GGS: Good Gaelic Souls A Biker Saga (G.G.S) (27 page)

Chapter 18

"Word"

Two stiff drinks, and thirty minutes later, Sheriff Bob rode up to the Castle gates. He was dressed like a tourist all the way down to his sandles. Riding up on a non-descript rice burner, he wore the persona of a beach visitor who had rented a bike for the day. The guard, who had just been assigned to the gatehouse for this purpose, asked him to remove his helmet. Recognizing him to be the one and only Sheriff Bob, he called the security room to have the gates opened. "Had them disconnected out here, no way in now unless the gates are opened from the inside." He advised the Sheriff with a smile, trying not to laugh at how stupid the Sheriff looked on that bike. He straddled the ATV and followed him into the courtyard as the gates closed behind them. The fact that the battlement was guarded with armed bikers and there were several gun barrels poised out the windows of the turrets, was not lost on the bewildered Sheriff.

As he parked and dismounted in front of the Castle, the guard took a piece of wood from the box on the back of the ATV and placed it on the ground for the Sheriff's kickstand. As the guard led the Sheriff into the Castle and down the long entryway, he couldn't make out what is was that this strangely dressed cop was muttering. He was obviously shocked and in awe of his surroundings. Sheriff Bob had envisioned so much less than what he was seeing, and the word 'amazing' just wasn't going to cut it. For the life of him, he couldn't come up with a word to describe it. To him, it had all the makings of an unfinished theme park.

Walking past the bar, he said "Hello" to Serenity and Lee, and continued following the guard towards the office. Once they finally entered the door, he pulled out a hankerchief and patted his sweating face, "Damn it man, it's a goddamn all day walk just to reach your office. You might want to invest in a Tram," he panted at Strangler, "This place is
In-goddamn-Credible
! You guys could sell tickets to see this shit! Hell's bell's, man, you have a full fledged Castle here. It's so huge, it's damn near vulgar!" Wiping the sweat from his forehead he exclaimed, "I swear, I've heard a little here and there, but never, ever in my wildest imagination, did I picture anything remotely near this. It's a Fortress for fucks sake, with a monster size bar!"

Each one was trying their utmost to keep from laughing, as they enjoyed watching his initial reaction. It was like listening to an eight year old boy carry on about the really big tree house that he had just discovered in his new friends backyard. Strangler kept waiting for him to say, "Can I play too, huh, can I?" Physically, it was way too painful for any of them to keep a straight face, but they did manage not to burst into laughter. Except of course, for Samson who just couldn't take it any longer. Breaking out into a full belly laugh, he finally calmed himself down enough to remark to the other's, "Whatever the fuck you do my brothers, don't take his ass upstairs! If he see's the Dragon, he's liable to shit all over himself!"

Everyone in the room cracked up, including the Sheriff, who for a split second had a mental picture of a real live dragon chained up in an upstairs chamber. "Ok, assholes, have your fun," he laughed, "But you've got to admit, if someone had told you about a goddamn biker Clubhouse that looked like a fucking Castle, you certainly wouldn't have expected anything like
this
."

"Are you on duty Bob?" asked Strangler, amused at both his clothes and his demeanor, he had been advised moments before how Bob had rode into the courtyard, "Or is this the normal way you dress for a bike ride in the country, on your day off? And what in the name of satan's palace, are you doing riding up here on a goddamn rice-burner?" Samson choked on his drink and spewed in Griff's direction, whom in turn, hit the table with his fist and laughed even harder."
I think I just pissed myself
." Griff exclaimed in a fit of laughter.  Moby stood up laughing as he took a bandana from his pocket and wiped his brothers face. "
It's alright brother, I'm thinking we can throw our pant's into the washer together."

