Cobra Clearance (32 page)

So nobody was surprised when he swaggered up to the stunning redhead seated at the bar in a short black skirt and white satin blouse that clung to her curves, and said, “I want you in my bed tonight.”

She touched a manicured finger to his forehead. “A Swastika. Quite topical. And you're quite repulsive.” She showed gleaming white teeth. “If only my dear hubby hadn't gone away on business.” Then she grabbed her clutch purse and stood. “Shall we?”

He guided her toward the back door. Michael was sitting nearby but Levi didn't acknowledge him—or Dance Girl, standing to one side in a halter top and a frown. But as he and the woman swept past Bronk, Levi said over his shoulder, “Stop by 'round closing time an' burn one with me.” The big guy winked—and Levi saw him trailing behind as they disappeared inside the cabin.

T
hey emerged from the cabin at closing time. Levi stepped into the doorway first, sweat-streaked and wearing only his OD pants. The woman shouldered past, her hair mussed and skirt and blouse askew. Bronk stepped from a shadow but she ignored him and clung to Levi's tattooed torso. “When may I see you again?”

He smiled with cruel confidence. “Depends. You gonna make it worth my time an' have my white trash baby?”

She bristled. “Don't get too full of yourself.”

“No?” In a flash he pinned her to the wall and worked his hips against her with sensual male hunger, taunting her while she cursed him, until at last he flung her aside. Then he slouched against the door and jerked a thumb at the parking lot. “Now beat it. But have your ass here tomorrow. I'm gonna plant that baby in you.”

Her upper lip curled. “You're an animal. An absolute animal.”

“Yeah, but you like that. You liked it the first time, liked it the last time.” His eyes blazed. “Now clear outta here.”

“Okay, okay.” She turned to go, stopped, and looked over her shoulder. “I—I guess I'll see you tomorrow?” Then she walked off with stiff, brittle dignity.

Levi said to a grinning Bronk, “Let's get buzzed.”

The room smelled of spent energy and Bronk chortled. “Dude, you're my hero. You ice a guy for lunch an' bag a gal for dinner.”
He went to the kitchen and poked at the open packets of dope. Picking up the bent spoon, he sniffed it, then moved to the night stand, where he examined the congealed syringes and flicked one with his finger, sending it spinning. Finally he gawked at Levi's arms. “Man, you definitely got a thing for skag. Me, I'm into glass.” He rubbed his hands together. “So where's the reefer?”

Levi made a sound and cocked his head at a pair of wooden chairs. After they sat and stretched their legs he rolled a joint, lit it and offered it to his guest.

Bronk dragged deep, held it, and exhaled, sending a khaki cloud of acrid smoke to the ceiling. After a second hit he gestured at a closet overflowing with Brenda's things. “You let Brian drive your chick? For all them days? Man, that guy's a hound.”

“She knows I'll kill her if she does him.”
Good. He sees she didn't pack heavy. Now he can tell Kruger she plans to return
. “Anyway, I trust Brian. He's cool.”

“Yeah, he is. Shame what we did to him.” He passed the joint and squinted. “Say, didja know I served on mortars too?”

Levi carelessly flicked the ash, letting it fall to the floor. “Yeah? Talk to me.”

Bronk droned on until he stretched his arms wide and yawned. Levi yawned also and saw him to the door. He thought,
Thanks for validating me for Kruger. And when I'm done with him I'm going after you
. Then he pushed the door open.

Dance Girl was standing there. With no other option, he dropped his pants with idle indifference and stepped out of them, then beckoned her in. “You know where to find the blow,” he growled, while Bronk smirked and walked out.

Monica locked her motel room door before reaching up and removing her red wig. Then she allowed herself a grim smile. When
Michael relayed Levi's need for a smokescreen, she proposed a tryst that would get her invited to his cabin. It also provided a conduit for a two-way transfer of intel. Tonight he passed along the details that he'd gleaned from Bronk about a Mack dump truck, and the use of submachine guns in the attack. Then they made small talk while waiting for the bar to close.

