SCREAMING BATFISH BLUES #21

SCREAMING BATFISH BLUES #21

JUICE

PARTS UKNOWN

By lunch time, Jake had a new military I. D. card, Nevada driver’s license, and a wallet full of other cards, all in the name of Derek Powell. He was sporting a fresh military haircut and was clean shaven. To anyone concerned, Jake Morrow was sitting in a cell in Leavenworth federal prison. While Derek Powell was sitting down to a lunch of chicken breast sandwiches and French fries with Special Agent Jerry Banks.

“Little hair of the dog that bit you?’ Banks was standing in front of the fridge and waving a Guinness.

“Bring it on. Maybe I’ll feel better.”

Banks set the beer in front of him. “You’ve made the right decision, Jake. Shit, I mean Derek. It’ll take me a while to get used to your new name. It’s probably only going to take a couple of months or so to finish your missions and compare that to what you were facing a day or so ago. Won’t be long you’ll be sunning your ass on an island out in the middle of the Pacific without a care in the world.”

Jake/Derek bit into his sandwich without responding so Banks continued on.

“Let’s start going over these cases. Number one is an Air Force recruiter currently stationed in Omaha, Nebraska. Career type that’s been stationed all over the world. We’ve uncovered that he is responsible for the deaths of over fifteen streetwalkers and runaway girls who lived around the bases that he has been stationed at. Intelligence has reported that law enforcement agencies have begun to put together a pattern but have yet to narrow it down to our target. Yet. If he kills a hooker or some kid in Omaha in his usual fashion, it won’t take long for them to center in on him.”

“Why don’t you just turn over your evidence and have him arrested?” asked Jake.

“If he was some normal enlisted man that would be no problem. But this asshole was voted recruiter of the year and even had lunch with the President. Publicity would be the shits. Hit recommended is to make it look

like a street crime.”

Banks flipped a page. “Number two is a Marine stationed at Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri. Gunnery Sergeant who is involved with some local hillbillies and rednecks in a very profitable methamphetamine operation. Operation brings in an estimated one to one and a half million dollars a year. Been going on almost three years now. What gets his ass in a twist and brings him to our attention is that his assignment at Leonard Wood is with the drug eradication team there. Dipshit has a chest full of medals and accommodations from his work with the team. Not a thing that the higher ups want plastered all over the evening news. Lives alone in trailer outside of Licking, Missouri. Clean out all evidence of narcotics and blow the place to hell and back. Trailer’s got a big propane tank behind it, should be easy.”

Derek finished two sandwiches and started on another beer. He was starting to feel a little better and listening to Bank’s briefing was starting to give him a familiar adrenaline buzz. These guys are assholes, he rationalized.

Dumb fuck number three is a wannabe pimp down in Orlando, Florida. That one should be kind of fun for you. Lot of sun and poontang to check out while you’re there. This asshole is a former sailor with a bad conduct discharge. He’s got one girl working for him and they have a room with a two way mirror set up at a sleaze bag motel. They take sailors and other military types in there and videotape or take pictures of them in action with the whore and then blackmail them. Couple of younger sailors objected to the strong arming and he killed them both. Shot one and slit the other one’s throat. That one had graduated from boot camp that very day, guess he didn’t want his mother to see him in action with a black chick. Anyway, our mark recently hit the jackpot with a higher ranking naval officer and has been blackmailing him on the installment program. This one we have to find the evidence before he gets taken out. This shitbag can then be taken out anyway you so desire. No one will care. You may have to take the hooker out, but probably not. She’s not real bright.”

“Banks, how am I going to get around in these towns? I’ve never been to any of them.”

“Not to worry. A contact will meet you at the airport for every assignment and will handle all transportation. These guys are handpicked and gung ho to the max. They’ll do anything you tell them to. OK?”

Jake nodded.

“Four is a retired Navy chief in San Diego. Hard core pedophile and porno freak. Former driver and confidante of a soon to be major political star. This one is going to have to look like a suicide or accident.Definitely have to find and destroy all the sick shit that this guy has been

stockpiling.I’d like to kill him myself.”

Banks stopped to catch his breath and to chug down a beer.

“All right. Five and six are where you are really going to earn your wings. These two are one of the main reasons you were hand picked for these missions. Fifth name is Gary Bryant. You might have heard of him. Been a couple of books and even a movie made about him. Currently serving a long sentence in Oak Park Heights prison just outside of the Twin Cities. Your neck of the woods. He sold a shitload of secrets to the Russians some years back when he was working for a civilian intelligence company with a military contract. Soon to be released on parole. We can’t let that happen. He’s gonna get snuffed.”

“Ja..Derek, we’re going to put you inside to do this one.”

“Inside where?” demanded Jake. “In Oak Park. Don’t worry, you will be totally protected in there. We have an inside contact. It would be too suspicious if Bryant got whacked as soon as he was released. His parents have money and a lot of influence. He’s got to be done inside. It’ll be quick. You’ll do him in a couple of days after you get there. No one will question a prison killing.”

