With Friends Like These....Part IV

[Robbie C.]

Lester was waiting in the outer office when Sonny came in just before eight the next morning. “I got that report ready for you, Sonny. And some bonus stuff. After Stan’s team left, Dave went in and had a beer. He was thirsty, and I wanted to see how the backup set works just in case we need it. But he picked up something damned interesting while he was at the bar.”

“What is it?” Sonny followed the dark-haired lab expert into the other room. “And great work, by the way. Most people would have just bailed and not thought to test some new equipment.”

“It was mostly Dave. I was tired of listening to him whine.” Lester smiled to cover his embarrassment at the praise. “But this is what he got. I still need to finish scrubbing the tape, but the transcript’s accurate.” He handed Sonny six sheets of paper stapled in the upper corner. “Finished that just before you came in.”

“Fantastic work, Lester. You wanna give me the short version?”

“It’s better if you read it, boss. Trust me.”

Shaking his head, Sonny turned and headed for Castillo’s office. At least it gave him an excuse to ignore the fax machine for however long it took. He skimmed the first page, and then slowed down and went through almost word for word. “You’re shitting me! They were right there?”

Lester stuck his head through the door. “Or they came in after Stan and the others left. I haven’t had a chance to ask him yet. The voices on the tape are identifiable, and Dave gave good descriptions. Those are on the last page.” He grinned. “If I were a betting man, which I’m not because Stan would kill me, I’d say they were close by and Leo called just after Stan and the others left.”

“Let me know when they get, would you? We need to go over this before they go back out there.”

Not half an hour later Sonny looked at the assembled Task Force around the conference table. “Lester and Dave scored big yesterday, and I’m not talking about Dave with Debbie.” He waited for the chuckles to die down. “Lester decided to test one of the backup mics and Dave wanted a beer. Not necessarily in that order. Anyhow, Dave goes back into The Outlaw wired and Lester hit pay dirt.” He looked over. “Pass ‘em out, would you?”

Lester nodded and pulled out transcripts. “This is just the interesting bits. Sonny made me take out the rest.”

“Stan, Gina, Randy. When you get yours check the descriptions on the first page and tell me if they were in the bar when you were there.”

Stan looked up first. “No way, Sonny. Aside from Gina, there were two tatted-up skanks with the Angels playing pool.”

Gina shook her head. “No way she was in there. And I think I’d remember the guy. He would have been taller than Stan, and there wasn’t anyone in there who was.”

Randy confirmed it. “No way, boss. Not unless they were hiding in the shitter the whole time. And they don’t sound that brave.”

Rico was reading ahead. “So it sounds like this broad and the chump are the connections to the Bolivian flake. You think it was just chance they were that close?”

Stan ran his finger along the lines of type. “Maybe they were on their way to do a deal with the Angels before Leo turned them onto a bigger opportunity. Those goofballs looked like they were waiting for someone, hangin’ out in the back like they were.”

Sonny nodded, things starting to fall into place in his head. “And if they didn’t know who they were meeting, it would be easy for our pair to just bail and leave them none the wiser. I mean, when Leo says he’s got a guy who wants to move up to forty keys of Bolivian flake it must have sounded like Christmas came early.”

“Yeah. And then the chump says sert it up and Leo must have creamed his nasty jeans.”

Sonny looked over at Dave. “Did they notice you?”

“Hell, I was just there for a beer. I wasn’t payin’them no mind. Figured it must be two lost tourists and let it go since the bikers didn’t give a shit about them.”

“But you got their descriptions down.”

“Hell, son. I’m a sniper. It’s what I do. The guy was easy six two and looked like he lived in the gym. Blonde hair cut short. Kinda reminded me of one of those Nazis they have on the bad movies on late night TV. She was almost six foot. Dark hair, but it mighta been dyed or something. It didn’t look natural. Had a body like a skater or something. All muscle.”

Lester spoke up. “It’s hard to tell on the tape, Sonny, but they might have accents. Faint, but something’s there. I doubt english is their native language.”

“Any ideas?”

Rico narrowed his eyes, looking at the paper again. “Lots of Nazis got out of Germany at the end of the war. Brazil, Argentina, Bolivia, Equador. They all took ‘em in. The chump could be one of the kids.”

