Chapter 6: Somebody's Gonna Hurt Somone

This is fiction. Any resemblance between the content of this story or any of the characters depicted herein and real persons or events is highly unlikely and purely coincidental.

The information about what was happening in Dallas surprised Philip. The people responsible on paper for what happened to Marsha's brother were being eliminated. Philip instructed the AI to insert the record of an anonymous letter sent to the attorney's private residence. An unsent email from the dead attorney was created; it stated that a threat was made against himself, retired officer Brent Henrique, and currently serving officers Samantha Cummings and Frank Macy.

The unsent email was time-stamped to show it was created three minutes after the attorney had logged into his account. The secretary discovered it twenty-three minutes after the ambulance left. The warning could possibly save only Cummings and Macy. Brent Henrique had been found electrocuted in his workshop by a neighbor seven minutes earlier.

"The concubine Marcia Reynolds wants you informed of the following," the AI announced to both Philip and Nicholas. "Paul Benton, the bailiff for Judge Parker, hung himself sometime last night. His body was discovered in a restroom in Trinity Park. The court reporter of record for the commitment proceedings, Maria Gomez, has been reported missing by her husband."

Nicholas puffed air into his cheeks and then exhaled loudly. "We're running out of people who know about or were at that hearing."

"That gives us what, one missing and two people still alive?" Philip leaned forward until his forehead touched the table.

That is when the AI chimed in again. "According to court documents, Maria Gomez, the one you referred to as missing, is the only person who attended the commitment hearing that is not confirmed deceased."

Philip sat up and looked at Nicholas, "Reverend Powers was not at this hearing?"

"Records indicate that he was addressing a Southern Christian Leadership Conference subcommittee in Atlanta, Georgia."

Nicholas shattered the pencil he held in his hand. "He shipped his boy off with no support or advocacy."

"It seems killing Michael," Philip almost whispered, "is not as important as covering his ass."

"Deacon Macy," the instrument of God's own ordained called to capture Frank Macy's attention. "I've been sent by the reverend, he has a message for you."

Frank's cell phone started ringing. The Bad Boys ringtone let him know it was the sheriff department calling. Since he was off duty, he ignored it. Frank couldn't believe it. Jake Tarkington was standing in front of him. Ten years ago, Jake had been a biker with a violent reputation. For some reason he had attended a revival at the Temple of Trinity. By the end of that night, Jake was saved, claiming that Reverend Powers had changed his purpose on Earth. There were rumors the ex-biker had moved to Georgia, and was working at a motorcycle dealership. Frank walked up with his hand extended. Jake grabbed it, and pulled Frank into a man hug.

"You have been counted among the unrighteous," Jake whispered into Frank's ear, as he inserted the needle deep into the deputy's back. Frank tried to reach up and remove the burning sting. Jake turned his hip into Frank, removing vulnerable targets. The bear hug shifted up, keeping Frank from being able to reach any of his concealed weapons.

Frank could only thrash. His struggles weakened with each heart beat as the neurotoxin spread. Frank's breathing became shallow. Muscles went limp. Jake took the dying man back to Frank's car. Opening the back door, he placed Frank gently on the bench seat. "I only do as God's servant commands." Frank's eyes stopped moving.

Jake eased back to the minivan that he drove to meet Frank. The grocery bags still covered the woman who lay dead behind the middle seat. He drove back to Gateway Park, then walked about a mile to East First Street. There he boarded the bus for his trip across town to the motel. With any luck, he could make Shreveport in about four hours.

Once back in his room, he sent a text to Billy. "His will is done." He didn't wait for a reply. Jake walked out to his Harley. On the way, he removed the battery and the SIMM card from the phone. In one of his saddlebags were three tools he needed. He used the industrial scissors to cut the SIM card into slivers. A leather bag and small ball-peen hammer helped to reduce the phone to plastic, fiberglass, and shiny bits of metal.

