Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (16 page)

CAL
:
Well?

NEIL
: Hold
on a sec. Let me finish my notes really quick.

To kill time, Cal walked around the bar and
pulled a beer out of the fridge. He motioned to the other two with
the beer and both nodded. He pulled two more bottles out of the
fridge, expertly popped off the tops on the side of the bar, and
brought them around to Andy and Brian.

Andy waited patiently with a look of quiet
amusement as Neil wrapped up his note-taking. Brian walked to the
large bay window and took in the beautiful day. Cal tried to look
over Neil’s shoulder just for a glimpse of what he was doing, but
Neil shooed him away.

Finally Neil finished and swiveled his bar
stool around to face the others.

NEIL
: OK.
I’ve got bad news and good news.

CAL
(impatiently): Would you just tell us what you found out
dammit?

NEIL
:
Patience is a virtue, my boy. Anyway, the good news first. Your
girl Irene has not been tipping off Dante West or any of his
crew.

CAL
: And
the bad news?

NEIL
: She’s
been doing spy work for that reporter, Bellinger.

CAL
: What?
So why the hell was she rooting around in my condo?

NEIL
: Looks
like little innocent Irene is a little short on cash and this guy
Bellinger loves good contacts within the ranks of hotel and condo
concierge. They’ve usually got the most access, so he targets them
pretty heavily.

CAL
: You
didn’t answer my question. What was she looking for?

NEIL
: Any
little tidbits he could use to write a story. Your Navy Cross
citation to start. He wanted her to see if you were maybe a druggy,
closet gay or something like that. Anything to make his story
juicier.

CAL
: I’d
love to pay that guy a little visit.

ANDY
(shaking his head): You know you can’t do that, Cal. It’d just
make things worse. Besides, you said that from the surveillance
video you watched, she couldn’t find anything.

CAL
: It
still pisses me off.

NEIL
: I
know, but listen to this. So it looks like this Bellinger guy is
desperate for intel. By the tone of his voice over the phone, it’s
pretty obvious he’s grasping at straws. Who knows, maybe he’ll give
up soon.

CAL
: I
doubt it. He’ll keep digging until he finds something. I’ll just
have to be careful about being seen in public doing something
stupid.

Brian couldn’t resist.

BRIAN
: When
you say stupid, do you mean like hunting down a fugitive and
leaving him hog-tied for the cops?

CAL
: Yeah.
I guess we just need to make sure we don’t get caught.

BRIAN
: You
can say that again.

It was obvious Brian still wasn’t convinced
the operation could be pulled off without the authorities or this
reporter finding out. He took a pull from his beer.

Cal could see the apparent discomfort on
Brian’s face.

CAL
: Have a
little faith, doc. You haven’t seen any of us in action yet. I
think you may be pleasantly surprised.

That’s what I’m afraid
of…actually enjoying this shit.
Brian
thought quietly.

+ + +

The team of four spent the next couple hours
running through Irene’s cell phone logs and recent text, email, and
phone conversations. Other than the dialogue with the reporter, she
seemed like any other twenty-something working girl.

Cal yawned as he looked at his watch.

CAL
:
Alright guys, why don’t we break until tomorrow morning? By then,
Top should be back and we may have a little more insight into the
location of our beloved bad guy.

ANDY
:
Sounds good to me. I’m beat.

Andy stretched and headed for the door.

ANDY
: I’ll
see you ladies in the morning. Anyone wanna join me for a little
motivating PT run at the crack of dawn?

Brian perked up at the mention of physical
activity.

BRIAN
: I’ll
go with you.

CAL
: I
don’t think you know what you’re getting into, doc. Good ol’ Andy
is a marathon runner. I remember how he used to take our whole
platoon on these God-awful runs. You look at the man and he doesn’t
look like a runner, but I’ve never seen anyone beat him in
distances over five miles.

BRIAN
: I
think I’ll take my chances. I could use a solid ass-kicking after
eating all this good food you guys have around here.

ANDY
(innocently): Don’t worry, doc, I’ll TRY to be nice. I’ll come
get you in the morning.

The rest of the team packed
up and headed to their respective rooms. Cal took a minute to gaze
out the window and imagine what the next day would hold.
We’ve gotta find that guy, dammit.
And with that, Cal walked to the master bedroom
and fell into a fitful sleep.

+ + +

MSgt Willy Trent was no stranger to the dark
streets. Growing up in Atlanta, he’d quickly found that his
premature growth spurt elicited a certain amount of respect among
the neighborhood kids. Even the teenagers five years older than
young Willy often deferred to his ever-growing stature.

He’d found a love for weight lifting and
sports at a young age. His size was an obvious advantage on the
football field the basketball court. Unlike a lot of kids that grow
quickly and have a hard time dealing with the awkwardness of clumsy
long limbs, young Willy seemed gifted with natural balance and
athleticism.

His size and talent quickly led him to lord
over most of the young toughs in the neighborhood. Typical of
adolescent mischief, fights were common. Nothing too violent, just
a couple of boys punching each other, one usually walking away with
nothing more than a bloody nose or soon-to-be black eye.

Because of his size and quickness, Willy
never lost a fight before the age of fifteen. Up until then, he
could do no wrong. The only thing he didn’t succeed in (and it
wasn’t because he couldn’t) was school work. His mind was just
focused on playing sports and running his neighborhood crew. Later
in life, his mental ability would be tested and Willy wasn’t too
surprised to find out that his IQ was in the ninety-fifth
percentile. It was this ability that made him a natural leader and
crafty athlete. Brains plus brawn were a mighty combination.

