Chapter Seventeen #6
“Not that I can find. I just don’t trust him. There’s too much technical training in his background to be comfortable around him.”
“You think the ASMC member is who supplied his little girl with the bad dope?”
“He thinks it was. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not.”
Cherry looked at the screen, watching Kastle do another of those python breaths to stretch the tape. “Lotta training in this guy.”
“Yeah, makes him a little terrifying. Maybe scarier than you are, Tom.”
“Fuck you, Riccardo. I’m plenty scary. You should fear.”
“Oh, I do. I’m just glad I’m on the phone with you and not Kastle.”
“Fair enough. Anything else you have on him?”
“Nope. John Kastle, FBI and Navy, dad to Sophea. Lives in Chicago, is not connected with the Rebels or anything up there. No idea how he came by the bike or vest.”
“I figure they’re both club-owned, probably lifted from storage somewhere.”
“That would make sense. So that’s all I got. Not a lot.”
“No it fucking isn’t, but it’s more than I had a handful of minutes ago.
You find out anything, ping me again, same pattern.
I plan on staying busy with our friend for a bit.
” He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket, still on silent.
“Okay, John,” he spoke to the face on the screen, “let’s see what you know. ”
Stepping back into the interrogation room was like walking into a memory.
Cherry had spent hours in the room throughout the years.
It smelled of burnt coffee and old sweat, and threatened to suck the air out of anyone who overstayed their welcome.
John Kastle sat in the metal chair, his broad frame dwarfing it.
His eyes flicked between Cherry and the door, back to Cherry, and once the door closed there they stayed.
He expected me to bring in backup. Interesting.
“Kastle, interesting to read about your past lives. John Kastle.” The man’s eyes widened for a moment, then he glanced at the bottle of caramel-colored water. “Yeah, you’re right, stage dressing.” He held out his hands, scarred and steady. “You’re more interesting than I thought.”
“Enforcer Cherry, you’ve got good resources.”
“Oh, hell yeah. Did you think just because we’re in the armpit of America we were backwards about security?
Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not the only smart guy in the room.
” Cherry grinned at the grimace Kastle couldn’t hide.
“I’d like to hear your side of things, Kastle.
You’re on IMC ground, wearing a stolen ASMC vest, riding a stolen ASMC bike, and carrying enough C4 to turn this compound into a crater. You don’t get to play dumb.”
Kastle’s lips twitched, not quite a smirk but close enough to make Cherry’s jaw clench.
“Dumb’s not my style, Enforcer. You’ve got questions, and I’ve got answers. Problem is, you won’t like any of them.”
“John Kastle. Ex-Navy, ex-FBI, ex-father. You’ve been chasing shadows since your daughter overdosed, and now you’re here, caught with explosives and a rival club’s colors.
You’re not just grieving, you’re a one-man wrecking crew.
If Apollo isn’t your contact, and isn’t paying your way, then who’s the bankroll behind the mask? ”
John’s face didn’t change, but Cherry saw his fingers flex, the tight tape binding his hands out to the sides.
“No bankroll, Enforcer. But mark this. Sophea’s name stays out of your mouth, no matter what you think you have to say.
” His voice was low and controlled, but there was an edge to it, like it would flay skin upon contact.
There was a sharp rap at the door and it opened, Salty coming in and handing a fat folder to Cherry. A single nod told him all was in hand. He turned and left, the flat metallic sound of the latch engaging ringing through the room.
Cherry didn’t flinch. He pulled a picture from the folder.
“C4, in M112 packages.” He tossed the image to the floor in front of Kastle.
A picture of the vest with the frayed thread followed.
“Stolen colors. You acting like a skunk ape of the swamp.” A blurry shot of Kastle skulking through the bayou, caught by a trail cam.
“I’ve got plenty more. And remember, this is where you brought all that boom, this club’s house.
My house. My club.” He shook his head. “Right now you look exactly like a threat to everything I value. I want to know why.”
“You know about my daughter. I assume you know about Beauden Smith. That’s all I came to Louisiana for.
I got him to tell me what happened. He carried responsibility of her death, and he owned up to everything I wanted to know.
C4 isn’t even connected to you. I picked that up for a different job, but I bailed on that one to get over here.