“How did I get handpicked for this shit?”

“You still have the Minnesota accent and you’ve done hard time. You’ll be easy to slide right in there. No one will suspect a thing.”

“I’m bound to been seen in there doing it. Then what happens?”

“That’s the genius of it, Derek. After Bryant is killed you will be shipped to the Minnesota Security Hospital for evaluation. The unit you will be on is the same unit where our number six man is locked up. He

killed a Navy WAVE in Hawaii and was running a large marijuana and narcotics ring while he was stationed there. He also stole some extremely sensitive classified material which was never recovered. It’s a two for one hit. You do him. You’ll be arrested and we will have our officers pick you up. But instead of being bound over for trial you will be whisked away to your flight to your new home. Obligation fulfilled.”

“That plan sounds like bullshit to me. Anything can happen once you get locked inside. I could get shanked by some punk trying to earn some respect,” Jake paused. “Or you guys just leave me inside after the hit and no one would be the wiser.”

Banks smiled at Jake.

“Derek, why would the hell would I go to all the trouble to spring you out of Leavenworth just to leave you inside a prison in Minnesota? Remember who you’re working for and why. The government needs these skels taken out of circulation. They sure as hell don’t want you left inside Oak Park and to start opening your piehole to the media. These are pure covert operations that you’re going to be sent out on. Top secret shit. The Feds know they fucked up on your court martial and they are willing to set the record straight. Trust me.”

Jake snorted. “Trust me. In a pig’s ass I can trust the Feds. Those fuckers had me locked up in the bowels of the worst shithole prison in their system, not talking to me, letting me go slowly nuts, and now I’m supposed to trust them.”

“What can I say? You either accept the offer or you go back to Leavenworth. I think island living would be a whole hell of a lot better than a prison cell.”

“What I can’t believe it, Banks, is that you can sit here eating a chicken sandwich and tell me how easy it’s going to be to kill six people. Like it’s going to be a walk in the fucking park. Have you ever killed anyone or do you just like to talk big?”

Banks glared at Jake. “Don’t get all huffy with me, boy. I was taking out assholes like this when you were still jacking off to the bra section in the Sears catalogue. So don’t try your badass prison routine with me. I’ll have your ass shipped back so fucking fast your head will fucking spin.”

Banks stood and threw his beer glass against the wall, glass and Guinness sprayed both of them. He stared daggers at Jake, his fists clenched, he was breathing so hard it looked like he had just finished a hard run.

“I’m tired of fucking around with you. Are you in or not?”

A vision of last night in bed with Jasmine and then the thought of his prison cell back in Kansas flashed through Jake’s mind.

“I’m in, Banks. I’m in. But let me tell you one thing. You fuck me on this deal and I swear to God, I’ll haunt you the rest of your worthless pissy life. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you down. Are you in on that?”

Banks reached his hand across the table. “We’ve got a deal.”

Jerry Banks hadn’t killed anyone recently, but he had killed a couple of dozen Viet Cong or their sympathizers while he was in the Army Intelligence Corps. He liked to shoot them in the back of the head or throw them out of a helicopter while one of their buddies watched. It really got the little brown buggers to start jabbering.

Jerry came from a well to do family in Venice, Florida. His dad had been in insurance and his mother had been big in real estate. Jerry had a full ride golf scholarship to Florida State after high school, but had majored in pussy, beer, and marijuana instead, and had flunked out after two semesters. His draft board immediately beckoned. His old man pulled some strings with some buddies on the draft board and Jerry had wound up going to officers candidateschool after boot camp. After OCS he had attended military intelligence training and it was there that he found he had a hidden skill in interrogation.

Jerry lucked out once more and was cut orders to a Psych Ops unit in Saigon. There he spent his mornings grilling Viet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers for the minimal military intelligence that they possessed, his afternoons on the golf course with the Generals, and his evenings smoking opium and screwing whores.

Life had never been better. Like Jake's Uncle Billy, Jerry was bummed out when the war ended but he quickly found employment with the CIA, and then a little more than ten years ago, with the agency that he was currently working with. It was great work, with minimal supervision, an almost unlimited budget, the golfing was fantastic in Nevada, he could gamble in Las Vegas, and there were whores galore. Almost like Vietnam but safer. Jerry liked to think of himself as a kid living out his wildest

fantasies. He never wanted to grow up.

The only bad part was having to deal with white trash like Jake Morrow and gutless weasels like Morgan. This wasn’t the first time he had worked with that little shit. Sooner or later, Morgan would have to become

the victim of a cap in the brain pan. He was too shaky and nervous Couldn’t be trusted for much longer. Might spill his guts.

“Ok. We’ll start briefing on assignment number one in the morning. I’ll send Jasmine over to help calm you down a bit. You’ll have a seven o’clock wake up call, so don’t stay up all night banging. Go easy on

the toot and the booze. I’ll need you fresh for your briefing.”