Tai Anne Roper 2
by Nicole Sutter
FOR MATURE READERS ONLY
Chapter 12 - "Reach Out and Touch Someone"
Callista Horlicks was what you might call 'middle management'.
She worked for Joseph Weskler, a well-known, multi-billionaire who owned a worldwide conglomerate of health spas, workout studios, health food stores and holistic health centers. He also sold everything from home gyms to workout videos to jogbras on the internet and at his places of business.
But, Callista Horlicks had nothing to do with any of that. She was part and parcel to his various criminal enterprises, which included distribution of illegal drugs --everything from steroids to heroin-- to gunrunning and white slavery.
This morning she'd had her driver pick her up from her Manhattan apartment and take her south on the Jersey Turnpike. Her mission was to try to make sense of whatever information that Dr. Device could get from Drew Thrasher regarding Jessica McClintock.
That mission changed after Device and his Control --Samarkand-- managed to lose Thrasher. Then they had found her again at a Ramada Inn... only to lose her again.
Now she had the chance to catch the brit bitch herself and really impress the boss! Device had said that she had gotten away in a silver Porsche 944 --not too many of them on the road these days-- no doubt driven by some good samaritan in for a rude awakening.
They had lucked upon a silver Porsche while heading north on the Turnpike to rendevous with the others. Her driver had suggested the old 'blue light special' that he used for carjacking with his homies when he wasn't working for Weskler.
Their blue Chevy Impala pulled up behind the Porsche, now parked on a gravel median under an overpass.
Callista Horlicks sat in the back seat with her legs crossed. She was a beautiful woman of 26, with long blonde hair in a french twist, green eyes and a pretty face. Her body was willow thin, yet quite curvy where it mattered. She wore a short, gray skirt, matching blazer, a white silk blouse and gray leather pumps. Sexy yet business like.
Her driver called himself Tupac Canker these days, a twentysomething banger and wannabe rapper from a Brooklyn shithole who made good money driving this uppity white byotch around town and keeping his mouth shut. On occasion he had to get physical or even bust a cap on somebody's ass, which was just fine with him.
Canker was black and weighed in at over 300 pounds. He wore loose fitting, black denim FUBUs that threatened to block out the sun whenever he lumbered about during the day.
"Whut now?" Canker rumbled. He had pulled up about ten feet off their back bumper. The blue light on the dash still flashing.
"Get their fuckin' attention," Callista said. "Just make sure nothing happens to that cunt Thrasher."
Canker shrugged and pried himself out of the car, pulling a sawed-down Ithaca .12 gauge pump out from under the seat. He fired a round off into the air --the boom echoing in the confines of the underpass-- and then shouted, "PO-LICE OFFICER!!! GIT OUTTA THE CAR, BITCHES!!!"
***
"Good Lord, American police are certainly a rude lot!" Drew said from the back seat of the Porsche.
"I could pop'er into reverse and ram 'em!" Dani Hall suggested from behind the wheel..
"Not in the Porsche!" Fanni Hall growled. She had driven it off the showroom floor, brand new, 14 years ago. "Perhaps if I had a little chat with them..."
"I have a better idea," Drew said, remembering the special she had done on pursuit and defensive driving she had done for the BBC a few months back...
***
"What the fuck are they waiting for, Christmas?" Callista Horlicks whined from the backseat. "Enough of this shit, blow their fuckin' tires."
Canker shrugged and tromboned the shotgun. Thats when the turbo charged engine of the Porsche suddenly raced like mad, red-lining the RPM gauge. Then whoever was driving shifted to reverse while the parking brake was still engaged.
The rear wheels of the Porsche spun and squealed, catching the packed gravel of the median and throwing it at the Impala with enough velocity to shatter the headlights and dent and ping the body.
Canker yelped as the sideglass and windshield spiderwebbed and shattered. He stumbled back and got several rocks bounced off his skull. A cloud of gray dust enveloped the Impala.
"Okay... not bad," Fanni admitted, as she, her daughter and Drew exited the Porsche. "Original... yet devious."
There was still no traffic coming through the underpass, only the sounds of cars whizzing along the Turnpike above.
Callista was hacking and coughing from the dust as she was pulled out of the Impala by Dani and Drew and spreadeagled over the hood. Dani had the Vertagg trank pistol and was ready to dart her in the ass.
