Tai Anne Roper 2
by Nicole Sutter
FOR MATURE READERS ONLY
Chapter 11 - "Bunzie to the Rescue"
Tai Anne Roper weaved her Honda Superhawk through the morning rush hour, stopping at a Wells Fargo Bank on Mission, across from the gargantuan Sony Metreon.
She made her usual scene walking across the marble floor and waiting in line, with every male eye in the house eyeing her with lust and avarice.
When she reached the teller, she got a blank deposit slip and deposited her new found wealth into her regular checking account she'd had in LA. Although this was the first time it had ever made it well into four figures.
When the teller saw the amount, she tried to give Tai either a new toaster oven or a portable CD player.
Walking back to where she had illegally parked her bike, a pleasant looking young Asian man in a suit and tie came up to her.
"Excuse me, Ms. Roper?"
"Yes?" she smiled at him, even though she couldn't place the face.
"C-could I please have your autograph?" He handed her a piece of paper and a pen. "I just love your website! And I've ordered all your DVDs!"
"Why... thank you." The momentary flush of embarassment was eclipsed by a feeling of pride. "You really liked the website?"
"Oh yes, Ms. Roper!" He grinned. "Gave me and the wife a few new ideas... especially the Nawa Shibari! I mean..." Now it was his turn for his face to go red.
"That's okay, what's your name? And your wife's?"
"Bill and Mariko Tetsugawa."
She scribbled To Bill and Mariko! Glad I could be service! Love, Tai Anne Roper! and gave it to him.
"Thank you! thank you so much!"
He floated off like he had just gotten Mickey Mantle's autograph. Tai smiled as she mounted her bike and slipped her helmet on. Jiminy Crickets! I have fans!
***
Paige Torne was busy doing inventory when one of her bouncers called her over to the front door.
"Yeah?" she walked up, recognizing Jeb Stuart's friend Langley standing there beside one of the the bikers she had hired. Langley was in his early forties, slightly overweight and balding, dressed in a nice suit and tie. His left arm was still in a sling.
Langley was a CIA control officer, and Jeb Stuart's former boss. Paige had met him on Monday, when he and Stuart helped plan the assault on the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, where her friend Drew Thrasher and Tai Anne Roper were being held by Fiendly and Wenche.
Unfortunately the whole op had gone to shit when a Saudi merc group called the Fist of Allah had attacked. Five of Langley's crew had been KIA, and he had been wounded.
"You know this stiff?" the biker asked Paige.
"Yeah. Now blow." She looked at Langley. "How you doing?"
He nodded. "Healing up. Can I get a drink around here?"
"It's a little early."
"Depends on your time zone. If we were in New Zealand, I'd be last call."
"That's true. C’mon." She led him over to the bar and called Rosie the bartender over.
"Scotch rocks," he said.
"My usual," Paige said.
Rosie quickly came back with his drink and a dry martini with a jalapeno stuffed olive.
"Thought you said it was early?"
"Nobody should drink alone. L'chaim." They clinked glasses. "Your buddy Jeb told me you might be along."
"What else did he say?"
"That you were burned out working for the Agency. That I could do a helluva lot worse than hire you as my new security chief."
"And what happened to the old security chief?"
Paige smiled ruefully. "He absconded with a young woman I was protecting named Jessica McClintock, and sold her to a couple of white slavers..."
"So I heard, Fiendly and Wenche. And they sold her to her own mother."
"Who is currently holding her against her will... somewhere." Paige sipped her martini. "I am going to get her back, by the way."
"Good for you."
"Before he left with the girl, my former security chief fucked up every computer and surveillance cam here in The Brickyard."
"Ouch."
"So now I need someone who can assist me in getting Jessica back, who also has the know how to fix this mess... plus being someone I can trust."
Langley sipped his drink. "You can trust me."
"Why, cuz Jeb says so?"
He shook his head. "See, I've been CIA station chief here in SF for five years, and I've known of your little operation here at The Brickyard since you started it three years ago."
"Really."
"Yup. I thought you were doing a rightous job of it too. Giving people who deserved it a new identity and a new chance on life." He chuckled. "Certainly doing a better job of it than any government agency could manage, and doing it all out of a BDSM club in the SoMa while financing it with bondage websites and videos..."