His first stop was the Batteries Plus store. He put the cell phone battery into the recycling box. It was the environmentally right thing to do. Forty minutes down the road, he stopped at a KFC for a meal and emptied phone bits into a trash bin. By midnight the following night, he would be back in Tifton in his own bed.

Bubba stopped inches before the back of the van touched the loading dock. Getting out, he grabbed his clipboard and walked over to the stairs. Lieutenant Percy followed at a discreet distance, carrying her own clipboard. For their cover, she was a supervisor for the bakery and Bubba was making his first observed deliveries. The platform had enough room to maneuver goods delivered on a pallet. The steps on the left side of the loading dock terminated at a door with a camera above it. Bubba walked up to a secure door. He pressed the buzzer on the wall next to a speaker grill.

"Can I help you?" A man's voice came from the box next to the buzzer.

"Wonder Bread delivery," Bubba replied into the box.

There was silence. Then the box spoke. "Who is that with you?"

"She is my immediate supervisor." Bubba looked back at Percy. She ticked an item on her clipboard. I'm on a biannual company mandated safety training run today."

There was another pause. The door buzzed, signaling for Bubba to enter. Opening the door, he let the lieutenant enter first. Maintaining her cover, Percy checked another imaginary box on the papers she looked at. The balding security guard met them. His left hand held the phone to his ear. He nodded and spoke softly. He had the strap over his pistol dangling free. A half dozen insect sized observation drones entered at ankle level and began spreading out into the building.

The guard was looking at a paper taped to the wall. "Your delivery is supposed to be tomorrow." The balding security guard eyed both of them. He looked across the open storage area at the pantry entrance, which lead to the kitchen. Waves of nervous energy fell from his body. His ID tag revealed his last name was Schwab.

<Have the perimeter drones suppress all communications, now, > Lieutenant Percy ordered sub-vocally.

He spoke into the phone. "Rollo, have you got through to Wonder Bread yet?" The guard moved back a step nearer the desk. He punched three numbers. Schwab then keyed his mic. "Rollo, is your radio on?" He waited for a reply. There was a short pause. Bubba took two steps to his right. Percy eased to her left.

Clem and Russell walked up the steps to the main entrance. Russell carried a suitcase, he was dressed in a navy blue tailored suit, and Clem wore charcoal. The tinted windows of the Suburban hid Jimbo and Lynn, the remainder of his team. Opening the door, he walked directly to the security window.

A wall and a security checkpoint subdivided the room. The checkpoint consisted of two levels, a bulletproof window mounted over a four-foot high half-counter. There was a pass-through trough under a circular set of drilled holes to speak through. It resembled a teller window on steroids.

"Can I help you sir?" The guard inside the window asked Clem. The phone on his desk rang.

Russell set the suitcase on the counter. Another six observation drones were released inside the building. They used the counter top overhang as cover to hover under and disperse. Clem cleared his throat.

The guard answered the ringing phone. "Rollo," he nodded his head listening to the other party. "We never take deliveries on Thursday." He nodded and shook his head nonverbally, responding to the words in his ear. "All the food is cold served today and tomorrow. There's nobody in the kitchen. Bruce, Bruce ... Phone's dead." He keyed his mic, "Bruce, Bruce..." He reached down, clicking the radio on and off. "I think my radio is dead too. I'll start checking in with everyone."

The guard Rollo reached for the mic attached to the base radio. He turned to Clem, smiling apologetically. "Our radios seem to be dead. You need to give me a few-"

The sliding bolt on the AK-74 carbine did what Clem wanted it to. He had Rollo's undivided attention. With the folding stock removed, the gun reflected its design. The main purpose of this AKS variant was killing humans. "I'm going to use small words." Clem had ratcheted his Alabama accent up to pure 'good-ole-boy'. "We need to avoid any failures and communicate." Clem smiled, he pointed at the door control. "Push the button, let us in."

