Hard Case 12: Climate of Chaos (John Harding)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “There will be cameras recording your every move. Any brutality will be recorded for everyone to see!”

  Betty amused us. The mob then noted the Monsters carrying nightstick stun-guns around them. “I get it now. You think because some of these fake news buffoons decided to back your play against the Governor, they could protect you idiots from us if your mob gets rough. Believe me, you do not want to test that theory. Keep your hands in plain sight. Keep your mouths shut unless called on to speak, and do not interrupt the Governor.”

  I walked to the door and ducked inside where Flo waited. Two of her security team stood with her. Like Tommy said, these guys are men you do not underestimate. “I think we have them covered, Governor, and official backup is on the way.”

  Governor Florence Brown stopped twenty feet from the mob, so Betty began leading a surge towards her. I simply waded right into him sending the center of the mob falling backward over each other. “I warned you not to move towards the Governor. One more idiot play like that and we get nasty. Who speaks first?”

  Betty scrambled to his feet, well aware of my power. “I am Ricco Cantu. We want all welfare entitlements started again. You cannot just starve us out.”

  “In answer to your demand – no, I will not restore anything to illegal immigrants, especially you so-called Dreamers. What a joke – we’re supposed to pay you to come into our nation illegally, put you through college, take care of your medical and housing needs, and then watch you burn American flags while carrying the flags of foreign nations through our streets while terrorizing American citizens? No… and hell no! The days of freebies in California for illegal aliens are over.”

  Boos sounded from the mob, but there was cheering and applause from the many people who filed out of the restaurant to hear the Governor. Then two buses arrived with a force of twenty ICE agents. They double-timed into position, joining my Monsters. I shook hands with the lead agent I knew from past busts Oakland Tactical Unit helped with, Victor Garcia.

  “Thank you for coming, Vic. My people are all around this mob too.”

  Vic shook hands with the Governor. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. When Governor Brown was Mayor of Oakland, she backed us up in every situation. How would you like to do this, John?”

  “I’ll show you.” I faced the uneasy crowd who were now nearly one on one with armed agents. “My IT guy you’ve met before, Jafar Kensington has his satellite laptop with him at all times. We will learn the identities of each mob member. American citizens and people here with legitimate green cards will be able to remain. The rest will be processed by Immigration and Customs Enforcement Agent Victor Garcia. Don’t make trouble and there won’t be trouble. You first, Ricco.”

  I pulled him forward as Jafar returned from his car with the satellite laptop he could sync with our network. Jafar scanned Ricco in and took his digital fingerprint from the startled protestor I held in an iron grip. We then checked the California driver’s license he had with him.

  Jafar showed me his screen. Dreamer Ricco had a fake ID. He was wanted for human trafficking and rape in San Diego. “Oh my, Ricco, you’ve been a very bad boy.”

  He made a break for it; and I body-slammed him. In seconds, I restrained Ricco and turned him over to be escorted to a waiting bus.

  “Please don’t resist our legitimate and legal ID checks or you will force me to get rough with you. None of us wants that. Since Ricco is wanted in San Diego for human trafficking and rape, I don’t blame him for making a run for it.” There were gasps from Ricco’s fellow Dreamers. It appeared they didn’t know what Ricco liked to dream about. I gestured at the next one. “Next. Get your ID out please.”

  Governor Florence Brown stood with Jafar through the entire process. Only two legal American citizens were in the group. We caught others out on DUI warrants, three more rapists, numerous assault and battery suspects, many fake IDs and identity theft suspects. It was a great haul, all recorded by the fake news media. I’m sure they would cut and paste it into a brutality play, complete with crying children and weeping women.

  “What about our families?” One woman at the end called out.

  Flo walked right into her airspace. “Don’t you worry about your families. Agent Garcia will deport all of you if you like. We will not be separating children from families. You will be given your anchor babies to take home to your home country with you. I see you have been waving a Mexican flag. Vaya con Dios.”

