C.R. Daems - Kazak 2 - The Unthinkable Read online

"I don't suppose you have any rich relatives that might leave you money or property?" The most likely culprits were the youth gangs either out for fun, bored, or paid by someone to harass or move the homeless out of the area. But I had to explore the possibility someone was targeting Jimmy specifically.

  "My parents died in a car accident while I was in Iraq. After everything was settled, they left my sister and me around fifteen thousand. I told her to keep my share. She has two small kids and her husband's an auto mechanic, so they can use the money. I was in the military and had everything I needed: good salary and free medical."

  "Does your sister know your homeless?"

  "No. She has her hands full without me. Besides, her husband and I never hit it off. It would just cause trouble between him and my sister. He likes to fix things; I like to read about things."

  I was fast learning that Technical Sergeant James Hearn was a very complex individual. He cared for his sister's well being above his own and was willing to die for his comrades in arms yet, he didn't seem to care or willing to fight for himself. I could relate to that. After running away from my foster home, I felt my life had no meaning, and I merely existed. The difference was that I had a job, lived in an apartment with other women, and a led a relatively normal life-if not exciting. We had both been abandoned-me by my parents and him by the military.

  "Well, Jimmy. Where are we going to sleep tonight," I asked. The Rescue Mission only provided a place to sleep in the winter months.

  "You're going to sleep with me on the streets?" He stopped and looked at me with wide eyes. Then his eyes narrowed. "How do you think you're going to protect me? There were three of them and they had weapons. One had a club and another a knife. Anyway, we aren't likely to see them again."

  "I'd say you were very likely to see them again now that your ATM has been canceled, and they realize you have money deposited in the account regularly." That would be the magnet that would draw them back to Jimmy. His eyes were again wide and his face had lost color. His mundane existence had suddenly changed for the worse. Jimmy had been right. He had done a heroic thing, but he was neither the hero type nor wanted to be. He had crawled into a hole and just wanted to be left alone.

  ***

  After we attended the evening services, I followed him through a break in a fence onto the Center City Golf Course just off Interstate 5. He found a cluster of trees and shrubs and we set up camp. I didn't see anyone else, but I suspected Jimmy wasn't the only one to use the golf course. I sat with my back against a rough-barked tree of some kind and slept Kazak style-lightly.

  I heard Jimmy stirring just as the gray light of day appeared.

  "Hurry, Lynn. We have to be gone before the ground crews begin work. They don't like us sleeping here. Can't really blame them. Some of the homeless leave a mess." He collected his cloths, blanket, and neatly packed them in his knapsack. A last minute check and we headed for the break in the fence. I followed him across Division Street to Ortega Park where we used the facilities to relieve ourselves and wash up. He frowned when I insisted on checking the room before he entered but said nothing. There was no one around and I suspected the gangs operated at night when it was difficult to recognize faces, so I used the other room. Not surprisingly, it stunk. It made me wonder how Jimmy and I would smell after a few weeks of this. Normally I guarded people of power who washed and changed clothes at least once a day. Even on the Hill, cleanliness was not optional. When Jimmy came out, his hair was wet, face clean-shaven, and clothes brushed off. I was impressed.

  "Where to now?" I asked. He shrugged.

  "I don't have any money. I guess we can make a sign and beg on one of the corners. If we're lucky, we can make enough for breakfast from one of the convenience stores."

  I didn't like that idea-a bit too much exposure for me.

  "I've got money. Let's skip the begging caper and go straight to the store."

  "There's a Circle K over on Mission Ave. You sure you got enough for both of us?"

  "Jimmy, you're the cheapest date I'm ever likely to have. We can probably get your ATM card later today if you want. I think you need to have your check go into a saving account. They hardly pay any interest, but if you lost your card again, the thief could only get what you had in your checking account. Better yet, maybe you need a debit card. That way if it is stolen, the police can track the transactions."

  "I never had to worry about my account in the service. I have a lot to learn." He sounded resigned to his new life.

  "You plan to do this for the rest of your life?"

  "Why not? What else can I do? I have a high school education and the Army only taught me how to kill people. This is an easy life and no responsibilities."

