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Ron's Place
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Category:
Literary Fiction
Publisher: BookLocker.com
ISBN-10: 1634918983
Type: Fiction
Pages: 284
Copyright: November 4, 2016
ISBN-13: 9781634918985
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
American Mole: Aryan Nation, third novel in a trilogy, has Jason, a.k.a. Cliff Backus returning home looking for a new assignment. He finds one in the militia cult of John White at Razorback. Jason finds White very troubled and dangerous as a candidate for president. He must be brought down.
Jason Forsythe as Cliff Backus, an American mole, returns to the States disillusioned after his assignment in Central America, losing those closest to him. As a motorcycle nomad, Jason roams the Southwest trying to forget while finding adventures and saves a young woman from an evil gang only to lose her in a tragic accident. Jason needs a new assignment to complete his service and finds one in the militia cult of Reverend John White at Razorback, Arkansas. White's presidential aspirations must be stopped because he is unstable, delusional and fosters hatred while posing as a religious leader.
White's use of a punishment using crucifixion, sometimes leading to death that is covered up makes it all the more urgent to bring him to justice. Jason is brought into White's inner circle and given access that allows him to sort the good from the bad. With the help of an outside source, the political blog of Spencer Howard, John White's racism and evil plans are revealed.
In the end, the awful truth of what occurred in Washington DC creating Jason and the Freedom Lancers in the first place is revealed, going right back to Razorback and the Aryan Nation.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
A New Identity
IN THE FOURTEENTH YEAR OF HIS SERVICE
Jason awoke in San Antonio. It seemed strange. Although he had been to the States as his alter ego, JJ Olson, several times in the preceding years, this time it was to stay and in an entirely different way. No more high roller executive moneyman, Jason was now in the seedy Rancho Inn in near downtown San Antonio within walking distance of his destination, the Alamo.
While the light crept in through the thin draperies in the rather run down motel room, and put a sparkle on some of the chrome on his newly acquired 1966 Triumph Bonneville TT, Jason was still a bit reluctant to get out of bed. His head was heavy with thoughts of what it meant to leave all that in Central America behind and try to forget Lovely and what she meant to him. He was going to go underground much further this time. Become a nomad in his 14th year of service to the United States of America.
First things first. It was time to get out of bed and get busy. Outside, the streets were bustling, but much cleaner and more orderly than he had seen in the last few days in Mexico. Still, the country was in the grips of disorder and on the edge of anarchy. Making just coming to a tourist attraction like this somewhat dangerous, although people continued to come and live it up as though the world were ending tomorrow—and it might be—for all Jason knew, based on what he had been through with both Mother Nature and man.
Jason was hungry, so breakfast was on his mind. Up ahead on the street front in an old building he saw the familiar golden arches and thought he would stop and have his first American fast food, an Egg McMuffin, for the first time in the many years since he was in high school, or maybe, Chicago; it had been that long. The coffee was good. And so was the egg and Canadian bacon. Some things hadn't changed. Although the breakfast menu was rather strange and he could've had his egg without the yolk, just by asking… strange. There were more kinds of coffee, too. That's why he just ordered it black.
His stomach satisfied and his cobwebs from sleep finally gone, Jason headed up the street towards the Alamo. A block away, Homeland Security had set up a checkpoint, limiting access to the general vicinity of the Alamo historic district. It was to be expected since so many of the nation's rich heritage sites had come under threat from multiple sources since the great disaster in Washington DC. While passing through the metal detector, it kept going off, even when Jason took off his jacket and everything that he had on him and in it before he walked through a second time. Upon examination, it was determined that it was the metal studs on his leather pants that were setting the machine off. After a pat down, the security officer allowed Jason to continue without having to go to the only station, a block away, with a body scanner. Jason realized this would be routine from here on out in an uptight nation.
A short while later, he arrived at a long line of families, elderly couples, foreign tourists, and the occasional student, all waiting to see one of history's epic symbols, where the Republic of Texas got its battle cry and so many died in a one-sided massacre. The line moved quickly, and soon Jason was inside, listening to docents describe various aspects of the shrine and viewing the collection of guns, documents, flags and other artifacts from other places in Texas at the time because very little was left when the Alamo was first scheduled for restoration. Jason was polite and waited until all the others moved ahead of him and exited the building toward a side street where guards stood watch preventing anyone from entering the exit.
Instead of exiting, along with a few others, Jason strolled out into the beautiful grounds behind the building. His sharp eye caught several cameras, all very high-resolution, covering every inch of the space, and probably had smart software zeroing in on any possible threat so that eyesore and weary humans did not have to stare at all the monitors all the time… Only when the software detected a clear threat.