Dave nodded. “Makes sense. They were dressed like you, Rico. Sharp and expensive.”

Stan spoke up. He looked tired, and Sonny guessed Gina’s satisfied glow had more than something to do with it. “I’ll listen to the tapes with Lester. Maybe we can pick out the accent, or at least eliminate some.”

“Reach out to Pete, too. They’ve got linguistic resources.”

He nodded. “We’ll do that. And what about this afternoon?”

Sonny rubbed his eyes. “I’d say go ahead and meet him again. Gina, you don’t have to go this time if you don’t want to.”

“I hate to say it, but you should stick in the Roach Coach, babe. Bikers don’t usually bring the old ladies along when they’re doing this kind of business.”

“Sure. You just want to run into that Amazon on your own.” Gina crossed her arms over her chest and then smiled. “I’m kidding, Stan. I’ll keep Lester and Dave company.”

Sonny nodded, glad to have navigated what could have been a tense situation. He didn’t want Gina going in the second time. “I like the idea of having extra backup close by just in case. Tubbs and I will stay in radio range, but that’s at least a five minute delay if anything goes south.”

Stan grinned. “Best get those leathers warmed up, Patch. We’re goin’ out again.”

 

Randy Mather tucked his bike in close behind Stan’s hog as they shot through the late afternoon traffic. He could feel his custom .45 pressing against his hip, and found the familiar weight comforting as always. It had been a few years since he’d ridden, and he found he’d missed the freedom and the wind in his hair.

Truth be told he was glad they’d left Gina in the Roach Coach. She was nice enough, but she distracted Stan at the wrong times. At least to his way of thinking. But Randy also knew his way wasn’t everyone else’s, so he kept his thoughts to himself and his eyes open just in case he was right.

He’d be glad when Captain Castillo and Trudy got back. Not because Sonny was a bad leader. Far from it. But he thought things ran better when they were in their natural teams. The teams that had come through the crucible of the whole business with Maynard and Moncado. Castillo running the show. Crockett and Tubbs doing their magic. Stan and Lester doing theirs. Mindy and Trudy putting all the pieces together. And him and Dave dropping bad guys like they always did. Although he did like Sonny’s Team Elvis. He and Dave did damned well with Stan in charge and Lester backstopping the whole affair.

It wasn’t that Gina was a bad cop, he thought as they whipped past a plodding station wagon with four suitcases tied to the chrome luggage rack on the roof. She just wasn’t their kind of cop.

Snorting, Randy disciplined himself. On my way into a hot AO and I’m brooding like some little bitch. That’s a few more range drills for me. Gina’s great at what she does. No question. It’s just not what we do anymore. But this wasn’t the time. Stan slowed to take the turn off the highway to the frontage road, and he followed suit. It was almost showtime.

There were fewer bikes parked outside The Outlaw, but the cheap neon still flickered on the sign and the place looked just as run-down as it had yesterday. Stan looked over at Randy as he parked his bike and grinned. “Looks like the Angels ain’t comin’ by today.”

“Can’t say’s I mind. Ugly bastards anyhow, and the men were worse than the old ladies.”

“That’s no lie. I seen day shift girls at Rizzo’s who looked ten times better.”

Randy nodded, feeling himself slip into cover with Stan during the banter. They were Patch and Biggs now, ready to take on all comers.

Inside it was still gloomy and reeking of stale beer and piss mixed with last year’s cigarette smoke. “Damn, Leo! You ever open a window in here? Place smells worse than the crack of your mom’s hairy ass.”

“But better than yours.” Leo grinned, swiping at a spot on the bar with a rag that might have been used to clean a dipstick not moments before. “How’s tricks, Biggs? See you and Patch found your way back.”

“Yeah, and I better not have wasted the gas for hot air an’ nasty beer.” Randy let his earlier irritation flow into Patch, hitting just the right tone in seconds.

“Oh, you didn’t, man.” Leo looked around, leaning across the bar and lowering his voice. “I think I got your problem taken care of.”

Stan pushed his dark aviator glasses up on his nose and leaned on the bar, impressing Randy with his use of his size. You didn’t realize just how big Stan was until he wanted you to. “Now you’d best not be jackin’ us around, Leo. I don’t like that, and I know Patch don’t like that.”

