The Rasner Effect (29 page)

“And if she fails this test? What if we find she just doesn’t have it in her to do the job?”

“I’m sure she’ll make us proud, she has to.” He talked to her but his attention was on her legs. Jen wanted to cheer. “But, if I’m wrong about her…” He stopped mid-thought.

“Yes?” Finally, he got her point.

“I guess…dump the body in an alleyway. Either way, her problems are solved, but I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Fine, I’ll take care of the child’s entrance exam. And in the meantime?”

Rick’s eyes widened with anticipation. “In the meantime, I’ll take the others on my mission.”

“Where will that be?”

“Anywhere Straker is. As a matter of fact, why wait? The sooner we get Derrick to find out the general’s whereabouts, the sooner I can finish this.”

“Agreed, but it can at least wait until the evening.” Jen stood up and went to him. She wrapped both of her hands around his left wrist and tugged. He moved without resistance. “Meanwhile, maybe I can occupy your mind for you?”

She flopped into the lounge chair, still gripping his wrist. “Pleasure now, business later.”

Jen smiled and urged him down beside her. It was a tight fit, but she’d make do. The low growl in his throat said that he recalled these memories. “Let’s get reacquainted, shall we?”

“It’s been…a while.”

“I’ll catch you up,” she said with a smile.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Barely sunrise and Jake was two hours late for his shift at the dollar store. He knew this meant he’d be chewed out by his much younger manager who, consequently, would be two hours late for wherever he always needed to run off to whenever his shift ended.

Jake used to see himself as the type of person who would never be late for anything, no matter what the circumstances. He always made sure to be early, yet he was about to enter the store late for his first early morning shift. Couldn’t blame the change in hours; it was the third time since he took the job that he was late. What really bothered him about this was he just didn’t care.

Jake hiked through the parking lot toward the store’s two glass doors. The first time he had come in late, his pimple-faced manager gave him a lecture on promptness before running off to get drunk at the college campus. The last time he came in late, he received a scolding. Both times, Jake showed proper restraint in that he did not snap the little punk’s neck. He hoped he’d be able to show the same restraint this time. Jake focused so intently on the doors and getting there as quickly as he could he didn’t even notice the black van parked next to his manager’s old two-door green Dodge.

Jake took a deep breath and pulled the right-hand door open. He walked through into the store and, as expected, his manager was waiting with his arms folded across his chest. The pimples decorating his cheeks stood out like neon signs, red with his irritation. No doubt, there was another twenty-four hour party in one of the fraternity houses he just had to get to as soon as possible. At least Jake would no longer have to clean it up the next morning.

“I know I’m late,” Jake said, letting the door behind him swing shut. “What say we skip the painful lecture and you go to wherever you have to get to?”

Jake assumed his request would be denied. He braced himself, waiting for it, but his manager remained uncharacteristically silent. In fact, his boss looked more than just a little nervous. Suddenly, Jake heard voices in the back and he realized they were not alone in the store.

“These people…” the manager said, “…these important looking people, they want to see you.”

“Who’s here, kid?” Jake asked, keeping his voice low now, his old instincts kicking in.

Jake heard the footsteps behind him. Before he could swing around to address the intruders, he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time—a very long time. A voice he’d never wanted to hear again.

“Mister Scarberry, we need to talk.”

Although he had less dyed-black hair on his head, and more under his nose, Jake recognized him immediately. General Straker, a large heavy-set man with a boil on the lower left side of his cheek, stood in front of the checkout counter. Two much younger and very well-built soldiers bookended him. Both soldiers were armed with rifles. They stood at ease—for now.

Jake wondered if he still had it in him…to take out both of them so he could get one good shot at the general. Granted, they’d probably shoot him dead afterward—but it might be worth it—if he can at least break his nose.

“I heard you retired.” Feigning friendly chit-chat gave him time to think. He hoped he hid the bitterness in his voice.

“Hearsay is usually exaggerated, Mister Scarberry,” Straker said, offering a handshake.

