Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Johny B
T he burner phone I call from is basic, but crucial for me to be able to keep a secure line of contact with the YOMC. It only rings out twice before I hear Mammoth’s deep rumble of a voice filter down the line.
“How’s it going?” he enquires immediately. Cannon had agreed for the guys to stay up in Nevada while the covert operation was in play. Also, it left the chapter with a few extra men if or when shit went down.
“Is Smoke around?” I reply, wanting to make sure that the Prez is in ear shot.
“He’s right here. I’ll put you on speaker.”
“Talk,” Smoke barks, making me aware that he was listening. Ever the abrupt asshole.
“I’m in.” I inform them. “Not sure what it is that’s going on, but Mal wants extra bodies on the job, and by all accounts we’re meeting at an old warehouse out in Yerrington, which is where you thought they were holding up.”
“Do you think Dunne will be there?” Smoke’s voice is full of hope.
“I believe there’s a good chance, especially if something big is going down.”
“Watch your back, JB. Don’t take any unnecessary chances, and don’t forget to keep in touch. Okay?” Mamma Mammoth warns again, making me feel like a teenager about to go off to college, but all the signs are good.
Over the last four weeks I’ve gained Carl, Rory and Nolan’s trust, but more importantly, Mal’s. I’ve been working with them, mainly chauffeuring them around in a black ford pickup, staying in the car while they went about their business, but last week, things changed.
We’d pulled up outside a strip club on the east side of town, and while I was ready to wait for them out in the car, Mal had instructed me to follow them, but to stay at the back, and to watch their backs. I was buzzing. It was a major step closer to getting in with the DVI.
Mal was talking to what looked to be the manager of the joint when things got a little heated. Luckily for me, Carl, Rory and Nolan were too busy eyeing up the pussy. So, when Mal got all up in the guy’s face, and one of his heavy’s made a move towards Mal, I was ready.
Although the heavy was a good six inches taller and wider than me, I didn’t hesitate. The element of surprise is always a bonus, and gave me the upper hand. A swift and powerful kick just above the back of the knee instantly put him off balance, giving me the perfect opportunity to blast a powerful punch to the back of his head. He’d hit the floor like a sack of shit. With another firm kick to the side, he’d rolled onto his back. With my boot pressing firmly on his throat, his eyes bulged, and tears streamed from his eyes, like a chicken-assed pussy. I kept on the pressure until he was rendered unconscious. At that point, I’d asked Mal if he wanted me to finish him, but he shook his head. However, my actions were enough to prove to him that I wasn’t just trustworthy, I was lethal, too.
“I’m meeting up with Mal later tonight,” I offer up the limited information that I have to Mammoth and Smoke.
“How do you know that your cover hasn’t been blown, and you’re not walking into a trap? Mammoth voices his concern. As hard and scary as my brother looks, he’s got a softer side, and can be a bit of a worrier at times.
“Only time will tell,” I reply nonchalantly. “But I don’t think so. These guys aren’t clever or skilful enough to hide it if they had sussed me out. I can read them like an open book.”
“You sure you want to do this?” I’d expected that question to come from Mammoth, but it’s Smoke that’s offering me the chance to cut and run. “It’s not too late to pull out.”
I’m not sure if it’s out of concern for my welfare, that he’s giving me the option, or if it would give him the perfect excuse to keep me away from Scarlett, and send me packing back to Florida. Then again, if I am walking into a trap, Smoke will get his wish of me ending up dead.
“Like fuck I’m going to walk away after the time and effort I’ve put in over the past few weeks,” I huff. “I’m doing this.”
“Then be careful,” Mammoth sighs, reacting to my air of determination. “Report in as soon as it’s safe and don’t take any crazy assed risk trying to impress Dunne. It’s information we need, not heroics.”
“Noted.”
“We need you back in one piece.” Mammoth adds, to which I’m sure Smoke mumbles in the background ‘speak for yourself’. Guess he doesn’t care if I don’t come out of this at all.
“I better go. It’s a thirty-minute drive, and I don’t want to be late.” I offer up a quick goodbye before cutting the call.
I snatch my gun from the dresser and tuck in into the waistband of my jeans, flipping the bottom of my t-shirt to make sure it’s covered. Grabbing a light jacket and my keys, I head out to the car. The buzz of excitement soars through my veins, along with an equal level of apprehension in my gut.
Tonight could go two ways, but I’m hoping it’s not going to end with me face down in a shallow unmarked grave.
A car pulls up alongside mine in a deserted car lot, half a mile from the bar where we normally meet. When I glance over to check out the occupants, I see Rory and Nolan are sat up front, Nolan in the driver seat. The back looks to be empty.
Rory glances over and greets me with a blank expression, while his twin gets out of the car and beckons me over with his hand. I climb out of the car, closing and locking the door behind me.
“Get in,” Nolan gestures to the seat he’s just vacated. “You’re driving.”