“I ain’t jackin’ no one around. Come on, Biggs. You know me.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I said don’t jack us around.” Stan grinned and leaned closer. “You really think I’d forget about that one ‘deal’ you tried to set up out in the swamp with those boys who claimed to have medical-grade speed?”

“Honest, Biggs. That’s what they told me. I didn’t know those pukes were gonna try a rip.” He raised his hands. “Honest. Had no damned clue.”

Randy looked at Stan and grinned. Reaching down to his side, he whipped out his custom Colt and slammed it on the bar. He’d changed his normal target grips for an ivory pair with a carved rattlesnake on each panel. Not his thing, but it helped with the role. Dave had gotten them for him years back as a gag gift after they’d watched one too many episodes of Wild, Wild West on late night TV back in Butte. “You’d best not jack me around or you’ll be gettin’ up close and personal with ol’ Painless here.”

“Hey! No need for that now!” Leo took a step back.

“Then keep your fat paws away from the scattergun I know you got under the bar.” Randy gave him a last narrow grin before tucking the .45 back in his hip holster. “Just don’t want you workin’ with the idea we ain’t gonna kick if you try to screw us.”

“So what’s the deal, Leo? Or are you just gonna keep messin’ with us?” Stan reached across the bar and poured himself a beer from the untended tap.

“Here’s the thing. I found what you need, but they ain’t too big on dealin’ with new faces. I told ‘em we go way back, and that you got what it takes to make the deal. But I don’t know ‘em that well. Friend of a friend kinda thing. But…”

Before Leo could go on the door slammed open and things started happening fast. Randy turned, recognizing at least two of the faces from the other night. The Hell’s Angels. “So these are the fucks you turned on us for, fat boy?” The leader was tall, with more muscle than brain, and the patch on the front of his cut-down jean jacket claimed he was master at arms of some shitbag chapter out in the middle of nowhere. “Look, assholes we…”

Randy moved by reflex alone, honed by the jungle and patrol on Butte’s streets afterwards. His .45 cleared leather in a heartbeat, and by the second beat the Angel was staring crosseyed at the wide muzzle six inches from his face. “Who the fuck are you to come in here and mess with Biggs’ deal?” Randy’s voice was a hiss, and he could feel his eyes going empty. “Just like your great grandpa’s,” his grandmother told him once. “What do you think, Biggs? You want him wasted?”

Stan had his own chromed Browning out and in the face of the second Angel. The other two hung back, waiting to see what would happen. “I don’t know, Patch. It is kinda tempting. Haven’t wasted me a punk for a couple of weeks now.”

“Yeah, but it’s damned hard to get the blood out of the leathers.” Randy looked around at the now-silent bar. “You boys got any ideas?”

“Look, mister. We didn’t mean nothin’ personal against you.” The ‘master at arms’ kept his hands raised, and Randy smelled acrid piss in the air. “It’s Leo we’re pissed at. You’re just tryin’ to do business.”

“Yeah, and we need the fat fuck for that. So you’d best just walk on outa here, and if anything happens to him before we get our business done Biggs here would take that real personal. And I wouldn’t be too damned happy, either. And don’t get no dumb ideas about our rides, either. You know how long it takes a man who’s gutshot to die? Mess with rides and you’ll find out the hard way.”

The biker staring down Stan’s Browning nodded. “You…you got it, man. Like Luke said, it’s all a misunderstanding.”

Stan twitched his Browning in the direction of the door. “Get the hell outa here. I see you again I might get the wrong idea an’ think you were tryin’ to jump me or something. And me an’ Patch got this habit of shootin’ first and not worrying about questions later.”

The two lead Angels backed toward the door, not noticing that the other two had already beaten a hasty retreat into the growing darkness of the parking lot. They kept their pistols out until they heard four bikes roar to life and gravel spraying as they hauled ass back toward the highway. Only then did Randy ease his Colt back into the hip holster and smile across the bar at a shaking Leo. “I think I’ll take that damned beer now. And you ladies best get back to pool or jerkin’ each other off. Keep staring at us and Biggs might take offense.”