Jake stared down at Straker’s outstretched hand, which seemed to have more hair, particularly around the knuckles, than the general had on his head. His hands, which had been dangling at his sides, moved up. The general made like he was going to shake Jake’s hand, but the hands bypassed those of the general and folded themselves across Jake’s chest. After several seconds, the general let his hand drop. A shifty smile creased the corners of his mouth.

“What do you want, General?”

One of the soldiers moved toward the store manager, then escorted the petrified young man outside. Jake remained standing there, his arms folded around him. It was the time-honored way of letting a person know you were shutting them out. Straker didn’t seem to get the psychological maneuver. Jake stood one inch taller than Straker, but the general gave off an aura of being the tallest man in the room.

“We have a situation.” The general spoke with just as much power as he presented in his posture.

“I don’t see why your situation would be my problem. In fact, I remember specifically saying I never wanted to smell your onion-flavored breath ever again. I sure as hell won’t work for you. So you might as well…”

Straker’s response was a sharp laugh. “I know we have a checkered past, you and I. However, I think this is a situation for which you’d be willing to volunteer your services.”

Jake bit his bottom lip. He couldn’t believe the gall of this man. Seeing Straker standing there, Jake had fully expected a job offer, which he had every intention of turning down. The last thing he expected was to hear the word “volunteer.” It was a word that grated on his brain. Jake Scarberry didn’t volunteer for anything—at any time.

The general’s appearance had pissed him off enough.

“I don’t see why you could need my services, General. I’m sure you can find plenty of adequate shelf-stockers, am I correct?”

“Don’t be cute.”

“Fine, instead of cute, let me give you blunt.” Jake strode past Straker, toward the check-out counter. “Charlie Wright,” he thumped a knuckle on his chest, “has a job here, right in this bumble-fuck town where you tossed me. And while Jake Scarberry may hate his life here, he’ll take it if it means not having to work for the likes of
you
anymore.”

Jake removed his timecard from behind the counter and held it up for Straker to see. It was rectangular in shape and had “Charles Wright” written at the top in pencil. Jake placed it in the slot at the top of the time clock on the wall next to the counter.

“Mister Scarberry, I advise you to listen. Perhaps if you fully understood what this is about.”

“I’m sure I know what this is about. If you’ve tracked me down, I can only guess it’s because members of the Duke Organization have resurfaced. I told you a long time ago they’d be back and you blew me off. Now if I’ve been proven right,” he shrugged to accent his words, “it’s not my problem anymore, it is
your—
”

“Rick Rasner is back.”

The name stopped Jake in mid-sentence. He tried not to react, but when Straker’s mouth widened, he knew he’d failed. Jake felt as though he’d just been shot in the chest.

“They liberated him yesterday morning.”

“Liberated from where? Hell?” Jake shouted. “What are you talking about? The man’s fucking dead. I thought this kind of thing only happened in the movies.”

Jake always thought of himself as the proverbial cool, calm, and collected. But at the moment, he was quickly losing his cool. Rick Rasner, the man who killed his brother, the man who made a fool of him, the man who almost became the one target Jake couldn’t catch…until the night on the bridge where he saw him get shot in the head.
He saw him get shot in the head!

Years of pent up frustration caught up with him as he faced the man he blamed for his unpleasant life situation.

“How could this even be?” he yelled.

“Rick Rasner was the chosen subject for an experimental rehabilitation project originated by my department. The project was proving successful. Unfortunately, our security in place was compromised and…”

“He’s dead. I saw your men shoot him on the bridge!” Jake took a threatening step closer to the general. Behind him came the click of a safety being released. “You looked me dead in the eye and assured me he was dead. I believed you. Now, you want me to believe
this
story?”

“He was shot with a tranquilizer. We needed him.”

“Needed him?”

Jake took another step forward.

The general raised a finger in warning. “Settle down and control yourself, Mister…”

Jake lunged and wrapped both his hands around Straker’s throat, slamming the small of his back against the counter. “You sick son of a bitch!” Jake growled as he was nose to nose with Straker. “It was a huge lie, all this time! You ruined my life over this! He’s supposed to be dead.”