"Girl's gotta make ends meet."
He shrugged. "So I never reported you to the Agency. And whenever someone in the G started getting close to you, I'd steer 'em the wrong way."
"Got any proof of this?"
Sure. Last... February, I think it was... you helped the 16 year old daughter of a Columbian druglord, one Miranda Escobar. What you don't know is that her very angry papa sent four of his best hitters to SF to kill her, and whoever dared help her."
"I remember the girl, but not the hitters."
"That's cos I got to 'em first. I tried to scare 'em off, but they wouldn't listen to sweet reason... so I made 'em all... disappear."
Piage studied him, sipping her drink.
"I guess I do owe you." Paige said. "You really want the job?"
"Yeah."
"I don't even know your first name,"
"Greg," he replied.
She grinned. "Well C’mon... I'll show you the ropes."
"Hubba hubba!"
***
The morning fog that usually blankets the Sunset District was just burning off when Tai Anne Roper pulled her Honda into the front drive of the Stuart Family's clapboard rowhouse. Tess Stuart was waiting on the front steps for her.
"You're late!" she accused. She was dressed in early Avril Lavigne. Oversized cammie pants, 49'ers sweats and Sketchers.
Tai hopped off her bike, leaving her helmet on the handlebars. "Girlfriend, first thing you better learn about me is that I'm always late... but I'm worth it! Where's daddio?"
"Upstairs in his study, you gonna be long?"
"Just a few minutes," Tai said, tousling her long, straight hair. "Patience is a virtue. Or so I'm told..."
Tai walked in and saw Kate Stuart in the kitchen.
"Morning!" Tai hugged her and gave her a kiss.
"Morning, Tai. Want some breakfast?"
"No thanks, Tess and I are going for brunch later on. Just gotta see the Jebster for a sec."
"Okay..." Kate watched her bop on up the stairs --leathered buns flexing-- and wondering what kind of greeting her husband would get.
Jeb Stuart was still in his robe, sipping his coffee while hunched over his computer when Tai burst through the door to his den.
"Hi guy!"
"Doesn't anybody know how to knock anymore?" Jeb groused.
"Ohhhh... Mr. Grouchy!" Tai sat down next to him, leathered legs akimbo. "So what's doin'? Any word on Jessica McClinock?"
Jeb shrugged. "Got a few leads."
"Like what?"
"Paige and I are working on it."
"Hey." Tai tapped him on the shoulder with a boot heel. "You guys aren't trying to keep me outta the loop are you?"
"Of course not."
"Cuz... the reason I'm still here is to help get Jessica back... not just to be be a glamourous, high paid and famous bondage supermodel." Tai leaned back and fluffed her mane of black hair.
Jeb looked at her. "Riiiiiight."
"So? What's doin'?"
"Okay. Remember I told you that after Fiona Jacklin took possession of her daughter, that she contacted the local and Federal authorities about making the kidnapping investigation go away?"
"Yeah."
"Well, all that came from her attorneys. But not the attorneys out in LA that she usually uses," Jeb said. "It came through the law offices of Dewey, Cheatham and Howe... out of New York City."
"Ah! A clue!"
"So this morning I hack into the files of Dewey, Cheatham and Howe... and find out that Ms. Jacklin has also filed for power of attorney over her daughter, and is hunting around for a shrink who will have her declared mentally incompetent."
"Damn." Tai's eyes narrowed. "She wants her own daughter to be her legal prisoner for life!"
"Looks like. Now, the order for power of attorney originated with a lawyer named... Oscar Durant, who works out of Rhinelander County, New York..."
"Where's that?"
"According to Yahoo! Maps its on the Hudson, about a hundred miles north of Fun City." Jeb said. "Old Dutch country... fairly ritzy."
"So you think Fiona is hiding out with Jessica there?"
"Or nearby. But so far I haven't come up with anything solid. I ran a check on Fiona's assets, and she has no property or holdings there."
Tai nibbled her lower lip. "Did you check to see if any other big movie stars have a house out there? Like maybe a summer home on the Hudson?"
"Not yet. Why?"
Tai eased in and took over Jeb's keyboard going to google.com to run a search. "Just a hunch... but Fiona Jacklin is a movie star... and one thing I've learned from working out of LA is that movie stars only trust other movie stars. There!"