Bob looked around the room, feeling rather silly and a bit indignant as he stood in front of these hard ass bikers. He took in the fact that they were all in leather, and wearing their guns in plain sight, while he was dressed like a used car salesman that had migrated to Florida for a company seminar. Indignantly he professed, "I'm incognito on
your
behalf, smart asses. I had to borrow my buddy's bike, who was kind enough to help me dress up special for the occasion. I've done everything I can, to be sure that I wasn't followed here." Wearing a silly grin he looked at Strangler, "And no I'm not working, I'm off duty. And yes, if that was an offer for a drink, on the rocks please." Wiping his face again, he offered, "By the way, thank you Strangler, for the directions to get here, I never would have found it on my own." The president of the G.G.S. nodded at his visitor and then at his woman. Stax stood up to get another glass from the bookshelf and made a drink for the Sheriff. He certainly looked like he could use one.

Bob, took a big swig of his drink and nodded to Strangler, "I just need to wet my whistle and I'll get right to it." He downed his whiskey like a pro, and pushing the glass towards Stax with a wink, he said, "Good whiskey guys, thanks. I should come here more often." He got the feeling that they were quite anxious for news. "Ok fellas, this is where we are at", he started, "First I have to inform you that I have been forbidden to involve myself or the authorities in this turf war or whatever the hell it is, that has come to our state. I am not allowed to share information with you or trust any information that you might possibly want to share with me. Is that understood?" He asked with a wry smile, eyeing the faces at the table, as he gratefully accepted a fresh drink from his favorite female biker.

"That being said," he continued, "Allow me to explain myself, as on the norm I am an honest lawman. However, in this particular instance, I know that you guys are not the 'typical MC' and that you care deeply about the people in this community. Probably as much as I do. A man would have to be deaf, dumb, blind and unable to smell, not to see that. After all that ya'll have done here over the years, the day has come that you find yourselve in harms way and nobody to stand with you. That my friends, I find not only appalling, but absolutely unacceptable."

He paused, looking around the office at the thick walls of the Presidents chamber, before he continued his preamble, "I didn't realize until I arrived here today, just how prepared you are. I'm not only impressed, I'm astounded. But you can't fight what you don't know, so I am offering to help by sharing information, as we previously discussed, despite my more recent orders from the top. And if push comes to shove and bodies begin to fall, I will make every effort to back a claim of 'self-defense', if that is in fact what you require. Feel free to stand your ground if your life and property are at stake. With what you have here, only a madman would consider trying to take a fortress such as this, and that statement, brings me to the informational part of our meeting."

Strangler interjected, "Bob, you have no idea how well defended we actually are, and I'm thinking that you don't want to know. However, we do want you to know how much we appreciate your candor and your selfless offer to assist us. Your a good soul Bob, and we thank you. We've had no word since the nurses came in last night, so we are eager to hear your update."

Bob nodded, took another big gulp of his drink and dove in, "Ok then, let's get this party started, this is what I know so far." Everyone instinctively leaned forward in their chairs, listening intently as the Sheriff advised them of everything that had happened overnight. "Early this morning, shortly after 0200, a call came in from several counties away. There had been an argument between a few U.C. bikers at a club on the outskirts of town. When the bar owner tried to shut down for the night, the leaders still wanted to finish their meeting at the bar, but the rest of them wanted to go elsewhere. Eventually, the owner was forced at gunpoint to lock the doors behind the ones that wanted out and allow their Captains to remain inside to finish their business. The owner was beaten to death and the barmaid was forced to serve them naked while they continued planning their next move. She heard them say that they were going to kill her before they left, but they wanted to use her in the meantime. Knowing that they wouldn't have a witness by the time they were done, they talked freely. While she was getting their drinks in between rapes, she used the owners cellphone behind the bar to dial 911, covering it with a napkin so it couldn't be seen. The 911 operater was able to gather enough informaton to alert her superiors of the situation and S.W.A.T was called in. The bar was surrounded and a gunfight ensued. Including the owner, there were ten bodies when it was over. The barmaid was the only survivor. Even though one of them shot her in the back, he didn't have the time or sense enough to make sure that she was dead. She was smart enough that when she went down, she stayed down and played dead. The bullet hit no major organs, but she is in the hospital. She's a tough cookie, that one is, I can tell ya that much right now. Anyway, this is what we've learned, some of which you already know."

