HARD CASE (A John Harding Novel - Special Ops, Cage Fighter, CIA Agent) (15 page)

Jafar gets a comical worried look on his face.

I’m an amateur mind reader. Jafar has seen too many spy movies. “No, we don’t kill you if you turn down the offer. They do require a confidentiality agreement and for you to work off any debt you owe them if you want to part company before your contract runs out.”

Jafar smiles uneasily, nodding his head as he contemplates his next words. “You are a skilled killer, Mr. Harding. I know this. I am not sure I would be very good at-”

“Hold on, kid. I’m not asking you to become an assassin.” Boy, am I a little off on my spiel. Maybe I better stick with what I’d like him to do for me. “You’d make a very competent analyst and tech guy for me. How many languages was it you told me you know?”

“I speak Pashtu, Arabic, and Spanish besides English. I’m sorry I misunderstood what you were asking of me.”

“Forget it. It’s my bad. I’ve never recruited before so this is a first for me. Is any of this interesting to you? If not, we need to drop the subject.”

“No one can know. I understand. I am surprised you want to recruit me for anything after only knowing me a few days. I am, just as you say, a kid.”

“The guy who recruited me did so after knowing me for about half an hour and I was only a year older than you are. That same guy has taken an interest in you.”

“Was he angry about your fights being on YouTube?”

“Nope. As I figured, he was a few steps ahead of me on that front. I don’t need an answer from you immediately. Think it over carefully. We’re going over to meet the young woman we’ll be escorting around tomorrow evening. Dress casually but nicely. Make yourself ready to go by six, okay?”

“I will be ready. You are going over to my high school with me tomorrow morning, right?”

“Yep. I have to get you checked in with me as your contact. Anything I should know before we get there tomorrow?”

“Not really. I am a good student.”

“From now until you graduate I want to know everything out of the ordinary at your school. I’ll teach you how to watch and remember what you see while distinguishing the extraordinary from the mundane. Public high schools nowadays make great observation training grounds. Learning how to pick out telling details, without alerting anyone of your interest, is exactly what we’ll be doing with our young lady arriving tomorrow.”

“It will be challenging not to get my ass kicked practicing perceptiveness at my school. Some jerks there give out attitude adjustments if they just think you’ve looked at them too long.”

Indeed, young Jedi. “Hence the training potential at your school for noticing things while retaining your attitude in its present state. I’m not training you in unarmed combat so you can join the mixed martial arts circuit. I’m doing it so if you make a mistake you’ll have a chance of surviving it.”

“I can get thrown out of school for fighting.”

“Well waaahhhhh.”

Jafar smiled. “I remember you dropped out of school at fourteen.”

Smart-ass. “In any case, I’ll back your play at school if you tell me the truth. One thing about having Government Inc. interested in what you can do is they will many times remedy problems in very low key ways for you – problems like suspensions, teachers with God complexes, and even the occasional law related miscommunication.”

“Have they handled problems for you?”

“I’ve been careful to avoid problems I would need them for. I trust you to avoid such problems too. That’s another reason for having a real good lawyer on our side.”

“Like for getting out of jail after killing an Ishmael Ali?”

“Yeah, and springing ungrateful teenage car thieves.”

Jafar laughed. “If not for you I would have needed much more than a lawyer.”

* * *

Walking onto the Skyline High School campus with Jafar reminded me of the time I did a deep cover liquidation near Peshawar. A multitude of human emotions and deceits radiated out from the students we passed giving me the eyeball – fear, speculation, amusement, anger, resentment – I even had a few looks from coeds who appeared to be measuring me for sexual advances. My life might have been different if I had known high school was this interesting. Jafar kept his head down, hands stuffed into his pockets. He had obviously decided to take my recommendations for practicing covert observation as a volunteer exercise. I noticed a baggy pants crew near the entrance jiving with select individuals trying to enter the school without provoking mayhem.

“Those guys hassle everyone.” Jafar kept his head down.