  Sounded like a damn difficult life to me-wandering the streets all day, sleeping wherever, having to avoid our less tolerant citizens, begging for money to eat... Getting shot at by thugs and Assassins seemed easier.

  "Jimmy, I'm sure with your experience any security firm would hire you. Worse case, there are plenty of unskilled jobs for someone with no police record and willing to work." I felt like Mother Lynn. He probably got plenty of this at the Bread of Life, or maybe they were only interested in saving his soul. I chided myself on being so cynical.

  "Didn't have much luck when I got discharged. No one at the Veterans Administration seemed interested in helping. I guess there are too many of us."

  It wasn't my job to help either, but I had nothing else to do. We stopped at the Circle K and picked up some bananas, sweet rolls, and a burrito. He picked a carton of milk and I had a large coffee. We found a small area off to the side and sat there eating our breakfast. As usual, I watched everyone and everything. Most people looked away like we didn't exist. Others gave us a screwed up face like we hadn't washed for weeks, and a few were openly hostile.

  "Why don't you get a job you lazy bastards? We should round you all up and deport you," a man in his thirties, dressed in slacks, a white shirt, and tie snarled as he walked by. He drove away in a BMW with a Support the troops bumper sticker. I'd bet that was the total extent of his support. I don't know if it hurt Jimmy or not. He didn't react to the taunt. I could care less what the jerk thought of me. We spent the rest of the day wandering. It was a poor neighbor and we passed a lot of other homeless people. Every once and a while, Jimmy would stop and talk with someone or join a small group. I drew a lot of attention, which Jimmy took in stride.

  "Who's your girl friend?" was usually the first question.

  "She's Lynn. A friend," his automatic response. After they got past the when you get tired of Jimmy remarks, the talk turned to what was happening on the street. Mostly about where they had gotten grief or where there was a good place to panhandle or news about someone they all knew. Late in the day, we visited the Rescue Mission for the evening meal. Jimmy again attended the after-dinner service and afterward he and about half of those attending stayed for the after-service informal talk with the minister. I'm not into to organized religions; however, judging by the talk, it seemed to have helped a lot of those there. Besides, my job didn't fit well with a structured religion. I stood off to the side and was pretty well ignored until after the group discussion, when the minister followed Jimmy back to me.

  "Good evening, Miss?" He was a distinguished looking man, well dressed but causal. His almost white hair and trimmed beard gave him a friendly and trusting demeanor. He stood several inches taller than me with a round face and nice smile.

  "Lynn," I said while evaluating him. I can't help it.

  "It's nice to meet you, Lynn. I'm Jason. Although it's not required, you are welcome to join our discussion. I understand from Martha, the women who talked to you yesterday, that you were here when the army vehicle dropped Jimmy off." He made it sound like a causal statement, but it was clearly a question: Why?

  "A friend in a time of need," I said-an honest answer without all the messy details. He looked hard at me. I'm sure he was evaluating me and that he had plenty of experience in
his calling.

  "Yes," he said clearly having reached some decision. "You are welcome at the mission anytime." With that he nodded goodbye and walked off.

  "Jason's a good man, Lynn," Jimmy said watching him walk away. "The park is closed at night but a lot of us use it. I'm reluctant after those youths attacked me there. Especially after what you said about them probably looking for me."

  "Sounds like where we need to go."

  "Why? God only knows what they would do to you if they did find me." His wide-eyed and higher pitched response full of concern. He was more concerned about me than him. Jimmy definitely was of the material my kind of hero was made.

  "Jimmy, the powers-that-be didn't send a girl-scout. And I don't want any heroics if they do come. That's my job. Think of me as an army ranger with years of experience."

  "Are you?"

  "No. I'm more dangerous." Jimmy shrugged after staring at me for several minutes and began walking. By the time we arrived, it was late and I could see the park provided housing for many of the local homeless. I saw several police cars but they weren't bothering anyone, although sleeping in the parks clearly constituted a violation of the city ordnances. However, the number of homeless made it almost impossible to enforce without calling out half the police force. Jimmy said the police were active in the morning making sure the vagrants cleared the area. That sounded like a reasonable solution. Apparently, most of the residents had there own areas within the park, which for the most part the homeless respected. Of course, there's always a bully in every environment. His name was Mack the truck.