Randy kept half his attention on the rest of the bar while Stan leaned on Leo some more. He knew Dave would be chomping at the bit back in the Roach Coach having heard all the potential excitement, but he also knew his partner would have their back in case the Hell’s Angels grew a pair and came back. He didn’t think they would. He’d run off their type more times than he could count. Brave so long as they thought they were bigger than you, but once the situation changed they ran off and hid.

Stan slammed a big fist on the bar. “Look, Leo! I already had to pull my piece once tonight. One more time ain’t gonna bother me none. Tell me what’s up with this deal!”

“Like I said, man. More of a friend of a friend. He’ll meet with you, but you’d best bring your old lady along just to show it’s peaceful. He’s kind of a jumpy cat, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. So you’d better spell it out plain.”

“He’ll want to check you out. Make sure you’re both ok. That means a meet and then the deal if he’s satisfied. And if he ain’t satisfied he disappears and you don’t see him again.”

“Same goes for us, Leo.” Stan’s voice fell. “We don’t like the looks of him we’re gone. And if he’s lucky he gets to walk away.”

“I wouldn’t be too hasty. My friend’s kinda scared of this dude. Says he’s connected. As in overseas connected.”

Randy took a drink of his beer and grimaced. “You sure that damned Hell’s Angel didn’t piss in this? And I ain’t gettin’ a good feeling about this friend of yours.”

“Zack? We go way back. He’s connected to the speed freaks and such. Runs product for ‘em now and again. And some of those boys are into coke. Gives ‘em a different jolt, I guess. Anyhow, he met this cat when he was workin’ a deal for them.”

“He ever done business with him?”

“I think so. Hell, I didn’t ask. He was one of the cats I reached out to an’ he said he knew the guy.”

Randy wondered how much of that was actually true. He didn’t think Leo had made contact with the mystery Nazi stunt-double himself, but he guessed there was more to it than Leo was letting on. “So why did those assholes think you’d cut them out of a deal?”

“The Angels? Who the hell knows. They get speed now and again, and maybe they thought you were tryin’ to buy product meant for them.”

Stan looked at Randy and gave him a quick wink. “You’d best not have been tryin’ to connect them with this same guy you’re sellin’ us now, Leo. That could go very bad for you.”

“I ain’t! Swear to God!” Sweat was streaming from the man’s expanding bald spot and over his greasy forehead. “Look! He’ll be here tomorrow night. Same time as you came in tonight.”

Randy slammed his empty beer glass down. “No money, though. Be sure he understands that. I ain’t riskin’ my take on some damned rip deal. We check each other out, and if it works we’ll set up a meet with him. You’ll get your commission, Leo. Don’t worry. But I don’t think you want to get too close to a big coke deal.”

“You got that right, Patch.” Leo let out a big sigh. “Just show up tomorrow night. And don’t forget your old lady, Biggs.”

They were almost back to the highway before Stan signaled and pulled to the side of the road. “What’s your take? I don’t like how he’s so hot to get Gina back there.”

“Yeah. He could be telling the truth or there could be more to it.” Randy took off his helmet. “You got one of them ear sets? If we’re still in range see what Lester the rest think.”

Stan’s face lit up. “I damned near forgot about those things.” He tucked the earpiece in and raised his wrist. “Get yours in, too. We can both hear. It’s an open channel.”

Randy nodded, and got the little speaker in just in time to hear Lester’s tinny voice. “…sounds funny to us here, too. But he won’t know you’ve got backup.”

Sonny’s voice cut in. “Yeah. And us, too. I think we’ll have it covered.”

Randy could see Stan nodded, so he tuned out of the conversation and started watching the road. Dusk was starting to slip over the distant trees and rolling ground, and here and there cars were flicking on their headlights. He watched out of habit, but then something caught his eye. Four headlights, but not from two cars. “Stan!” he shouted, pulling his .45. “We got company!”

The bikes came up fast, the thunder of their blown exhausts preceding them like distant thunder. Randy felt the heavy Colt in his hand, but knew he couldn’t fire. Not yet. Not until the men on the hogs did something. The engine noise changed, wrapping up and dropping down as the riders downshifted to bring their bikes to a halt. The yellow headlights washed over Stan and Randy, and Randy narrowed his eyes to a squint to preserve some of his vision. He hoped Stan did the same.