Canker was flat in his back, fumbling for the shotgun when Fanni stepped on his hand. He looked up to find himself staring down the barrel of her .380 Walther pistol.
"Hands where I can see 'em, sport," Fanni said. She knealt down and frisked him, relieving him of a goldplated .50 caliber Desert Eagle Magnum pistol. A huge and incredibly gaudy weapon she stuck in her purse.
"Nice piece of artillery." Fanni also relieved him of two ammo clips. Now loaded down with weaponry, she pulled him up by his ear and shoved him onto the hood opposite Kallista.
"You were right, they weren't coppers," Drew said. She had looked through the car's interior and retrived Callista's thin, gray leather briefcase. "Got some papers here with Weskler's name on 'em."
"Those are confidential documents, bitch!" Callista shouted. "Now either let us the fuck go or call the goddamned cops!"
"What a mouth she has on her!" Dani said in amazement to Drew.
"I have another idea," Fanni smirked. "We take one of you along with us to torture for information, and cap the other one. And... since blondie here is the only one who'll fit in the trunk..."
Fanni put the barrel of the shotgun against Canker's noggin.
"Ohhhhhh gaddamn, don't kill me, please don't kill me!!!" Canker whined.
"Then tell me something I wann hear."
"Canker, you keep your fuckin' mouth shut!!!" Callista shouted.
"Dani, show blondie her new accomodations."
Callista tried to struggle, but Drew held her down while Dani Hall pulled a small plastic device from her purse that looked like a supermarket pricing gun, except that it held a roll of white plastic cord ties.
Dani worked the trigger a few times to get a circle of plastic cord and then slipped it up to Callista's elbows. She tightened it until her elbows met and then released the trigger to snip it neatly off.
"NOOOOO!!! Stoppit you bitch!" Callista
howled. "You can't tie me up!!!"
"Aw, sure I can!" Dani corded her wrists, then yelped as Callista kicked her in the shin with a high heel. "Ow! That really hurt!"
"Excuse me," Fanni said to Canker. She strode around the hood and pulled Callista off the hood. She then punched her once in the belly, hard enough to drop her to her knees and leave her gasping for breath.
"Mom!" Dani said in surprise.
"Bitch!" Callista hissed.
"Get her in the trunk," Fanni said, turning her attention back to Canker.
"Com'n, Miss Potty-mouth!" Dani said. She and Drew carried her over to the Porsche.
"Now, give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you." Fanni stood over Canker.
"Hey, Ah don't know nuthin'! Ah jus' drive the fuckin' car! That bitch be the goddamn brains! Talks to Weskler alla time! She knows ever-thang!"
"Grrreat! But why shouldn't I kill you?"
She placed the shotgun to his ear.
Canker tried to talk, but was hyper-ventilating too badly to get a word out.
"Maybe I shouldn't kill you because you'll take this car back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and make it disappear..."
"Yeah, Ah can do dat!"
"And then you'll make yourself disappear," Fanni continued. "And you won't ever contact Weskler or Samarkand or anybody connected to his organization... cuz once they find out you ratted out blondie over there, they'll make you disappear... permanently."
He nodded. "Ah hear ya!"
"Good. Now blow."
Fanni turned her back on him and walked back to her Porsche, where her daughter and Drew were waiting for her by the trunk. By the time she had gotten there, the Chevy had squealed away and headed up the northbound on-ramp back to New York.
"You let him go?" Dani asked.
"Think I should have killed him, moppet?" Fanni replied. She then smiled when she looked into the trunk and saw that the blonde woman was neatly tucked away. Additional cord ties had been placed at her ankles and then a connector tie to her wrists to put her in a stringent hogtie. A last cord tie kept a tennis ball stuffed deep inside her mouth.
"I really didn't think that tennis ball was gonna fit..." Dani commented.
"I did," Drew said.
Callista Horlicks looked up from the interior of the small trunk with wide, angry eyes at her three abductors.
"Mmmmph fmmmunph hummph!!!" She grunted while wiggling the best she could in her restraints. Her short skirt was showing off a lot of leg.
"A distinct improvement!" Fanni pronounced, slamming the trunk shut. She tossed her cellphone to Drew. "Better call our man Jeb and let him know what's going on."
***
"So this is the infamous Brickyard!" Kate Stewart said.