When Bronk's arrival drew near they did calisthenics and built up a sweat to give the impression of sexual activity. She peeked out a darkened window while he changed. Then as Bronk approached, they stepped outside. The lewd and chauvinistic behavior had been her idea. Levi protested, but she argued that Bronk had to see a smoking gun of sorts before he could confirm Levi's ongoing pledge to Kruger. She correctly predicted that Bronk would never see past her wig and breasts to identify her previous incarnation as the college girl. She'd also stated the obvious—the mission could not be skewered by political correctness. They had a job to do.

As the sun rose, a dog-tired Levi got coked-up and had more sex. Two hours later he pulled up near Kruger's office and killed the the Harley's crackling engine.

The little general stepped outside. “I'm told you bedded a woman of means last night—one who found herself attracted to your…pedigree.” Kruger smiled for once. “You take a man's life, then you acquire a financially stable woman to create new life. The literary cliché of life and death creeps in but so what?” He chuckled. “Then you took your girlfriend to your bed. Well done.”

“Girlfriend?” He spat into the dirt at his feet. “She's my whore, is what she is.”

“I see.” Kruger looked up as a crow cawed, then barked, “Roll up your sleeves.”

Levi complied and revealed his scarred arms. When Kruger scowled, Levi shifted his weight. “Whaddya want me to say? Yeah, I been hittin' it.”

Kruger's eyes bore into Levi's. Then they softened. “I'd have thought something was amiss if you hadn't been.”

That's what I thought you'd say. You're not as clever as you think, you son of a bitch. Now for the sucker punch
. “I'm backin' off.” He flashed a sad smile. “Got to. I'm outta money an' my whore ain't turnin' tricks yet.”
Go on. Tell me not to worry
.

Kruger patted Levi's shoulder. “Come to me. I'll make sure you have it.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I kinda want it.”
Good. Now make me dependent upon you
.

“I know you do.”

“So if you'll…”

“In fact, you
need
heroin and to acquire more you must wear the collar.”

Levi glared. His hands became fists. “Why're you doin' this to me?”

“Because it's time I hauled your reins in. Neutered you as I did Brian.”

Levi said quietly, “You ain't gettin' my balls.”

“Oh, but I already have them.” Reaching into a pocket, he produced a baggie laden by two chunks of heroin and dangled it in Levi's face. “See? Here they are.”

He made as if to grab them but stopped. “Kiss my ass. I kin stop anytime I want.”

“I don't think so.” Kruger turned to go. “Now let's get that collar on you.”

“Shove your collar. I only do junk for kicks, not no friggin' fix.”

A brief smile lit Kruger's face. “I like your chutzpah.” He gave him the baggie. “Come to me when you need more. Now get to work. We haven't much time.”

But Levi stood still. “You gonna give me some details? Look, I can't coordinate if I ain't in the loop. One foul-up an' we're screwed.”

“I've already given you the outline.” Kruger examined some dust on his boots.

It was time to make a concession in exchange for intel. Levi turned as if to go but stopped. “By the way, I got that nose ring. Big one, like Brian's.” He would buy a fake ring, the type that clings to the septum without piercing it, mix a little flour with red food coloring, let it congeal, then apply some to his septum—because dried blood would be the norm of a recent piercing. “Couple a days, an' I'll be wearin' it.”

Kruger made eye contact and said after a few seconds, “Tell you what. I'll give you the full details during the flight to Maryland. Now get going.”

Levi got busy. At noon he was walking a
nothing-to-report
pattern for Avwatch's cameras when Pete approached and slapped his back. “Saw you puttin' it to yer bitch the other night.” Chortling, he added, “An' I heard about Jackson. You're the man!” He then invited Levi to come with him and do drugs at Bronk's private quarters.

A minute later Levi entered a dark room that reeked of rotting pizzas and a broken toilet. Sadistic porn flashed across a TV while Bronk heated some meth at the stove. Pete grinned at Levi. “Let's chase that dragon, boy!”

Once again Levi tried valiantly to fake it, but he ended up so high that when Pete suggested they mainline, he reached inside a pocket for his works.

A loud clattering brought him around two hours later. Nausea threatened but he held it together.
God. What'd I do
? A fresh mark on his arm, a used syringe on his lap and the open gift packet of heroin told all. He looked about. Pete was sprawled on the couch with his own syringe at his side, thank God. As a black depression took hold, Levi struggled to sit straighter.
What did Huey Long say? Politics isn't badminton? Well neither is this mission, and I'm gonna make this crapola yield some dividends.