“You dumb fucks messed with the wrong dudes!” It was the voice of mister ‘master at arms,’ who swung his leg over the passenger seat of his ape-hanger hog and stood with his feet wide apart. “First you steal our deal then you try to make us look like pussies back there!”

Stan chuckled. “Hell, we didn’t have to try. You just naturally look like pussies. Ain’t no fault of ours.”

Randy nodded. “You got one chance now. Get back on those bikes and ride on outa here.”

One of the other Angels stepped even with the bigger man. “Who the hell are you tellin’ us what to do?”

“Just wanted to see if once in your life you’d do the smart thing.” Randy shook his head. “Guess I shoulda known better.” He looked over at Stan and nodded. “U.S. Marshals! Show us your hands!”

“Federals! Kill ‘em!” The big man’s hands came up in front of him, his left grabbing the wooden forehand of a cut-down shotgun. The other three started pulling weapons of their own, intent o using their numbers to their advantage.

Randy didn’t notice. Before the big man’s hand touched the wood of the shotgun’s front grip he had the .45 up. As soon as the shotgun came level he threw himself to one side and fired two quick shots, hitting the ground with his shoulder and continuing into a neat roll. The shotgun boomed, blasting a hole in the dirt five feet in front of the dying man. Both Randy’s bullets had torn holes in his chest.

Off to his right he had a sense of Stan shooting, the higher pops of the 9mm cutting through the boom of his Colt. But he wasn’t worried about Stan. Following the roll through, he let his momentum carry him to his knees, the front sight floating over the man in the back who was trying to level a big revolver at Stan. Randy shot him three times, each round hitting center mass and sending the man crashing to the dirt.

As he stared to track right, he realized there was no more shooting. Stan stood, his Browning in a solid two-hand grip, smoke trailing from the muzzle as he watched the fourth man fall. Then he heard the big man’s voice over the radio. “We’re good. Four bad guys down.”

Lester’s voice came back fast. “You got other problems. Incoming State Police. Someone musta called them.”

“Or those bastards did it first. Planned on hitting us with a drive by and then letting the state boys sweep up the remains.” Stan looked at Randy as he put the safety on his Browning and holstered the pistol. “We can’t afford to get picked up. Too much chance we’ll get blown.”

Randy nodded. “What’s the plan, sarge?”

“Ride like hell!” Stan fired up his bike. “Lester? Can you buy us some time?”

“You got it, Stan. I’ll fire up Tango for you.”

Sonny’s voice came on again. “What the hell is Tango?”

Stan’s answer was quick as he got on the gas and accelerated away from the bodies. “Tell you later, Sonny. We gotta ride!”

 

Sonny shook his head. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this?” They were sitting around the conference table, Stan and Randy still in their bug-splattered leathers and smelling of cordite and exhaust.

Stan shrugged. “We were going to, but there hasn’t been time.”

Dave leaned over to Randy. “Lester sent out like six fake dispatch calls. Sent them boys all over hell and gone.”

“I’m not saying it was a bad idea, Stan. Hell, it’s damned brilliant. I just wish I would have known about it.” Sonny looked across the table. “How many more do you have?”

Stan starred counting on his fingers. “Oh, I’d say one for every letter of the alphabet. Ain’t that right, Lester?”

“About that. Maybe one or two more.”

Sonny shook his head. “And you think this was just them trying to square things and not Leo pulling some stunt?”

Stan nodded. “I’m ninety percent sure. There’s always a chance the moron hit his head or something, but he gets nothing from having us killed. Naw, those morons were pissed that we took their deal and pissed that we ran them off.”

Sonny turned it over in his head. It made sense, based on what he’d heard over the radios. He looked at Rico, who nodded his agreement. “I’ll buy it. We can get the reports from the state guys and see what the rap sheets look like. And they didn’t bat an eye when you identified yourselves?”

“No. They just seemed to get cranked up by it.” Randy shook his head. “Takes all kinds I figure.”

Sonny nodded. “I’ll let Pete know and see if he can handle the AUSA. I need you both in the field, not answering questions.” He turned to look at Gina. “You good going in there again?”