I’m pleased. He is covertly paying attention. “Anything major?”

“A few of them claim to be members in the Norteanos. Do you know of them?”

Illegal alien gang-bangers dealing in drugs, kidnaps and violence. After all, Oakland is a ‘Sanctuary City’. “Any problems?”

“It varies day to day.”

As we draw closer I see one of them recognizes me and yanks his compadres away from the door for a quick conference. I hear my name whispered as we walk by and they remain where they are. This could go a couple ways. Jafar might now have a bull’s eye on his chest or a free pass to come and go as he pleases.

“They must have seen the fight.” Jafar smiles up at me. “Maybe that means they won’t bother messing with me.”

“Or they plan on bustin’ you up just to let me know they don’t care.”

“Currently, they make anyone they single out miserable. They’ve marked me already so I’m not sure I’ll notice any difference.”

I chuckled at that one. “I’ll give you a note for them if they approach you – something like if my friend has handed you this note, you’re too close and he feels in danger. Walk away or they’ll find your body in an aqueduct near the Coliseum with your balls cut off and shoved down your throat.”

My note idea gets Jafar laughing. Apparently he thinks I’m kidding. I’ll type it up when I get home. I remember my Dad when he had a lucid moment explaining some stuff to me when I came home from my first day at junior high school in a bit worse shape than when I left. He looked over my black eye, split lip and various cuts and scrapes with an amused look. I was jumped by three guys who didn’t like the way I smelled. They weren’t interested in why. Having been put through the wringer by my Pop many times in the past I was unimpressed with their attack. They ended up looking much worse than me and I got suspended. The principal didn’t care whether it was three to one or not. Dad explained when he was growing up in the fifties kids were real careful about picking on other kids, because most of the fathers were vets from World War II, and they didn’t take kindly to their kids getting beat up. Back then a kid never knew whether there was an older brother or three who would be showing up the next day for some payback either.

When we reached the office the secretary ushered us into the principal’s office. Things had changed since I made my trip to the principal’s office in Leavittsburg. The office looked a heck of a lot more upscale than I remember old man Shimer’s cubby hole when I visited him long ago. I should have stayed in school. Our tax dollars at work really gave this guy studiously ignoring us a nice spot to entertain. He looks up from his flat screen monitor at us with a stern questioning look. When he sees me he decides on a more cordial greeting. Jumping up from his desk chair he extended his hand to me with a big smile. As I carefully shake the principal’s hand I make a mental note to tell Tess what a great first impression I made.

“I’m Stan Guererro. Can I help you?”

Stan’s middle aged, medium height, balding and carrying twenty pounds too much weight but he’s got a good handshake and he looks me in the eye. So far, so good. “My name’s John Harding. I have an appointment to check Jafar Kensington back into school. He’s had some trouble at home and will be staying with me for the time being.”

Stan gestures for us to sit down in the chairs fronting his desk while taking the folder from me with the paperwork Tess had Jafar’s Mom sign. He looked it over with the right amount of intensity before turning his attention to Jafar.

“You’ve been a good student, Jafar. I hope that will continue to be the case.”

“It will, Sir.”

“Will you be the one to contact for any classroom problems or parent-teacher meetings, Mr. Harding?”

“Yes. I have had a talk with Jafar. He knows my hospitality depends on his doing well here at school.” This is like alternate reality stuff for me. If I take on any more oddities my head’s going to explode. I reluctantly give him a card with my whiz-bang phone number on it. Denny will love it when I put Government Inc on hold while I take a school call. “Call me at this number anytime if a problem crops up.”

“Thank you. I’m sure everything will be fine.” Stan gets a speculative look on his face. “You look familiar, Mr. Harding. Have we met before?”

Uh oh. “I don’t think so. Nice meeting you.” I stand up and shake hands with Stan again, deciding to make a quick exit before he remembers where I look familiar from.

Outside the office, Jafar grins at me. “You think Mr. Guererro watches YouTube?”