Soon as I knew his name, knew who he was, I bailed. ”
“Stolen vest? How about that and the bike?”
“Oh, the bike is mine. I switched plates yesterday out at the truck stop. I’ll put my Illinois plate back on before I leave for home.”
Cherry blew a short raspberry. “Well, about that. I’m going to have some bad news here in a bit. We’re still looking for detonators.”
“There aren’t any. You won’t find any on the bike.”
“Well, that’s what you say. We’re still gonna verify. I’m a don’t trust and always verify kinda guy.”
“What are they doing to Miss Maple?” Kastle glared at Cherry. “Tell me you aren’t doing anything foolish.”
“Man, you rode into my territory, set foot on my fucking compound, and you want to try and school me on what should and should not be done? You’re full of shit.
” His phone buzzed and he grinned. “Fucking excellent timing.” Cherry pulled his phone out and unlocked it, flipping to the message app the club used.
“Oh, damn.” Fairings, handlebars, seat, and saddlebags had all been removed from the body of the bike.
He knew the men would take significant care of the bike, but seeing it partially disassembled would be a gut punch to Kastle.
“Show me.” Kastle glared at Cherry.
“Nuh uh. You do not dictate any-fucking-thing. This here?” He flashed the screen at the man and pulled it away immediately.
“Is not a leverage point for you.” He pulled out a chair from the wall and settled down in front of Kastle.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea. Tell me again where you got that C4 from?
I think I’ve heard two different stories, and I want to get it right. ”
“And you’ll show me Miss Maple?” Cherry watched as Kastle appeared to deflate, shoulders dropping. “Okay.”
He laughed hard, throwing one hand out wide. “Jesus, can you be a little more theatrical? I think if I put in the effort on convincing you I was a drunkard you’d at least put some try into it.” Cherry struck a pose, elbow on his knee. “Oh, Horatio, I knew you well.”
“The line is ‘Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well’.” Kastle looked down at his chest, still duct taped to the chair. “I’m not a threat here, Cherry. You’ve got every upper hand. I mean, you even know shit I don’t tell anyone. Any chance of me getting a rest from the restraints sometime soon?”
Cherry laughed again. “Fuck no. I do not trust you as far as I could throw you. You’ve got a story for everything and a reason for none of it.
I get what you did to the ASMC asshole. That entire club is a stain on the bayou.
Trimming the fat won’t upset me none.” He leaned back in the chair.
“If your path never crossed mine I’d be cheering you on.
But you didn’t roll that way. You came directly into my territory, and I’m like a pissed-off pitty when I defend my stand. ”
“C4 was stolen from a Navy yard in state. I’m not sure where.
I really did snag it from a pickup point.
The detonators were at a different location, one I never got to.
I had word about the asshole who sold my little girl tainted drugs, and got her dead.
So I bailed on the other job, and now I’m here. Can I see the picture of Miss Maple?”
Cherry considered. Keeping Kastle in the dark about the bike didn’t further his goal of understanding why the man was here.
He stood and flicked to the first image, of the bike up on a rack with parts staged around her.
He showed the picture to Kastle and watched as anger rolled over his face and then was tucked away.
The longer he looked at the picture the less angry he seemed.
“Half those parts aren’t from Miss Maple. They’re treating her with respect, even as they strip her down.” Kastle shrugged. “I appreciate the care, man. She’s been a good bike.”
“They’ll be able to put her back together, if they get the word from me.” Cherry reclaimed his seat, legs sprawled out in front of him. “I’m still waiting for truth from you.”
“I don’t have any reason to harm anyone in an IMC vest. Or those protected by the IMC.
I heard a relative of mine might be here, was going to surprise him.
I vastly underestimated the security, and I’d honestly forgotten about the C4.
It doesn’t sweat, and as long as no form of detonator came in contact with it, I was safe as if it was a bag full of apples. ”
“Who? Give me a name.”
“Nathan Hadley. Nate.” Kastle shrugged one shoulder. “Cousin I haven’t seen in forever.”
“Nate Hadley is your cousin. You know I can run that line up the flagpole with a single shout. Is that your final answer?”
“Yeah, lock it in. Nate is in IMC.”