The Bleeding Edge (19 page)

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Authors: William W. Johnstone

BOOK: The Bleeding Edge
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C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-SEVEN
Most news stories are true “nine-day wonders,” fading from the public consciousness after a while. Nine days is just an approximation, of course. A story can disappear in two or three days or hang around for months, especially if there are new developments in it.
The election to determine whether or not Shady Hills would incorporate as a town had “legs,” as old-time journalists would say. It might not have been on the front page every day, and sometimes it was relegated to the second or even third segment of the newscasts, but it was always there somewhere, usually with a sentence or two cleverly designed to make the public think the only motivations of the residents were racism, greed, and intolerance . . . without ever coming right out and saying that, of course.
Stark was getting tired of it. He was ready for September 7, which was a Saturday, to arrive, so the election would be over with, one way or the other.
Every day, buses full of protesters arrived at the park. They didn't try to come in. Shady Hills was private property, after all. Not that they really cared about that, but these were professionals. They knew exactly how much they could get away with. So the buses parked on the side of the highway and the protesters got out with their signs and started trooping up and down the road, staying off the shoulders so they couldn't be accused of trying to block traffic. They carried their signs and shouted slogans and bellowed through bullhorns. They didn't try to stop anybody from entering or leaving the park.
The first day it happened, Jack Kasek called the sheriff's department. A cruiser with a couple of deputies came out, sat there for a little while, then turned around and headed back to Devil's Pass. More complaints got the same results. A car came out, the deputies watched for ten or fifteen minutes, and then they left without doing anything.
Accompanied by Stark and Hallie, Jack went to see the sheriff. George Lozano kept them waiting for half an hour; then they were shown into his office.
“Sheriff, you've got to do something about those blasted protesters!” Jack began.
Lozano held up a hand to stop him.
“Are you talking about the people exercising their constitutional rights to freedom of assembly and expression?” he asked.
“You know good and well what I'm talking about!”
With a blandly neutral expression on his face, Lozano shook his head.
“My department has responded to your calls and checked out the situation, Mr. Kasek,” he said. “As far as I know, the people who are demonstrating outside your retirement park—on publicly held right-of-way, I might add, not private property—aren't breaking any laws.”
“They're a nuisance,” Hallie said. “They're creating a public safety hazard.”
“Not in my judgment, they aren't.”
“Someone's going to get hurt out there.”
“If they do, we'll take appropriate action against whoever starts the trouble.” Lozano paused, then added with heavy emphasis, “Whoever that might be.”
Jack Kasek let out a disgusted snort.
“So if we do anything to try to get rid of them, you'll arrest us,” he said. “Is that what you're telling us, Sheriff?”
“I'll arrest anybody who breaks the law.”
Stark said, “I don't remember that fella who attacked me and Fred Gomez being arrested.”
“You'll have to take that up with Chief Feasco and the district attorney, Mr. Stark,” Lozano said. “That incident didn't occur in my jurisdiction.”
“We're wasting our time here, aren't we?” Hallie asked.
Lozano leaned forward in the chair behind his desk and clasped his hands together.
“Look, I sympathize with you people, I really do. If you incorporate and have your own police force, that's that much more territory I don't have to cover with limited man power and a limited budget. I hope you win your election. But I can't do anything about those protesters as long as they're not breaking the law.” The sheriff sat back and shrugged. “I guess you'll just have to get used to them.”
“Nobody could get used to vermin like that,” Jack snapped.
Hallie took hold of his arm.
“Come on, Jack,” she urged him. “We're not going to do any good here.”
Jack looked back over his shoulder as he and Stark and Hallie left Lozano's office.
“Someday we'll have a real sheriff in this county again!” he said.
Once they were outside, Jack, still incensed, said, “John Howard, how about we run you for sheriff in the next election?”
Stark gave a curt laugh.
“For starters, Jack, I don't have any law enforcement experience and don't know a blasted thing about being sheriff. And don't forget, you wanted me to run for mayor of Shady Hills once it's a real town. I think that's a big enough job for me, assuming that I get it.”
“Why wouldn't you? Nobody would vote against John Howard Stark!”
“Sure they would. There are bound to be people out there who don't like me, even in Shady Hills. And the incorporation question has to pass first.”
“It will,” Jack said with equal confidence. “Unless they somehow manage to steal the election.”
“With that bunch we're going up against, I wouldn't put anything past them.”
 
 
There had been news coverage all along, of course—satellite trucks parked beside the highway with the buses that brought in the protesters, field reporters with their microphones and cameramen, print journalists from all over the country writing stories on their laptops and tablets and emailing them in.