I do as he asks while he gets in the seat directly behind me. He leans forward through the small gap between the headrests, which is unnerving, but when the nuzzle of a gun is pressed against my cheek, it takes all my resolve to keep my fears in check. Have they realized who I am? Is this it? The end of me. If it is, I ain’t going out with fear on my face.
“Shit, Nolan.” I turn sideways in my seat so I’m facing him, despite the gun now pointing square in my face. “What the actual fuck?” I keep my voice as calm as possible. “Get that fucking thing out of my face, asshole.”
“Aw shit,” Nolan drops the gun and sits back in his seat. He shoves his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” he grits out, handing it to his brother who is looking as smug as hell.
“Told you he wouldn’t freak out,” Rory laughs snatching the money, kissing it and stuffing it into the top pocket of his dark green cotton shirt.
“You two are fucking jerks,” I shake my head and snigger. “What if I thought you were being serious and tried to disarm you? Your stupid wager could have all gone to shit.” I rebuke them. “What if I’d have pulled this out?” Faster than they have a chance to blink, I pull out the black shiny Glock 17 from my waist band, and point it at Rory’s head. “And this fucker doesn’t have a safety catch.”
They both stiffen as they realize I could take out both of them before Nolan would have a chance to raise his hand towards me. I hold my position for a beat before I lower my weapon and tuck it back where it was. I’m hoping that it’s enough to calm the situation, and the crazy fucks chill the hell out, taking it as a sign that we’re all on the same side. So they think, anyway. For now.
I turn back in my seat and fire up the engine of the car, bringing my hands up onto the steering wheel. “So, where is it we’re going?”
It’s around forty-five minutes before we pull up outside a four-story building on the outskirts of Yerrington. We all pile out of the car, and I follow the twins as they walk past the boarded up front of the building, turning down the side toward what looks to have been an emergency side exit, that sits underneath old fire escape steps, that are a hazard in themselves.
Nolan raps his knuckles against the door. A square window at eye level, that I hadn’t realized was there, slides open so that the person at the other side can see who’s here.
“What the password,” the guy asks with all seriousness.
“Feck-off, Col,” Rory shouts over Nolans shoulder. “Let us in, ya eejit.” The trapdoor shuts, the sound of metal on metal follows, which can only be the bolts being released before the door swings outwards.
“You know you’re meant to give the password,” the five-foot nothing dude that stands in the entrance gripes out. He might be lacking in stature, but the scar that curls up from each side of his mouth tells me that he’s no doubt seen his fair share of trouble. He has an air of ‘give no fucks’ about him, which no doubt means he’s dangerous. “Who the hell is this?” he barks when he catches sight of me behind Rory.
“Chill your shit, Col. This is Jackson, and do you really think I’d be stupid enough to bring someone here without Paddy’s approval?”
“Nobody told me.” He huffs under his breath as he steps outside, holding the door fully open to let us in. All the while, his eyes are surveying the surrounding area, before he finally closes the door behind us.
“Where is the boss, anyway?” Nolan asks, as we stand in what appears to be the stairwell to the building. A set of dirty stone steps lead up to the levels above, metal handrails with peeling paint hang loose, where the bolts are starting to come away from the concrete wall. The whole area is windowless, the only light comes from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting shadows against the dirty gray walls. I’m still unsure what this place is, or used to be, because it’s obviously been left to rot for quite some time.
“In his office, but he’s in a shitty mood,” Col warns him.
“What’s got him all pissed?” Rory and Nolan ask at the same time.
“He’s restless. Waiting until the dust settles so we can…” Col stops suddenly, his brow creasing, eyes spearing me, remembering that I’m in clear earshot and he could quite possibly be talking too much. “Best speak to him yourself.”
“Maybe later,” Rory sniggers. “Chances are he’s online gambling, so hopefully he’ll win a few dollars and be in a better mood by then. Come on Jackson, let me show you around, introduce you to some of the guys.”
I follow the twins through another door and the space opens up dramatically. The fluorescent fixed lighting that’s set into the ceiling is bright, and a strain on the eyes after being in the darkened stairwell, and it takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. But when they do, I can see that this was once a productive manufacturing company. The huge machines, that I’ve no idea what they produced, take up most of the floor space. Long conveyor belts, connecting one contraption to another. Two round vats the size of the hot tubs seem to be where the process starts, but still doesn’t give me a definitive answer. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust. Even the floor, except for a clear used track that leads further down the side of the factory floor and towards another door at the end.
My curiosity would normally get the better of me, and have me asking questions about this place, but that’s not why I’m here, so I keep my trap shut.
“It’s an old candy factory,” Rory pipes up as if reading my mind. “Closed down about ten years ago, after they got called out for using an unregulated chemical in the process that was toxic. The legal case bankrupts them and the place got left to rot. We moved in here a few months ago. No one’s got a clue that we’re here.”
