“Hammer, you copy?”
“Copy, Royal.”
“Status?”
“The mom and dad left. Nobody else around.”
“Okay. Goon and Blade have the back. I want you to pull back out of sight.”
“Got it.”
Royal was sitting at the Hardees while his team got into position. He was going to make a straight forward play for Wayne, but if he rabbited, he needed the extra boots on the ground to run him down. He waited twenty minutes to let things settle around the Bass home, then stepped out of the Suburban. They didn’t know for sure Wayne was in his parents’ home, but even if they did, they couldn’t break the door down. There were rules about these sorts of things, and failure to follow them could cost him his license. He needed him to open the door.
Royal stepped around to the back of the SUV and flipped through his collection of magnetic stickers, pulling out two that had a picture of a high-tension power line tower and the words Electric Company around the outside of the shield. It looked very official, if you didn’t look too closely.
He took the two shields and stuck them on the front doors of the white truck, then pinned a badge to his collar that identified him as Terrence Walton, Inspector. Dressed in a light blue polo, sand-colored pants and brown loafers, he looked professional and businesslike, the same reason he sported no tattoos or facial hair, and kept his hair cut stylishly short.
He drove up the Bass home and parked in the drive like he belonged there, stepping out of the SUV with a clipboard and strode to the front door. He rapped on the door solidly, then looked around as if he didn’t have a care in world. When nobody answered, he rapped again.
“Go away!” a voice called from inside.
“Mr. Bass? Mr. Charles Bass?”
“He’s not here.”
Royal paused as if he were thinking. “Are you a resident here?”
“Yes.”
“I’m with the power company. I need to speak to you about your meter.”
“What about it?”
“Can you open the door?”
“What do you want?”
Royal sighed in mock exasperation. “Your meter appeared to be faulty. Our records show you have used approximately six times the power this month that you used in the previous month, and is far above your average. I’m here to inspect the meter.”
“Go ahead.”
“I need you sign the waiver first.”
“What waiver?”
“I have to turn the power off to the house before I can inspect the meter. I need you sign the waiver before I can do that.”
“You’ll have to come back.”
Royal shrugged. “Okay, but I’m obligated to tell you that you will be responsible for all charges until the meter has been inspected.” He flipped papers. “That’s currently $638.90.” He began scribbling on his clipboard, then stuck a piece of paper in the door. “That’s notification that I spoke with someone at the residence and you declined to have the meter inspected. You can call the number on the paper to schedule an appointment.” He turned to go.
“Wait a minute,” the voice said as the door opened slightly. “If I sign the waiver you can do whatever you need to do?”
Royal turned back to the door. “Yes, sir. The power should only be off about ten minutes.”
The door opened and Wayne Alan Bass stood in the door wearing only a pair of pants riding low over his hips. Royal smiled at the husky, tattooed man with long greasy hair and beard. He could probably take him right here and get away with it, but if Wayne signed the “waiver” he was signing a document that acknowledged Royal had the right to enter the premises with the purpose of taking him into custody.
Royal handed the man the clipboard. “If you’ll just sign at the bottom.” Nobody ever reads things before they sign and Wayne was no different. Wayne signed and handed the clipboard back. “Thank you, Mr. Bass,” Royal said taking the clipboard. “Almost done,” he said with a smile. He tossed the clipboard to the floor to free his hands, then reached behind him for his weapon. “Wayne Alan—” he began.
Wayne, having been in and out of prison for years, realized what was going down, and tried to slam the door. Royal crashed into the into the door with his shoulder to prevent Wayne from shutting it, knocking Wayne backwards, then charged through the door while trying to draw his weapon.
Wayne recovered and hurtled himself at Royal, driving him backwards and out onto the porch. They hit the planking of the porch floor hard, Wayne driving Royal down. He threw a hard punch Royal was only partially able to block, before scrambling to his feet and charged back into the house.
“Rabbit! Rabbit! Rabbit!” Royal yelled as he scrambled to his feet to give chase. If Wayne got his hands on a weapon they were in deep shit.
Royal caught Wayne as he grabbed a pistol from a side table. He never slowed, driving right through him, turning over the table and chair as his momentum carried them over the furniture and to the floor. Wayne fought with frenzied desperation, his eyes bulging and spittle flying as the two men battled. Royal tried to get Wayne into a joint lock, but Wayne was like a wild man, screaming and cursing as they tumbled over each other.
Wayne broke free and tried to run, but Royal sprang to his feet and hauled him down again as they crashed into kitchen table, turning it over and spilling plates and utensils into the floor. Wayne grabbed a knife from the floor and lunged at Royal. It was only a butter knife, but even a butter knife could kill, and Royal caught his wrist to stop it from plunging into his chest.
Wayne was leaning into the knife, his eyes crazed, muscles bulging, as he tried to bury it in Royal’s heart. Royal gasped, putting everything he had into holding it off. He twisted Wayne’s hand and the knife crashed into the floor just by his ear. He forced Wayne over onto his back, but Wayne continued the roll, coming up on top again and once again tried to drive the knife into Royal’s chest as Royal strained to prevent it.