  Flo’s farewell met with loud and enthusiastic backing from the crowd of American citizens. I had no doubt we were all sick of this illegal immigration mess, stealing citizens blind, corrupting our elections; and playing the victim card, while waving foreign flags in our faces. Vic and I shared a satisfied goodbye.

  “John… that was excellent! I saw the YouTube videos of you and Captain Hook. Are you mental or suicidal?”

  Yeah… my crew… and the Governor thought Vic’s rebuke was very funny. “I will be back in the water with the Captain tomorrow morning. Want me to take you for a ride?”

  Vic made the sign of the cross while backpedaling away from me. “Stay away from me, Dark Lord. The only place I want to see Captain Hook is on my computer screen, you loco.”

  “That’s just mean, Vic. Hook would love to meet you. He loves being petted.”

  “That monster would pop up, see me, and I’d be gone in a heartbeat. I probably taste just like chicken.”

  “Actually… the Captain likes pork roast. Take care, Vic. Thank you.”

  “Thanks for a great bust, amigo.”

  I turned to my very amused friends. “This sucked. My buzz is completely gone, my friend Hook was insulted, and I see with my peripheral vision the fake news now marches toward us.”

  “I’ll handle them, John,” Flo said.

  “Were you happy with this bait and switch tactic to arrest undocumented workers, Governor?” The woman asking was a famous so-called commentator named Lailan Rollins.

  “Rapists and human traffickers, along with numerous other felons, all in the country illegally, were arrested. If that makes you unhappy, airhead… then so be it. You fake news idiots kick in my barf reflex the moment I hear your smarmy comments.”

  “Did…did you just call me an airhead?” Rollins was stunned.

  “Is English your second language too… airhead. If you need to have every word or sentence repeated to you, the fake news network you work for needs to get a sharper knife out of the drawer.”

  Rollins tried to cut the live broadcast as loud amusement from the lingering people enveloped the newscast’s live feed.

  “Listen closely… airhead! Illegal immigration is illegal, dummy! We don’t coddle criminals in California anymore. My job is to enforce the law, and I will do so in the most aggressive way I can. Disenfranchising voters with illegal aliens, ends on my watch. Did you understand what I said, or do you need an interpreter too?”

  Flo needled Rollins to the point she tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come out of her fluttering but silent lips. Flo smiled and waved at the cameras. “I think we’re done here.”

  Governor Florence Brown returned to the restaurant with us on her six, and me wanting the brothers Bud and Beam in repayment for my lost buzz. “You were outstanding, Governor. The entire incident will be on the Warehouse security system. Jafar will upload it everywhere to offset the hose job fake news will give you.”

  “Thanks, John. It will probably be necessary as an example to illustrate my law enforcement platform, especially with the number of felons taken off the streets tonight. Maybe I can get to finish my dinner now.”

  “I believe we’re done at the bar,” I replied. “We better order and have our drinks at the table. I need to remember to get Captain Hook’s pork roasts from the kitchen before we leave.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” Flo shook her head and kept walking.

  Chapter Ten

  New York, New York

  I sat next to Nick on his right, with Johnny and J
ian next to me at the signing table. Gus sat on Nick’s left with Jean, Sonny, Kade, Al and Jay next to him. Nick’s agent, Cassie Sedwick met our party at the airport with four stretch limousines. We brought everyone with us for a fun sightseeing trip, fight, and recon of our potential target. The minions remained behind with their families to guard our residences. I would send them on their own New York City vacation when we returned. Cassie handled checking us in at Trump International Hotel in suites overlooking Central Park. Jonas and Amara stayed at Clint and Lynn’s house to look after the dogs. Jafar and Samira stayed home because Mia was teething. The rest of the kids came with us. Lora loved the time alone to go shopping with the other wives. The hotel had wonderful child care facilities. Kade wanted to go with us. He had proven to be interested in everything, while remaining quiet.