Knowing that he was being watched, Jason spent a bit of time wandering around the garden, looking at all the beautiful flowers and other exotic plants. Nothing like the Central American jungle, but still very pleasant and peaceful to walk through. There were very few people in the garden at that time of the morning. Eventually, Jason found himself sitting on the south most edge of the flagstone pool with a pleasant sound of a fountain behind him, engrossed in looking through his program.
With his right hand, Jason reached down below his right leg and felt for anything among the flagstones. He felt something hard and a bit sharp and grasped it. A key easily came out from its hiding place and was quickly deposited in his jacket pocket. It was time to leave, so Jason got up and, while still walking around admiring the fauna and flora, walked out past the guards, waved goodbye to them and was on the street.
A half block later, Jason walked out of the secure perimeter and asked a Redline trolley driver where he could find the city bus station. The driver said, "Hop in," and three blocks later, the driver told Jason that he was two blocks from the San Antonio city bus station, "That way." Jason thanked the man and crossed the street to go to the station. Knowing that there would be high security inside, Jason removed the key while in the street and took a look at it. The key was stamped with the number, 47. He put the key back in his pocket, and a short while later inside, after scanning all the lockers, found the one he was looking for and casually took out the key and opened the locker. Inside was a large manila envelope with everything that he needed. Once outside, Jason opened his jacket and slipped the envelope inside where it rode comfortably against his chest and the many cameras didn't see him carrying anything.
7Jason took the Blueline back to the Rancho Inn. Once inside, Jason opened the envelope at the little desk and removed his new identity. Following the instructions, Jason learned that Clifford R. Backus had been born in the small town of Alice, Texas. After finishing high school at St. Edward's school, he had tried college at Texas A & I in Kingsville only to drop out and end his education. Opting instead to take a mechanic's course at the ITT Institute in San Antonio. After that, Backus worked several jobs including fishing crewmember in the Gulf of Mexico, auto and motorcycle mechanic, roughneck, both offshore and around Alice, and pipe fitter. Rather nomadic, Cliff Backus never was fired but grew bored with his jobs and always moved on to others. Cliff was about to become a drifter like so many other young men in a restless, turbulent early 21st-century United States.
Placing his newly acquired citizenship papers carefully in his backpack and his Texas driver's license in his billfold where he carried just enough cash to not run out on any given day, Jason had effectively assumed his new identity. The only thing left was to remove any visages of the old JJ Olson. Jason found them all and placed them carefully, along with the paper describing his new identity, back into the manila envelope. By that time it was 2 o'clock in the afternoon and Jason was getting hungry again.
Leaving the motel once again Jason took the Blueline back to the bus station. He carefully placed the envelope with the old identity and the new identity instructions in Locker 47 and locked it. He was glad that he did not have to go through with any strict disposal protocol for those documents. Walking this time, Jason once again moved through the perimeter security. He approached the rear exit of the Alamo and the guards there. One of the guards that he had waved to earlier recognized him because of his unique leather outfit. The mark on his hand also identified him as a visitor that day. When Jason asked if he could go back in because, "I have lost my camera in the garden," the guard shook his head in recognition and let Jason go back in to search for it.
While the guard watched from the exit, Jason went frantically around the whole garden area looking here and there for a few minutes. Finally, he just sat down on that same spot at the rim of the flagstone pool and carefully slipped the key into the same hiding place clearly out of sight of the guard at the gate. He returned to the exit shaking his head, "No."
While he only shook his head in agreement, the guard’s eyes said, in so many words, "I told you so," because he had seen it happen so many times before.
Relieved and hungrier than ever, Jason followed the cascading fountain down to the Riverwalk. Once there, he found the walkways teeming with tourists that had arrived for the afternoon and the sound of jazz and mariachi music in the background. It was time for him to relax. Soon, Jason was sipping a tequila sunrise and eating nachos by the river's edge just watching people go by. After a fajita dinner and more drinks at more bistros along the river, Jason settled into a small jazz venue and stayed there until the band left, the crowd thinned out, and he walked back to his motel room, glad to be back in the United States once again.
Chapter 2
Essential Modifications
Slightly hung over, it was time to get out of bed to begin exploring the city and see what the non-tourist part of town was like. Still, Jason didn't leave the motel room until about 10 am. He had no place in particular to go and only one or two things to do.
Like all major metropolitan cities, once he left the central, older part of town, San Antonio sprawled out in all directions filled with shopping centers, subdivisions, service stations, office buildings, schools and churches, into several suburbs, each with its unique character. First, Jason had to find another motorcycle shop, and then, look into the seedy side of town. Talking with the motel clerk and a map of the city that the young Indian man just happened to have, along with the use of the man's smart phone, Jason learned where he would explore that day.