Hammer skidded to a stop and wrapped a beefy arm around Wayne’s neck and hauled him off of Royal. A moment later, Goon and Blade arrived and slid to a stop.
Royal scrambled to his feet. “Hold him!” he panted.
Hammer had him, but Wayne wasn’t giving up easily. Royal forced one hand down and slapped the cuffs over his wrist, then he and Blade together twisted Wayne’s other arm down and back as he shrieked in pain and rage until Royal could secure his wrists behind his back.
Wayne spat in Royal’s face and it was all he could do not to punch that asshole’s lights out. “Put him out!” Royal ordered as he wiped his face. They waited while Hammer tightened his grip until Wayne went limp, then lowered him gently to the ground. “Get the leg irons,” Royal ordered.
“What took you so long?” Royal asked, grimacing and trying to work the soreness out of his shoulders and back. He never got his weapon drawn. With all the rolling around his gun had dug painfully into his back, and he felt like he may have strained something trying to prevent Wayne from plunging the knife into his chest.
“Took us so long? Hell, we were here in less than thirty seconds. We came running as soon as you said his name. Just because he was kicking your ass, don’t blame it on us!” Hammer laughed and slapped Royal on the shoulder. “You’re the one who wanted the glamour job of being the runner.”
“Yeah. It’s really glamourous having a knife sticking out of your chest.”
Hammer chuckled as Wayne began to stir. Royal got up and put a knee in Wayne’s back, holding him down as Blade returned with the leg irons.
“I’m going to fucking kill you! I’m going to skull fuck all of you!” Wayne raged as Hammer, Blade and Goon pinned his legs while they put him in irons.
“Shut the fuck up,” Royal growled, then looked at his team. “Ready?”
Goon nodded. Royal released one wrist and, as expected, Wayne began to flail, fighting them, twisting and straining to break free as he continued to curse them and promising vile retribution. Royal wrestled him into a hold while his brothers got his wrists bound in front of him, then attached to his leg shackles.
Royal hauled Wayne to his feet. “We can do this one of two ways.”
“Fuck you!”
“Hard it is,” Royal growled. Wayne wouldn’t cooperate so they four men muscled him out and slammed him into the SUV, not taking much care if they hurt him, and attached his cuffs to rings in the floor so he couldn’t move.
As Wayne sat in the SUV, Royal left a copy of Wayne’s arrest warrant, along with a copy of his signed waiver allowing entrance into the residence, stuck under a magnet on the refrigerator. They made a quick stop at the police station to present their paperwork for the apprehension of Wayne Alan Bass, to keep things all nice and legal, then turned for home.
They had checked out of the hotel that morning, so with only one night’s expenses, the club was going to make good money off this capture. The club got fifty percent of the take and covered expenses. From Royal’s half, he paid Hammer, Goon and Blade a hundred dollars a day, or a thousand dollars minimum. From today’s job he made a quick twenty-five grand, less three for his brothers. The club did even better, netting a touch under twenty-four grand. Not bad for a day’s work.
They’d just entered Georgia when his phone rang.
“Royal.”
“Royal! We’ve got a problem,” Doc’s voice came over the blue-tooth in the Chevy.
“What problem? We’ve got the perp.”
“The safe! The whole fucking safe is gone!”
“What?” Royal cried.
“You heard me? I’m at the clubhouse and the whole goddamn safe is gone!”
“How the fuck did that happen?”
“I don’t know. The place was locked up tight, but Tony isn’t here and he’s not answering his phone.”
“You think he did it?”
“You tell me.”
“That fucking son-of-a-bitch!” Royal snarled. Tony had a key to the clubhouse so he could work without someone having to be there to babysit all the time. If there was no sign of break-in, it made sense. And now that he’d gone missing?
“Yeah. We’re going to need you on this, pronto.”
“Have you told Charleston?”
“No, I’m not going to, and you’re not either. If we can get the safe, and the cash, back, there is no reason for them to know.”
“Why the fuck would he do that?”
“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. How fast can you turn on this?”
Royal thought a moment. “I can probably be back late tonight, so I can start on this in the morning.”
He could hear the relief in Doc’s voice. “That’s what I wanted to hear. We’re depending on you, Royal. I do not want to have to admit to Charleston we lost the cash they loaned us.”
Royal nodded to himself. He’d been officer of the club for less than two weeks and already $85,000 had gone missing. It wasn’t his fault, but he felt sick over it just the same. “I’ll find him and, when I do, I’m going to cut his nuts off.”
“That’s what I want to hear. The club is behind you on this. Whatever you need, you’ve got.”
“I’ll let the brothers know when we stop for gas. There isn’t anything I can do until I drop this fuck in Charleston, but I’ll try to turn and burn as fast as I can.”
“Make it happen, Royal. You’re our only hope of getting out of this pile of shit.”
He nodded, pursing his lips in determination. “I’m on it.”