Jeb nodded as he pulled his gray Nissan Pathfinder into the empty parking lot. It was huge, taking up the whole city block at 7th and Folsom Streets in the SoMa. A two story, red brick building that had been converted from a factory to The City's premier BDSM club.
Jeb and Kate got out and headed up the concrete steps, where a few of Paige's biker bouncers were lounging around. Kate noticed some of them were sporting bruises, bandages and a few casts.
"What happened to them?" she whispered.
"Iwana Binder happened to them," Jeb replied cryptically.
They walked to the main bar, which was made up like an 1870's saloon, where Paige Torne and her new employee Langley were waiting for them.
"Jeb! Always good to see you!" Paige said with a smile.
"Paige, this is my wife, Kate." Jeb nodded. "Kate, the infamous Paige Torne."
"Infamous? I like that!" She gave Kate the once over, as she did to her. "Now I see why you're always rushing home everytime I see you."
"You have a lovely establishment, Ms. Torne," Kate said.
"Call me Paige," she replied. "And believe me, you've only seen the tip of the iceberg. I insist that you and Jeb come over for a weekend... I have so much to show you."
Kate gulped. Said the spider to the fly, she thought. She blinked and turned to Langley. "Greg! Good to see you again!"
"Always a pleasure, Kate," he replied.
The foursome walked to the bar and ordered drinks.
"I see you took my suggestion to heart and hired the big galoot," Jeb said to Paige.
"I'm already glad I did," she replied. "In just a few hours he got the phones untangled and gave us secure cell lines, restablished the video surveillance cams and sweep the place for bugs!"
"Shucks, ma'am... twern't nuthin'," Langley replied.
"That's good news," Jeb said as the drinks arrived. "Cuz I'm on my way right now to San Francisco International to catch a 2:30 Continental Flight to New York City."
"New York?" Paige sipped her customary martini. "Did you get a lead on Jessica's whereabouts?"
"That and more," Jeb replied. He told them about Tai's suggestion to check on celebs in Rhinelander County, New York, and how the came up with the name of Clark Reznik.
"Of course," Paige said. "A man of means like Reznik --who's also paralysed-- would be more than willing to hide out Fiona Jacklin and Jessica."
"That's not all," Jeb said. "An internet entertainment column just reported that Reznik let go his entire staff of doctors and nurses. They aren't talking, and Reznik's publicist is saying 'no comment.'"
"Excuse me," Langley said. "But Paige just brought me up to speed regarding this Jessica McClintock... Are we sure this isn't all a hoax? I mean... healing wounds and diseases with a simple blood transfusion?"
"It's for real," Jeb replied. "I've seen it myself. And Paige was telling me about a friend of hers who had a little girl with diabetes who got a Jessica Cocktail..."
"And now she's eating ice cream," Paige replied. "Not to mention what happened right here to Iwana and Kunta."
"Iwana and who-ah?" Langley asked.
"Iwana Binder is a friend of Tai Anne's. She got into a brawl with Kunta Kintare, who's Paige's main muscle," Jeb explained. "Where is Kunta anyway?"
"At her gym on Potrero Hill," Paige said.
"Anyway," Jeb continued. "Iwana and Kunta beat each other bloody! Then they got a Jessica Cocktail and in a few hours were totally healed up!"
"And I don't know about Iwana, but Kunta has told me that she's never felt better," Paige said. "She was already a musclegrrl... but now she can powerlift double the weight as she could before, run faster, move quicker..."
"Sound like something the government would want to get it's hands on," Langley said. "And you think that Jessica got this way from her parents?"
Paige nodded. "That's what Jessica told me herself when she was here. Matt McClintock runs McClintock Industries, one of the biggest biotech labs in the US. He experimented on both himself and his actress wife for decades, fiddling around with their DNA trying to find a fountain of youth... to no avail. Then their geeky daughter Jessica comes along, and she's perfectly normal... until puberty hits."
"Now she's 18 and in full bloom, somehow producing these puri-potent stem cells that cures everything they touch," Jeb said. "But so far, daughter dearest is only a one of a kind, golden goose."
"My God," Kate said. "No wonder they want her at any cost!"
"So both Mom and Dad want their daughter to be their lil lab rat so they can mass market the Jessica Cocktail, huh?" Langley shook his head. "So much for parents of the year!"