Parking his bike in the street in front of the golden arches from the day before, Jason tried the sausage and egg burrito, something he had never even seen before, and found that it was equally as palatable as the egg muffin, although spicier. Pouring a large coffee's scorching contents down his throat, Jason once again, had the energy to explore the unknown, out there.
There were four motorcycle shops out past I-410 north on 281. That's where he was headed. The Indian motel clerk told him that Classic Motorcycles was his best bet, but Jason cruised by all the others just to see what they looked like. Classic, without a big show room right off the freeway with a pretentious line of sparkling new bikes, but on a side street with the look and feel of a place where motorcycles were built and lovingly maintained, caught his eye. Jason pulled in. Choppers and café racers were all around. Everything seemed to be a bit modified. Jason was in the right place.
Although there were others around, no one paid much attention as Jason walked through the front door past a lot of motorcycle accessories to a greasy counter with a heavyset man with a gray beard and a definite look of a motorcycle gang member. His gravelly voice matched.
"That's a nice little relic you have out there. Saw you pull in. What can I do for you?"
"Well, I picked that bike up in McAllen and am thinking of touring the Southwest with it this winter. It's been several years since I have been on the roads here in the States and I see that many cars are self-driven. Are there any accessories that are essential and useful for camping out and safety?"
"Been out of the country, huh? Where? Things have changed on the roads recently."
"Central America."
“Hablas español?"
"Si."
The man immediately introduced himself as Jimenez "Jimmy" Ortega, the owner of the shop, and began conversing in Spanish with Jason.
"So, you need some accessories for that underpowered thing you've got. Well… To keep you safe, I'd suggest a helmet first. I know it's the law here in Texas that we can kill ourselves without a helmet, but the one that I'm suggesting has a lot of whizbangs that I think you'll like."
Jimenez walked around behind the counter and grabbed a helmet from the display and brought it back to show to Jason. "This one is a Krantz, German name but made in America—Delavan, Wisconsin. It not only will protect your head in the event of a crash—and you will be in a crash, it's only a matter of time—it has multiple visors that are voice controlled, right and left signal lights on either side that match the ones on your bike, likewise voice controlled." Protect you from accidents and incidents that are bound to occur. The camera records, in a loop, one hour of high-definition video that can be uploaded, and once again, view with your voice, to the cloud of your choice for safekeeping should you need it. It's a dangerous world out there and these cameras are saving our asses every day."
"Have you got something smaller? That helmet seems to have too much crammed into it for this little old head to gather." Jason shook his head in denial.
"Well, Krantz also makes some cool wraparound sunglasses that do pretty much the same thing."
"Now you're talking… I'll take a pair of those. Anything else?"
"Well, I've saved the best for last. That classic motorcycle you have will need an upgrade to help keep you safe, save you time and aggravation, and take a load off your mind. We have a modification kit from the Silicon Valley company, Razor Light, that we install. What it does is mount cameras both front and rear on your bike, and a panel above your analog gauges that is split. On the left side you will see data that is useful, a virtual Internet connection with everything you need for traveling, and on the right, your rearview in high definition, doing away with the need for mirrors and also gathering another hour's worth of video continuously for uploading to the cloud.
"The system includes a self driving module that will keep you on the straight and narrow using GPS like most of the cars are using today. This sucker will actually keep you out of accidents and allow you to sleep while you go down the road if you like. Like the old cruise control, all you have to do is move the handlebars or hit the gas or the brake, and you will immediately gain complete manual control of your bike. Believe me, on long rides, this baby is a necessity."
"I'll take one of those. How long will it take to install?"
"We usually turn those installations around in a day, but I will need a half day with you so that you can get proficient on all the things this wizard can do for you. Believe me, it's a lot! Oh, and one more thing. We'd better check to see if your valves can take unleaded gasoline. If those valves and seats haven't been hardened, you're in for engine failure down the road. I'll check for free, but if your 650 hasn't been modified, it will cost you. So far we are looking at about $3500. Have you got that kind of cash?
"I do." Jason's, matter-of-fact way of saying it, reassured Ortega that he meant business.
"Okay then, we'll get started right away… In a couple of hours… I've got one bike out there in the shop that we are finishing up on, but yours will be next."
"Anywhere I can stay around here… Get something to eat while I'm waiting?"
"Two blocks back to the 281 Frontage Road you'll find a couple of motels and restaurants. I would recommend MiniHotel 35. They are clean, efficient, and don't mind bikers. I won't recommend a restaurant, because I don’t know what you like, but there are a few within walking distance that you might want to try.”
Taking his saddlebags off the Bonneville after he rode it into the shop, Jason slung them over his shoulder and headed out to the frontage road. He would be back by closing to check on progress and get the manuals on his equipment so that he could study them before trying everything out.
