I said.
“Sidecars?”
“This isn’t World War Two, Sam.”
“If we’re planning a full frontal assault here, Mikey, we might want to plan for every contingency.”
“I don’t see us needing sidecars,” I said. “No matter the contingency.”
“I’ll look into it. They had them at the last inauguration. Looked pretty sharp, Mikey, can’t deny that.”
“Not really the look I’m aiming for.”
“What’s the plan here? Shock and awe or more spit and shine?”
I told him Fiona’s idea—delivering Grossman, or at least delivering his identity, and maybe some of his stolen goods—to the Ghouls, and then that way we could control the situation. What that situation happened to be depended upon how much they already knew.
“First thing, though,” I said, “I need to look into the mortality of Nick Balsalmo. If he’s alive, we need to make sure he stays that way and stays quiet.”
“Gotcha,” he said. “I suppose just UPSing the Ghouls their stuff is out of the question.”
“Not going to work,” I said. “That’s why we need the bikes.”
“We’re talking choppers only here? That the look you want?”
“Right,” I said.
“Chuck Finley rides again,” Sam said and hung up.
When you’re dealing with motorcycle gangs, you have to understand that they aren’t like normal criminals. It’s an entire culture—a culture that demands loyalty above all else; and if that means someone has to die for merely being negligent, that’s not a problem. It also means if you disrespect them, it’s like disrespecting Hezbollah: They will fight you forever, wherever.
In order to help Bruce out, it wouldn’t be as simple as giving the Ghouls back what was taken. We’d have to direct them to something larger than Bruce. Another gang. A snitch within their ranks. Someone directing Bruce’s actions for something bigger, more destructive. Get them thinking Bruce was just an instrument and they’d focus their attention on fighting that war. I’d need to get close to them to figure out just what that trigger might be.
In the meantime, we just had to keep Bruce and his mother safe. And that I had a plan for.
I looked at my watch. Not enough time had elapsed, so I did some push-ups, a few sit-ups, a hundred crunches and some light tae kwon do in the mirror. When it seemed like Fi would have had enough time to cross the city, pick up my mom and then head off to Lamps Are Us, I called my mother’s house.
“Ma,” I said into her answering machine (a Record-A-Call from 1979, to be precise), “I have some friends I’d like you to meet. I’ll bring them by around dinner-time. You’re just going to love them both.”
6
Urban warfare isn’t any fun. Ask any soldier what they’d prefer and they’ll tell you that a clear, fixed target on a battlefield with a linear objective, replete with a front and a rear, is much easier to control than going door-to-door in a burned-out city. Gettysburg or Fallujah, basically, and if you’re a betting man and you’re betting on your life, you’ll take Gettysburg every time.
Problem is, no one fights conventionally anymore. They’ve all seen Black Hawk Down and Full Metal Jacket, they’ve all watched CNN and Al Jazeera and they all play first-person shooter video games. Thus they all know that fighting inside buildings and alleys is the great equalizer to light manpower.
So when you’re in a densely packed urban environment and looking for possibly hostile targets, it’s wise to look as nonthreatening as possible. Most spies spend their whole lives in slacks and a button- down shirt. It doesn’t matter if they are working in the Pentagon or Darfur: Slacks and a button-down shirt are almost always plain enough to be completely unnoticeable, because when you’re a spy it’s important never to dress to bring attention. You want to blend in.
On the rare occasion you need a disguise, it’s imperative to remember that it’s easier to look older than
“Sidecars?”
“This isn’t World War Two, Sam.”
“If we’re planning a full frontal assault here, Mikey, we might want to plan for every contingency.”
“I don’t see us needing sidecars,” I said. “No matter the contingency.”
“I’ll look into it. They had them at the last inauguration. Looked pretty sharp, Mikey, can’t deny that.”
“Not really the look I’m aiming for.”
“What’s the plan here? Shock and awe or more spit and shine?”
I told him Fiona’s idea—delivering Grossman, or at least delivering his identity, and maybe some of his stolen goods—to the Ghouls, and then that way we could control the situation. What that situation happened to be depended upon how much they already knew.
“First thing, though,” I said, “I need to look into the mortality of Nick Balsalmo. If he’s alive, we need to make sure he stays that way and stays quiet.”
“Gotcha,” he said. “I suppose just UPSing the Ghouls their stuff is out of the question.”
“Not going to work,” I said. “That’s why we need the bikes.”
“We’re talking choppers only here? That the look you want?”
“Right,” I said.
“Chuck Finley rides again,” Sam said and hung up.
When you’re dealing with motorcycle gangs, you have to understand that they aren’t like normal criminals. It’s an entire culture—a culture that demands loyalty above all else; and if that means someone has to die for merely being negligent, that’s not a problem. It also means if you disrespect them, it’s like disrespecting Hezbollah: They will fight you forever, wherever.
In order to help Bruce out, it wouldn’t be as simple as giving the Ghouls back what was taken. We’d have to direct them to something larger than Bruce. Another gang. A snitch within their ranks. Someone directing Bruce’s actions for something bigger, more destructive. Get them thinking Bruce was just an instrument and they’d focus their attention on fighting that war. I’d need to get close to them to figure out just what that trigger might be.
In the meantime, we just had to keep Bruce and his mother safe. And that I had a plan for.
I looked at my watch. Not enough time had elapsed, so I did some push-ups, a few sit-ups, a hundred crunches and some light tae kwon do in the mirror. When it seemed like Fi would have had enough time to cross the city, pick up my mom and then head off to Lamps Are Us, I called my mother’s house.
“Ma,” I said into her answering machine (a Record-A-Call from 1979, to be precise), “I have some friends I’d like you to meet. I’ll bring them by around dinner-time. You’re just going to love them both.”
6
Urban warfare isn’t any fun. Ask any soldier what they’d prefer and they’ll tell you that a clear, fixed target on a battlefield with a linear objective, replete with a front and a rear, is much easier to control than going door-to-door in a burned-out city. Gettysburg or Fallujah, basically, and if you’re a betting man and you’re betting on your life, you’ll take Gettysburg every time.
Problem is, no one fights conventionally anymore. They’ve all seen Black Hawk Down and Full Metal Jacket, they’ve all watched CNN and Al Jazeera and they all play first-person shooter video games. Thus they all know that fighting inside buildings and alleys is the great equalizer to light manpower.
So when you’re in a densely packed urban environment and looking for possibly hostile targets, it’s wise to look as nonthreatening as possible. Most spies spend their whole lives in slacks and a button- down shirt. It doesn’t matter if they are working in the Pentagon or Darfur: Slacks and a button-down shirt are almost always plain enough to be completely unnoticeable, because when you’re a spy it’s important never to dress to bring attention. You want to blend in.
On the rare occasion you need a disguise, it’s imperative to remember that it’s easier to look older than
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