"The parents aren't the only one interested in this goose," Jeb said. "Joseph Weskler was the one who bankrolled that little party we had last weekend. He paid for Samarkand... Fiendly and Wenche... even those Saudi mercs."
"Great," Langley said. "At the time, the Agency was wondering why two mega-richies would be burning down a town trying to get a 19 year old girl. Now I know."
"About an hour ago I got a call from Drew Thrasher..." Jeb began. To a rapt audience, Jeb told what he knew of her abduction and escape. Also that Weskler was behind this bit of skullduggery as well, once again getting Samarkand to do his dirty work.
He then told them about that an operative had rescued Drew and had even managed to take one of Weskler's people hostage.
"So now they sweat him for info, right?" Langley asked.
"Her," Jeb corrected. "And yes, if she knows anything valuable, this operative can get it."
"He that good?"
Jeb thought of Fanni Hall. "Oh yeah."
"So now you're headed to Fun City," Langley stated.
"Gonna set up a base of operations and do some recon upstate," Jeb said.
"You want some backup?" Langley asked.
"What about that shoulder?"
Langley looked at his sling. "I can manage."
"I think I need you here more," Paige said. "I don't think Weskler's going to forget we're here. I need this place secure."
"Look, it was that Saudi merc squad that whacked my crew," Langley said. "If Weskler paid the bills then that makes him just as guilty. And I want a piece of him."
"Paige is right," Jeb said. "And once Weskler finds out who's fucking around with his operation, he'll be coming for us right where we roost. Which is The Brickyard."
Langley nodded. "Okay. For now."
"I'll be heading east too, when the time comes." Paige said.
"Is that wise?"
"I can handle myself," Paige said. "Besides, Kira and Kunta can handle the day to day operations of this place."
"We'll see," Jeb said. "Let me get out there and get the 'lay of the land'. See what we're up against."
"Hon?" Kate tapped her watch.
"Right. Gotta jet." He shooks hands with Langley and Paige. "I'll see ya when I see ya."
"Not if I seeya first!" Langley chuckled.
***
Twenty minutes later, Jeb's Pathfinder was southbound on the 101, headed for SFO. Traffic was a mess, but then traffic would always be a mess until they finished construction of the BART extension to the airport.
Kate was behind the wheel with her long, redish brown hair swirling in the wind from her open sidewindow, and her Raybans hiding her eyes. Her mind obviously somewhere else. Jeb was on his cellphone trying to reach Tess. The Pogues were playing on the sound system.
"H'llo?"
"Hey, kiddo. It's the dad."
"Checkin' up on me, huh?"
"Having fun?"
"Yeah! I've tried on like a gazillion things over here at Taffy's place --she is like so wild!-- and we had lunch at this vegetarian place..."
"Sounds great," Jeb said. "Look, I wanted to tell you that I got called east on business. I'll be in New York for awhile. A week maybe."
"Kewl! Have fun!"
"Just wanted to say goodbye before I left."
"Sure... I love you, Dad."
"Love you too, kiddo. Let me holler at Tai for a moment."
"Sure!"
A fizzle of static.
"Yeah, Jebster?"
"I'm headed for New York on business... be good while I'm gone."
"Hell, Jeb... I'm always good!"
"Let me talk to her," Kate said. Jeb handed her the phone. "Tai? Kate. After you drop Tess off at SFU can you come by the house? I gotta pick up 16 cases of wine from a vinyard up in Sonoma and deliver them to our theatre for the opening night of our play." She paused and listened. "Sure, that's fine! Seeya then, luv!"
She clicked off the phone and tossed it back to Jeb.
"I thought someone else was picking up that wine," Jeb said.
"You've always told me that the best lies are the ones that aren't total fabrications," Kate replied.
Jeb looked at her. "What's going on, Kate?"
"I've been thinking, Jeb," Kate replied. "And what I've just heard about Jessica and the people who are after her, lead me to the conclusion that very soon... people will be coming for Tai Anne Roper."
"Its possible."
"They came after Drew. And Tai isn't exactly keeping a low profile with that bondage website of hers."
"True. So you want to keep her away from the kids?"
"Of course not! Now that I've gotten to know her, I feel like she's almost a member of the family!"
"Then, what?"