Chapter 3
Meeting the Locals
It wasn't long before Jason walked up to the office of the MiniHotel 35 and it was pretty much the way Jimmy had advertised it. He noticed that there was special parking for motorcycles and there were a couple parked there even in the middle of the day. It didn't look like he would be able to bring his bike inside, though. I'll have to get some way of keeping it from getting stolen, Jason thought to himself as he entered the lobby.
There was no trouble getting a room because the place looked empty that time of the day. Jason checked in and dropped off the heavy saddlebags, glad to be rid of them. He didn't stay in the room, but immediately went back outside to see what there was by way of something to eat.
Looking up and down the street from where he was, there was a Japanese restaurant, what looked like a Chinese buffet across 281 in a shopping center, and the nearby, Longhorn Corral, something that looked like a chain that Jason had never heard of. Thought he'd try that.
There were five bikes parked outside along with some cars, so that was a good sign, even in the early afternoon well after lunch. As he walked through the door, Jason attracted some attention from the guys at the bar and those at the few occupied tables scattered about. He immediately noticed three girls waiting tables in very short denim skirts, cowboy boots, plaid shirts opened in the front to the waist, and white cowgirl hats. Obviously a dress code designed to attract men to the place. Jason didn't mind.
He headed for the unoccupied side of the place toward the back wall and sat down at a table with his back to the wall where he could get a better view of the room. It was only a minute or two when a beautiful young blonde with electric blue eyes came sauntering over to his table with the menu in hand and a big smile on her face.
"Howdy, stranger, I'm Kaylee. Can I get you a drink? Mighty hot out today."
"Dear. Whatever the house is drinking. And, while I haven't seen your menu, just bring me a hamburger with fries, medium well."
"Okay, sweetie. I'll be right back." Jason swore that she was flirting with him, flashing those long eyelashes, but then, it was probably just a requirement of her job. That shirt must have been glued in just the right places every time she bent over to serve him or he would have been surveying her nipples instead of those eyes. And then, as she turned to leave, that shirt came open and a full boob with a perky little pink nipple was plainly in view. Oh, Jason thought, maybe this place does a little extra business on the side?
Kaylee came back shortly with a Coors in a bottle and a glass on the side, as well as a glass of ice water. Once again, she gave Jason a little peek and a wink to go along with it. Jason was beginning to like this place. He leaned back in the chair and enjoyed his beer.
It wasn't long before Kaylee returned with a large hamburger complete with sides including French fries and onion rings. Once she got him some salt from another table, she asked, "Would you like anything else, Hon?"
Jason had been picking the jalapenos off the burger, noting that it was medium rare rather than medium well. He looked around, and replied, "No. But I will have another beer."
"Coming right up." Kaylee sparkled and twirled around so that her short skirt revealed her thong.
Jason ate slowly and cased the place. He saw that the other two girls were spending a lot of time with the guys at the bar. Those guys were wearing colors with, "Blue Knights," on the back. Kaylee was serving the tables, and one by one they vacated until the place was nearly empty. About the time that Jason was thinking about another beer, Kaylee came by, brought him one, and then sat down at the table with him. Part of normal business? Jason wondered.
With a big smile on her face, Kaylee asked, "You're not from here, are you? Where you from? We don't get many strangers here. So, I just had to ask. Besides, you're cute!" She giggled and winked.
"Well, I just came up from a long stay in Central America. I'm Cliff, Cliff Backus. I'm getting my bike modified for the States and just happened into this place and the likes of you." He winked right back at her.
Kaylee turned her head a bit toward the bar to indicate for Jason to look. "You see those guys at the bar? They’re members of the Blue Knights motorcycle club. Big here in San Antonio and fairly well own this place. That's why we don't get many strangers. You must be very brave to come in here." Her eyes were big as saucers when she said it, as though she were flattering him.
Jason was unmoved on purpose. "Not really. Come to think of it, I'd really like to meet them. Could you arrange it for me?"
"Sure, Honey. Whatever you like." Kaylee rose from the table and Jason followed. They approached the five guys wearing colors at the bar. As they approached, all eyes were on them coming.
Kaylee spoke first. "Hey guys. I'd like you to meet Cliff. He says that he just came up from Central America and is getting his motorcycle modified over at Jimmy Ortega's." She turned to Jason and asked,
"That's right, isn't it?"
Jason nodded, "Yes," in agreement.
"This is Spike, he's CEO and founder of the club. You're lucky to meet him. He doesn't come in very often anymore." Jason shook the weathered hand of a craggy faced man that looked to be in his 70s but still was in fairly good shape. "Spike is retired Marines and City of San Antonio police." She then went around to all the other guys with rapid introductions, Pete, Charles, Jake and Jerry, that Jason didn't quite get, they all came forward so fast to right knuckle him.
