Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
At precisely 10:00 PM Calvin Jefferts left his walkup apartment in G-Town – it was no longer fashionable to call it using the first name of the former President, even though it had been named for George II of England or some local merchants, and not the first President – but Jefferts was nothing if not scrupulous about observing local customs. He turned right at the corner and then crossed the street and took a left, wending his way down the hill, trending east toward Wisconsin Avenue and the lobbyists’ corridor on the far side, the West End in reference to the District, in the interstices between Arlington and D.C. proper.
After his first stop, at the convenience store near his apartment for a drink, he knew he had surveillance. His second stop was a pool hall that occasionally hosted illegal backroom poker. He paid off his modest gambling debt and running tab with the house, plus the vig, and had a beer with the owner. By the time he left he identified which surveillance team was following him. In his mind, he had labeled this crew the B-Team, not so much because they were bad, but because of the nicknames he had given each member of the team started with that letter. There was the tall, heavy black couple that he dubbed Big Black Bro and Big Black Flo because of the fake wife’s resemblance to a tv sitcom character. Buddy and BoyMan, for the dog and the hipster with the man-bun that toted him around. Jefferts had once doubled-back and bumped right into them; BoyMan had stuttered that the dog’s name was “B-b-buddy.” Then there were the Blues Brothers in the support vehicle, a beat-up white van that picked up the team and shuttled them ahead of Jefferts’ route, and allowed them to change clothes and disguises.
Jefferts started wending his way up the hill again, up Potomac Street, and then turned right onto Prospect. He threw his coffee cup in a trashcan on the corner, in front of the sandwich shop, knowing they would sit on it, and later retrieve it. It would divert resources, and their attention briefly. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief – the humidity was oppressive tonight – then folded it and put it away in his inside pocket. Jefferts cracked the short, red, IR chemlight in his jacket pocket at the same time. It was invisible to him, but he knew it would be a beacon to an IR sensor, even in the press of people and lights along his route.
He picked up the pace right before he reached the Colonial Parking Lot and crossed the street. He might have imagined it, but he could swear he heard the buzz of a drone, a brief sound that faded and blended as it rose and turned and disappeared. Perhaps he imagined it…?
But he knew, and could feel the rush of adrenaline.
It’s on.
* * * * *
Hector Guerra Recio-Alfrido looked at his watch, kicked the foot of the man in the expensive suit tied and taped to the chair, who didn’t respond. Hector walked past the chair to where the drone operator was sitting staring at the screen.
“Well?” Hector asked.
“He did it, Unico. He’s inbound now.”
“Mm.” Hector looked away from the tilting and twisting imagery on the screen because it made him nauseous. He got motion sickness just from watching the drone’s feed as it swooped and skittered around the District above them. Hector walked back through the darkness of the tunnel, slinging his AR-10 over his shoulder, as he approached the unconscious man, who was starting to move and moan.
Hector turned around and whistled to the guards he couldn’t see, but he knew were at the bottom of the escalators.
“Ay, amigos. Agua, por favor.”
Harmon Kendrick floated up from unconsciousness to the waking world.
“Wha-” he mumbled. “How…?” He had a recollection of his Jefferts’ phone call to meet with his source, of driving somewhere he thought he recognized in NorthEast, and then the car stopped, the doors locked, and then his driver got out and walked away from the car. Then the doors opened and he remembered the chloroform. He felt a little nauseous at the thought and taste.
Hector stood just out of Kendrick’s sight. Footsteps came from the distance, the dirt giving each a slight scratch on the concrete that echoed around the cavernous subway tunnel in the darkness. The sound slowed as the runner approached and came into the light. Hector raised his eyebrows and the young man, dark-skinned, closer to black than brown, held two plastic bottles of water up. Hector nodded and held his hands up and the man tossed one and then the other through the air. Hector caught each one nonchalantly.
