Chapter 21

The trio of agents spend the rest it the day going from one dive to another. Each place the visit seems to take them in the opposite direction than they want to go. Either the lowlife scum they speak to are incredibly loyal or they fear a long, rigorous torture and then death more than they do a short prison term and quick death. Their luck changes when they reach their latest stop.

“What kind of dump is this” Geoffrey asks as they pull into the parking lot.

“The kind that might get us some answers,” Spencer says, climbing out of the car.

Sam and the junior agent follow him in. She leans in just as they pass from daylight outside, to near darkness inside. “It’s a gay lounge,” she whispers.
Geoffrey instantly stops. He is not one for gay rights or anything else gay related. He won’t even watch porn or read erotica if they s a guy involved in any way sexually. It is just one more check mark on the list of America’s demoralization to him. Looking around the place, he sees men and woman in various states of dress, from the fully clothed to the complete naked. And that’s not all. There are a couple of women, one sitting on the bar, the other between her legs. There is something he can get into, but the set of men standing next to them, he can’t. One is bent over the stool, the other hammering steadily into his ass.

“I take it from the look on your face that you don’t approve,” Sam says, suppressing a smile.

“Let’s just say that I rather keep a look out than stay in here, watching this filth,” the young agent says.

“That’s fine,” she says with a shrug. “We shouldn’t be too long.” She walks ahead, leaving Geoffrey at the door. It isn’t hard for her to find Spencer among the crowd. He has someone pressed against the wall by the collar of his shirt.

“Whoa now, mister,” the man shrieks, flailing his arms around. “I told you that I don’t know his name.”

Before Spencer can get more out of the man, another coming from the restroom yells, “Hey! Who the fuck do you think you are? Get your hands off my...”

Samantha intercedes, pulling out a badge. TDF,” she says sternly. “Just sit the fuck down and relax.”

“Lady, you got some nerve flashing that thing around here,” the burly man threatens. He is well over six feet tall and on the muscular side of two hundred and fifty pounds. He is clearly a man that gives the orders.

“Nerves have nothing to do with it,” Sam snaps back. “Now sit the fuck down or I’ll help you find your ass.”

The man grunts and reaches for her. He never has a chance. The moment he reaches out, Sam in on the move grabbing his hand and twisting it into a wrist lock. She carries the momentum up and around his back, quickly dropping him to his knees.

“Now that’s not so hard, is it?” she asks, mocking him.

The bar instantly goes silent.

Spencer remains emotionless, not even betraying the smirk that wants to come out over his face. “Now, let me ask you again. Give. Me. A. Name.”

The man pressed against the wall is cared shitless. So scared he pisses himself, causing a puddle to start forming around Spencer’s boots. “No-nobody knows his name, man,” the guy stutters. “He-he goes by the name Crosshairs.”

The agent releases his grip when a pool cue slams into his back. This is when the fight breaks out. After a few minutes and several pieces of furniture, the fight dies out. Patrons are either knocked out or slowly picking themselves up off the floor. Geoffrey comes bursting in, a little late, gun drawn. “Agent Reed, Agent Roberts” he shouts. “Everything alright?”

“Just a little conversation,” Spencer says. “Put that away.”

Sam smiles. “They just needed a reminder of who’s in charge.” She gestures at the junior agent. “Go on, put that away.”

Spencer looks down at the man he was holding against the wall. He has crawled beneath the pool table when the fight broke out, now he sits huddled and shaking. “Thanks for the information,” he says. “Maybe next time be a little more cooperative.”

“What did you learn?” Geoffrey asks once they are back outside.

“Not much, but we got a name,” Spencer says happily. “Crosshairs.”

“That’s funny,” Geoffrey says. “Sounds like some eighties character.”