Spike spoke first. "Those are some pretty fancy leathers you have there. I don't think you got them around here."
"I got them in Cancun on my way back. I've been in San Antonio before. I'm just getting reacquainted."
"That's why I didn't recognize them. Some pretty sweet duds, I must say. Take care of them; you won't get anything like that on this side of the border. How are things down there, anyway? We don't hear much now that everyone can get their drugs from the local drugstore over-the-counter. Although it was a bitch sometimes, I kind of miss those days. Now, it seems like all the clubs are trying to reposition their territory and hold off all the wildcat anarchists."
"Actually, I left Costa Rica. I was staying on the beach down there in paradise with former military expatriate friends when that damn tsunami hit, killing my friends and wiping out what little I had down there. So, I decided to come back here and start over." Jason could hear Kaylee's sad sigh when she heard him tell it. She had tears in her eyes but didn't say anything.
"Well… We are known as the good guys among motorcycle clubs. We try to keep the peace as best we can, but as long as there are Banditos, Warlocks, Outlaws, and Hells Angels around, each of them trying to carve out more territory, it gets harder and harder to keep the peace. You're welcome to hang with us if you like, but we really have to get to know you very well before we can let you into our ranks. Do you get my drift…?"
"I get your drift. Thanks for your offer, but I don't think I'll be staying in town very long. I'd like to explore the Southwest this winter and do it alone." Jason could see Kaylee's eyes drop a bit when he said that. "While I'm here, I'd like to buy you all a round of drinks before I have to leave here at four to check on my bike."
The bartender brought out a couple of pitchers of beer for the guys and Jason settled in to conversation with them at the bar. Kaylee wandered off to clean up the tables and other tasks. The clock on the wall was nearing 4 pm, so Jason finished his glass, said goodbye to the guys and headed out the door. He was halfway to the MiniHotel 35 when he heard Kaylee running after him. "Hey, Cliff, wait up. I just got off my shift and have to go to class. I have to work again later this evening. Will I be seeing you?"
Jason walked Kaylee back to her car, a new Lexus hardtop convertible. Not something that a college girl would tend to afford. He politely opened the door for her, leaned over, and said, “I'll be back tonight. We can talk more then."
Kaylee looked back up at him with those big blue eyes and said, "I'd like that." Left Jason wondering as he walked past the MiniHotel 35 and back to Classic Motorcycles to check on the progress of the renovation.
Chapter 4
Connecting for Real
Jason arrived at Ortega's shop to find that his bike had already been partly disassembled and parts were being fitted and installed. Jimmy summoned Jason over to show him something of interest. "See here, right on the frame underneath the gas tank? That's where I'm going to put your tracker chip. It's part of the Razor Light installation. I put these chips on different places on different bikes so that thieves won't know where they're located to remove them."
"With this little chip, you will know where your bike is at all times even if you're not with it. Do you have a smart phone?"
"No, I don't. Had one on my last job and hated to get those calls all the time. Know what I mean?" Jason wasn't lying.
"Well, I guess I do. Anyway, it's all operated off Razor's website anyway, so you could use someone else's phone or other web device to sign into My Razor Light. You do know how to use the Internet, don't you?"
"I think I do, have once or twice." Jason smiled wryly and lied.
"Well, it's easy. Before you leave here I'll show you on my phone and on our computers. This little chip is invaluable. Motorcycle thefts are way down and the thieves are being caught in the act left and right, thanks to this little bugger. It's a dog eat dog world out there, and a man's gotta have all the protection he can get."
They took a little time going over the manual information and got on the computer to set up a My Razor Light account for Jason so that he could go there and find out everything he ever wanted to know about the Bonneville and where he had been in case he couldn't remember.
By 5 o'clock, Jason returned to his motel room and watched the news, something he hadn't done in a very long time. It seemed like politics was still a mess as he remembered it, although the actors that he remembered were nearly all gone with notable exceptions. There was the usual turmoil that never seemed to go away since the blast put the country on edge—so hard to recover from. He turned on a movie and watched it until 9 pm, took a shower and trimmed his beard, and then headed back to the Longhorn Corral.
This time there were about 20 motorcycles out front and another 20 cars. The place was hopping with hard rock music occasionally slowed down a bit with a bit of country. There wasn't a free table anywhere, so Jason looked for an opening at the bar and finally saw one.
Jason didn't see Kaylee anywhere but there were about 10 girls in uniform rushing about keeping up with customer orders. As he approached the barstool that seemed to be free next to a member of the Blue Knights, a beautiful young lady in shorts and tank top took the seat and the guy, who Jason didn't recognize, put his arm around her.
