what had to be the harder of the two challenges hadn’t been flattering for his ego, but sometimes, you had to take a hit for the team.
In all honesty, from what Anja told him about what was registered for Savage when he was locked up, his operative had taken a hit for the team too.
The ex-colonel parked the company car in front of the police station and exited hurriedly. Bail had already been posted and he was simply there to pick the man up. Spending the night in a holding cell couldn’t be a comfortable situation, he thought, and he had to be aching to get out, right?
He entered the station and displayed the barcodes to indicated that the bail had already been posted. The officer allowed him into the back where the cells were.
Surprisingly, the prisoner certainly wasn’t chewing through the bars to get out. In fact, it looked like he was still sleeping it off. The officer tapped the bars noisily to wake him and he scrambled off the narrow bed almost before his eyes had opened.
“Oh…fuck me,” Savage growled as he shook his head and clutched his side. He appeared to regret his precipitous action.
“I’m sure there’s a line starting outside.” Anderson chuckled as the cell door was opened to allow Savage out. “You look like shit.”
And that, unfortunately, was an impressive truth. The whole right side of the man’s face was swollen and splashed with bright red and dull purples. Ice would bring the swelling down, but Anderson had the feeling that his face was the least of the man’s worries. Anja had shared the medical report that revealed a couple of bruised ribs, another possibly cracked, and a concussion as well as bruises and lesions across his knuckles and elbows.