Read Hard Case VI: The Killer Inside (John Harding Book 6) Online
Authors: Bernard Lee DeLeo
Tags: #thriller, #terrorism, #action, #military, #Assassination
Hard Case VI: The Killer Inside (John Harding Book 6)
Hard Case Book VI
(The John Harding Series)
The Killer Inside
by
Bernard Lee DeLeo
*****
PUBLISHED BY:
Bernard Lee DeLeo and RJ Parker Publishing Inc.
ISBN-13: 978-1515235583
ISBN-10: 1515235580
Hard Case: The John Harding Series: Book VI: The Killer Inside
Copyright © 2015 by Bernard Lee DeLeo
Cover Illustration by: Colin Matthew Dougherty
*****
License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. Please respect the author’s work. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real life persons, events, or places is purely coincidental.
*****
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.
As it will be with every novel I write from now until my own End of Days, I dedicate this novel to my deceased angel, wife, and best friend: Joyce Lynn Whitney DeLeo.
Chapter One
Witness Protection
We waited for the dozen hoodies approaching Coolidge Avenue in the beautiful East Oakland demilitarized zone as the 11 pm hour rolled in. Bond retrieval on a hoodie takes luck and perseverance. The hoodie lives by night. No one sees the cockroach during the day. The police run around searching for them in amongst family, friends, or crack dens but the hoodie escapes detection in mysterious ways – not mysterious to me though. If a hoodie does something serious like the one we’re after this fine evening, the police arrest the hoodie, they book him, charge him with his dastardly crime, and justice prevails, right?
Wrong. Witnesses find out quickly when they do come forward if they’re fingering a hoodie, his gangbanger friends educate the witnesses on how much they have to lose in the process. Soon, court dates get postponed, the witness pool dries up, and the court has no choice but to set the hoodie free. In this case, the hoodie robbed a convenience store, and pistol whipped the kid working the counter into a coma. Unfortunately for him Jesse Brown’s Mom, Florence, witnessed the act and recognized the hoodie. The hoodie still managed to raise ten thousand dollars when he shouldn’t have been able to raise ten. The 49
th
Street Mob as these punks call themselves have money. We’re going to find out why tonight. We’re also going to keep our civilian hero Mom alive, Ms. Florence Brown. We’re not here because hoodie missed his court date. We’re here because the 49
th
Street Mob planned to terrorize Flo, according to our ex-Russian mob guy, Alexi Fiialkov. Alexi is our ears on every street and port in Oakland.
Our newly formed organization, The Oaktown Cartel, made an executive decision to absorb the 49
th
Street Mob or eliminate them from this dimension. With me are Jesse Brown, Devon Constantine, Tommy Sands, and my knife wielding threat, Cruella Deville – also known by the Christian name of Lynn Montoya Dostiene, or Crue for short. Initially I represent the only white face when we negotiate with gangs we plan to adjust or absorb made up of different races. We switch leaders depending on interest. Tonight, Jess runs the show because of his Mom’s life being threatened. That way, we can avoid the fifteen minutes of bullshit white guilt lectures from mush-mouthed gangbangers. Their idea of race relations is to pillage and set fire to their own neighborhoods and businesses if they’re not allowed to plunder lawfully because they have a different skin color.
* * *
My problem began when Crue heard about us plotting our 49
th
Street Mob absorption without her. Trying to explain my meeting crew race configuration, and the fact she wasn’t a long range backup type fell on deaf ears: dangerous deaf ears.
“So,” Crue says, “let’s take a vote. Who thinks they can stop me from fronting this operation? Step up. Jess?”
“Don’t look at me, Mistress of the Unimaginable. If you want a piece, it’s fine by me. John aced you out of the discussion. Cut him, not me.”
“I’ll settle with Cheeseburger after the vote. Dev?”
“Abstain.” Devon Constantine at least had the rocks to not vote.”
Crue of course made coughing noises while muttering pussy. “Tommy?”
“Cheeseburger already told you why, white-bread. We thought motherhood might make you more reasonable. Fat chance. You’re just as damn ornery as ever. This is for Jess’s Mom. If he says you can poke your nose in it, then fine. Cheese will let you do what you want anyway, so why bother pretending like you care what we think.”
“That makes it unanimous. I’m fronting.”
Since our meeting had only been the principal participants, and not our long range backups, the only one left was Clint Jr. riding on his Mom’s back. He slept on, probably because he was used to his Mom’s less than soothing tones. That Lynn had undoubtedly pried the meeting time from her husband, and then sped to Pain Central with her assistant Dannie in tow, meant her heart was set on assisting with the 49
th
Street Mob whether we liked it or not. It meant the dialogue would be more colorful and entertaining, so Tommy was right, I didn’t care.
“You’re in, Crue, but remember to keep in mind the reason behind what we’re doing.”
The hands went on hips complete with Mistress of the Unimaginable face. “Oh, so now I’m too stupid to be doing this. I can’t keep a lucid thought in my head. Is that it?”
I shrugged. “I’m team leader. If you want to come, then keep in mind what our objective is. You can flash your monster face all you want, but it’s my job to make sure we’re all on the same page whether you like it or not.”