So, Jason stood by the bar near the end where the cowgirls were coming to pick up drinks to take to the customers at the tables, and waited, wondering why he was even in the place.
And then, he saw someone waving at him on the other side of the bar to come over. Skirting around the bar and approaching the guy on the other side, he recognized him from the afternoon, but couldn't remember his name. The man was with three other guys he didn't recognize and he wasn't sure exactly how to approach until the guy that had waved him over stuck out his fist for a bump and started talking loudly to the three other guys huddled around him to get above the loud music.
"This is the guy I was telling you about. Says that he came up from Central America. Lived through the tsunami down there. Dude, what'd you say your name was!" Jason had to practically shout to be heard above the music and other noise.
"Cliff… Cliff Backus!"
"Well, in case you don't remember, I'm Pete, Peter Elliott. This is Keith Roberts, Tommy Brown and Hank Richardson, some of my bike buds here. What are you drinking? I owe you one."
"Same as you. I like everything with American stamped on it."
Everyone laughed at that. Pete replied, "I can't guarantee you that. Everything seems to be made somewhere else these days. Tell these guys more about what happened to you down there in Costa Rica. I'll get a beer."
Jason commenced a story that was close to his real experience but didn't blow his cover in any way. It was convincing enough so that the guys were all ears listening to someone who had been there first hand. In time, they saw a table that went empty and convened there. They were familiar with all of the waitresses and the girls didn't disappoint the guys one bit even though there were house rules about touching and things like that. The view was always interesting.
Around 10 o'clock, Jason saw that Kaylee had returned to work. Once in a while. He saw her flashing a smile his way but she stuck to business, taking care of other tables that she had been assigned to. Since it was a Wednesday night, the place rapidly thinned out by midnight, including the guys at his table. Pete was the last to leave, saying that he had to get home to his wife and kids. Jason nursed a beer, thinking about what his next move would be, just listening to the music and watching those girls play the crowd.
With the customers leaving, the cowgirls congregated by the bar. Some of them made glance toward him after talking with Kaylee. But she didn't come to the table at all. It bothered Jason a bit because she had told him to come. Finally, the lights flashed, signaling closing, so Jason got up and walked out of the place. Just before that, he had seen Kaylee go into the kitchen, cleaning up tables. Feeling a bit melancholy, he headed back to the MiniHotel 35.
As soon as Jason got in his room and had taken off his leather jacket to get comfortable, he heard a loud banging on the door. "Cliff, Oh Cliff, why didn't you wait for me! Let me in! Let me in!"
Jason opened the door and Kaylee burst in, jumping up and gripping him around the waist with her legs and showering his cheeks and ears with kisses. He was so unnerved that he fell backward over the bed and she was on top of him, straddling him and pulling at his clothes.
Catching his breath, Jason called out, "The door… the door is open!"
Breathing heavily now and pushing his T-shirt up his arms and over his face, Kaylee breathed, "I don't care, let them see and hear. I don't care. I've been waiting all night and I can't wait any longer. Here, let me help with your pants."
Jason watched from below as she ripped off that plaid shirt and worked his tight leather pants off at the ankles. Just then, a couple came by in the hallway and Kaylee turned and waved at them. He heard them giggle as they headed down the hall.
Then, she was pulling off his shorts when she made a discovery. "Oh my God! What happened to you! I was going to ask you if you had any STDs, but from the looks of that you have something much worse! What happened?"
"It's a long story… But everything's okay."
"Well I'm glad for that. I guess that means we don't have to put a raincoat on it. I get myself checked out regularly and I'll assume that, since you said you only had one girlfriend down there and this little problem was fixed by some pretty fancy surgeon, I'd say you're good to go… I guess I'll have to kiss it and make it all better." Kaylee made good on her promise and Jason soon found out that she was truly blonde all the way to her roots.
Kaylee kept him up half the night asking for and getting multiple orgasms. The girl just didn't want to quit. In between, she confessed, "I'm an exhibitionist and a bit of a sexual addict. That's why I work at the Longhorn Corral. There's always some new guy around that I can latch onto for a one night stand. But you’re different. I saw it right away. I don't believe you are a mechanic and roughneck like you say. You're much smarter than that. Are you a spy?"
That question caught Jason off guard, but he had to answer. "No, I'm not a spy. I'm not here spying on the Blue Knights. I'm just passing through, want to be a drifter. My last job down in Central America was very tough and I don't want to do that kind of thing anymore. I don't have to. I've got a little money saved up so I don’t have to bum my way as I go."