At the time, Willy made it a habit to sneak
out at night (and infuriate his poor mother to no end) to hang out
with his friends. They’d never do any real damage, just roam the
streets hooting and hollering like kids do.

It was on one of these occasions that
Willy’s young crew encountered one of the local punks and his small
gang of hoods. Typical of Atlanta summer nights, the air was thick
with humidity and a lot of kids would hang around the local
7-Eleven, sipping ice-cold Slurpees and trying to stay cool.

On this particular night Willy’s crew got to
the 7-Eleven after the older and larger gang led by Leshon Braxton.
Leshon was in his early twenties and ran the gang with an iron
fist. No one in the local neighborhood wanted to get on Leshon’s
bad side.

As was typical when walking the streets,
Willy led the way. He recognized Leshon and nodded in
acknowledgement. Leshon’s eyebrows rose as he appraised the
towering teen.

LESHON
: Hey
there, Willy! I saw you on the football field last week. Helluva
game, brother.

Willy stayed quiet, nodded his thanks and
continued on his path toward the front door of the store.

LESHON
:
Hey, Willy, what’s wrong? Don’t you want to talk to me?

A couple of the older boys snickered as they
watched their leader egg Willy on. The tall young man turned to
face Leshon.

WILLY
: It’s
all good, Leshon. Me and my boys just wanted to go get something to
drink.

LESHON
: Ok,
but that can wait a minute. Why don’t you boys head on in there and
get your drinks? Give me a minute to talk with Willy.

The younger boys looked to Willy for
guidance. He nodded his consent and moved aside as they filed into
the store.

LESHON
: So
how come you’ve never come to hang out with me and my boys,
Willy?

WILLY
: You
know how it is, man; these guys have been my friends since I was
little.

Leshon nodded fatherly.

LESHON
: I
get it. I get it. But you know what, you’re not getting any
younger. Maybe it’s time for you to upgrade to the big boy crew.
What do you think, Willy?

Willy knew this day would come. One of the
problems with his size and ability he’d been gifted with was that
he’d become a target. Some older kids searched him out because they
thought he would be a good conquest. Others, like Leshon, seemed to
prize Willy because they saw the strength and intelligence in the
young man.

Young Willy recognized the look in Leshon’s
eyes. He wanted a new recruit. It’d happened before with less
capable crews, but Willy got a bad feeling staring back at Leshon.
He didn’t seem like the type of dude that would take no for an
answer.

WILLY
: I
don’t know, man. My momma wouldn’t really want me hangin’ out with
older guys.

At his comment about his mother, the older
boys laughed out loud. One of the problems with being the target
was that you just had to stand there and take it sometimes. There’s
no way he could match the six guys either in an argument or a
fistfight. He’d just have to sit there and accept it.

LESHON
:
Don’t you worry about your momma, Willy. I’ll take care of her.
I’ll take GOOD care of her.

Leshon punctuated the lewd comment by
licking his lips lasciviously.

Willy took a calming breath
trying to shake off the inevitable anger boiling over from the
comment about his mom. He wasn’t the best at listening to his
mother’s lectures but he was very protective of the widow. His
father had died in a factory accident when Willy was three and he’d
made it his mission to protect his mother ever since.
Calm down, Willy. Getting mad will only make
things worse.

WILLY
: Come
on, Leshon. Can I just go inside now?

LESHON
(eyes wide): You telling me what to do now, Wee
Willy?

WILLY
(pleading): No, man. I just need to get back home before my
momma notices I’m gone.

LESHON
: I
told you, Willy, I’ll take care of that fine momma of
yours.

He smirked as he looked around at the
matching grins on his crew. Leshon wasn’t going to let him out of
this.

WILLY
: What
do I need to do so I can go, Leshon?

LESHON
: You
can start by not being a little bitch. Is that what you are, Wee
Willy? A little bitch?

Willy’s head snapped up. Even his tolerance
for mockery had its bounds. Later in life, friends would comment
that he was like a friendly giant; kind to a fault and slow to
anger, but once riled he could not be stopped.

Leshon smiled at the incensed youth.

LESHON
: Now
I see that fire, boy. How about we see how that fire works? What do
you say you and me go a couple of rounds?

The older man was famous for his street
brawls. He’d sent a couple of kids to the hospital and it was
rumored he’d once been a semi-pro boxer in his old hometown. Leshon
was definitely built like a heavyweight fighter: standing around
six foot three and well into the middle two hundreds. He was an
imposing figure to most other kids.

Willy wasn’t as easily deterred. Even at
fifteen, he was already close to six foot four and just over two
hundred pounds. Added to his formidable size were the countless
hours of honing his body to athletic perfection on the football
field and in the weight room. Willy was confident in his abilities
one-on-one but not six-on-one.

WILLY
(almost in a whisper): I don’t wanna fight you,
Leshon.

LESHON
: I
didn’t ask what YOU wanted, boy! Now get your ass around the back
of this building and let’s see who the big dog is around
here!

Leshon’s companions whooped a cry of delight
and pushed the reluctant Willy toward the other side of the
building. Their leader led the way as he pulled off his shirt
showing off an impressive array of tattoos.