The Bleeding Edge Page 10

  “He’s no friend of anybody in power in this town,” the man said with a harsh note of anger creeping into his voice. “He was on TV this morning spouting some sort of drivel about how Americans should stand up for themselves. He’s getting on the nerves of a lot of people, Simon. Important people.”

  “And you’re calling on their behalf to ask me to do something about it.” Ryan paused. “You know my price.”

  “Maybe you’d consider giving a discount, since you have your own score to settle with him.”

  Ryan laughed. He was genuinely amused.

  “They don’t mind spending the money they gouge out of the taxpayers, but it’s a different matter when it comes out of their own pockets, isn’t it?”

  “Be reasonable, Simon—”

  “No, you be reasonable,” Ryan broke in, his voice slicing across the other man’s. “The price is five million. You and I both know good and well that’s nothing to the people we’re talking about.”

  “My God, it’s not like he’s a head of state or something! He’s just an ignorant redneck from Texas!”

  “Fine.”

  Ryan thumbed the phone off.

  It rang again less than thirty seconds later. He was ready for it. “Do we have a deal?”

  “We have a deal. The money will be in your Cayman Islands account by the end of business today. When will your part of the arrangement be taken care of?”

  “I don’t give timetables, you know that. It’ll be done when the time is right.”

  “That had better not be long.”

  “I don’t care for threats, either,” Ryan said.

  “It wasn’t a threat,” the man said hastily. “Our friends are just very anxious to have this over and done with. Stark’s a dangerous man. People tend to rally around him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ryan said. “Pretty soon the only ones rallying around John Howard Stark will be his pallbearers.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Well, here’s the TV star now,” Hallie said as she opened the door of her father’s mobile home in answer to Stark’s knock.

  Stark grimaced.

  “What was I supposed to do?” he said. “That gal stuck a microphone right in my face and asked me what I thought about what happened. I told her.”

  “You sure did, John Howard,” Alton said from his chair. “You told her real good. Come on in here.”

  Hallie closed the door behind Stark. She said, “It almost seemed like you were daring them to come back here.”

  “That wasn’t my intention. But I wasn’t going to sugarcoat things. If there’s more trouble, we need to be ready for it.”

  “That’s why there’s going to be a meeting at the community building tonight,” Alton said. “We have to talk about what we’re going to do.”

  “That makes it sound even more like you’re forming a vigilante group,” Hallie said. “You know what’ll happen if the media gets wind of this, don’t you? They’ll paint you as a bunch of gun-crazy, right-wing, racist nuts. They’ll say you’re prejudiced against Hispanics—”

  “Half the people whose homes got shot up last night are Hispanic,” Stark pointed out.

  Hallie shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. They’ll still accuse you of trying to form an anti-Hispanic vigilante group, and politicians all across the state will condemn you. Maybe all across the country.”

  Alton snorted and said, “You think any of us care what some politicians think of us?”

  “Maybe not. But then you’ll have the ACLU down on your ass, and some actors will fly in from Hollywood on their private jets to condemn you and declare themselves supporters of the common man, and every left-wing website and blog will be fanning the flames against you.”

  “They say you can judge a man by the quality of his enemies,” Stark drawled. “Sounds to me like those are pretty good enemies to have.”

  “Morally, I agree with you, John Howard. Legally, you may be setting yourselves up for trouble.”

  Alton declared, “I’d rather take my chances in court than get my butt shot off by some drug-smuggling punk.”

  “You may get the opportunity to do just that,” Hallie told him.

  “And you’ll represent me if I do, won’t you?” her father asked with a grin.

  Hallie just sighed and then smiled back at him.

  Other than a few satellite trucks from various TV stations cruising around the streets, the park had been quiet today. Stark was grateful for any peaceful respite. They might not get too many in the future.

  “What time’s the meeting?” he asked Alton.

  “Seven o’clock. That’s why I asked you to come over. I thought maybe you’d have dinner with us, and then we’d all walk over there together.”

  “Sounds good,” Stark replied with a nod.

  “Better bring your guns, too. Everybody I’ve talked to says they’re going to go armed from now on.”

  Stark smiled and said, “That’ll probably make a few liberal heads explode if they get wind of it.”

  “Like I said,” Hallie told him, “they’ll call you gun-crazy lunatics.”

  “I think you said nuts before.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “This is serious, John Howard. You’re going to stir up all sorts of trouble.”

  “I know it’s serious. There’s nothing more serious than people standing up for their rights. And it’s a mighty sad day in this country when people have to worry about getting in trouble for doing that.”

  “You’re right,” Hallie said softly. She put a hand on his arm. “You’re right. I just don’t want to see anything bad happen to you.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Stark said. “There’s no reason to worry about me.”

  There was more truth to that than either Hallie or Alton knew, he thought.

  Being summoned back to Señor Espantoso’s headquarters wasn’t something Nacho Montez really wanted to get used to. Despite his sleek appearance, the señor reminded Nacho of a rattlesnake.