"Well I'm a senior in psychology at UT San Antonio. I want to be a sex therapist so I thought I would get to know the field. And the truth is, I'm loving it. My daddy's real rich and has a big spread up in Bandera. I used to love to ride bareback naked amid all those exotic animals that he has on his ranch. Loved it when those ranch hands got a peek at me." She giggled. "Anyway, I don't have to work at Longhorn like the other girls. I'd like to call it my internship." She laughed.
Morning came and Kaylee woke early saying that she had to get off to her morning classes. They took a quick shower together, and, to Jason's surprise, Kaylee ran naked out to her car and changed into her school clothes in the tiny back seat. Something she seemed to be expert at doing. Jason got dressed and followed. He bent over to give her a kiss before she drove off.
"Will you be here again tonight? I don't usually do two nighters, but you’re special." Kaylee's eyes misted over.
"I don't know. Probably depends upon my bike and whether it's done or not. Sorry, but I can't say."
Another peck on the lips like a married couple heading to work for the day and Kaylee drove off leaving Jason to wonder what he was getting into as he headed back to the MiniHotel 35 for its free breakfast of assorted rubber protein, genetically modified fruit, and engineered cereals. The coffee wasn't near as good as Mickey D's, but Jason needed several cups to clear his head of his thoughts of déjà vu. Not this time. He would get the hell out of there before something happened.
Chapter 5
Territorial Imperative
After breakfast, it was either the lack of sleep from the night before or depression, but, while trying to watch the news on TV, Jason slept until 11 o'clock. Thinking that he needed to check on the progress of the renovation, he got up and walked over to Classic Motorcycles to see how things were going.
When Jason got there, to his surprise, his bike was out front and out of the shop, ready to go. Jimmy met him with a big smile and, "Good morning, Cliff. The installation went smoothly, much easier than some of the others that we've done. I've already checked out all the components and sequences and everything is working quite well. We beefed up your battery and we have a fold up solar array that will charge your battery practically anywhere if it gets low." He went to the back of the bike, lifted up the rear seat and deployed the solar array. All you have to do is flip this switch and your battery is being charged as long as there is full sun on the panels."
"Why don't you hop on behind me and I will take you out and show you how everything works. You can watch me over my shoulder as we go. Here are your sunglasses. Try them on for size and fit and see if you can make the functions work like I told you." Ortega reached to his denim vest pocket where those sunglasses had been hanging on one temple and handed them to Jason.
Jason hopped on his bike behind Jimmy and Jimmy took him down some side streets going through all the functions that the system could do. And then they stopped, and Jimmy rode behind Jason for a ways while Jason went through all of the same functions. It was a bit after noon when they got back to the shop and a mobile lunch wagon was outside selling tacos, tamales, and the like. Jimmy grabbed some for them, "On me," and they sat down at a table outside the shop with a beer to wash it down.
Jason was glad that the bike was done, but he didn't have the cash with him. He told Jimmy. "Say, I'd like to get going, but I have to go get the cash to pay you. What's the bottom line?"
"I don't know, exactly, but it's approaching four grand. I'd like you to take the bike out for test a run somewhere for a day, and then come back tomorrow. Then, we'll settle up if that's all right with you. I believe I can trust you to come back with the cash. Besides, I know how to track you if you don't." A big shit-eating grin came over his generally jovial face.
Jason had to laugh. "You got me there! Yes, I would like to try out all this junk before I commit to using it in the long run. I am itching to try everything out and see how it works without you looking over my shoulder!" Again, they both chuckled.
With a little tweaking of the sunglasses and the cameras turned on, Jason pulled out from Classic Motorcycles and headed south on 281. Before long, he found himself on I-37 crossing I-10 on his way to Corpus Christi. Not wishing to stay on the freeway, Jason dropped down the nearest exit and entered an older decidedly Hispanic, neighborhood and cruised down, what appeared to be a main drag, but there was little traffic in the middle of the day.
It wasn't long before he passed a bar with several motorcycles parked outside and some guys standing out there drinking beer. And, it wasn't long after that before he saw, in his newly acquired rearview monitor, bikes coming up on him—fast. Keep cool, he told himself, and maintained the same leisurely pace. Just as those bikes were catching up, up ahead, he saw others coming down the street the other way. Jason wasn't sure what would happen next, so he waved at the oncoming bikes.
There was no median on that street, so those guys, instead of waving back, moved over on his side of the street and headed directly for him, while the bikes behind him caught up all about the same time. Jason had already slowed, and soon found himself hemmed in with a bike on his right side, one directly behind him, one directly in front of him that had come so close as to touch front wheels and another coming from the other side alongside to his left, along with several other bikes that came up from behind. He was totally hemmed in. All he could think of to say was, "Buenas tardes," as loud as he could above all the idling motorcycles to the obviously Hispanic riders.