Things got worse when the Black Panthers showed up.
Stark didn't know about it until Hallie knocked on his door one afternoon a few days before the election.
“You won't believe what's happening now, John Howard,” she told him.
“Oh, in this day and age, I'll believe just about anything,” Stark said dryly.
“The Black Panthers are out there at the gate, demanding to be allowed in so they can pass out anti-incorporation literature to the residents.”
Stark stared at her for a second, then gave a little shake of his head.
“You're right, I didn't see that one coming,” he said. “What does this have to do with the Black Panthers? The only black people in this mess are the ones on our side, like Nick.”
“I know that and you know that, but they say they're trying to demonstrate solidarity with their Hispanic brothers. ‘Racism toward one is racism toward all,' one of their signs said.”
Stark thought about it for a moment, then said, “Somebody sent them here.”
“That's exactly what I was thinking. Several senators from the president's party have had ties with the Black Panthers in the past. I think the White House called them and got word to the organization through them that it might be a good thing to show up here.”
“Because the president doesn't want to come out against us himself. He's still a mite leery from everything that happened in the last administration. He doesn't want to come across as being that extreme in his views.”
Hallie nodded.
“That's the way it looks to me.”
“Are the guards at the gate letting them in?”
“Not so far. Nick Medford happened to be up there, and when I drove in I saw that he was in a real jawing match with the leader of the group. Half a dozen news cameras were getting the whole thing.”
Stark smiled and said, “That didn't work out too well for them. I'm sure they would've rather had some white fella yelling at them. Would've looked better for their cause that way.”
“Oh, they'll spin it the way they want it, one way or another.”
Stark didn't doubt that.
“If they try to force their way in, there'll be trouble.”
“I know. I already called the sheriff's department on my cell phone, but I don't think we can look for much help from Lozano.”
“Nope,” Stark agreed. “You go on over to your dad's place, Hallie. I'll drive up to the gate and see what's going on.”
“Forget it. I'm coming with you. You're still my client, after all.”
“I'm not facing any charges right now,” Stark pointed out.
“You have me on retainer.”
That was the first Stark had heard about it, but he supposed it wasn't a bad idea. He just didn't want Hallie anywhere near the gate if a fight broke out.
Arguing with her would be a waste of time, though. He said, “Come on, we'll take my pickup. At least it's got some actual metal in it, instead of that little plastic foreign car of yours.”
“Don't be jingoistic, John Howard,” she scolded him, but with a smile.
As they drove toward the front of the park, Hallie went on, “Did you know the Justice Department has investigators in the area?”
“First I've heard of it.”
“They say there have been reports of voter registration irregularities. My hunch is that they'll claim some of the people here in the park aren't properly registered to vote.”
“We know better, don't we?”
“Of course, but there's no telling what they'll dig up . . . or manufacture.”
“You're saying our own Justice Department would be capable of voter fraud?”
“There were plenty of accusations of fraud and voter suppression a couple of elections ago, with a ton of evidence supporting them, including video, and the Justice Department refused to act on them. If they'll rape the law one way, they'll rape it another.”
“Pretty harsh talk,” Stark said.
“The truth is sometimes harsh.”
Stark couldn't argue with that.
“And of course the ACLU is keeping every motel and restaurant in Devil's Pass in business right now,” Hallie went on. “This is going to be one of the most closely watched elections in a long time.”
“Good,” Stark said. “That way the whole world will see that everything is being done legal and proper.”
Stark turned a corner and they came in sight of the gate to the retirement park. Several cars and pickups belonging to the volunteers on guard duty were parked near the gate, inside the park.
The gate itself was packed with a roiling knot of people, Stark saw as alarm welled up inside him. Fists were flying as the crowd surged back and forth.
From the looks of it, a good old-fashioned riot had broken out at the entrance to Shady Hills.
C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-EIGHT
“Oh, my God!” Hallie exclaimed as Stark sent the pickup racing closer to the fight. He jammed on the brakes just before he reached the battling mob and flung his door open.
“Stay here!” he told Hallie as he got out. He didn't know if it would do any good or not, but he didn't have time to wait and see if she did what he said.
As Stark ran toward the riot he spotted Nick Medford trying to trade punches with two men at the same time. The Black Panther members were all dressed the same, in dark jeans and black T-shirts, so it wasn't difficult to spot them. As Stark reached them, Nick went down, and the two men started kicking him.
Stark grabbed one man's shoulder and hauled him around. The man just had time to let out a startled curse before Stark's fist crashed into his nose and flattened it with a crunch of cartilage. The man howled in pain as he flew backward, tripped, and fell.