Lynn smiled and relaxed. She loved screwing with us and she was damn good at it. “Okay, Cheese. The prick causing all this fuss likes the knives. I figured you could smash their punks flat, and I’d carve the main player. He ain’t comin’ back from threatening Jess’s Mom.”
“Yep. Jeron Thomas has a one way ticket. I’m unsure how many others will be joining him though. This will get messy no matter what we do. The minions have spread the word amongst Flo’s neighbors. They know to stay inside tonight. I tipped off Earl and ‘Rique, so we don’t get the police involved in our Oaktown Cartel adjustment.”
* * *
So here we were, with everything in place to make sure only our targets took casualties. It was agreed we’d give the Mob an opportunity to accept our terms or else present someone as their champion. The way we’d been doing our Oaktown Cartel business was tricky. We concentrated on the most violent gangs when they moved on otherwise peaceful neighborhoods trying to establish drug dens, meth labs, protection rackets, illegal alien processing plants or Section Eight housing scams. We only just started, but my one on one bouts for control were popular in Alexi Fiialkov’s Octagon warehouse. The street fights ended badly in a few instances, where the gang didn’t accept the ending and thought they could blast our asses away from Alexi’s more formal warehouse arena. Lucas, Casey, and Clint blew small gangbanger pieces off until they realized reaching for a weapon was a bad idea. Yes, we wanted a more permanent ending, but that manner of social reconstruction would have to be given in small doses. It was messy. Tonight would be messy.
The hoodies approached in quiet gangbanger formation. We dressed in Oaktown Cartel uniform clothes: black pants, black t-shirts, and black leather jackets. No matter how bad you think you are as a gangbanging thug from the Mob, when Jesse, Dev, Tommy, and I stand to face you, time slows down. Priorities change. More questions regarding life and survival pop into your head. Add in Cruella Deville, all in black, doing magic butterfly knife tricks so fast the gangbanger eyes couldn’t adjust in the darkness, and second thoughts run rampant. Those survival instincts would do Jeron Thomas no good at all.
The adjustments got started quickly. Seeing us in front of Flo’s house, one of the Mob reached for a weapon. A top piece of his gun drawing arm’s shoulder was blown off. The shot sprayed some blood and put the ‘banger on his back. Tommy took charge from there.
“Don’t reach or make any quick movements! This is Oaktown Cartel territory. We know what you young gentlemen are here for!”
The young gentlemen decided to make a run for it. Jess and Dev drew on them and when they turned, Clint, Casey, and Crue’s minions covered the rear flight with silenced MP5’s. Yes, we were prepared to do a Bay cruise for what seemed our weekly shark feed. That would be messy, but we don’t bluff. Lucas held position on Flo’s roof with an M107 .50 caliber sniper rifle. He didn’t miss, as the young ‘banger with a small piece of his shoulder missing could attest to. Tommy gestured at the ‘bangers with a big smile.
“Jeron Thomas! Come on down. You brought the Mob to terrorize Florence Brown. She’s under our protection. We heard you like to play with knives. We have someone who wants to meet you. She likes to play with knives too. If you cut her up, we’ll let you and your posse go. If she cuts you up, Mr. Thomas, then your posse can select a champ to go against our champ. If your champ wins, we give you five large in cash, and except for Mr. Thomas you can go about your business someplace else. If your champ loses, we absorb your worthless asses into the Oaktown Cartel, where you will be paid to do the opposite of what you punks have been doing.”
“What if we don’t want none of your jive ass shit, sucka’?” This from a ‘banger at the front, who stepped forward with accompanying hand gestures.
Jess aimed at his head. “Then you die right here and now.”
The dummy snorted. “What brother… you goin’ to kill us all?”
“I ain’t yo’ brother.” Jess moved in on the kid fast, and pistol whipped him to the pavement, with Dev covering him. “Yeah, then we kill you all. You first.”
“No!” The ‘banger held his head with one hand while holding up the stop sign with the other. “I…I’m done.”
A tall hulk of a kid stripped off his hoodie, and strutted to the front, his own butterfly knife whipping into position in his hand. “I cut yo’ lady, and we go! Let’s do it. C’mon skank! I cut yo’ fuckin’ heart out and eat it.”
Lynn stepped forward to meet him. “Are you Thomas? I don’t want to slice and dice the wrong cheap, big talking thug.”
“That’s him, Lynn,” Florence Brown called out from her stoop. “He put that boy in the seven/eleven in a coma. God knows what else he’s done.”
“Yeah… and I get yo’ ass later. I’m Thomas! I cut this bitch and then we walk, right?”
“That’s the deal, sissy-boy,” Lynn answered for Tommy. “Let’s you and I get to the cuttin’. I get bored easy.”
Jeron crouched with a smile while tossing his blade from hand to hand very adroitly. “I carve you a-”
In between his tosses, Lynn streaked forward, swiping across the wrist holding his knife. It clattered to the sidewalk as Jeron yelped and grabbed his wrist, blood pulsing out around his gripping hand. Lynn jutted forward again, slashing a downward shallow cut from Thomas’s ear to his chin. He cried out, forgetting about his wrist, and scrambling to pick up his knife. Lynn stepped back with that ball sack shrinking laugh of hers.