Rollo reached toward the buzzer. Then he crumpled to the floor, screaming. "Code Red! Code Red! Main lobby!" His target was no longer visible. Clem had fucked up. Percy was going to be pissed, she might take it out on his 'meat and veggies'.

From Bubba's briefing, Clem knew the security desk consisted of one-inch bulletproof laminated plate. It would take some concentrated fire from an RL-10 to melt through the two-inch bulletproof glass. The sound of sliding metal below the counter top caught his attention. Gun ports, Bubba did not have these in his briefing. Clem pushed Russell away. The bark of Rollo's pistol was heard three times, in quick succession.

Jimbo and Lynn entered the front door. The pistol barked again. Jimbo was knocked back through the door. Russell rolled against the bottom of the security desk. He jammed the barrel of his carbine into the gun port.

"Shit!" Rollo yelled as he could be heard smashing against the chairs.

Lynn rushed to the desk. Through the pass-through slot, she flipped in a stun grenade. "Fire in the hole!" Lynn warned her squad members. Russell removed his barrel from the gun port, rolling away. Clem made sure he no longer touched the security desk. There was a heavy crackling sound.

The AI reported a drone's observation. <The security guard is incapacitated.>

Jimbo walked through the door rubbing his chest. "That stings worse than it does with a standard vest." He held a bullet in his left hand. "That bastard," he pointed at the security desk, "is using Black Talon hollow points." He walked toward Lynn. "Sergeant, can I kill him?"

"Not at the moment." Clem walked over to Jimbo. He checked the torn dark blue coveralls. "And you are the one who didn't want to wear the Kusari Body Armor. Remember chicks dig scars, but they love to soothe bruises."

"With my luck, the skin suit will kick the nanites into clearing out the bruise," Jimbo lamented. "I'll just have memories of the sting to keep me warm."

Clem looked back at Russell. "Open the door please."

Russell reached into the suitcase. He pulled out a six-inch long, three-quarter inch wide strip of yellow tape. He attached it next to the locking mechanism on the steel door.

"Opening the security door with tape in thirty seconds." Russell repeated the warning sub-vocally. He walked over to where the security desk joined the wall. The rest of the team stood in places that shielded them from the door, but allowed them to cover the area.

The HEXOTAPE did not go boom. There was a flash, but it sounded more like a heavy gust of air from a punctured car tire or a big bottle rocket at takeoff. The chemical smell was mostly burnt paint and molten plastic. Jimbo used a gloved hand to grab the open door eight inches above the damaged area. He held it open. Lynn entered where the security guard Rollo lay. She hogtied Rollo with interlocking zip ties. "With his hands and his feet trussed up like that behind his back, I wish I had an apple to shove into his mouth."

Just before lunchtime, Billy shared the text with Reverend Powers.

"It was a hard thing to do, my son." Reverend Powers walked over to Billy. He placed his right hand on Billy's shoulder. "Could I read the prognosis for Michael myself, after lunch?"

"Of course, Sir."

"Order a lunch for us. Be sure to have them include a pot of that caramel coffee we had at breakfast." Reverend Powers turned, taking a few steps toward his bedroom, "What time am I scheduled to speak with the mayoral committee again?"

Billy pulled up the schedule on a smart phone. "At 4:30, one hour before the start of the buffet."

The instructions Anne Birch received from Che Ryan's web reference seemed a bit cryptic. At 11:30, she was to enter any testing center. Show her CAP card to the person at the counter. Then someone would escort her back for an interview.

Anne boldly walked into the testing center at Union Station. She pulled her card out of her pocket and walked to the counter. "I'm Anne Birch, I have an appointment."

The door leading to the testing suites opened. A black woman wearing three chevrons marking her as a sergeant stepped through. "If you'll come with me please, ma'am." The sergeant did not turn until Anne stepped toward her. "If you'll follow me to the back room, we can get you started."

"Do you know who I'm supposed to interview?"