His goal appeared as Bronk walked out of the bathroom and burst into laughter. “He does fifteen mills—an' he's awake.” The big man was wired—and talkative.

Levi rubbed his eyes, and as his wooziness faded he prompted Bronk to talk about the pending attack. But he acquired few details before Bronk lost interest. Levi wanted more, and arranged to meet later at the Sunset. After repacking his works he went home, secretly hoping Pete wouldn't wait too long before asking him to do drugs again.

Bronk showed up around nine. They drank beer and played pool and there was money on the table with Bronk leading, but he remained tight-lipped. Monica appeared, but Levi pointedly ignored her until he ran the table with six balls remaining, then sent the eight ball crashing into a corner pocket with a satisfying
thunk
. Still feeling down, he collected his winnings and told Bronk, “Her an' me are outta here.”

The leviathan pointed a sausage-like finger at Levi. “I'll stop by later.” Then he leered at Monica. “Maybe she'll need some tucking in.”

Levi grinned and flipped him the bird, then grabbed Monica's wrist and hurried her to the cabin. After sweeping it for bugs he sat next to her on the couch and spoke in a low murmur. “I've got more intel. Paid a big price for it, though. Okay. The dump truck's a red and white '94 Mack. Open bed. Crew of four.” Next, he described a recon trip to the White House during which Kruger chose an intersection for the truck to fire from, and had Bronk spray-paint symbols on the curb to mark the optimal firing position. Levi frowned. “Kruger loves redundancy. Might've selected an alternate site.”

“I'd bet on it.” Her nose crinkled. “How do you stand this foul hovel? The floor's cruddy—I can't imagine going shoeless here.” She
pointed at the bed. “And that soiled mattress. You've been sleeping on it? With only that nasty sheet over you?”

He grunted. “I've been making babies on that damn thing.”

“That's why I'm here—to prevent more pregnancies.” She glanced at the bed and grimaced. “Your black eye's better but you look like crap. How're you holding up?”

“I'm fine.” But he knew he wasn't. “Ah, hell. Who am I kidding? One morning I woke up and found a rat on my…” He shuddered. “There's the drugs, the lurid sex.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You're not upset about last night, are you? Look, I'm fine.”

“We were actors on a sound stage.” He blew air from his cheeks. “But…”

“But it kills you to be nasty toward women even when it's illusion. Hell, Levi. You're every gal's dream. The Natural Man.” Her mouth puckered. “Although I for one am able to resist your charms.”

“You sure know how to make a guy feel grand.” He flashed a grin, then got quiet.

She crossed her long legs and let her foot jangle. A motorcycle roared past the cabin, its exhaust popping as the driver evidently slowed. She said quietly, “I know you. Better than you might imagine. Now spill it. What's really wrong?”

Feeling sick to the core of his soul, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “The short answer hasn't changed since last night. It's the heroin. Only now I'm in trouble.” Though his pride was wounded he met her eyes. “My whole being craves it; one of those cases of instant, absolute addiction you hear about. I knew it could happen, just not like this.” He shook his head in wonder. “Humph, look at me now; sharing needles, chasing the dragon—and mainlining when that doesn't do it for me.”

She tapped his needle and track marks. “How many of these are real?”

“Most. I've already developed a tolerance, too.” Absently taking off his shirt and shoes, he said self-mockingly, “But I ain't hooked. I kin stop anytime I want.”

She touched his hand. “How can I help?”

“Let the team know. I'll need their help.” He scowled. “Coke doesn't faze me. But once I had a taste of heroin, man that was it. Now I invent reasons to do more. For the job, of course.” He laughed cynically. “I was so damned sure I could handle it.”

“Welcome to Earth.”

“Never thought I was Superman.” He squinted. “And since I'm not, listen up. Kruger's fueling my addiction for reasons of his own. I think I know why so I'm going along with it. But if it gets outta hand I might need someone to…”

“Just call if you're alone when you need a fix. I'll come and sit with you. Deal?”