The scarred face guy on his right sneered, "Look what we have here, some Yankee gringo spouting Spanish in fancy leathers on a classic bike. Don't you know that you're in Bandito territory?"
Jason answered, "Well, no, I didn't, I was just out cruising around getting to know San Antonio a little better."
"Well, you should have known the territory before you came down here and messed with us. We take tribute from anyone who wants to travel on our streets."
All the other bikers backed him up with a great big, "That's right!"
“How much?” Jason wondered if he had enough cash in his billfold to get out of this one. He was screwed.
"Not much, just your bike. We’ll let you walk out of here and take the bus without a scratch.”
Jason sized things up and decided what he would do. All he said was, “Okay,” and dismounted right leg first.
That right leg went high over his head and directly into the chest of the surprised rider on his left who wasn't expecting anything since the chief honcho was doing all the talking on the other side. The blow knocked him off his chopper and Jason was in the seat with it idling.
Obviously a modified Harley, Jason hit the throttle, hard, and was out of there before the startled Banditos gathered what was happening. He had a half block on them before they started coming for him. Retracing the path he had taken, Jason hit the on ramp to I-37 and had crossed I-10 before he saw them in the review mirror over a half-mile behind. Knowing how patrolled the Interstates were, he took a chance on the cameras aimed at him and ran about 90 mph until he couldn't see any of them following anymore.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Jason dropped back down to the posted 80 mph and joined the sedate automatic, computer-controlled traffic all the way back to Classic Motorcycles. Jimmy Ortega was surprised to see him pull up in front of the shop in that wild modified machine. He came out from behind the counter to take a look.
"Don't tell me that you traded bikes already, Cliff! Where in the hell did you get that chopper?"
"It's a long story, Jimmy, but the short of it is that I was hijacked by Banditos and I escaped by stealing this one. Fair trade." Finally, Jason could smile.
"The good news is, Cliff, we know where your bike is. You are very lucky. You could have been beaten up or even killed. Those guys are nothing to mess with. But you're in luck. I was once one of them.
After that stand-down in Waco that time with several of us killed, I decided to hang up that life and opened this shop as far from their territory as I could get. But I still know them, at least most of them, and I think I know where your bike is and who's got it. Let's give him a call. But first, I'm going to have you find your bike."
Jimmy took Jason inside to his countertop computer. "Here, Cliff, go ahead, find it."
Jason pretended to fumble a bit, but after searching and finding the Razor Light website, he fumbled around again and finally, logged into his account. He clicked on the link, Find My Vehicle, and a map with an address immediately popped up on the screen—7301 Alhambra.
Jason took one look at the street and said, "That's the street I was on. It's still there."
"And that's the address of the Banditos' headquarters. So, that bar you're talking about is their hang out on the same block. I know who to call now. Ricky Romero and I go way back. Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to call Ricky and make him an offer that he can't refuse. He'll negotiate with me where he wouldn't with you. All you have to do is just watch and listen. Let me handle it for you. Okay?"
With nothing left to lose, Jason just shook his head, "Yes."
Ortega turned on the speakerphone and dialed the number from memory. Some guy answered in Spanish and Jimmy answered back in Spanish, "Is Ricky there? Tell him that Jimmy Ortega wants to talk to him."
Moments later, the guy with the same voice that had challenged Jason earlier came on the phone along with his scarred face, speaking English.
"Jimmy, old buddy, what can I do for you today… Long time no hear, no see…"
"Sorry Ricky, but I'm calling on business. You have one of my best customer's bike and I want it back without a scratch—immediately!"
"Oh, we do? What do you mean? We haven't got any bike of yours?"
"Quit fooling around with me, Ricky. I can have the San Antonio police and even SWAT, if necessary, down on you because I know that you have the bike and there's no place you can hide it that they can't find it with my help."
"Okay, so you got me by the gonads. Why would you be protecting a gringo Yankee pretty boy with a classic bicycle?"
"I'm doing the asking. You don't want the police down on you. I've got a deal that will make it easy for you. We've got the chopper right outside. Looks like it's worth a lot more than that Bonneville TT that you seem so fond of. Tell you what I'll do. You take that bike, and I'll take the chopper and let's meet at the old Coliseum parking lot in 20 minutes. Once there, we can chat about old times. Just you, none of your compadres, and I will come alone as well. Got a deal?"
"Do I have a choice? Deal."
Both men hung up without saying another word. Jason was impressed. Jimmy gave Jason a high five and was out the door. A minute later, he had started the Harley and was on his way for the swap. Jason and the other guys in the shop that had heard the conversation just stood there in amazement. And then, they drifted back to what they were doing. Jason went over to the vending machines and got something to snack on while he waited.
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