Meanwhile Nick caught hold of the other man's foot and heaved, upending him. As the second Black Panther crashed to the ground, Nick leaped on top of him and started hammering punches down into his face.
With all the yelling going on, along with the thud of fists against flesh and bone, Stark didn't hear the rush of footsteps behind him, but some instinct warned him anyway and he wheeled around just in time to duck under a roundhouse punch thrown at his head. He grabbed the man's T-shirt and pulled hard. As he was already off-balance, the man's momentum carried him forward, and Stark was able to flip him in the air with a neat judo throw he had learned in basic training, which seemed to him like a thousand years ago. The man slammed down on his back, knocking all the breath from his lungs and stunning him.
“John Howard, look out!”
The warning cry came from Hallie. Stark wasn't surprised that she hadn't stayed in the truck like he told her. He glanced over his shoulder and saw one of the intruders swinging a protest sign at him. He didn't have time to duck or twist out of the way. All he could do was throw his left arm up to block the blow.
The piece of lumber to which the sign was attached struck Stark's arm and made it go numb all the way to the shoulder. His right arm still worked just fine, but before he could throw a punch Hallie appeared behind the man and jabbed the prongs of a stun gun against the side of his neck. The man's body jerked and he arched his back as the shock hit him. His eyes widened, and then his knees came unhinged. He fell to the ground with all the fight shocked out of him.
Stark took hold of Hallie and pushed her toward the pickup.
“You don't need to be in the middle of this ruckus!” he told her.
“If I hadn't been, that guy might have busted your head open with that sign!”
Stark couldn't argue with that, but he still didn't want Hallie staying in harm's way.
Before he could do anything else, two more of the Black Panthers rushed him. He whirled to meet their charge and traded punches with them. Both men were young and muscular, and if they felt any qualms about attacking a man old enough to be their father, they sure didn't show it. Stark was also at a disadvantage because his left arm was still partially numb and didn't want to work right. He had to give ground, with Hallie retreating right behind him.
“Wah-hoooo!”
The battle cry came from a young Hispanic man Stark didn't recognize. He leaped into the fracas and tackled one of the men, driving him off his feet. That left Stark facing just one man. Stark managed to parry a couple of punches, then stepped in and drove a hard, straight right to his opponent's jaw. That blow staggered the man. Stark swept his leg around and knocked the man's feet out from under him. As the man fell, Stark caught him with an uppercut to the chin that stretched him out on the ground, momentarily senseless.
There was no respite from the violence. Someone grabbed Stark from behind and put a choke hold on him. Stark tried to break free but failed. He drove an elbow back into the man's stomach, but that didn't do any good, either. It was like ramming his elbow into a wall. Stark couldn't get any air, and bright-colored sparks seemed to be exploding in his brain.
The terrible pressure on his throat went away suddenly. He stumbled forward and gasped for air. A strong hand closed around his arm. The young Hispanic man who had helped him earlier appeared beside him and asked, “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yeah, thanks to you, son,” Stark said, his voice hoarse from the near-strangulation. He looked down at the unconscious man on the ground at his feet. “I reckon it was you who cleaned this fella's clock?”
The young man grinned.
“You looked like you could use a hand,” he said. He was about to say something else when Stark suddenly shoved him aside and threw a punch at the Black Panther who'd been about to bring a protest sign crashing down on his rescuer's head. The blow landed solidly and sent the protester reeling off his feet.
“Thanks,” the young man said. “Looks like we're even.”
“Getting there,” Stark said. “Look out! Here come some more of 'em!”
Stark and his newfound friend wound up standing back-to-back, slugging it out with several of the intruders. Stark's rawhide-tough form absorbed the punishment, although he knew he would ache like the devil the next day.
The banshee wail of sirens tore through the Texas air but didn't stop the fighting. That took a dozen sheriff's deputies wading into the riot, tackling the combatants, and slapping plastic restraints on them. Park residents and intruders alike were taken down. Anger surged through Stark when he saw his friends being manhandled, but he supposed the deputies were just trying to bring the battle to an end as quickly as they could, before anybody else got hurt.
He hoped there hadn't been any serious injuries. People could get trampled to death in chaos like this.
The fighting came to an end before Stark and his new ally were taken into custody. They were able to step back, gathering with the park residents who were still free on one side of the entrance while the deputies herded the Black Panthers and other protesters who hadn't been arrested to the other side of the road. Although Stark had issues with the way Sheriff Lozano had handled things, he didn't envy those deputies being stuck between two hostile forces like that.