"No ma'am." She continued leading Anne down the hall. Once they entered the back room, the sergeant stopped. She turned and quickly glanced at Anne as a whole person. "Good, no heels." The center of the throw rug glowed green. "Hold up an arm, someone will be there to steady you on the other end."

"Oh my." Anne held up her right arm, closed her eyes and stepped forward.

A hand took hers, it helped with her sense of disorientation. "Greetings, Ms. Birch." She knew that voice. Opening her eyes, she saw Colonel Reynolds.

"Are you my victim?" she asked.

Colonel Reynolds led her to a sitting area in what looked like a Victorian office. "Please sit," he gestured at the furniture, "would you like something to drink?"

Anne sat down in the middle chair. "Thank you, but not right now." The colonel took the chair on her right. "Why me?"

"You have a track record for exposing corruption, charlatans, and other miscreants." He picked up a folder and handed it to her. "This is what we found about a Dr. Arlington."

At the back entrance, Schwab, the bald headed guard, calmly drew his gun and aimed it at Bubba. "What I need you to do, boy, is to take a step back toward the door." Bubba took a step backwards, raising both hands. He continued to back slowly toward the door. "That's a good boy, you do what you are told."

Percy stared at the gun. She opened her mouth in astonishment. The guard glanced at her. She could only stare at the gun. He flashed a look of dismissal towards her. "Don't move, honey. The boy here is going to back out the door, first." Schwab turned his attention back to Bubba. He stayed about two feet from Percy. "Honey, you and I will talk once the boy is outside."

Bubba banged into the door, forcefully drawing Schwab's attention to him. It was a distraction Priscilla Percy, the former SAS specialist, needed. Percy used the edge of her clipboard to strike at Schwab's hand, which held the gun. The translucent green writing surface of the clipboard shattered against the metal of the guard's pistol. The same force first pulverized the bones of the fingers holding the grip. Her left foot connected with Schwab's right upper arm. He bodily flew into the wall. He crumpled to the floor, unmoving.

Percy had her 9mm trained at Schwab. "Bubba, bring everyone else inside."

"Yes, Ma'am." Bubba opened the door. He strode halfway to the back of the van. He sub-vocally announced that the rear entrance had been secured.

Percy walked over to the crumpled guard. "I'll have you know," in her disgust, she had slipped a little deeper into her aristocratic British accent, "I command highly trained men." She pulled two sets of zip ties that were interconnected from her coat pocket. "Trying to elicit a response from a black man by calling him 'boy' is racist." She put his hands and feet together behind Schwab's back. "Fortunately for you, I am in a hurry or I would take the time to instruct you on the finer points of manhood."

She looked up to find Bubba and the other four team members smiling at her. "Move or become a second object lesson of the day." Her squad members charged to the next door. Bubba lingered.

"All those lectures about being careful," Bubba held out his hand, "and you attack a man with a gun using clipboard."

"I keep telling you to be observant." She pointed at Schwab's twisted and bruised fingers. "His fingers were all outside the trigger guard." She picked up the pistol and turned the weapon for Bubba to look closely. Percy pulled the trigger. "He still had the safety on." She dropped the pistol into the wastebasket.

The reverend poured the caramel coffee and offered Billy a cup. It wasn't as good as what was served during the breakfast buffet. There was a slightly bitter aftertaste. Looking up, he could see Reverend Powers also puckered his lips a bit. "Alas, I think we have proof of a shift change in the kitchen." He smiled. "We need the caffeine." With that, he downed the rest of the cup. "I never thought I'd miss the taste of McDonald's coffee. Let me experiment with a little different creamer."

Billy found himself yawning. He had to blink to stop his eyes from closing. The reverend stepped over and checked his forehead. "I guess I'm tired."

The reverend made a suggestion. "Perhaps a good soak in the tub will relax you." He was always looking out for Billy when he overdid it.

Staggering, Billy wandered into his bedroom. Mechanically, he started the water in the tub. The reverend was right, the water felt good.

"Here, have another coffee." Reverend Powers gave him a cup.