"I don't want anything to happen to her, dammit!" Kate exclaimed. "And I don't want her hanging around that Brickyard anymore either! With that... that... Paige woman making those videos of her..."
Mrrrrrow! Jeb thought. Catfight tonight!.
"Tai is an adult, Kate."
"Oh, poo! Tess is more of an adult that she is! Tai is still a child and needs some guidence... and someone to keep her out of harm's way."
"Like you?"
"No, Like the Convent for Sequestered Girls."
Jeb thought about that one. He had threatened to take Tai there twice in only the last week. Both times he had relented.
"You know she should be there," Kate said.
***
Jeb had stumbled across the convent --an old Spanish mission in the Sonoma wine country-- a few years back when he was still with the Agency. A private establishment run by women... for girls only.
For girls who were out of control, or dangerous, or on drugs, or maybe girls who were just a general menace to themselves and others.
The only rules was that the girl had to be over 18, otherwise she could be handled by the juvenile authorities. And she had to be brought in by friends or relatives.
Only a few of the nuns who ran the convent were Catholic. Others were Protestant, Taoist, Muslim and whatever else. The convent wasn't about religious dogma. It was all about learning discipline and teaching maturity.
When a girl was brought to this convent, she was promptly cuffed and shackled and her room was a barred cell. She worked every day in the vineyards and spent her nights with the other girls of the convent. Sex --like every other aspect of life there-- was strictly controlled.
How long a girl stayed there was up to her. When she ceased being a girl and became a woman. When she started to take responsibility for herself and her actions. And when the nuns of the Convent for Sequestered Girls thought she was ready.
***
"I know," Jeb replied.
After Jeb had told Kate about the place, she had demanded to see it. She had gone up there thinking it should be outlawed. She had returned with the realization that it was needed.
"That place was made for girls like Tai!" Kate said. "She should be sent there before she gets killed... or gets someone else killed... like you."
Kate made the turnoff to San Francisco International, taking the main road to the terminal.
"You want to take her there yourself?"
"Well, you obviously won't."
"If I know Mother Grace, she'll lock her up tight and keep her till she's 21..."
"You can visit her on Sundays."
Kate pulled the Pathfinder up to the Continental gates. "She said she might have to see her mom first in Japantown --or maybe not-- either way, I'm going to drive her up there today."
Jeb got out and took his two pieces of luggage and his carry-on duffel. A skycap tagged them. He walked around to the driver's side and kissed his wife.
"I love you... be careful," she said.
"You too," Jeb grinned. "Y'see, I've known Tai longer than you have. Just when you think you've got her... she'll throw you a curve."
"Yeah, I've seen her curves." Kate replied.
He kissed her again and headed through the sliding glass doors to check in. Kate headed back to her home to lie in wait for Tai.
***
The Hotel Bonaventure was a Los Angeles landmark, having been seen in dozens of movies over the years. It was 28 stories of cylindrical mirrored glass, with four smaller mirrored cylinders surrounding it. This is where Arnold Swartzenegger rode a horse up one of its glass elevators, and where Clint Eastwood duked it out with John Malkovich.
The Bonaventure was part of the "New Downtown" that the LA city government had planned since the seventies. They had razed the old Bunker Hill neighborhood and replaced it with a skyline of glass and steel skyscrapers that lined the LA basin and would change Lala land into a world class city.
On the 22nd floor of the hotel, a dozen Los Angeles SWAT cops guarded Suite 2212. Four in the corridor. Two at the door. Five scattered in the suite itself and one in the bedroom with Iwana Binder, who was the object of this exercise.
Iwana Binder grunted and bit hard into the rubber ballgag that filled her mouth. Padded leather straps at wrists and ankles kept her naked body tightly spreadeagled over the king sized bed.
A beautiful latina woman straddled her hips and continued to slowly and deeply fuck her with a monstrously huge, double-pronged dildo. The latina was long and lean and muscled without losing the curves a woman needed. A long mane of shiny black hair framed a beautiful, sensual face.
She pushed Iwana over the edge and then took the leap herself. She fell over onto Iwana, kissing and licking her breasts, throat and the rubber ball that kept her lips parted.
She then noticed that Iwana's cellphone was trilling away on the bedside table.
"Someone has lousy timing," she muttered as she pulled out of Iwana. Still straddling her, she picked up the phone and flipped it on. "Yeah?"