  "Hey, Jimmy. Who's ya squeeze." Mack was well over six-feet and built like a NFL tackle and a face to match. "I'm gonna borrow her for tonight. It's cold and she gonna be my heating pad." He laughed. I smiled. Mack was big but the human body had many weak spots and I knew them all. Jimmy immediately began to stand. Unconsciously the hero he didn't think he was. He knew Mack would trash him as bad as the youths had, but it didn't matter. I caught his arm and pulled him back down, using the momentum to rise. Mack smiled and grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him.

  "Willing- aaaaah," His breath exploded as I slammed into him, my knee into his balls. He stood too tall for the head to the face, so I raked my raised foot down his leg into his instep. Those bones are very fragile and shattered from the impact. When he lowered his head as he lifted the injured leg, I drove my head into his face, hooked foot behind the leg he was standing on, and pushed. He stumbled backward trying to regain his balance but failed. The ground shook as he landed on his back. Shock, disbelief, hate, and finally a smile flashed over his face as he wiped the blood streaming from his nose and mouth.

  "From now on you're gonna be Mack's squeeze. But firs' you needs a lesson," he said as he rose with a knife in his hand. Jimmy tried to rise again but I pointed a finger at him and shook my head. Mack froze when a knife appeared in each of my hands.

  "Well, Mack. From the way you're clutching that knife, it's clear you don't know how to use it. Good for scaring old ladies." I folded the one in my right hand back along my forearm and moved the left arm away from my body.

  "We'll see. I'm going to cut Mack into your face so everyone goanna know you're mine," he snarled but I could see he wasn't as confident as he was trying to sound. He got what he wanted through intimidation and old habits died hard. I could just shoot him but I had a problem. I didn't want the police swarming around rousting the homeless and searching everyone for a gun. I had to keep things normal or the youths wouldn't show. I'd try a bit of intimidation myself.

  "Let's get the rules straight, Mack. The winner is the one who is alive when we finish. That's the way the Bloods taught me." I smiled as I slowly advanced on him. He backed away.

  "You're a crazy bitch. Jimmy's welcome to you. Probably cut his throat in the night." He turned and limped away.

  "My God. You scared him."

  "Yep. He made a good decision."

  Jimmy didn't say much after that and eventually went to sleep. The next several days were pretty much the same. Jason kept sneaking looks and me but said little other than casual conversation. A week later Jimmy insisted we go get his ATM card. He thought I was spending too much of my money on him. Actually, I've spent more on a meal with Clare than he would cost me in two months. But you don't embarrass a hero, so off we went to the bank. After ten minutes with 'well-meaning' clerks, we were directed to a 'well-meaning' manager.

  "Without identification, we can't give you a ATM card for Mr. Hearn," the tall, hawk-face women said in an authoritative voice. Jimmy started to leave, when I flipped open my iphone.

  "Boss, I have some bank manager..." I checked her nametag, "Ms. Voxs, here at the bank who insists Jimmy show some kind of ID. He can't since it was stolen. Can you fix this?"

  Silence. Two minutes later the phone on her desk rang. I wish I knew how Witton did it. He must have a direct line to God or someone who sat at His feet. Voxs answered the phone and after a lot of "yes, sirs" pulled a card from her desk and handed it to Jimmy. Now that she had become extremely helpful, I had her transfer his disability check to a savings account, put a hundred dollars into his bank account, and issue him a debit card. I doubted she would ever forget his face so he wouldn't have any trouble transferring money from saving to checking.

  "How did you do that?" he asked as we left the bank.

  "Magic," I quipped. Maybe it was.

  ***

  Another week went by without anything happening. I missed Mack. He had been a pleasant diversion from the boredom. Not that this job varied a lot from other jobs. Whether rich or poor, the job was ninety-nine percent boredom and one percent life shattering chaos. I was stuck in the ninety-nine part and tempted to take out an ad in the local paper:

  Homeless man has his ATM card again. Account full of money. Sleeps in park.