  The Barnes and Noble Bookstore on 5th Avenue nearest the hotel advertised my being with Nick for the signing. Nick agreed to stay for as long as the manager wanted him. Our adventures in combat with Nick’s US Marshal’s Special Unit and my Oakland Tactical Unit, although ignored by the mainstream media, filled YouTube and the social sites with videos. Involvement in state politics, contributing to the conservative wave in California, also added to our fame. With my being the reigning UFC Heavyweight Champion and Nick a New York Times bestselling author, we could not avoid notoriety here in New York as we did back home. People arrived at the bookstore in droves. The manager started the line at 10 am.

  We saw Jean show Gus a note after the first group of people moved smoothly past. Gus leaned over to Nick. “Fury at ten back, in the long brown coat, thinning hair, clean shaven, lean and tall.”

  Nick glanced at the line while signing a lady’s copy of Deadly Desire and his just released new one, Political Sanction. “Yep. Thank you, ma’am.”

  “I love your novels.” She left with a big smile.

  I understood the term Fury now as explained to me in prior signings. A Fury reads everything Nick writes, and seemingly loves the novels, but wants to kill characters, have Diego make out-of-character mistakes, and generally just stir everything up from one novel to the next. I know Nick can handle any of the weird ideas and criticisms his readers spill on him at these signings, but I think he gets the most fun in conversing with the Furies.

  The Fury arrived with Political Sanction in hand and plopped it down in front of Nick. “You need to change these plots of yours. Turn them upside down. Get Diego captured and tortured. Kill off one of his sidekicks, like that useless Mann Wong!”

  Wild amusement ensued with Johnny having to grab Jian, who muttered curses in Chinese. Jian demanded justice in Chinese. “Kill this dog, Muerto. Mann Wong has been insulted by this barbarian. No one may slaughter Diego’s valuable sidekick, Mann Wong.”

  Nick replied in Chinese. “Calm down, Dragon. This man is a Fury. You know this is what they do.”

  Nick turned to the man again. “Sorry, Sir. I write novels to please myself. What you suggest would not please me. Diego embarks on new adventures in each novel.”

  “Really? The sameness in your novels will turn off fans.”

  Nick signed the man’s book and handed it him. “It’s a chance I’ll take, Sir. Thank you for coming.”

  The exasperated Fury stormed off. “Your guys take their character parts in the novels seriously.”

  “Jian’s the worst,” Nick whispered. “You were right about Kade. He’s doing great.”

  “Lora said to call her if he gets tired.”

  The signing continued for the next hour with only UFC fight fans, happy readers, and others who wanted books signed, but also wanted to talk a bit about our law enforcement teams. Jean sent Gus a warning about a woman with blue hair, eight people back in the line, with round-face, sporting a vagina hat on her head. She texted a boldfaced question mark.

  Nick took one look and said, “Hide me, John!”

  Yeah… we needed a moment to appreciate that zinger from the number one assassin in the world. When she reached us, she threw her copy of Paris in Darkness at Nick. I plucked it out of the air. I noticed Nick didn’t even flinch. He knew what I would do. Nick grinned.

  “Hi there. This is a book-signing, ma’am, not an assault the author day.”

  Jean popped to her feet with Sonny whispering urgently in her ear to no avail. “Yeah… lady! Take your fat butt and the Pepto-Bismol hat down the road!”

  The readers in line within hearing applauded, whistled and laughed.

  Blue-hair began sobbing at Jean’s outburst and the crowd reaction. Nick hurriedly signed her book and handed it back. “Thanks for coming.”

  Incredibly, she tried to sucker-punch Nick. Again, I blocked that assault with an open palm. Blue-hair hunched over and frog-marched around holding her arm as if I broke it. “You…you assaulted me! I want you arrested!”

  Security arrived immediately. The lead officer told Blue-hair in forceful terms, “you threw a book and then a punch at Mr. McCarty. The only thing Mr. Harding did was block your punch with the palm of his hand. Take your book and leave… or be arrested.”

  Blue-hair turned on Nick again as the security officers tried to escort her out. “You’re a racist, homophobic Nazi!”