"Who the mastermind behind this invasion attempt might be, nobody knows. He is keeping his identity unknown, even to his own people. He will not give them a name until he has had his victory, and when I say that, I mean not only will he not give out his own name, but he also refuses to reveal the name of the club until he is in complete control. This tells us that it could be anybody, not necessarily a biker, but any power hungry individual who wants to plunder Florida and create their own empire. He may simply be using bikers as his strength, due to their reputation. On the other hand it could be a biker, a mean ass, out of his mind, control-freak, money-hungry, mother fucker. Who knows? Only three of them that we know of, actually know his identity, and are acting on his behalf. They weren't involved last night. Each one has several teams and have positioned themselves in strategic areas at the state line. One for the east coast, of which we are aware, one for the west coast and one straight down the center. In unison they each sent out the first wave.

Bob took a breath and a quick drink, "They infiltrated the bars where bikers tend to hang out and gathered data on the existing clubs in the area. That data was then relayed to the second wave which comes in and begins the threats and violence, demanding a Patch-Over. They start with the small clubs, and their initial tactics have already worked on several. The small club's usually fold right after someone has been hurt, or worse taken. Once they fold, the third wave is called in and they phsically take over the Clubhouse and it's members, before calling down a larger group that has been waiting in the wings. The larger group holds them accountable for the safe return of their family member, demanding that they follow all instructions to the letter. We  believe that at the very least, there's about four hundred of them at this point, but that figure is probably much higher than we suspect. They have been gathering small clubs all the way down here." He paused to finish his drink, and pushed it back towards Stax again.

Strangler asked him, "Four hundred? How long have they been in the state?" Bob took his drink from Stax, shaking his head as he answered, "Because bikers refuse to deal with the authorities, information is barely a trickle. In several states above us, the same thing has happened, but the authorities are always the last to know. They have picked up the majority of that number in the upper states and as far as accurate information goes, once a club is taken over, nothing gets out. To answer your question, better than a month and possibly as long as two, as far as we can tell. Long enough that they have already been down to the Keys, and the first wave is back this way. Since Florida is narrow, they had their meeting towards the middle when the first waves came back through. It was the 'Wave Captains' that we took out last night, and we are hoping that this might slow them down, but it is doubtful that it will be for long.

"
Is that all we know? What about the family members that they have abducted, has there been any word on them
?" asked Moby his face full of angst. Bob shook his head "No sir, thats not all, just a basic rundown of the recent past. To answer your question, we believe that they are holding the victims over the heads of the patched over bikers, to keep them in line. We have no information on their well being, but it doesn't make sense that they would bother to keep them alive for too long. We just don't know. You already know that the dancer they put in the hospital was being tortured and interrogated for information about your Castle. So it makes sense to think that their other victims will be treated the same or worse. They figured that they had you in their pocket when they tried to take Slacker out, so they met up at a local titty-bar to give you time to find him, we think. We still don't know for sure why they left before you got there. It might have been to meet up with more power since you have a larger number of members than the small clubs they have taken so far. Slacker said that there was only three of them when they invaded your Clubhouse. Anyway, they were at the titty-bar, waiting for pretty much the whole day. Later, one of them heard a rumour that you had disappeared and in that same conversation he heard about your new Clubhouse. He's the one that stayed behind and took the dancer from the bar."

Bob paused to refresh himself before relaying the rest of the story, "Apparently they were about to leave and were in the parking lot, when one of them heard a local talking to his buddy. It was just two guys out there getting high, standing in between their trucks, unaware that they were being overheard. The local guy told his buddy about a drunk dancer he had taken home one night. She had talked about the G.G.S. building a Clubhouse that looked like a real Castle. He told his buddy that he was sure that ya'll had headed to the new Clubhouse after the attack. His buddy didn't believe him and wanted to know who the dancer was, so he could have her confirm this wild story about a bunch of bikers holed up in a Castle. The local told him he couldn't remember her name, it had been months ago when he spent time with her, but he did remember that her name sounded like a tree or some kind of plant. After that, they walked back into the bar. The biker that stayed behind had seen a girl on stage that afternoon, and she was dancing under the name 'Twiggy'.  I'm sure the nurses have told you the rest of the story."