“Gracias.” He smiled tightly and motioned the man back to his post with a nod of his head. The scratching run-sound dopplered away in the darkness.
Hector grabbed a milk crate from near the wall of the platform and set it on the ground in front of Harmon Kendrick, who was squinting and blinking, craning his neck to look around. His eyes locked on Hector as he walked over and held his hands up with the water. He put the bottles down and then slowly reached Kendrick’s face, then gently pulled the tape off of his mouth.
Kendrick exhaled loudly and began breathing through his mouth.
“Some agua, cabron?” Kendrick eyed him warily but nodded his head.
Hector unscrewed the cap and gave Kendrick several sips of water.
“So, you’re El Unico, eh?” Kendrick asked after he finished swallowing.
Hector sat down on the crate and put the water bottles down. He looked at Kendrick and shrugged.
“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Hector replied. Kendrick stared at him.
“What’s another way of looking at it?” Hector looked at Kendrick directly for the first time and just stared. Finally he spoke.
“Kendrick, do you believe in God?” Hector could see Kendrick start at the mention of his name.
“Not really… No. Superstition without proof – nothing more than a way to control the masses.” Kendrick then nodded at the water with his head and eyes and Hector obliged him. Hector put the water bottles back down on the ground after and sat on the milk crate again.
“Well, if I were you – y’know, given your current situation – I would seriously consider the idea.” Hector stated flatly. Kendrick nodded in reply.
“Well, what exactly is my current situation? And perhaps we can discuss ways in which that situation could change?” Kendrick offered.
Hector snorted, nodded his head side-to-side, and then took a drink of water from the second, unopened bottle.
“No, I made a deal for you, pinche cabron. But, your situation is definitely going to change, that I promise…” Hector looked at his watch with a glance, “sooner than you want.”
Kendrick started to speak but a hiss made him pause. He saw Hector look up and over his shoulder, then heard a voice say “five minutes out.”
Hector nodded and then his face got somber and serious.
“Kendrick, I’m not a priest, but if there’s anything you would like to confess, or get off of your chest…or maybe ask for forgiveness…” Hector stopped as he looked at the disdain on Kendrick’s face, then stood up. “Suit yourself, guey, but you’ve seen your last sunrise and sunset. And by my calculations, you’ve got less than –” he looked at his wrist again, “– an hour left in this life… Less if you’re lucky.” Kendrick heard the words but couldn’t really process them.
Hector leaned over him and whispered in his ear: “Kendrick, you piece of shit – these next forty-five minutes are going to be longer than all the years of your life together, but that’s on you. Sow the wind and reap the whirlwind, puto.” Before Kendrick could say anything by reply, Hector abruptly stood up and cocked his head. He turned around and walked toward the platform’s edge, looked down the subway tunnel, and leaned out, his head tilted as he listened.
Kendrick finally heard the sound and perhaps twenty seconds later saw tiny, pinpricks of red and green lights. Moments later a drone came buzzing out of the tunnel, swooped around, zipped over his head, hovered, and then Kendrick heard it hit the concrete somewhere behind his chair.
Hector looked over the top of Kendrick’s head and shouted: “Start packing it up!”
Kendrick could hear sounds behind and out of his field of view. Hector walked past him and went to the wall, grabbed a black tool box with a bundle of climbing rope tied and knotted on top of it. Hector slid the box away from the wall. Then he stopped and looked at his watch.
Kendrick heard footsteps again, echoing off of the walls, coming from the same direction the drone had just come. In a moment he thought he saw a mass of darkness that resolved itself into a man, but his view was blocked as Hector leaned out over the platform and stuck his left arm out. Another arm reached, and then a tall, black man that Kendrick instantly recognized, swung himself up, and landed lightly on the platform.
Kendrick was transfixed as the men shared a brief smile. This man was like a doppleganger of the man he knew. It was the same man, it had to be the same man, yet Kendrick wasn’t certain. He move differently and Kendrick could hear words being exchanged and the accent was gone.