“That’s enough, sir,” called the soldier. “Step away from the general. Immediately!”

Jake let his hands drop from Straker’s throat and raised them over his head. From the shadow on the floor, he saw the soldier behind him and the long barrel of the rifle. God damn this man. How dare he play with people’s lives like they were pieces on a chessboard.

Well, fuck him. He didn’t give a damn if Rasner was alive. In his new life, what possible difference could it make? He was safe. This brought a slight smile to Jake’s face as he took a slow step back.

“Okay.” The soldier also took a step back, keeping his firearm just inches away from Jake’s back. “Now I want you to slowly…”

Jake spun toward the soldier and brought his clenched hands down across the rifle barrel. He lunged forward and slammed the butt of the rifle into the soldier’s mid-section. The soldier released his grip and fell to the ground. Jake wrenched the thing from his limp fingers. The second soldier raced inside, gun at the ready. He pointed it at Jake. Jake returned the favor by pointing his rifle at the soldier.

“Drop it,” the soldier shouted, showing more confidence and bravado than his fellow officer on the floor.

“You drop yours.”

Both men stood with their weapons locked onto one another. Everyone in the room remained frozen in place, waiting for someone else to make a move. Jake, feeling somewhat embarrassed over the situation, backed down. He lowered the rifle and then let go. With a clatter, it dropped on the floor next to the soldier. The soldier on the floor launched himself to his feet, rifle in hand. The soldier with the gun never faltered.

General Straker waved his hand, signaling his men to stand down. He straightened his collar and tie before stepping away from the counter.

“You really are a son of a bitch, General,” Jake said.

“The man who murdered your brother is out there. Remember what happened, Mister Scarberry.”

And Jake did. He remembered finding his brother’s body, killed by a bullet to the back of the head while sitting on his couch at home. It was the Duke Organization’s way of saying, “get off our trail.” Jake roused himself from the memory. The general waited, eyeing Jake as if he could read his thoughts. And he probably could because he wore a self-satisfied grin.

“Are you willing to assist us in his capture?”

Jake let out a loud sigh. Pride told him to say no, but a sense of obligation to take down a man and an organization he had personal hatred toward forced another answer altogether. After a year-long chase, he thought he finally led Rick Rasner to his execution even if it wasn’t by his own hands. As it turned out, the closure he thought he had in his war just three years shy of a decade ago was all just a lie and a cover-up. With the initial shock fading, Jake realized he had no choice whatsoever. Besides, this was his opportunity to get back into the action he craved. Maybe get back his life.

“Okay. But there are stipulations.” Jake counted off on his fingers. “I want to handle this alone. I don’t want you or your men involved, General. I want to personally make sure the job is done this time.”

Straker snickered. “I’m only looking to use you in an advisory role, Mister Scarberry.”

“An advisory role,” Jake repeated, with a lift to his eyebrows. He must have heard the General incorrectly.

“You spent over a year profiling this group until you were able to figure out their methods. You helped us put an end to their actions. I want my soldiers to benefit from your research so they can eliminate this potential threat to American safety. Will you tell us what we need to know?”

“What you need to know, General, is they all have very strong loyalties to the convictions and principles of a man they murdered! Your fine and well-disciplined soldiers will be overwhelmed, just as they were back then. Understand me, that group’s actions are as unpredictable as a cult of religious fanatics. Your men will be no match for them, no matter how long I train them. I can assure you of that.”

“But you
will
be a match for them?” Straker questioned.

The smugness in his voice made Jake bunch his fists at his sides. One of the soldiers made a sound in his throat. But Jake didn’t back down. “I sure as hell have a better shot than your go-by-the-textbook soldiers.” To press his point, Jake wiggled a few fingers toward the uniformed men standing nearby. “And if they end up killing me, I assure you I’ll kill some of them too. I’ll take Rasner out, this time for good.”

Straker stood face to face with Jake. Calculating eyes looked him over from head to toe. The general nodded once and glanced at his soldiers as if measuring the men by Jake’s words.