She had tapped in Movie stars living in Rhinelander County, New York and come up with a seventeen hits. All were articles about actor Clark Reznik.
"I remember him," Jeb said. "Big action star until a motorcycle accident. He was paralysed from the neck down."
Jeb scrolled through an old article from Home and Garden about Reznik's palatial estate on the banks of the Hudson, and how he had his own doctor and nurses who lived there to take care of his needs.
"Sounds like the perfect place for Fiona to hide out with Jessica," Tai said. "And someone like Reznik might benefit from a 'Jessica Cocktail'."
"I think you're onto something, Tai," Jeb admitted. "Good work."
"See? I'm more than just a pretty face."
Jeb was about to reply to that when the phone rang. He put it on speaker. "Hello?"
"This is the operator, will you accept a a long distance, collect call from a Drew Thrasher?"
Tai and Jeb looked at each other.
"Sure," Jeb said. The line clicked through. "Drew, what's up?"
"Jeb?" It was Drew's voice alright. "I'm in trouble! Last night I got abducted by my limo driver at the Newark Airport and taken to a place called the Jersey Pine Barrens! I managed to escape, but now I'm low on gas and stuck on the Jersey Turnpike!"
"Okay, just calm down, I'll get you through this," Jeb said. He went to his computer. "First, who abducted you?"
"A man calling himself Dr. Device, although Samarkand was also involved. He's still working for Joe Weskler, evidentally they wanted to know everything I know about Jessica McClintock."
"Alright... if Weskler is paying the bills, that means you can't trust the cops," Jeb said. "Where exactly are you?"
"A payphone."
"No, I mean where, what town?"
"Exit 33A at Mansfield Township, just off the Turnpike. There's a gas station and a few restuarants..."
"You got any cash on you?"
"Nothing. No cash, no ID, no anything! I'm driving a tow truck which has probably been reported as stolen. I do have a pistol though. Beretta 92F."
"Great! The police can use that as an excuse to arrest you... or kill you on sight if Weskler thinks you know too much." Jeb finished tapping into his computer. "Okay, there should be a Ramada Inn at that exit, do you see it?"
"Yes! It's about a block down the road."
"Listen carefully, and do exactly as I say... leave the truck and get rid of the gun --break it down and toss it into a ditch or something-- walk to the Ramada and use the phone in the lobby to call me again. By that time I'll have things set up."
"Right. Thanks, Jeb."
"Drew!" Tai shouted. But she had already hung up. "Now what?"
"Now I try to find someone I can trust, who lives in that neck of the woods and also has a good sense of humor..." He pulled out an address book and went down a list of names. "Hmmm... I wonder if Bunzie would help..."
"Bunzie?" Tai asked.
"Worth a try." Jeb punched in a number, keeping it on speakerphone. It was answered on the fourth ring.
"Hello?" A woman's voice, sounded like a cellphone.
"Bunzie? Jeb here."
"Hey, sport! It's been too long! How are Kate and the kids?"
"Everybody's fine. How's Dani?"
"She's with me now, we're out scouting some ivy league schools that just might meet with her approval."
"Where are you now?"
"Princeton. She thinks the campus is 'kicky'."
'This might work out... look, I need for you to do me a big fav. I got a friend named Drew Thrasher who is in beau coup trouble."
"Drew Thrasher, the BBC anchorbabe?"
"The same. She's dodging a slaver named Samarkand who's working for Joe Weskler."
"Weskler I know, a well-connected asshole with deep pockets. Samarkand, I've heard of. Does he really where a red fez?"
"'Fraid so."
"Yikes. So how can I help your friend?"
"She'll be waiting in the lobby of the Ramada Inn at the Mansfield exit off the Jersey Turnpike. Pick her up and see that she makes it back to New York."
"Roger wilco. Give her an ETA of... 45 minutes."
"Thanks, Bunzie."
"De nada."
He hung up and waited for Drew's callback.
"So who the hell is this 'Bunzie'"?" Tai asked.
"You mean to tell me you've never heard of Fanni 'Bunzie' Hall?" Jeb replied.