  ***

  Two nights later, we were at the park getting ready for bed, when I heard laughing and people in pain. I wasn't bored anymore. At long last, the youths had returned. Jimmy rose looking pale as two youths came into view. One had a shabby backpack he was searching. The other had a liquor bottle in one hand and a bat in the other.

  "Are these the ones?" I asked, as they approached.

  "No." His voice shook and was all but a whisper. It was ironic. He would have challenged Mack for me, but couldn't bring himself to fight for himself. Heroes were funny people.

  "Look what we have here. More bums trespassing in the park after dark. Guess they need to be taught a lesson, George." The short youth with the bat said. He had broad shoulders and arms that looked like he lifted weights.

  "Ya, Bart." George was taller but thinner, and a follower but not a leader.

  "Jimmy, look what we have here. Two cowards pretending to be men." I turned my head slightly towards him. "There's the difference, Jimmy. Given your situation in Iraq, they would have deserted you and your unit as fast as they could."

  "George, look. It's a homeless whore. This is going to be more fun than I thought," Bart said turning the bat in circles as he approached, grinning like a monkey. As he got close, he stopped the circles and patted it against his palm. I could see the excitement in his eyes.

  "Lay down and strip, whore. Or I'll-"

  I dropped low executing a 360-degree sweep. He went horizontal and the bat flew loose. I grabbed it out of the air and smashed George's knee as he stood watching Bart hit the ground. He screamed and collapsed. Bart had managed to sit up when I backhanded the bat into his clavicle. The bat won. The clavicle shattered. I hit "1" on the speed dial.

  "Boss. I have two youth laying here feeling sorry for themselves. I can't kill them or send them away without losing the opportunity to find the three who robbed and beat Jimmy. Can you make them go away for a while? Maybe a slow boat to Asia without a passport or ID. It would be an exciting adventure for them and they would be out of my hair."

  "You're supposed to be there to protect, Jimmy, not solve the attacks on the homeless."


  "I did. He doesn't have a scratch on him. And are you sure about what I'm supposed to do here. The Committee is awful sneaky."

  "I'll tell them what you said. I'll have someone to relieve you of your baggage within the hour." The phone went dead.

  "What going to happen to them?"

  "They are going to get a lesson in responsibility." A little over an hour later, three men collected George and Bart. Jimmy sat off to the side in silence.

  ***

  Two years went by, actual two weeks by society's clock. I just hoped the missing youths didn't scare off any more attacks. I wanted the attacks stopped so I could get another assignment, but I wanted the three who attacked Jimmy first. We were on the golf course that night, when I heard them. Shortly afterward, I saw a young girl being chased by a weasel of a man. He caught her only a stone's throw from us and began beating her. My hero was up and running. I followed in his wake.

  "Let her go!" Jimmy shouted in a low voice probably not to attract unwanted attention.

  "Fuck off, man. This isn't your business." He stood up still holding the girls arm and reached into his waistband. I leaped into the air as his hand grasped the gun and my foot slammed into his head as the gun cleared his pants. The force of the blow spun him around, the gun went flying, and the girl jerked forward as she was ripped from his grip on her arm. The force threw her towards Jimmy, and she landed in his arms. I hit "1" on my iphone.

  "Boss."

  "How many?"

  "Only one." The phone went dead. I guessed I wasn't going to get a raise this year. Maybe Witton was going to add a complaint to the Lynn Board. He had posted my rules for protecting clients to a board because he knew they would be generating complaints and as a means for the other Kazaks to evaluate my rules. He had been right. Complaints were running three-to-one against me, mostly from government agencies. I think they have people whose sole job is to write complaints.

  "Well, Jimmy, what's her story?"

  "Lynn, she's only fourteen and he's," he nodded towards the guy on the ground, "had, Susan, for sale since she was twelve. He had a group gang-bang for her tonight, some good clients of his. She managed to get out a bathroom window and ran. He's been chasing her ever since. She's pretty beat up. I think from the party." Jimmy was in tears. The girl was black and blue and her clothes ripped in places. She didn't look to have panties or a bra-not that she needed one. "What will happen to him...and her?"