The Random Affair

by James H Roby

  "Yeah?" the new guy said.

  "This guy's clean," the first bouncer said, "let 'em in."

  The inside man stood to one side and let Jordan pass. He was the first of the trio with original attire. He wore a brown suit also with a weight on one side. He looked down at Jordan from his four-inch height advantage with a glance that must have come out of the ‘How to Look Scary’ guide book.

  The room was an office, small and overcrowded. On the left set a red leather couch with a trio of scantily clad women. They represented the ethnic diversity of the Metro Detroit area: white, African American and Arabic. The walls were covered with paintings of women in unnatural poses. In the center of the room, a great oak desk dominated. Beyond was a small bathroom. Inside a man balanced a phone between his ear and shoulder. Presently, he left the bathroom and reentered the room. He was the smallest thing in the room at five five, if he was lucky. He wore an open silk white shirt over his bony chest. His head was covered with wavy dark hair. His face betrayed a Southern European origin.

  The little guy tossed his phone to the bodyguard, all the while focused on Jordan. "Who the hell is this here?" he asked.

  Jordan smiled, trying to contain his laughter. It was like a Joe Pesi sound alike contest or something. "You must be Big Paul Monroe."

  Big Paul shifted his weight onto one leg as he leaned on his desk. "Yeah, and who the fuck are you, tough guy?"

  Jordan took a step. The big bodyguard quickly stepped forward, extending his arm. Jordan lifted his right eyebrow at the giant. He shrugged and decided to play along. When he stepped back, the huge man visibly relaxed.

  "I was led to believe that you are a man with great influence in certain arenas. I just want a little information, Paul," Jordan said with a smile.

  "My sainted mother called me Paul. It’s Mr. Monroe to you, jerkoff." Paul dropped into the chair behind the desk. "Now, And what you got for me, Jerky?"

  Jordan bared his teeth, partly to portray a friendly air, partly to relieve his need to laugh at the tiny man. "Think of it as . . . your civil duty."

  Paul squawked in laughter. He gestured to his trio of women. "Getta load of this guy!" The women all giggled. Paul suddenly stood to his full height, such as it was. "You must be a retard or somethin'! Comin' in here makin' demands like that!" He turned to his bodyguard, "You! Yeah, you! What I pay you for! Throw this here asshole outta here!"

  “C’mon, Paul…Mister Monroe,” Jordan said, his hands up in surrender. “Can’t we all just get along? You help me and -”

  “Why am I listenin’ to this!”

  The large man’s meat hooks he passed off for hands dug into Jordan's shoulders and dragged him towards the door. Jordan sprang into action. In a blur of movement, he grabbed his giant assailant's hands and forced him to release his hold. Before anyone could react, he caught the guard in a chokehold and threw him to the floor. As the behemoth lay stunned, Jordan relieved him of his hidden gun, a .357. He twisted the man's arm and jabbed his foot into his neck. As the bodyguard lay gasping for air, Jordan trained the gun on the man's employer.

  "You were saying?" Jordan said. His voice was even. His heartbeat varied little in its beats per minute.

  "Shit!" Paul shouted. "Are you crazy or somethin'?"

  "Repeat that," Jordan said. The click of the .357 accompanied his words. The three women on the couch screamed their heads off.

  Paul held up his hand. "Hey, hey, hey! Peace there, brother!"

  Jordan’s jaw tightened. "I'm looking for a man. Cody Random. Give him to me."

  "Random who?" Paul asked. "You bustin' my balls? Who the hell is Random whatsit?"

  Jordan put more weight on his leg on the bodyguard's throat. The action produced a gasp of pain from his captive. "I don't have time for this, Monroe.”

  " 'Kay, 'kay, 'kay," Paul said calmly, "Now let me see. You're looking for this Cody Randomhouse guy, right? Well, let me tell you somethin' there, Tough guy. Even if I knew what the fuck you were talkin' about, I wouldn’t tell you jack, Jerky!'"

  Jordan's eyes narrowed as he tried to determine the source of Big Paul's newfound courage. Suddenly, he felt the terribly familiar sensation of a gun barrel press to the back of his head. Sam had returned. Paul laughed over the sound of a weapon's bolt action.

  "Ha! How now, there, Jerky!"

  Jordan drew a breath as he let his weapon drop to the ground. Sam pushed Jordan forward and the bodyguard sprang to his feet. He nursed his neck as he came up in Jordan's face.

  "You're mine, boy," he said.

  Jordan rolled his eyes. “Cliché much?”

  Another push from Sam and Jordan was at the edge of the monstrous desk. Paul wandered around and sat on the desk, inches from his prisoner. He slapped Jordan backhanded across the cheek. Jordan didn’t move. The two men's eyes locked in a stare. Five seconds died and Paul returned to his seat. He laughed as he opened a drawer in the desk and withdrew a cigar. Slowly, methodically, he lit the stogie. He blew a ring of smoke into Jordan's face. The trio giggled.

  "You a real Tough Guy, huh? Bustin’ up in here. Do you know who I am?" Paul asked. Jordan made no reply. "You know," another ring of smoke. "I hate Tough Guys. You think you so tough but when I'm through with you, there, you'll cry like a bitch."