I nod my understanding, but snigger inside knowing that the YOMC know that the DVI are holding out here, and Ghost has had eyes on the place for quite some time. As yet, he hasn’t had the opportunity to penetrate the building.
My being here now, gives me that much-needed chance to see this place from the inside, giving me the capability to feedback detailed information on the interior layout of the building. Which I’ll do as soon as I get back to the motel.
Nolan, who gets to the door first, pushes it open, and it brings us to another room that must have been the worker’s area.
The room is narrow, one end consisting of a kitchen area with a sink set into yellowing counter tops that have clearly been cleaned up, and now hold the usual tea and coffee making paraphernalia. Two coolers sit under the counter containing various beers and soft drinks. There’s a trash can in the corner overflowing with empty bottles.
I eye the room. Four guys are sitting around one of the round tables playing cards, but instead of laying bets with dollar bills, they’re using bottle tops.
As we get nearer to the players, Nolan comes to a stop, while Rory keeps on walking, making a beeline for the coolers.
“Anyone need a beer,” he shouts out to everyone, which is met with a collection of positive grunts and hand waves. Not one of them taking their attention off the game.
“Assholes,” Nolan calls them out to get their attention. “This is Jackson, He’ll be joining us.” All eyes come to me. Guess I’m more interesting than the cards their hands are holding,
“Hey!” I simply offer in return.
“You’ve got, Dean, Brian, Oli and the skinny one at the far side, that’s Fox,” Nolan points out each one of them. They all look similar. Short, cropped, dirty brown hair, and green eyes. Even though they’re all seated, they look to have good height and stature. Except for Fox, that is. He’s slight, narrow shoulders, and it’s difficult to judge his height because he’s hunched over the table, as if his backbone is made of flexible rubber. Again, as if reading my mind, Rory comments while placing a handful of bottles on the table, “Don’t let that fucker fool you,” he nods toward Fox. “He’s a wily fucker. He’d sneak up on you, rip out your liver, sauté it with a handful of shiitake mushrooms and a nice merlot before feasting on it.”
“Thanks for the heads up.” I take the bottle that Rory holds out to me.
“Do you play Poker, Jackson?” Nolan pulls out one of the free chairs, offering for me to join the group.
“Cards has never been my thing,” I lie. I’m quite an accomplished player, but having them think otherwise can only work in my favor.
“Well, you better learn because it’s a requirement,” he jokes.
“Really?” I raise a brow at Nolan in question.
“No,” Fox says, his voice a higher pitch than you’d expect for someone who exudes an air of menace. It’s one pitch off being squeaky. “But there’s a lot of hanging around in this game with not much else to do, so it fills the void while we wait for our next job.”
“Okay, that makes sense.” I slide into the seat offered, bringing my elbows onto the tabletop, my hands up and fisted, I bring them together and rest my chin on them. “So, whose gonna teach me how to play?”
I was really hoping to get eyes on Dunne tonight, but realistically, I’d be stupid to think that it was going to be that easy. I need to find my place here. Become part of this group. That means spending time getting to know these assholes. Letting them think that they have the upper hand, for a while anyway, is an effective way to build their trust in me. Enough that they will open up to me, and hopefully let me in on what the hell actually goes on here.
When it comes to the game, I’ll let them think I’m as green as a one-dollar bill. And if it consists of them taking the piss out of me, I’ll take it. It’s a means to an end. To get close to Dunne, and find out what he has in store for the YOMC. This sure as fuck ain’t going to be easy, but I’m up for the challenge, and one I’m determined to conquer.
I simply need to bide my time, play the game, and then do what’s needed to bring these fuckers down.
Brian, who’s sat next to me, is the one who takes the time to explain the game, all while they still play on, giving me a view of his hand. Because I know the game, it gives me the opportunity to watch the other players, reading them and identifying the telltale signs of when they are bluffing or not.
Fox is the one who’s the hardest to read, but the way his left eye opens a smidgen more when he’s holding a strong hand, is something I pick up on, despite it being undetectable by most. I do, however, take my time in asking questions at legitimate times to reinforce my lie at being clueless at Poker or any card game come to that. Sure, they snigger, and I even become the butt of their jokes but it’s all in good humor, and expected.
About half an hour in, they agree to deal me in. After a handful of rookie mistakes, again to make it look more believable, I win a lucrative game. Well, it would have been if we were betting with dollars rather than bottle caps.
“Are you sure you’ve not played this before,” Nolan laughs from where he’s leaning back against the countertop watching the game, when I win another hand.
“Maybe he’s a hustle,” Rory implies.
“Nah,” Fox chips in. “Beginners luck, that’s all.”
We carry on playing for an hour or so, and I’m trying my best not to show my disinterest in it all. All I really want to do is get to meet Dunne. The fact that he’s in close proximity is as frustrating as hell.