Lozano himself was on hand, shouting through a bullhorn, “Settle down! Back off, damn it! Everybody stop fighting, or you're going to jail!”
Jack Kasek stepped forward and pointed at the park residents who were lying on the ground with their hands fastened behind their backs.
“You can't arrest our people!” Jack yelled. “We were just defending ourselves!”
Lozano lowered the bullhorn and said, “That's always your story, isn't it, Kasek? You're just defending yourselves.”
Jack started to protest, but Lozano overrode him.
“Nobody's under arrest yet,” the sheriff said. “The only reason anybody is restrained is to put an end to this riot.”
“A riot that those people started!” Jack said, pointing to the Black Panthers.
“Those people?” one of the black-clad intruders repeated in an indignant shout. “You racist motherf—”
Lozano brought the bullhorn to his mouth again and boomed out, “All right, that's enough!” He lowered the bullhorn and instructed his deputies, “Escort these visitors out of the retirement park.”
It was Jack Kasek's turn to be indignant. He said, “You call them visitors? They attacked our security people, forced their way in here, and then attacked more of our residents.”
“We were exercising our right to free speech!” the spokesman for the Black Panthers shot back. Some of the others took up the chant. “Free speech! Free speech!”
“Get 'em out of here,” Lozano snarled at his men. He turned to the Shady Hills residents and went on, “Get your friends on their feet and back off. Go on about your business. Looks like you've got some cuts and bruises that need attention.”
“You're not going to arrest any of them?” Jack demanded incredulously.
“Not right now, and I'm not going to arrest any of you, either. Nobody's getting arrested until my department has conducted a full investigation of this incident.”
Stark had a hunch that so-called investigation wouldn't be very thorough, no matter what Lozano said. Clearly, the sheriff wanted to just sweep everything under the rug.
“By the time you get around to doing anything, they'll all have gone back to Dallas or Houston or wherever they came from,” Jack said.
Lozano ignored him and turned away as the deputies herded the Black Panthers out of the park. Some of the other protesters were mixed in with them. They had avoided any real trouble so far, but in their liberal zeal they had gotten caught up in the heat of the moment and rushed in to join the battle. Like their sixties counterparts, who they admired so much, they believed in peace and love . . . and they'd kill you if you didn't agree with their version of those things.
Lozano turned and called, “Stark!” He motioned for Stark to join him.
“What do you want, Sheriff?” Stark asked as he and Hallie came up to Lozano.
The lawman looked at Hallie and said, “I didn't ask to talk to you, counselor.”
“I represent Mr. Stark,” she snapped.
“It's true,” he said with a smile. “I think she's on permanent retainer. What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“You seem to be the most level-headed of this bunch.” Lozano inclined his head toward the residents of the park. “Tell them that I'm going to have a car here at the gate twenty-four/seven until that damned election of yours is over.”
“I thought you didn't have the man power for that.”
“I don't have the man power to put down any more riots like this, either,” Lozano said. “It's only a few days. I'll manage somehow.”
Stark nodded and said, “Well, Sheriff, we appreciate that.” He could have said something about the gesture being too little, too late, but he didn't see any point in that.
Lozano studied Stark with narrowed eyes and went on, “Yeah, you're the most level-headed . . . but I wonder if that makes you the most dangerous of the bunch, too.”
“I'm a peaceable man, Sheriff,” Stark said.
Lozano just grunted and turned away again.
Stark and Hallie returned to the other residents. Stark passed along the sheriff's message. Jack Kasek said caustically, “
Now
he does something, after we've got more people hurt.”
“Any serious injuries?” Stark asked.
“There don't seem to be. Just cuts and scrapes and bruises. We're too old for all that rough-and-tumble, though. There'll be some sore muscles in the morning.”
Stark laughed and said, “Darned right there will be.” He turned to the young man who had pitched in to help him during the fight. The stranger was standing with Henry Torres. Stark held out his hand and said, “Much obliged to you for your help, amigo. I'm John Howard Stark.”
“I know who you are, sir,” the man said as he shook hands.
Henry spoke up, saying, “This is my boy Reuben, John Howard.”
“I'm mighty glad to meet you, Reuben. You visiting your dad?”
Henry said, “Actually, he's staying with me for a while until he finds a place of his own.”
“That's right,” Reuben Torres said. “You see, I just got out of jail.”
Stark's eyebrows went up a little in surprise. Reuben Torres was about as clean-cut a young man as he had seen in a while, and he sure didn't look like the type who would have run afoul of the law.
Stark said, “I've got a hunch there's a story that goes with that. Why don't we go in the community center, get some Cokes out of the icebox, and you can tell us about it if you want to.”

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