For the second time that morning, Tai's eyebrows crawled up her forehead. "What?! You mean to tell me that Fanni Hall really exists?"
"Yup. Of course she's been out of the game for years now. Retired after she rescued some Emir's daughter from the Russian mob back in '85, I think he gave her a few oil wells in payment. She has a grown daughter and everything."
"No kiddin!" Tai was fascinated. "But what about those graphic novels that The Bishop did of her? Are they true?"
"Well, from what I heard, Bob Bishop wasn't above taking a little 'artistic license'. In fact..."
The phone rang, Jeb told the operator he'd accept another collect call.
"Jeb, it's me," Drew said. "I'm in the lobby of the Ramada, and I've ditched the gun."
"Good, is it crowded there?"
"I'll say! They're having a Civil War Re-enactors Convention... looks likes they're getting ready to refight the Battle of Antietam in the restaurant buffet line!"
"Great. Stay in the crowd, nobody's going to do anything around witnesses. In 45 minutes or so, a woman identifying herself as 'Bunzie' will approach you. Do as she says, you can trust her with your life."
"Bunzie, eh? Alright. Thanks again, Jeb!"
"Drew!" Tai shouted over the speaker phone. "It's me, Tai! Be careful, dearest! I love you!"
"I... I love you too, Tai. Very much... I'll talk with you later." Then she hung up.
Tai looked at Jeb again. "Should I stick around?"
"I don't see what good that would do," Jeb said. "Besides, Tess..."
"Taaaaaaaaaiii!!! Are we gonna go this year? Or whaaaaat?!"[ Tess Stuart hollered from down the stairs.
"See what I have to listen to?" Jeb said. "Go, get outta here. I'll call you on your cell when I find out anything."
"Right." Tai gave Jeb a quick peck on the cheek. "Bai bai!"
"Ja ne."
***
Tai rushed down the stairs and out to the driveway with Tess on her heels. Tess then made a face when Tai handed her a spare motorcycle helmet.
"Awww... do I hafta?"
"Got a riddle for ya," Tai replied. "What do they call people who ride motorcycles without helmets?"
"What?"
"Organ donors. Now put it on, girlfriend."
***
A few minutes later, Tess Stuart was holding on to Tai for dear life as she throttled up her Honda through the Haight District on her way to Taffy Chu's place on Russian Hill.
The intersection of Haight and Ashbury had been ground zero for the famous 'Summer of Love' in 1969. Thirty-three years later, the era of hippies, yippies, flower power and free love seemed as quaint as a visit to Colonial Williamsburg.
There were still headshops and tie-dyed kaftans about, but it reminded Tai of the well paid craftsmen at Williamsburg who still made candles and cornhusk dolls for the tourists.
Stopped for a red light at the famed intersection, Both Tai and Tess looked up as a woman screamed.
An elderly Asian woman had been knocked to the ground, while a couple of skinhead toughs ran across the intersection --one with her purse in hand-- laughing at their good fortune.
"Dammit!" Tess growled. The busy street seemed frozen, as dozens of people just stood there and let these two punks just dance away. "Somebody oughta do something!"
"Somebody is," Tai said. "Get off the bike."
"No!"
"Then hang on, girlfriend." Tai throttled up the bike and peeled out across the intersection, aiming right for the two skinheads.
She swerved into the one holding the purse. He screamed as his crotch hit the spinning front tire and his body climbed up the front fender. Tai carried him along for a good ten feet before hitting the brakes, causing him to fly off backwards into a bunch of overfilled garbage cans.
She hopped off the bike and pulled off her helmet as skinhead 2 rushed her. A karate kick to the gut stopped him in his tracks. Tai cocked her leg back again and unleashed three lightning fast kicks to the face that dropped him to the pavement in no time flat.
"Behind you!" Tess shouted.
Skinhead One --a Vin Diesel wannabe with muscles and nazi tats galore-- had made it out of the spilled garbage and was striding to Tai with clenched fists.
Tai --still with her right leg cocked-- cut loose with a 180 degree spin kick to his solar plexus that shut him down for good. A wicked body kick sent him flying back into the garbage cans again.
She relaxed from her Shotokan defensive stance and went to reclaim the purse. She handed it over to the Asian lady who thanked her profusely in Cantonese.