"Hi, can I speak to Iwana please?"
"And who are you?"
"Tai Anne Roper. Who are you?"
"Lieutenant Rachel Cuerda, LAPD."
"Congratulations, can I speak to Iwana?"
"Hol' on." She put the phone to her breast and looked down at Iwana. "It's that trashy lil roomie of yours. You wanna chat her up?"
Iwana nodded.
"Gonna cost you," Rachel warned. "I'm gonna be sittin' on your face all afternoon!"
Iwana moaned but nodded again.
"Okay, here she is," Rachel said into the phone as she unbuckled the ballgag and popped the rubber ball out of her mouth.
"Iwana?"
"Hey, sistahgrrl!" Iwana wheezed. "How you be?"
"I'm fine! Right now I'm over at Taffy Chu's place. She says 'hi'."
"Tell chinadoll 'hi' right back."
"Are you safe?"
"Hells bells, yes!" Iwana replied. "Ah gots mo' cops hoverin' round me than a Dunkin' Doughnuts!"
"You heard what happened in Hew York?"
"Oh yeah! But don't you worry none. LA ain't New York! And the LAPD knows how to protect its own!"
"You got that right," Rachel said as she wiggled up and over Iwana's breasts. She pulled the slick rubber dil out of her own cunt with a wet, sucking sound.
"What was that noise?" Tai asked.
"Just the plumbin'," Iwana answered as girljuice ran down Rachel's thighs and onto Iwana's sweaty body.
"Who's that cop you're with?"
"Rachel? She be the commander of North Hollywood SWAT... she and her crew gots the job of keepin' me healthy."
Rachel made a cutting motion across her throat.
"Look, sistahgrrl, Ah gots t' go."
"Okay... I love you, Iwana."
"Loves you too, sistahgrrl."
Rachel clicked off the phone and tossed it over her shoulder. "How very sweet! When are you gonna tell that girl the truth, Iwana?"
Iwana looked up at her, Rachel's bent knees now on either side of her face. Her long body and full breasts towering over her.
"What truth, Mistress?" Iwana asked
"That you belong to me, slave. That this tuffgrrl act you put on is just for show. That you're really a submissive who yearns to serve a Woman Superior."
"But... Ah do love mah sistahgrrl!"
"And she loves you so much that she moved out on your ass and into the arms of another woman in San Fran!"
Iwana blinked, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"And now, when you need her most... she isn't here."
"Ah tole her not to come."
"If she loved you, she would've come anyway. As you came for her, when she needed you."
Rachel let that sink in, then gently wiped away Iwana's tears with her thumb. Iwana groaned and licked at her fingers.
"Too much talk," Rachel said gently. "Now use that tongue of yours for what its best at."
Rachel eased her throbbing, dripping cunt over Iwana's face and held on tight to the headboard of the bed as Iwana got busy.
***
Paige Torne watched as Langley worked his magic on the motherboard of The Brickyard's main computer.
"So what are you doing?" Kira McElroy asked.
"Encrypting a new firewall, so even if this asshole who worked here before me has set up a backdoor, there's no way he can get to it."
Paige's cellphone trilled. She picked up.
"Yes?"
"Hey, babe! Stoner here!"
"Hiya, Harry," Paige said. Stoner was Paige's contact on the SFPD. Currently an Inspector on the Homicide Detail, he was a fiftysomething, itinerant ex-hippie from the Hashbury. "How you feelin'?"
"Never better, babe!" He chuckled. "I'm on top of the world!"
Paige shrugged. He did sound pretty chipper for a guy who just a couple of days ago had gotten the shit beat out of him by Iwana Binder. "So wassup?"
"Just got in and was checking last night's arrest reports. Guess who got picked up over by Union Square? Your buddies Fiendly and Wenche."
"No shit? What for?"
"Says here that around 10:40 last night, they rammed a black and white unit, putting one cop in SF General. They were driving a red '69 Mustang that got totalled out... also says they were chasing after an unidentified young woman on a red racing bike and wearing black cycle leathers."
Paige flashed onto Tai making it back to The Brickyard just before her 11 o'clock curfew last night. All wide-eyed and innocent, never telling Paige about her close encounter with The Fiend and his Wenche.
"That brat!"
"Huh?"
"Not you, Harry. Where are they now?"