  On the other hand, the life that Señor Espantoso lived was exactly the sort of life Nacho wanted for himself: the women, the luxurious surroundings, only the finest things for the señor.

  One day, Nacho vowed, he would be the señor, the hombre everyone feared and wanted to please. When he told himself that, it calmed his nerves and allowed him to keep his voice steady as he said, “We did as you ordered, señor. We went to frighten the old people who live in the retirement park.”

  “That bastard Stark didn’t sound frightened when he was on television this morning talking about how they would fight back next time.”

  “Stark,” Nacho muttered. The spark of hatred glowed a little brighter within him.

  “Did you think that shooting a few guns in the air would cause everyone there to flee? You didn’t even kill anyone!”

  “We tried to burn down two of the trailers. The fire might have spread to even more of them—”

  “But it didn’t happen that way,” the señor broke in. “One mobile home was damaged by fire, some others have bullet holes in them. That’s all.”

  “I didn’t think you would want us to commit mass murder—”

  Again Señor Espantoso interrupted him, saying, “Why not?”

  “Señor?” Nacho asked with a puzzled frown.

  “Why would you hesitate to kill anyone who is in the way of the cartel?” Espantoso demanded. “Do you think we fear the American law?”

  “No, but—”

  “The local authorities are afraid of us. They know that if they incur our wrath, they and their families run the risk of dying. Horribly. Painfully. And the ones who run the American government? Ha!” Scorn dripped from the señor’s words as he continued, “They fear something even worse. They fear being accused of not being tolerant. They fear being accused of not being sensitive. They fear being accused of being racist! And worst of all . . . they fear not being reelected. Because of that, they issue rules under which
their DEA and their so-called Border Patrol have to operate, rules that make certain those agencies have little or no chance of ever accomplishing anything. They spend less and less money on enforcing the law and more on giving handouts to bankers and insurance companies and sending tax money to people who never paid taxes in the first place. They say they are trying to control guns, and yet they give guns to us. To us!” He shook his head. “Your old grandmother is more dangerous to us than the toothless American government, Montez. This is our day! We do what we want.”

  It was a stirring speech, and Nacho was in awe of Señor Espantoso at this moment. The man deserved his name. The horrible one. The dreadful one. The phantom who came in the night and brought death. Tomás Beredo was all of those things and more.

  “What is it you want us to do, señor?” Nacho asked, his eyes wide.

  “Your job is simple, Montez. . . . Gather as many men as you need. Take them and wipe the Shady Hills Retirement Park off the face of the earth.”

  Nacho took a deep breath and risked saying, “It may take time to get together enough men and guns—”

  “A week,” Señor Espantoso snapped. “And when that week is up, no one will ever dare to defy the cartel again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The community center, a large, metal-walled building, stood near the front of the park next to the brick home that Jack and Mindy Kasek, the owners, had built when they first bought the property to develop. There was a small parking area in front, but most of the residents walked there that evening for the meeting. Stark didn’t know who had arranged the assembly, but it was a good idea. The people who lived here needed to talk about what was going to happen next.

  From the looks of the crowd sitting on folding metal chairs, just about everyone from Shady Hills was here, Stark thought as he looked around. Jack Kasek, a silver-haired man with a certain gawkiness that made him look like what he was, a retired engineer, stood at the front of the big room talking to several people. He caught Stark’s eye and motioned for him to come join them.

  “Hello, John,” he said as Stark walked up. “Glad you could make it. You know these fellas? Nick Medford, Henry Torres, Doug Jacobs, Grant Reeves.”

  Stark nodded to them. He was acquainted with all four of the men, although they lived in different areas of the park and he didn’t know them well.

  “I was thinking we could divide the park up into different sections and have somebody be responsible for taking care of each section, sort of like a captain,” Jack went on. “I’ll take one area, these guys have each agreed to take one, and we’d like you to be our sixth captain, John.”

  “That sounds like a good idea, and I’d be honored to help out,” Stark said. “I didn’t know you were a military man, Jack.”

  Jack smiled and shook his head.

  “I’m not. I never served. I’m just trying to approach the situation logically, and with some common sense. One man can’t be everywhere at once.”

  Stark nodded and said, “Here’s something that occurred to me. If everybody’s here tonight, then nobody’s watching for trouble.”

  Jack’s eyes widened, and the other four men looked shocked, too. Henry Torres said, “Good Lord! You’re right, John. We need to get some guards posted.”

  “You really think those savages will come back tonight?” Nick Medford asked.

  “They’ve been here three nights in a row,” Stark said. “I wouldn’t rule it out.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Jack said. “We need some volunteers.” He turned toward the crowd, lifted his hands, and raised his voice. “Everybody, could I have your attention? Could I have your attention, please?”

  The hubbub of conversation died down in the room as everybody looked at Jack and waited for him to go on.

  “You know why we’re here tonight,” he addressed them. “We have to talk about the threat that seems to be facing us and what we’re going to do about it. But before we do that, I’d like several of you men to step up here and volunteer to stand guard at the entrance to the park while the meeting’s going on.”