“Never mind that. I have another school meeting at three this afternoon to take in my new persona of Pseudo-Dad so stay out of trouble today. Can you hang around here safely until I get done?”

“I can take the bus over to your house, John. My last class is at two so I’ll make it to your house before you get done. Does this meeting have something to do with Ms. Connagher?”

I shrug while I’m watching the kids streaming by in the hallway looking up at me like I had a third eye or horns. “Her older sister’s kid is having some trouble she thinks my appearance at the school meeting might help. Any suggestions?”

“Call in sick? The dog ate my homework? Aliens beamed me aboard their ship for experimentation. The-”

I give the punk a push to start him on his way down the hall. “Get away from me before I forget I’m your temporary guardian and dropkick you into next week.”

Listening to Jafar’s laughter receding down the hallway put a smile on my face for some unknown reason. When I made my way out of the school I parted the baggy pants crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. I didn’t make eye contact but they decided to dog me out to the parking lot anyway. I had to remind myself I had another Pseudo-Dad meeting and I couldn’t do it from jail. I arrive at my old Chevy and the boys start laughing when I unlock the driver’s door.

“Man, I thought you’d roll better. You John Harding, ain’t you?”

I turned around because they were getting too close. The kid who spoke is a little over six feet tall, wiry, and sporting tattoos on his face and arms that only show faintly due to his dark skin. He’s looking at me with that kind of attitude his future cellmate in prison will adjust for him some time soon.

“She’s a beauty alright. Want to buy her?”

My remark sets off a snorting he-haw for a minute. The head thug continues to play for his crowd. “That fight with the big Russian was a lay down. No one could beat him. It was fake.”

“That’s what I heard.” I’ll play.

“How much the Russian get for takin’ the dive?”

“Why don’t you go ask him? He has a room at the Highland Hospital hotel in intensive care. His face is broken so badly they’ll have to take gristle from somewhere else to rebuild it. His ribs are busted and he has a life threatening concussion. If he took a dive, I’d sure like to know how much he got.”

Yeah, I checked on Rankin. I needed to gauge how much time I had before he was up shooting his mouth off again or hunting for me. When the kids hear the facts they take a couple steps back. Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they look. Motor-mouth is unimpressed.

“Hell, you don’t look so bad.”

I straighten the lapels on my suit jacket. “Thanks. You’re not coming on to me are you, Dexter? I don’t roll that way.”

His friends start busting up laughing. Motor-mouth doesn’t like his posse making light of him. Out comes a long bladed stiletto which I snatch out of his hand before he can even point it. I bend it into a ninety degree angle slowly and toss it.

“The next thing you reach for better be edible. Run along kids. School starts soon.” I grab Motor-mouth under his chin before he can turn away with the rest of his boys. “You look for payback on my friend Jafar, your picture will end up on the side of a milk carton. We clear?”

“Yeah,” Motor-mouth hisses out between his clamped teeth.

I release him and he stumbles away after the retreating thugsters rubbing his chin to make sure all the bones are in place. I wave. “Have a nice day at school, kids. Remember, no talking in class.” Gee, school’s so much more fun now. I’m betting elementary school this afternoon as Pseudo-Dad won’t be anywhere near as entertaining. Boy, was I wrong.

* * *

I go home, get some rest, and then work out for an hour. Tess calls as I’m toweling off from the shower. I can hear the anxiety in her voice.

“John… you’re ready, right? I’m picking you up in half an hour.”

“You think I might back out?”

“Remember to wear your suit.”

“I’m putting it on right now, Mom. Anything else?”

Tess is silent for a moment. No sense of humor before the big meeting. “You can’t bring a gun, John.”

I start laughing. That was funny. She doesn’t join me. “Tess, we’re going to an elementary school meeting. Why in hell would you think I’d bring a gun? You sound a little mental to me this afternoon. You’re a big time trial lawyer. Get a grip. What’s the worst that could happen – we all agree to disagree and the school keeps the two girls separated. This isn’t exactly cataclysmic stuff here.”