"Still in the county lockup. They have a bail hearing set for 2 o'clock."
Piage looked at her watch. It was almost noon. "Can you get it delayed?"
"I dunno. Maybe."
"Do what you can and let me know. Bye!"
She hung up and quickcalled her main muscle, Kunta Kintare.
***
At that moment, Kunta Kintare was slipping on a pair of regulation Everlast boxing gloves. An old cornerman named Jimmy Loveless was cinching them onto her wrists when Kunta's cellphone chirped.
"Goddamn!" she muttered. Kunta Kintare was a very tall, very muscular young black woman with long dreadlocks and a handsome --if intense-- face. She was wearing skintight red shorts of shiny PVC and a matching halter top that barely contained her massive breasts.
Wordlessly, Jimmy flipped open the phone and put it to her ear.
"Yeah?"
"Kunta? Its Paige."
"Yes, Mistress!"
"Where are you?"
"Still at the gym in Potrero, Mistress."
"Well get over to Taffy's place right away, you'll find Tai there. Pretend you were just in the neighborhood, put stick to her like glue! When she leaves, try to steer her over to The Brickyard. If you have to, take her prisoner."
Kunta grinned. "Does that mean I get to tie her up again?"
"Of course."
"Color me there!"
Jimmy Loveless withdrew the cellphone. "Dat mean you ain't gonna fight Kid Earie?"
"Nope." Kunta pounded her gloved fists together. "Just means I put him down in the first round."
"Damn! Better go max out our bets!"
"That would be wise."
"But... can you do it, Kunta?" Jimmy's wizzened, dark face held a glimmer of hope. "Alot of the neighborhood is gonna bet everything they have!"
Kunta turned to a regulation Everlast heavy bag. Dangling from the ceiling by a chain, with thick leather skin filled with 150 pounds of packed sand.
"This the punching bag Earie uses?"
"Yeah, He worked out on it fo' three hours yesterday..."
Kunta took a stance and slammed the bag with her right fist, then her left and another right. Each hit sounded as loud as a gunshot. On the third hit, the bag exploded. The leather ruptured and the sand poured to the floor.
She danced around a little, firing fast punches into the air to keep loose. They were so fast, her gloves were red blurs.
"I'll get them bets in..." Jimmy said, heading out the door.
***
Michiko Kazikama got out of the passenger side of the red, Mitsubishi Eclipse and walked up the cracked sidewalk to the battered, concrete and brick building that was Cellini's Gym, located at 22nd and Carolina in the heart of the rough and tumble Potrero Hill District of SF.
She was a tiny Japanese woman, barely five feet tall and 90 pounds soaking wet. She stood out from the casually dressed throngs of mosty blacks and latinos in an expensive black blazer and skirt from Yukiko Hanai that she had gotten in a shop off the Ginza just two days ago. It was nicely set off by a white silk blouse and nosebleed heels.
She eased into the crowd. Her long black hair shimmering and her eyes hidden by expensive Versace wraparound sunglasses.
At least five hundred plus people were filling the bleachers and folding chairs around a regulation boxing ring. Already, the two fighters who were the man attraction were in their respective corners, staring each other down.
"Hey, chinagirl! You wanna place a bet?"
Machiko turned and looked at the gangly black youth in Raiders sweats standing beside her.
"Perhaps," she said. "What can you tell me about the two fighters?"
"Well," he said. "De big niggah in da red trunks be de Earie Kid... he was a heavyweight contender few years back... 'fore he bit the ear clean offa some spic he was fightin' in Vegas! Lost his license t' box and became a legbreaker fo' the bangers... not a lotta people on the Hill like dat mutha-fuck-ah."
Machiko looked him over. He looked big and stupid. Like a mountain. He was six foot four and every bit of it was sweating muscle.
"And the other?"
"Dat be Kunta Kintare... one fine lookin' bitch! Story is she from Africa! Sumplace called Somalia. She works out here alla time. Don't think she can take out Earie, tho!"
Michiko thought Kunta was indeed a fine looking bitch.
"What are the odds?"
"Started out sixteen to one favor o' Earie... been droppin' all day like a rock. Lotta the 'hood be bettin' on Kunta. Odds are now four to one, Earie"
Machiko Kazikama reached into her small leather purse and withdrew three crisp hundred dollar bills. "On Kunta."
