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#91 |
Grand Sorcerer
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Join Date: Jan 2008
Location: Harrisburg outskirts
Device: Palms, K1-4s, iPads, iPhones, KV, KO1
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Well, we've got VR to think about here. I mean, he's a great buddy, and we need to know where he is or isn't before we bomb any place! Let's stay silent and go with sharps first, for a while. Until we know VR has been moved to a safe house.
Besides, we don't know if Red has traced the location of Rock's cell phone yet. When we get that, we might be able to schedule a noisy diversion somewhere else (your job) while Red and/or I spring VR. Oh, and get Rock outta there too. |
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#92 | |
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Location: The Olympic Peninsula on the OTHER Washington! (the big green clean one on the west coast!)
Device: Kindle, the original! Times Two! and gifting an International Kindle
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Quote:
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#93 |
Grand Sorcerer
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About this time I got another call on my phone. It was BadGoodDeb.
I answered. "What cooks, BadGoodDeb?" "Good news and better news!" She squealed. I shuddered. "What's the good news?" "I got your answer. Harry the Horse has been doing a lot of gambling in Chicago. Some people aren't happy about the status of his accounts." "A bit overdrawn?" "Much more than a bit." "What's the better news?" "We're on our way to Texas!" "Who is we?" "KindleKitten is tagging along. She'll handle the guns and I'll handle the knives. And we'll split the bonus." "What bonus? I'm not paying a bonus." "No, the City of Chicago is! They've given us a $50,000 bounty for Harry the Horse. A legit bounty. His bookmakers know all the aldermen in Chicago." "Well, just remember, this ain't the Old West. He's worth nothing dead. Y'all got to deliver him alive." "Oh that's part of the fun!" "Oh yeah. Don't get into any bar fights down here. They shoot back." "Guys won't shoot us." "Who's talking about the guys..." That got a pause. I added. "Let me let you go. I gotta pick up Rock Lobster. He's been keepin' low company and is in no shape to navigate the roads." "Ta!" Poor Harry. Retirement can be real hard without a proper retirement program. I wonder if he ever thought of South America. I needed to ask him about that. I dialed back the Harry and Rock show on the cellphone. I heard a familiar voice faintly in the background. "Forget the agent. He doesn't answer anyway. If you want me to cover you in the first at Santa Anita, you'd better come up with some bacon. I've got a half million in your markers, I'd better get some service!" I was in Riverside now. 10 minutes to target. And I didn't mean the store... |
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#94 |
PI for hire.
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Join Date: Feb 2010
Device: I keep a notebook handy, just in case.
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Vivaldi was arguing with the thugs over something. It's in his nature to argue, so I wasn't paying attention. I decided for once to try and stay quiet and get ready for the next phase in my clever plan. Said clever plan being to see what happened next and try to take advantage of it. I've never been one much for forward thinking. The big thug who had been called Solly was left to guard me and he looked like he had attention span problems. I hoped he would not disappoint me.
"You guys have quite the billet here, slick. How much does it set you back a month?" "Nothin'! We get a discount from the guy we got tied up in the basement what owned it in the first place." He tried to look clever, but ran straight into genetics and crashed on the shores of reality. "Stealing a house, eh? I bet that gets a bit tough to unload. Who do you use as a fence for that sort of deal?" "Shut up!" he explained. The Boss Guy, who I figured to be Harry the Horse, said that they were leaving. He put a leash on the dog, with a lot of complaining and arguing. They marched out to the garage. As they went by Solly, Harry said, "Wait for ten minutes, then plug him and join us at the beachfront place." After moving his lips for a few seconds, Solly nodded in agreement. Now, one of the things I like about this time frame of Red's is that people have become stupid. I think it's the TV. I watched a "drama" one time and just about died of laughing so hard. Take tying someone up, for instance. On the box, they tie your hands and you can't get away. So, since everyone knows that the TV is correct, they tie your hands together and figure they've done the job. Not everyone is bad at it. I once made the mistake of making a bet with Red while in a drunken stupor and spent an entirely uncomfortable weekend on my couch, trying to wriggle my way of the ropes he hogtied me with. But Solly wasn't Red. Not by any measure. If you're willing to lose a bit of skin in the process, getting out of the typical hand tie is as simple as, well, this. I dropped the ropes on the ground and came up swinging. Solly turned out to have a glass jaw and he went down snoring. Another thing they don't teach these days is to never stand over your tied up victim, just in case he wants to try something clever like that. I undid the ankle ties and grabbed my hat. I had a word or two to share with Mr Horse. |
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#95 |
Grand Sorcerer
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#96 |
Grand Sorcerer
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"Wait for ten minutes, then plug him and join us at the beachfront place."