  Nick signaled and we gave her the standing clap usually reserved for grammar Nazis. Kade leaped up on his chair, adding to the sendoff and humor. The crowd loved us. We took ten-minute breaks each hour, so the kids could get snacks and visit the bathrooms. Nick and I sat and stayed through most of them. A few more liberal New Yorkers stopped to give Nick grief about the conservative slant in his novels and political stances in California. They ran out of facts in the first seconds, relying on repeating leftist mantras popular in fake news. Nick smiled through the spiels and then would wave them off.

  “Thanks for coming.” If they said anything else, Nick would pull the Tombstone card on them. “Well… bye.”

  Jean spotted a book-killer and texted Gus. Pinched face, sullen, looking anywhere but at the table, the man wore skinny-jeans, a red leather jacket, goatee, earrings, and close-cropped hair. Jean added location as nine people back in the line with a potbelly.

  The book-killer arrived in a huff after some very nice readers. “Your novels should be banned! I’ve read all your clap-trap! At first, they were entertaining. Now, they’ve turned vicious and paltry. I can only assume you must be mentally ill.”

  Nick enjoyed the spiel with a smile. “TP! I read on your Amazon identity page that you lived in the New York City area. Thanks for stopping by and putting a face to the most recent book-killer.”

  The guy’s face turned ashen at Nick knowing who he was. “What…what are you talking about?”

  “Words mean things, TP. I read the reviews on my novels. You just repeated your book-killing review on my latest release verbatim. No big deal. I know you’ve never read any of my novels. If you did… I think you would feel the same way as your review. You’ve had your fun for the day, pathetic as it may be. What else would you like? I can give you an autograph on paper, or John will if I ask him nicely. Are you a UFC fan?”

  “No! The so-called sport is barbaric!”

  Jean couldn’t resist. She popped up once again with Kade imitating her, standing on his chair, ready for the hand-clap. “Well… bye! Prance your offended butt out to the street, Betty!”

  TP turned in shock to face the kids. He started towards them, only to see Jean, Sonny and Jay, knives out and Jean waving him on. “C’mon, Betty. Come get some, poser!”

  Security collected him, but there was little doubt TP had lost all desire in approaching the kids any further. Nick gave Jean the old headshake. “Jean! Calm down. This stuff is supposed to be fun.”

  Jean shrugged with a smile as she did butterfly knife tricks with the knife disappearing. “It is fun.”

  The next woman in line hurried to Nick with Political Sanction. She handed it to Nick while eyeballing the kids. “Your children are scary.”

  Nick handed her book back to her. “They need to
be. We receive death threats nearly every day, ma’am. I have needed to train them with the ability to handle any situation.”

  “I…I’ve never seen a young girl handle a knife like that.”

  Nick walked around the table, enjoying every second of whatever his devious mind had thought of to do. He faced out a cardboard man-sized pinup photo of me with an underlying blurb stating John Harding, UFC Heavyweight Champ and the date of my appearance. “Kids! Shoulders and belly!”

  A second later, three knives jutted out of the named target areas. Sonny leaped the table, gathered the knives, and did a no look flip to the owners. Jean and Jay caught them with blade still open at the handle.

  “Ouch,” I said as the crowd witnessing the demonstration applauded with enthusiasm.

  Kade leaped and clapped on his chair with Al making sure her brother didn’t propel himself into a heap on the floor.

  Nick surprised me with a playing of my Captain Hook adventures, professionally edited by Jafar on the Barnes and Noble big screen in view of everyone. Nick saved it for the remaining time on purpose. Muerto was a showman. The gasps and cringes illustrated Nick’s knowledge of fans. They couldn’t look away from what they considered a horror show, but it gave them something entertaining to watch. I answered polite questions about how mentally ill I was for the next hour, only to have a gigantic guy come into view. He was easily inches taller than me, with bulging biceps and steroid enhanced body. I admittedly groaned to the amusement of the Unholies.

  Gigantor arrived without a book… of course. “I’ve seen your videos, Harding. You think you can arm wrestle and slam anyone.”

  Gigantor jutted a hand out toward my face, I caught in midflight, and held. I knew a couple of things, none of which were good for Gigantor’s plan.