"Hole on." The kid flipped his cellphone and talked to his boss. "Yo, Fleetwood! Can you handle three mo' Benjamins on de bitch?" He nodded and took the cash from her. "You wanna call the round?"
"What are the odds she will take him in the first round?"
"Twelve t' one."
"I will take that."
"Damn! Whut ah suckah you is!"
Machiko allowed herself a small, enigmatic smile as the ring announcer walked to the center of the canvas.
"Laaaaaaadieeees and gentlemen!" he called. The response was shouts and catcalls and a blizzard of styrofoam beer cups. "Our main event for today! In the blue corner... weighing in at 245 pounds... The Eaaaaaaarie Kid!!!"
Some cheers but also a helluva lot of boos and catcalls. The Kid just laughed and grinned a gap-toothed smile and swung his gloved fist over his head.
"And in the red corner, weighing in at 165 pounds... Kuntaaaaah Kintaaaaaare!"
Mostly cheers mixed with some boos. Kunta waved to the crowd and took her corner.
And that was it. No mention of rules or regs. The ring announcer fled the canvas as the bell for Round One rang.
Both Kunta Kintare and the Earie Kid moved quickly to the center of the ring. The Kid knew how to box, and started with a combination of rights and lefts that just couldn't seem to connect, no matter how fast they were.
Then Kunta sidestepped and moved in, landing a hard punch to The Kid's midsection. A loud OOOOOOOF!!! echoed off the rafters and The Kid's mouthpiece went sailing out the ring and into the sixth row.
Kunta stepped back and let The Earie Kid hit the canvas. The Ref did a slow ten count as the crowd lost their collective minds, screaming and shouting and fighting amongst themselves.
"Damn!" the black kid standing next to Michiko said. "Dat niggah took a muthah-fuckin' dive!"
"Is that your way of saying you aren't going to pay me what you owe me?" Michiko asked, barely making herself be heard over the din.
"Get fucked, you slant-eyed ho..." He started to make his way through the surging crowd, intent on hooking up with his boss and see what he wanted to do.
Someone suddenly grabbed his right arm and twisted it all the way up between his shoulder blades. When he tried to move, pain shot like fire from his fingers to his shoulder. He somehow knew that another ounce of pressure would snap his joints at wrist, elbow and shoulders.
Michiko Kazikawa was standing next to him, very close. Impervious to the crowd and the howling madness around them.
She flicked her sunglasses up onto her forehead, and the black kid gasped. Her eyes were cruel and merciless.
She smiled. "You owe me 3600 dollars... niggah."
"Yeah, whatevah!" He nervously pulled out a roll of bills big enough to choke a horse and shoved it to her.
"No... just what you owe me."
She made him count it out, slowly. Then hand it over to her, nicely.
Then in an instant she was gone. The kid looked around wildly, but there was no sign of her. The crazy slope cunt had just vanished.
***
"You did good, Kunta!" Jimmy Loveless said to her as he tried to keep up as she hit the parking lot of the gym. She hadn't even bothered to shower, just changing into a pair of blue jeans, Nikes and a crop top with her purse flung over one shoulder. "The Hill took back some of the money that sum'bitch Earie been takin' from them all these years..."
"You do what you can, Jimmy," Kunta replied, unlocking the door to a black Ford Expedition SUV that she had borrowed from Paige. "Be seein' you."
"Wait! What about your cut?"
"Make sure it goes into the Potrero Youth Center... anonymously."
"Sure thing, Kunta."
Kunta Kintare turned the key and rolled the big SUV off a curb and onto the street, heading north to Taffy Chu's place to babysit Tai Anne Roper.
Michiko Kazikama stood on the sidewalk, waiting as the red Mitsubishi sports car pulled up next to her. She got in.
"Follow the black Expedition," she said to the young Yakuza hood behind the wheel. "Lose her and I take one of your eyes."
The red Mitsubishi followed the Expedition to a ramp leading to the northbound upper deck of the James Lick Freeway. While they followed from three cars back, Michiko got on her cellphone to her boss.
"Yes?" Will Tanner-Hyde answered.
"You were right," Michiko said. "Kintare is definitely a recipient of one of Ms. McClintock's magic bullets."
"Excellent. Think you can you take her?"
Michiko Kazikawa giggled like a schoolgirl. "What a silly question!"
***