Not on my watch, he wouldn't. I stomped on the gas and came roaring to the hideout. Just as I was getting there, a black Caddy came roaring out of the garage. I tried to cut him off, but I could only put a dent into his back fender. He kept goin' like the entire FBI was on his tail. I couldn't follow, 'cause I had to rescue Rock. At least they hadn't time to close the garage door. I stopped the car and got out. I looked in the garage and saw what looked like a pile of old clothes on the garage floor near the house. I pulled my .22 and did a hide-and-rush to the garage. No fire from the house. So far, so good. I got to the clothes pile. It was Rock, all right. And he wasn't movin'. I checked the pulse. Strong and steady. I looked around and saw the remains of a broken 2x4 and a dented fedora. I smiled. Rock may not have the tunic of a Musketeer, but he has the skull of a '40's PI. Solid granite. Now for the fun part... I opened the back door and did a leap-and-roll into the house, popping up with the .22 leveled and my back to a wall. No movement. I had to do one of those athletic house searches, wishing I had somebody to back me up. In the living room, I found one of Harry's goons, sound asleep on the floor. I thought about lengthening his sleep with another bop on the head, but I was gonna to need to question him later. There was a door to a basement, which I jammed. I wasn't gonna tackle a basement without Rock backing me up, after he came to. The house was clean. I was a bit tuckered out. All the adrenaline, and running, leapin' and bouncing on and off the floor was making me think I was a Dallas Cowboy, without the criminal record. Once I cleared the house, I tied up the goon with my best hog-tie knots, and went to check on Rock. He was starting to stir, I went back into the house and got a bottle of Bourbon from the wet bar. He saw me when I returned. "Why don't you take the heavy end next time?" "Here Rock, have a shot of whiskey." He did. "How long was I out?" "Maybe five minutes. Do you want me to haul you to an E.R., my treat?" "What kind of P.I. do you think I am? I'm just warming up." I knew I'd get that answer, but I had to ask. I also had to keep an eye on him as well. Even granite can break "When you feel able, I've got the goon tied up in the living room." "Your usual job?" "My best knots, short of doin' him up as a bag job." "His name is Solly." Rock managed to get up, a bit unsteady, but up. I led him to the livin' room and got him a chair. Solly was awake, too. "Hello, Solly. I said. "Have a nice nap?" He glared at me. "A shot of bourbon?" I offered. He responded with a string of curses. "Friendly fella, Rock. You want to do the interrogation, or shall I?" "It's been a hard night. You do something for once, other than setting me up as a clay pidgeon." "I guess you have a point there, Rock." I took a slug of Bourbon. "Ok, Solly, where's the beach house." "Like I'm gonna tell a fat P.I. and his dumb sidekick." "Now Solly, that's not the right way to look at things. Your boss told you to drop by after 10 minutes. How can we drop you off, if we don't know where you need to go?" "You're not gettin' anything out of me with those trick questions." "Solly, here I am, bein' a nice guy to you, and that's all the thanks I get. I got you a nice chair, offered you a drink, even offered you a ride to work. What more do you want?" He made a suggestion that was anatomically impossible. I clucked. "You want to add anything, Rock?" Rock shook his head and winced. "I don't think my head is ready for shaking yet." "Just take it easy, Rock. I'll handle this Gorilla." I turned back to Solly who was grinning. "You'd better wipe that grin off your face, or I'll use your head for pinata practice." Soly sneered, "You wouldn't dare." I took another sip of Bourbon. "You're right, Solly. In about another five minutes. I'll have to go looking for Harry the old-fashioned way. Meanwhile, in about another hour and thirty minutes, an old friend of mine will be landing at Love field. It's somebody you know, coming straight from Chi-town." Solly turned a little pale, but kept it out of his voice. "You don't scare me." "Too bad, I figgered you'd be smart enough to know when to be scared. You see, that mutual friend is a lady named BadGoodDeb." Solly turned real pale then and started sweating. "You see, she has a legit bounty from the City of Chicago to bring back your boss. And her favorite dog is the one your boss dognapped. When she finds out you know where they both are, she's not gonna be a nice guy like me. But suit yourself. All I'll do is make a phone call. I'll have nothing to do with anything else that happens." I gave him a big smile. I then looked at the clock on the wall. "You have five minutes before I leave the message with BadGoodDeb." Last edited by Greg Anos; 12-01-2010 at 06:55 PM. |
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#97 |
Professional Adventuress
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Location: The Olympic Peninsula on the OTHER Washington! (the big green clean one on the west coast!)
Device: Kindle, the original! Times Two! and gifting an International Kindle
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sheesh! a .22
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#98 |
Grand Sorcerer
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Folks, pardon me - a serious aside.
KindleKitten, my personal preference would be a double stack .40 S/W (your choice of brand). .45ACP is just a little too fat for double stacking and Black Hats tend to come in gaggles nowadays. But Chandler was a fan of .22 cal, and as I was doing a parody/pistache, I had Red carry a silencered .22. But note, I have him use custom full wadcutters to get the most out of such an anemic cartridge... (After all, James Bond, packed a 7.65 mauser round in his Walthers... Cut me some slack!) |
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#99 |
Professional Adventuress
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continuing the aside: in all reality using anything authoritatively that is smaller than a .38 just isn't realistic unless they are custom loads. there is too much anecdotal evidence of .22 rounds "skipping"
back to your regularly scheduled entertainment... |
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#100 |
PI for hire.
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Karma: 511896
Join Date: Feb 2010
Device: I keep a notebook handy, just in case.