  Jordan smiled. "I doubt it."

  The door exploded open. Sam turned to investigate. As he did, Jordan whirled, elbow first. His forearm smashed into Sam's nose. The bartender dropped to the floor. After kicking in the door, E-Man focused his aim of his Px4 Storm on the remaining bodyguard.

  "Ladies, leave,” E-Man said. In an instant, the trio was gone.

  Jordan collected Sam's weapon, a Glock 19. He closed in on the bodyguard.

  "Boy?” Jordan said. "I ought to kick your giant ass." He stared into the man's eyes. The body guard turned his vision down.

  "What took you so long?" Jordan said.

  "Some girl wanted my number,” E-Man said.

  Jordan nodded. "OK, I can see that. Cover these punks while I talk to my pal, Big Paul."

  Jordan circled the desk and stood over the seated Paul. The criminal looked to be in shock over the sudden change in fortunes. Jordan leaned down and plucked the cigar out of Paul's mouth. He threw it across the room, bouncing it off Sam's head. Jordan grabbed Paul's collar and put his knee in the little man’s chest. Paul gasped in pain. The anger flowed out of Jordan through his clenched teeth.

  "This is getting old quick, Paul. I’d put a cap in your illiterate ass, but I still need you."

  "Go spit!" Paul said.

  Jordan put the Glock to Paul's temple. "Still cocky, huh? You think I don't know about your aces in the hole?" Jordan turned and addressed the room, "Malcolm! Don!"

  Behind Paul, a pair of floor to ceiling painting of unnaturally endowed women pleasuring themselves slid upward into the ceiling. Two tunnels were revealed and out came Malcolm and Don.

  "Did you know there were a pair of secret tunnels in here?" Malcolm said.

  “You don’t say?” E-Man said. “Is that where I found two guys, knocked them out and got these?” He drew a pair of pistols from his jacket.

  Don and Malcolm took position on either side of the room, arms folded as they leaned against the wall. E-Man pushed the bodyguard and Sam to the couch. Paul stared opened mouth. On the ceiling a fan whooshed. Other than that, dead silence.

  "Oh, shit!" Paul said. His smile seemed out of place amidst the beads of sweat at his forehead. "Hey, there. No hard feeling, huh?"

  "Cody Random," Jordan said.

  "I swear to God, I don't know no ‘Cody Random'!" The smile was gone now and nothing disguised the pure panic on his face.

  "That's too bad." Jordan said as he backed away. "What should I do with this useless bastard, Malcolm?"

  "Blow his head off." Malcolm never turned away from the cellphone he had drawn out.

  "You heard the man," Jordan said. He sighted the Glock center on Paul's fo
rehead.

  "Wait! Wait! Jesus! Don't kill me! Look, maybe I know who knows this guy!" Paul bounced an inch out of his seat but immediately sat back down.

  Jordan turned the gun away. He looked over at E-Man standing over Sam. E-Man grinned. Jordan had done something similar to an Iranian oil executive. It was the threat of being thrown off a roof, but the principle was the same. He turned back to his diminutive hostage. "I thought you was the man to see for designer drugs?"

  Paul’s eyes seemed to water and a tremble was in his voice. "I am, there. But there's a few newbies who want to be the man."

  "Names, Paul.”

  "Yeah, yeah." Paul raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Well there’s only one guy who would know about this Random fella. He wants to branch out on his own, there..."

  "Who!"

  "Kevin Small! Geez, don't bite my head off, there!"

  Jordan turned to E-Man and he gave his partner the nod. He leaned in close to Paul's face again.

  "You don't know me, do you, Paul?" Jordan asked.

  "

  N-nah…" the word tripped out of Paul’s mouth.

  "That means I can sneak in like a shadow and blow your fucking head off, and you wouldn’t know I was coming." Jordan paused to let his words sink in. If you're lying to me, that's just what I'm going to do. Feel me?"

  "Y-yeah, I-I get ya."

  Jordan stood up. He pointed to the bathroom. "Now get in there! All of you!"

  "What!" Paul said, "It ain't big enough."

  Jordan smiled. "I guess you're all going to get closer." The Glock flashed into Paul's face again. "Now, get!"

  Hesitantly, Paul and his two men squeezed into the tiny bathroom. Malcolm went and closed the door.

  "Now, make sure you wash your hands." He closed the door then jammed a chair under the doorknob. Immediately after the UrbanKnights left the room, the prisoners began banging and screaming for their release.

  ~

  “It’s a good thing we access those plans to the 'Quakes' blueprints before we left," Malcolm said. The detectives sped back to Detroit in a nondescript mini-van they used for occasions like this.

  "Yeah," E-Man said, “or else we would have never known about those secret doors. Pretty lucky, huh?"

  "Luck had nothing to do with it," Jordan said. "It was just good planning."

  He didn’t like Don and Malcolm were exposed to danger. They had no weapons. That wasn’t their area of expertise. It was his and E-Man’s realm. Their talents of computer hacking and profiling…networking - whatever the hell Malcolm did, was supposed to keep them out of harm’s way. Jordan had let his need for comradery override his good sense.