"Like, that's nice gettin' the purse back and all," one aging hippie said from the sidelines. "But like was all that violence really necessary?"
"Yeah, when you stoop to their level, then you're no better than they are!" A gray-haired Earth Mother admonished.
"Who said I'm any better?" Tai answered. She headed back to her bike. "Come, Tonto!" she said to Tess. "Our work here is done."
"Right, Kemosabe." Tess got onto the back of the bike and they peeled out to continue down Haight.
By the time the first SFPD black and white arrived on the scene, everybody had scattered because they didn't want to get involved.
***
Fanni Hall downshifted to get around a slow moving semi rig and then kicked her silver, 1988 Porsche 944 Turbo S back into fifth to surge forward and deftly weave through the traffic on the southbound Jersey Turnpike.
"So who is this person, Mom?" her daughter Dani Hall asked from the passenger seat.
"Like I said, moppet, a friend of Unca Jeb's," Fanni replied. "She got... stranded, and we're just going to run her into the city."
"Ohhhhhkeeeeee..."
Fanni smiled as she watched the speedometer edge over 120 mph. She knew her chariot could do 185 mph if she so desired.
Fanni Hall was 52 years old, but through a rigorous daily regime of running, aerobics and pilates, she could still pass for mid-thirties. Some crows feet around the eyes and some gray in her still long, black hair that was parted down the middle only gave her beauty a touch of maturity.
Fanni still possessed the same olive skin, pug nose, wide, expressive brown eyes and generous lips that The Bishop had captured a little too well. Despite the years and the fact that Fanni's graphic adventures were long out of print, she still got recognized on occasion.
Maybe she wasn't the same twentysomething girl who so vexed The Madame during the seventies. Now she was a confident, experienced woman of the world.
However, her 19 year old daughter Dani was a chip off the old block, with a taut, lithe body, a pretty face that echoed her mother's, and the same long, raven hair.
Dani was wearing comfortably snug and faded DKNY jeans, an Aeropostale jersey and Reeboks. Her mom wore tight, brown leather pants --laced and cinched at belly and back-- a matching turtleneck sweater and high-heeled knee boots. Old habits die hard.
"So, how did you like Princeton?" Fanni asked.
Dani shrugged. "Feh, it was okay. The meeting room for the Gay and Lesbian Students Committee was much nicer than the ones at Yale or 'Haaaavaahd', but when I got there, they were all playing Yahtzee!"
"And what did you expect, an erotic, orgiastic daisy-chain snaking out into the hallway?"
"Mothuuuur!" Dani rolled her eyes to great effect. "Sometimes..."
"Now, now," Fanni said. "As I told everybody at my last PFLAG meeting, I am very proud of my exuberant, lesbian daughter... Ah! Here we are."
Fanni downshifted and took the cloverleaf at the Mansfield township.
"Now when we get there, just do as I say. Keep your line open on your cell."
"Okay, okay..."
Fanni steered the low slung Porsche down the road and into the crowded parking lot of the Ramada Inn, where Union troops seemed to massing by the vending machines.
Fanni parked the Porsche by the lobby entrance and got out, leaving the motor running.
She walked right by a Jeep Liberty where Dr. Device and Ms. Santiago were waiting.
***
Drew Thrasher sat in a comfortable armchair in the lobby, keeping her complimentary copy of USA Today over her face just like in the movies.
She had just spotted Samarkand at the front desk, no doubt showing her pic to the desk clerks. He must've spotted the tow truck down the street and put two and two together.
In the lobby, Union troops were forming up after successfully laying waste to the luncheon buffet. That's when someone tapped on Drew's shoulder.
"Ms. Thrasher I presume?"
Drew jumped, then turned and looked at a woman hunkered down next to her chair. She blinked and stared wide-eyed at her. "Bunzie?"
"My 'Bunzie' days are mostly behind me now," Fanni Hall replied, slapping her still ripe and well-rounded posterior. "I think J. Lo now has the butt to beat."
"Good Lord!" Drew blinked again. "Whoever you are, you bear an incredible resemblance to a friend of mine..."
"Later, gator," Fanni said. "Cuz unless there's a Shriners’ convention here, that vermin in the fez is Samarkand."
"That's him alright," Drew replied. "What do we do?"