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To this day, I have no idea how I got suckered by the guy in the garage a second time. I guess I made the mistake of thinking that they had all left together. As it was, I came in the middle of a nightmare, just to realize that it was Red staring down at me. Cursing my luck, I slowly gathered my feet underneath me. "Why don't you take the heavy end next time?"
"Here Rock, have a shot of whiskey." At least he had the good graces to look slightly embarrassed. I did. Red always carries the good stuff, not the rotgut you can get in my neighborhood of the space/time continuum. "How long was I out?" "Maybe five minutes. Do you want me to haul you to an E.R., my treat?" "What kind of P.I. do you think I am? I'm just warming up." "When you feel able, I've got the goon tied up in the living room." "Your usual job?" "My best knots, short of doin' him up as a bag job." "His name is Solly." We went into the room where Solly was inventing new swear words and straining against the bonds that had him in the most uncomfortable position possible. I paused to admire the handiwork of a master. "I see you improvised with the cords off the shades. "Boneheads like this never have enough cording around to do the job right." "That bit right in the middle looks new." "An improvisation by GoodBadDeb. They usually start talking before they start singing soprano. Usually." Solly's eyes grew wide. Red went on to interrogate the thug while I nursed a headache, adding pithy suggestions as the situation demanded. To tell the truth, I felt off my game. I wasn't sure what it was, but the doubt niggled away at my mind like a Jack Russel on a bone. "You don't scare me." Solly was playing the tough quite well, but he just wasn't showing much heart by now. Maybe it had to do with the pressure slowly being applied to another vital organ. "Too bad, I figgered you'd be smart enough to know when to be scared. You see, that mutual friend is a lady named BadGoodDeb." That got his attention. Sweat appeared on his forehead. "You see, she has a legit bounty from the City of Chicago to bring back your boss. And her favorite dog is the one your boss dognapped. When she finds out you know where they both are, she's not gonna be a nice guy like me. But suit yourself. All I'll do is make a phone call. I'll have nothing to do with anything else that happens." I hope that I never get that sort of smile out of red. At least when it applies to me. "You have five minutes before I leave the message with BadGoodDeb." "Okay! It's Number 32 Goodhope street on the south bay area! They have a camera monitoring security system and the garage is wired with Claymores if someone without the key tries to get in. My key is in my left pants pocket!" Somehow, I always regret having to resort to tactics like that. It sort of takes the fun out of sweating someone. I have to admit, though that it is more efficient. "I reckon we should mosey on down to the beach, eh, Rock?" A little bell went off in my head. Not the type that had been ringing in my ears since the two by four incident. "Nah. I've got a hunch I need to follow up on. You can have the fun at the beach house. How does this thing work, by the way?" I held the chicken clucker out. Red took the compact and punched some buttons. "Here. When it starts vibrating, you touch this green button and talk here. Listen here. If you want to call me, push this button, then one. I'll be waiting for your call. Want to clue me in on what you're doing?" "Going to see a man about a horse. Let's get in touch at around midnight, okay?" I pushed the dents out of my fedora and went out the way I'd come in and cranked up my cousin's flivver. |
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#101 |
Professional Adventuress
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aw shucks
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#102 |
Wizard
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Device: PRS-900
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#103 |
Grand Sorcerer
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"Going to see a man about a horse." With Rock, who knows what he was doing. I shrugged and headed out to the car. I had more important things to think about.
I'd cut the trick knot on Solly before he joined the Sopranos, but left him tied up otherwise. I told him I'd let him loose when I got back. If I got back. I looked at the clock. 11:30 P.M. Was this night ever gonna get to Pearl time.... I left a message on BadGoodDeb's phone, telling her where the beach house was and about the Claymores. Claymores. Why did it have to be Claymores? What ever happened to the good old days of shotguns with their triggers tied back? The next thing you know the bad guys will be driving around town in tanks. And complaining the parking spaces are too little. For readers who don't know about Claymores, they're a nasty little trick our military thought up, post WWII. Take a shaped charge a half meter wide, then back it with heavy armor so the charge will blow out one way. Load up the front with various sized shrapnel (BBs were popular in Vietnam), and set it to whatever tripwire trigger you want. Put a bunch of them around a perimeter so that they overlap each other, and the only way in is pole vaulting. No wonder the Chi-town boys wanted to talk to him. While I was driving to the beach house, I got to wondering about Solly. I figured I'd missed a trick with Solly. I'd bumped Harry's car as I was pullin' up to the house. He'd left Solly to bump off Rock and the go to the Beach house. How? I hadn't seen any extra car. That meant somebody was gonna come by and pick up Solly. They'd be already tipped off by Harry, so it was a good thing both Rock and I had gotten out of the house when we did. And Solly'd be talkin' to Harry, sure's shootin'. Which meant that Solly's key would be a one way ticket to a harp. And I didn't pole vault nearly as well as I did 20 years ago. 35 minutes to the beach house. I'd better figure out an answer before then... And what was VR doin' being a bookmaker? There was something just not right here... |
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#104 |
Grand Sorcerer
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Claymores? Pole-vaulting? Not a problem!
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#105 |
Grand Sorcerer
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