  Streetlights flowed by, filling the van with light and just as quickly vanishing. The rush of the road was in their ears as no one spoke for long tense minutes. Don gave Malcolm a go-ahead nod.

  "Look, Jordan," Malcolm asked, "You are far too intense for this to be a regular case. What’s going on?"

  E-Man, from the front passenger seat turned to Jordan. Of course, this wasn’t a regular case. Emotions twisted inside of Jordan. Don and Malcolm weren’t trained to combat international criminals. But they were adults and deserved to know what they were getting into. And accordingly, make their own decisions.

  "Be at the office tomorrow at 9:00,” he said. I'll explain everything then.”

  The remainder of the journey, no one else said a word.

  Chapter Six: A Portrait of Evil

  It was well beyond the witching hour before Jordan was even close to stopping for the night. Years ago, this would have been so much easier. Trolling for information was a simple matter of requesting it from the data section in the basement of the Defense Intelligence Agency Headquarters – or the Defense Intelligence Analysis Center as it was known to the old guys. Now, sans active security clearance, Jordan was reduced to whatever was present on open source websites and anything he could get out of former colleagues.

  He tapped feverously at his computer. The downtown office was as empty as Jefferson Avenue beyond the tall windows. Detroit had made an almost historic revival but not enough to make its downtown home to more than a few street people on a Monday night – Tuesday morning.

  Seven o’clock in the morning came around when soft footfall sounded just beyond Jordan’s door. The steps got closer and E-Man appeared in the half-opened doorway. Jordan grinned. E-Man had on a dark suit and tie. A near miracle. He dropped in his usual chair and Jordan recognized the look on his face. Disappointment with a touch of indifference. It was all in the way he held his mouth – lips tight and corners going in opposite directions. Jordan probably earned it. He was still in the T-shirt and black slacks. His A-2 hung on the back of his chair. He leaned back and waited for the judgement sure to come from his partner.

  "What's up, E?"

  E-Man examined the desk instead. He picked at the stack of computer printout’s corners.

  "Noble," he said slowly, "How long you been here?" Jordan was ‘Noble’ when he was in trouble. He looked up from the stack without raising his head. Jordan became ‘Noble’ when E-Man was annoyed.

  "All night."

  E-Man put his hand to his face and stared hard. "Why?"

  Jordan reached over and lifted the pile. "I've been gathering information on Random."

  E-Man reached out and Jordan put about half the stack in it - at least a hundred sheets.

  "Have you slept?" E-Man asked.

  Jordan shrugged at E-Man's question. "Some. A few hours. Sleep’s overrated."

  E-Man shifted in his chair. "Noble, man, is all this necessary?"

  Jordan nodded. "Yes. You know how dangerous Random is."

  E-Man nodded back. He had to agree with the statement. Random was a bad boy. He caused headaches for more than one law enforcement agency in his day. "Yeah, but still, I mean, we aren't even sure Random's anywhere near here yet."

  Jordan held up a finger. He dug in the stack and produced three sheets. He handed them to his partner. They were news clips from Georgia, Kentucky and Ohio. Their common thread was a robbery of various chemicals amid great acts of violence.

  E-Man shook his head. "I don't get it."

  Jordan reared back in his chair. "I accessed the files on our arrest of Random four years ago.”

  “OK…Classified. How did you do that?”

  “You remember that short girl in Records?”

  “The blond?”

  “No. She was in Acquisitions. The brunette. Always had her hair in a bun…”

  E-Man lit up. “The Army lieutenant.”

  “Yeah. She’s a captain now. And the sector chief. She always had a thing for me.”

  E-Man reared back his head as he laughed. “You trying to tell me you seduced it out of her?”

  Jordan frowned. “Why you got to say it like that? Just because I didn’t nail everything in a skirt…”

  E-Man leaned forward. “It wasn’t from lack of trying.”

  “Anyway, she provided me with a list of chemicals Random was using in his home lab when we busted him."

  "You mean that set up he had in Miami?"

  "Yup. I then set up a search for any theft of the same chemical in the past seventy-two hours. The computer generated a list." Jordan rotated the screen of his desktop. It showed a map of the Eastern United States. "See, these robberies all occurred within ten miles of I-75, and form a straight line from Florida to here."

  E-Man's mouth dropped. "Damn." He read from the sheets he held. "According to this, only a small amount was stolen from each location. Not enough to really sell."

  Jordan smiled. "True, but maybe enough to do something else."

  "Like make a sample for a certain Kevin Small, maybe?"

  "Bingo. See, you can be taught."

  E-Man laughed. "You know, sometimes you really are as good a detective as you think you are, man."

  "Screw you. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Random’s on his way here and we
need all the info on him we can get."

  "Yeah." E-Man tossed the sheets back on the desk, "Especially Malcolm and Don. They don't know anything about Random."

  "Yeah," Jordan’s mind tackled the wisdom of involving Don and Malcolm. Not able to come to any conclusion, he tabled it. He looked at his watch. The Tag Heuer Aquagraph was a present to himself on his exit from the service.

  “Hey, you call your mom, yet?” E-Man asked.

  “Shoot. No. Maybe later.”