She nodded, and he saw no trace of doubt in her eyes. “Yes, Sonny, I am. One last operation before Trudy gets back and I head back to my old desk.” She smiled. “It’s been fun, but I do miss working with my girls.”

Sonny nodded and looked at his watch. “Everybody go home and get some sleep. Or whatever.” He looked pointedly at Rico, Mindy, Stan, and Gina. “Tomorrow’s gonna be busy. We shouldn’t need buy money, but you might need some good faith flash. Stan, get a plan for me by noon if you can and we’ll read through it. I’d like to have something for Marty when he gets back other than we had the State Police chasing their tails over three counties.” He grinned. “Although I do think that might make him smile just a bit.”

 

Ricardo Tubbs unlocked the door to Casa Cooper and flipped on the dim entry way light. He held the door as Mindy came in, then locked it and hung his Armani suit coat on a hanger nearby. He saw her watching him and smiled. “Saves on dry cleaning. I used to toss ‘em down and then got tired of shelling out ten bucks a throw to get the wrinkles out.”

She smiled, shrugging out of her own light sweater. “I know what you mean. Hard to make ends meet some months on what we make.” She looked around. “Although some of the benefits aren’t bad.”

“Yeah.” He just stood in the entryway, admiring her profile and the way moonlight streaming through the big glass windows highlighted the now-very familiar curves of her body.

“Rico? You think it will last?”

“What, lady?”

“The Task Force.”

He smiled, walking over to the stereo and firing up the six-disc CD changer. Charlie Parker’s mournful sax flooded the room. “Hard to say. Sonny likes to say as long as we keep winnin’, and he’s not wrong. Bosses like winners. But sooner or later we’ll miss one. It’s just how it goes. Then…who knows? We’re doin’ good, but we’ve also pissed some powerful folks off. ATF. The Feebs. Hell, maybe even the CIA. Though I think they’re just pissed all the time.”

She giggled. “You might be right.”

He smiled, not wanting to move too close too soon. He could feel the vibe coming off her. There was something she wanted to ask but was afraid to, and he didn’t want to say anything for fear of scaring her off. He almost chuckled. Big ol’ Tubbs afraid to say anything. Sonny would laugh his ass off. But it was true. Instead he listened to the music and the tragic genius of Bird floating through the room. It reminded him of home. Before it all went sour.

“You’re right.”

“What?” Her voice startled him. He’d been lost in the music. “Right about what?”

“What you’re thinking. That isn’t what I wanted to ask.” She took two steps closer, her look changing from a confident deputy marshal to a scared and lonely little girl. “I wanted to ask…if you thought we’d last.”

He still didn’t move. “I think we’ll last as long as we want to, Mindy. No matter what happens with the rest of it. To be honest I don’t give a damn about the rest of it. And we can go as slow as you need. Hell, maybe as slow as I need. I just know I want to try.”

“I’m sorry. I know we talked about this the other night. But…”

Rico couldn’t stop himself. He took two steps and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s ok, Mindy. I’m scared, too. I got no fast line, no quick comeback. I want this to work, but I want you to want it to work, too. And so long as we both want that, it’s solid.”

He felt her arms go around him. “I…I never thought this would happen.”

“Neither did I. But I ain’t gonna walk away from it.”

“Neither am I.” She stretched up and kissed him, pressing herself against him.

[vicegirl85]

Great new installment!  Stan and Randy make a good team, and the distraction calls by Lester were inspired.  Nervous about the upcoming meet, though.   

[Robbie C.]

4 minutes ago, vicegirl85 said:

Great new installment!  Stan and Randy make a good team, and the distraction calls by Lester were inspired.  Nervous about the upcoming meet, though.   

Glad you like the boys. Dave always gets stage fright, so Randy does better undercover. But if stuff goes down, you always want Dave on the high ground with his rifle. And Lester...there's a lot to Lester.

[mjcmmv]

Don't want to give anything away, so I'll just say the action was great! I'm getting that "little spider feeling" about this meet-especially concerning Gina for some reason. 

Hope I'm wrong! 

Oh, and I hope the Task Force lasts!!! (Rico and Mindy, too!)