fun-loving kids-at-heart could turn themselves into psychopaths at will.
"The word is you were approached by someone from The Medinos while you were inside," said Vinney. Vinney was one of the most unassuming-looking of The Henchmen. At five-eight, and slim, he looked more like a gymnast than an outlaw biker.
"Yeah. I wasn't sure if the guy was full of shit," I said.
"He's not. The Medinos control a lot of hardware imports. The trouble is, they can't distribute without our permission. And we ain't gonna give it."
"Let's make sure we're talking about the same thing, Vinney."
"Niners, man. He did tell you he had niners for sale?"
"Yeah, man, niners. For sure." I'd had to get him to say it. If something went wrong and we had to shut down the operation early, the case for conspiracy to buy weapons wouldn't stick if the language wasn't specific. He could claim he'd been referring to motorcycle parts rather than firearms.
"Here's the deal, Doc," said Vinney. "Make the call. Set it up for the day after tomorrow. We'll meet you at Mike's tomorrow night to go over the details. Okay?"
"Sure, Vinney. One thing," I asked. "How did you know I was approached by the Mexican?"
"The Henchmen have long arms and big ears, man. Big fuckin’ ears. Let's go, Dog."
I was excited as I waited for them to ride away. It was all coming together beautifully. Integrity and brains. That's what it takes to succeed in law enforcement. After a few more minutes of congratulating myself I rode my bike to a deserted spot under Highway 64. During the construction of the highway, a public phone had been installed across the street from the workers' favorite diner. The diner had long since closed, but the phone company had never bothered to disconnect the phone. It was the perfect spot.
My conversation with the Mexican went smoothly. But I was uneasy. This group held a blood vendetta against the Henchmen, yet they were anxious to do business. Who's more dangerous , I wondered, the bikers or the Medinos ?
Molly Samuels was on duty at Base I when I called in the information on the weapons buy.
"Do you want backup on this one, Martin?" Samuels asked.
"No need, Molly. Thanks. The Mexicans are eager to do the deal and The Henchmen eager to buy. The price is already worked out, so it should be a simple deal."
I was lying. Something wasn't right with the deal, I could feel it. But I didn't want some over-anxious agent making matters worse by moving in too soon and blowing the whole case. I'd rather take my chances alone. Besides, I was going to have the most powerful motorcycle gang in the country with me. Samuels took down all the information and wished me luck. Before I left I called home to check in with Amy.
My calls had become few and far between, since leaving the training facility. Contact with Amy interfered with my ability to stay in character. She and I had agreed I wouldn't speak with her too often while on the assignment. She could call Atwood's home in case of any emergency. This was upsetting for both of us, but it was better that way.
As I rode back to the apartment, my thoughts were with Amy and Alex and not on my riding. I accidently cut off a pickup truck at an intersection, forcing the driver to the shoulder. I rode up alongside the truck and peered in at its shaken passengers.
"You all right?" I asked.
"You fucking freak!" the driver bellowed, a balding man in his early fifties. His wife sat next to him, silent but visibly shaken. "You could have killed us. Where the hell do you come off riding like that? Don't you have any goddamn respect for law and order?"
"I guess you're all right," I said as I rode away, the driver of the pickup still cursing and shaking his fist. I laughed to myself about what I must have looked like to him. I rather enjoyed it that my appearance and my apparent disdain for the law had rattled him so much. If he only knew...
I arrived at Mike's early the next evening. None of The Henchmen had arrived, and
"The word is you were approached by someone from The Medinos while you were inside," said Vinney. Vinney was one of the most unassuming-looking of The Henchmen. At five-eight, and slim, he looked more like a gymnast than an outlaw biker.
"Yeah. I wasn't sure if the guy was full of shit," I said.
"He's not. The Medinos control a lot of hardware imports. The trouble is, they can't distribute without our permission. And we ain't gonna give it."
"Let's make sure we're talking about the same thing, Vinney."
"Niners, man. He did tell you he had niners for sale?"
"Yeah, man, niners. For sure." I'd had to get him to say it. If something went wrong and we had to shut down the operation early, the case for conspiracy to buy weapons wouldn't stick if the language wasn't specific. He could claim he'd been referring to motorcycle parts rather than firearms.
"Here's the deal, Doc," said Vinney. "Make the call. Set it up for the day after tomorrow. We'll meet you at Mike's tomorrow night to go over the details. Okay?"
"Sure, Vinney. One thing," I asked. "How did you know I was approached by the Mexican?"
"The Henchmen have long arms and big ears, man. Big fuckin’ ears. Let's go, Dog."
I was excited as I waited for them to ride away. It was all coming together beautifully. Integrity and brains. That's what it takes to succeed in law enforcement. After a few more minutes of congratulating myself I rode my bike to a deserted spot under Highway 64. During the construction of the highway, a public phone had been installed across the street from the workers' favorite diner. The diner had long since closed, but the phone company had never bothered to disconnect the phone. It was the perfect spot.
My conversation with the Mexican went smoothly. But I was uneasy. This group held a blood vendetta against the Henchmen, yet they were anxious to do business. Who's more dangerous , I wondered, the bikers or the Medinos ?
Molly Samuels was on duty at Base I when I called in the information on the weapons buy.
"Do you want backup on this one, Martin?" Samuels asked.
"No need, Molly. Thanks. The Mexicans are eager to do the deal and The Henchmen eager to buy. The price is already worked out, so it should be a simple deal."
I was lying. Something wasn't right with the deal, I could feel it. But I didn't want some over-anxious agent making matters worse by moving in too soon and blowing the whole case. I'd rather take my chances alone. Besides, I was going to have the most powerful motorcycle gang in the country with me. Samuels took down all the information and wished me luck. Before I left I called home to check in with Amy.
My calls had become few and far between, since leaving the training facility. Contact with Amy interfered with my ability to stay in character. She and I had agreed I wouldn't speak with her too often while on the assignment. She could call Atwood's home in case of any emergency. This was upsetting for both of us, but it was better that way.
As I rode back to the apartment, my thoughts were with Amy and Alex and not on my riding. I accidently cut off a pickup truck at an intersection, forcing the driver to the shoulder. I rode up alongside the truck and peered in at its shaken passengers.
"You all right?" I asked.
"You fucking freak!" the driver bellowed, a balding man in his early fifties. His wife sat next to him, silent but visibly shaken. "You could have killed us. Where the hell do you come off riding like that? Don't you have any goddamn respect for law and order?"
"I guess you're all right," I said as I rode away, the driver of the pickup still cursing and shaking his fist. I laughed to myself about what I must have looked like to him. I rather enjoyed it that my appearance and my apparent disdain for the law had rattled him so much. If he only knew...
I arrived at Mike's early the next evening. None of The Henchmen had arrived, and
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