  A man in the front row of folding chairs said, “Whoever does that will miss out on what’s being decided.”

  “I know that,” Jack said. “That’s why I’m asking for volunteers. I know you all want to have a voice in the discussion, but if those troublemakers come back, we’ll need some warning.”

  No one could dispute that logic. Slowly, several hands rose. Jack nodded in satisfaction and motioned for the men to stand up.

  “Are you guys armed?” he asked.

  Two of the men were carrying pistols. The other three were unarmed.

  Jack looked at Stark and asked, “What do you think?”

  “We want them to stand watch and warn us if trouble’s coming,” Stark said. “Nobody expects them to fight off an army. I think it’ll be all right.”

  Jack nodded and said to the volunteers, “All right, fellas, thank you. Head out to the front gate and keep your eyes open. Maybe spread out along the fence a little.”

  The men left to carry out those orders, and the meeting moved on to its main agenda.

  “We all know what happened last night—” Jack began.

  “Yeah, Kasek, we know,” one of the men interrupted him. “And we want to know what you’re gonna do about it.”

  A chorus of agreement came from the crowd.

  Jack motioned for quiet and said, “I’ve spoken at length to Sheriff Lozano, and he’s promised to increase patrols in this area—”

  “That’s not going to do any good!” another man protested. “A cop car driving by every hour or two won’t stop those punks. They’ll just wait until the deputies aren’t around.”

  Stark knew that in all likelihood, that was true. The sheriff would have to station several deputies at the park full-time in order to deter another attack, and George Lozano lacked the resources to do that.

  Anyway, those drug smugglers were so brazen, even the presence of law enforcement personnel at the park might not be enough to stop them. The cartel members were in the habit of thumbing their noses at authority.

  “Why don’t you call in the Texas Rangers?” someone suggested.

  “The assistance of the Rangers has to be requested by local law enforcement agencies,” Jack explained. “I already covered that with the sheriff.”

  “Did he agree to ask for help from them?”

  “Not at this point,” Jack said with obvious reluctance.

  “Then how about the Border Patrol?” another man asked.

  “We’re not on the border.”

  “It’s less than thirty miles away!” a woman exclaimed. “Why doesn’t the government do something? It’s supposed to protect us!”

  Jack was running this meeting, so Stark didn’t say anything, but he wanted to tell the woman that the government had very little interest in protecting its citizens these days. The government’s real interest was in collecting taxes from the people who were still willing to work, so that the politicians could turn around and “redistribute” that money to the people who couldn’t, or more often wouldn’t, work, the ones who kept voting those politicians into office. It was blatant graft on a national level, and there wasn’t much average citizens could do to stop it. They could vote, but it was hard to prevail against rampant election fraud covertly sponsored by one segment of the political system, and they could make their voices heard by protesting, but then they were shouted down by the puppet media forces of that same segment. It was damned frustrating, especially for people like Stark who genuinely, passionately believed in democracy, people who had risked their lives again and again to protect the system, only to see it twisted and distorted into something its founders had never intended for it to be.

  So people like Stark and his friends tried to live their lives as best they could and make small differences here and there, in the hope that someday those efforts would snowball into something larger and the country would regain its reason. Thei
r struggle was probably doomed to failure . . . but they were not the sort of people who found it easy to give up.

  “Listen, I’m going to be in touch with everybody, with every agency, that might be able to give us some help,” Jack was saying. “But in the meantime, we might as well face it. Right now we have to be responsible for protecting ourselves.”

  “How are we going to do that?”

  Jack smiled and said, “I’m glad you asked that question.” He turned to Stark. “I’m going to let someone who’s better qualified than I am answer it. You all know John Howard Stark.”

  Somebody in the crowd started to clap. The applause quickly spread, causing embarrassment to well up inside Stark. He was a modest man by nature, without a shred of pretense about him. But he had been a celebrity of sorts—even though some of the bleeding-heart crowd probably considered him a villain—and in America, once a celebrity, always a celebrity.

  As most of the people in the room continued to clap, Jack Kasek turned to Stark and said, “John, will you take over?”

  Stark nodded. He had no great fondness for being in charge of anything except his own life, but somebody had to do it and he supposed Jack was right about him being better qualified.

  He raised his arms and motioned for quiet. After a moment he got it.

  “Jack says we have to be responsible for protecting ourselves,” he told the crowd. “He’s right about that. In order to do that, though, we need a couple of things. How many people here own guns?”

  He was glad to see that hands shot up all over the room.

  “Some of you probably brought those guns with you tonight—no, I don’t need a show of hands for that—and the rest of you have them at home. I’m not saying that you need to be armed twenty-four/seven, but if you have weapons they ought to be handy. Nothing’s more useless than a gun you can’t get to when you need it. But there’s something else we need that’s even more important than guns.”

  He paused to let that sink in, and when the room was quiet and everyone was looking at him, he asked, “How many of you are willing to fight?”

  Again, hands went up all over the room. Stark figured that everyone who had answered his gun question in the affirmative was declaring their willingness to use those weapons.