"Is there a mouse in your pocket?" Fanni smirked. "You go out the back way. They probably have the front covered. Now move it, britbabe."
"Righto." Drew took a deep breath and used the Union troops for cover as she walked through the lobby and down a corridor and past the indoor swimming pool, currently full of splashing kids and the bored wives of the troops. The exit lay past some conference rooms.
"Not so fast, Drew!" Suddenly Samarkand was standing in front of her. He wore a nice suit and that damnable red fez. "Did you really think you could escape me?"
Drew made a move for the pool and Samarkand casually extended a newspaper folded over his right hand. "Once again, we can do this the hard way or the easy WAAUGH!!!"
Fanni Hall had come up behind him and delivered a textbook kidney punch. Then another one for good measure. She leaned Samarkand against a wall and relieved him of the newspaper and the small, stainless steel Vertagg trank pistol inside of it.
"Here, slaver... have a taste." Fanni darted him on the inside of his leg, right at the femoral artery. Samarkand felt the icy numbness race into his chest.
Fanni nudged Samarkand to the ground and screamed like a girl. "Omigawd!!!! Somebody help! A Shriner just had a heart attack!!!"
"Out of the way, Ma'am!" A pair of hunky lifeguards from the pool came running up. They dropped down next to Samarkand --who was still conscious but without muscle control-- and began performing CPR on him. One tilting his head back and giving him mouth to mouth respiration, the other straddling him and doing chest compressions hard enough to crack his ribs.
"We should go before he comes out of it," Fanni said to Drew with a wicked grin.
"Indeed." Drew smiled down at Samarkand and waved. "Toodles!"
They walked together out the back door, reaching the sidewalk just as Dani Hall eased the silver Porsche 944 into the parking lot and stopped in front of them.
"I don't even know your name," Drew said as she was bundled into the miniscule back seat. "Unless you insist on 'Bunzie'."
"The name is Hall," she replied. "Fanni Hall."
"That's my mom!" Dani said proudly as she worked pedal and clutch in tandem and shifted gears. The Porsche was soon back onto the Jersey Turnpike, now headed north towards New York.
"Fanni Hall?" Drew wouldn't have been any more surprised if she had told her she was Xena, Warrior Princess. "The Fanni Hall? Of the Bishop books and-and..."
"And all of that?" Fanni finished with a sigh. "Yes, I'm afraid so." She turned to her daughter. "Mind the speed, dear. We don't need a close encounter with the New Jersey State Police."
"Yes, Mothuuur..."
"So!" Fanni turned around in the passenger seat to look over Drew. "Who's this friend of yours you say I look like?"
"Hmm? Oh yes!" Drew said. "Actually its quite uncanny, altho she is Eurasian. Her name is Tai Anne Roper..."
"Kooky name!" Dani snickered.
"Tai Anne Roper?" Fanni frowned. "Any relation to Glenna Jane Roper?"
"Yes! That's her mother. Well, one of her mothers." Drew sighed. "It's complicated. You know her mother?"
"Yeah." Fanni eased back into her seat. "A very long time ago..."
"Hey, Mom! We got company!" Dani said.
"Bollocks!" Drew hissed. Looking out the rear window, she could see an unmarked, gray police car now chasing after them, the blue lightbar on the dashboard strobing away.
"Should we stop?" Dani asked.
"I can explain what happened..." Drew began.
"Both of you hush!" Fanni admonished. She opened the glove box between the two leather bucket seats and removed a small, slab-sided Walther PPK/S pistol of stainless steel and rubber combat grips. "Those aren't real police."
"But how..." Drew began again.
"That's a V-6 Chevrolet Impala after us," Fanni replied. "State and local New Jersey law enforcement uses either V-8 Chevy Caprices or Ford Crown Victorias for its rolling stock." She nodded at the next exit. "Get off the turnpike here, moppet."
"Right, Mom."
The ersatz cop car followed them.
"Dammit, Ms. Hall," Drew said. "I'm so sorry I got you caught up into this!"
"Call me Fanni," she replied, motioning for Dani to pull under the turnpike overpass and come to a halt. There were no rest stops or gas stations nearby, and other traffic was non-existent. "That's alright, Drew. Seems like old times to me..."