Taking the cup, Billy drank it. Why was his mentor in his bathroom? A snapping sound derailed that train of thought. The surgical gloves the reverend wore looked strange, "Why the gloves?"

"I would hate to make a mess and cause the hotel staff problems."

The reply was typical of the reverend. He always tried to make life easier on those who worked in service jobs. It tended to help him garner favors.

Billy looked at his mentor again. "I would like to nap."

"Go right ahead, the soak will do you good."

He could hear the reverend rinsing his own cup in the sink. Billy's cup sat on the edge of the tub. "What about my cup?"

"You might want some more coffee. I will wash it later."

Billy smiled. The reverend was very thoughtful. Yawning, he rested his head back onto the tile backsplash and nodded off.

The reverend stepped out of the bathroom. Using his gloved fingers, he started an email on Billy's smart phone. He did not hit send. He reentered the bathroom carrying the smart phone as Billy sank into the water. When the bubbles in the tub stopped, the reverend placed the smart phone next to the cup on the edge of the tub. He dribbled a little water onto the screen.

Before the reverend exited the room, he dumped the contents of another five of sister Elvin's pills into the empty cup. He filled that cup with the caramel coffee. The empty capsules he dropped on the floor. The ten remaining in the bottle he placed on the serving tray. The bottle he filled with water and let it float in the tub. He thought of a ghostly voice from a ride at Disneyland, "Dead men tell no tales."

He closed the doors to Billy's bathroom and bedroom behind him. Pulling off the gloves, he placed them in his pockets. Once the reverend exited the building, he dropped the gloves into a handy garbage bin. Checking his watch, he realized he had an hour to waste. He entered a quaint little barbershop. The reverend still had a meeting with that conservative group of mayors from New Jersey headed by someone named Win. He wanted to look his best.

Russell carried the suitcase through the blown door. "Sergeant," Lynn called Clem, "we have three other guards on duty. Two are on the upper level, the other one is in the kitchen."

"Jimbo, stay here and monitor the front entrance." Clem pointed at the coaxial cables that ran up the wall from the bank of monitors to the ceiling. "Before you leave, remember we need the DVDs of today's exercise." Jimbo nodded, then took a seat at the security desk.

"Jimbo, take the swipe card from the lanyard around the guard's neck." Clem pointed at the guard on the floor. Jimbo snatched the lanyard, pulling it taut. With his free hand, he grabbed a small knife from his belt. He sliced the lanyard cleanly, handing the card to Clem. "Thank you." The three advanced to the next door.

With Jimbo able to monitor the security cameras, the drones began moving to the second level, as seventy percent of the ground floor was under his watchful eye. <Ma'am, > Jimbo called, <the guard in the kitchen has moved to a position where I can no longer see him on the monitor. The area he moved to would allow him an unrestricted view of all three entrances into the kitchen.>

One of the Marines, Claudia, was peeking through the window of the door emblazoned with the word 'IN'. <I can see the reflection of his uniform on the refrigerator to my left. The refrigerator has a curved surface. Exactly how far to the left he is, I cannot estimate.>

Percy pointed out a custodial cart. It had two forty-eight inch dust brooms. She pointed at Bubba.

The custodial cart was relatively new and therefore quiet. Bubba pushed it through the 'IN' door. The two four-foot-wide dust brooms shielded his face and most of his body from the side of the room where the guard was hiding. He didn't stop. He didn't turn toward the guard. Bubba entered the cafeteria. Once in the cafeteria, he shoved the cart into a table, making considerable noise.

"Hey, are you okay?" The guard partially entered the cafeteria. He was holding a pudding cup and a spoon. Bubba turned and smiled at the guard. "Who are you?"

The answer came from behind him. "Someone who doesn't wish to forcefully separate your gonads from your body," Percy had one hand on the scruff of the guard's neck. She guided him the rest of the way through the door into the cafeteria with her pistol riding low in his butt crack. The remaining team members followed her and her prey.