“Wha-?”
Calvin Jefferts wore boots, some version of dark military fatigues, and he moved like a leopard. Jefferts started toward Kendrick and when Kendrick looked into his eyes, he winced involuntarily. There was no way to be confused about what was coming.
“NO! NO!” Kendrick started yelling.
Kendrick watched the big Mexican put his hand on Jefferts’ shoulder.
“Marcus!” Hector shouted. “Marcus,” he said again, less urgently, as the man looked at Hector’s arm on his shoulder.
“Did you make a deal, Hector?” Kendrick heard the voice, but again, it wasn’t Jefferts. It was completely devoid of that foreign accent.
Hector sighed deeply.
“I’m going to forget and forgive that because I know… I know you’re not yourself, mi amigo. Not for him, Marcus… For you. Let’s just put a bullet in this putera mierdra,” Hector sneered, then turned and spit toward Kendrick.
The man called Marcus just stared ahead and then asked, “Did you bring what I asked?”
Hector sighed again, let go of Marcus’ arm, and pointed toward the black toolbox.
“Not for him, Marcus. For you, brother.” Kendrick thought he saw tears on the Mexican man’s face.
Marcus ignored him and went to the toolbox and Hector began backing up. He looked briefly over his shoulder at Kendrick and shook his head.
“Marcus, if you miss the pickup point…” Hector tapped his watch, as Marcus flipped open the toolbox and spoke coldly without looking up.
“I’ll be there, Hector. Just have your men wait up top. I would like this time,” and now he stood up and Kendrick saw the ball-peen hammer in his left hand, “alone with this man.”
Hector nodded, turned, and then strode away into the darkness. And Harmon Kendrick was suddenly aware of just how alone he was, with a man he recognized, but no longer knew.
“Jefferts isn’t your real name, eh?” Kendrick spoke and regretted it instantly when he heard his own voice crack with fear.
The man paused for a moment, looked down at the hammer, as if he were seeing it for the first time, and then looked back up at Kendrick. He was crying as he walked towards Kendrick, who began to scream and wail and the inevitably of what was happening hit him. There would be no negotiating around this.
“No! No! Please! I’m begging, I’m begging, please!! Please don’t do this, Marcus?! Oh, please! Nooo!!!” Kendrick tried to twist, thrash, to kick himself free, spasming as his arms and wrists strained, spit flying from his mouth, all to no avail as the Angel of Death closed in on him.
YESSSSS
This just keeps getting better Ozy. Can’t wait for the next installment.
Damn Ozy…just damn.
Hooked and now have to wait a week. Worse than Christmas as a kid. C’mon, OZY, give an old man a break.
Thanks, for the memories, guess I’ll wait…
Trust me, you don’t want to read ahead. That’s the worst. It’s like finding your Xmas presents when you’re a kid.
I’m editing up a special version for you tonight, Mr. 4×20! A token in light of my absence from HH.
The story is written, so this is a matter of formatting and 14 point font for your eyes.
I’m going to print it out nice and then mail it in the package with the ‘other’ gift – the drinkable one that helps on cold winter nights when sitting by the fire.
Interesting.
Ozy, this is really good. Keep up the incredible work.
*insert applause gif of your choice here. Not one of the polite ones, either*
ass-slap gif is technically an applause
*HOW ABOUT THIS ONE?*
/EDIT FAIRY
Danke, Edit Fairy! Just the one I had in mind.
Whoa.
I was right. I think.
GREAT chapter, Ozy. Gave me chills!
No Brave Horatius there.
Everyone’s a tough guy until the hammer falls…
A miniscule few after that.
/pedant on
minuscule, not miniscule!
/pedant off
The question is was Jefferts/Marcus the merciful kind, or did he go medieval?
– Heraclitus of Ephesus
And to be honest with myself, I suspect I would be in the “shouldn’t even be there” set. Probably better that I’ve never really had to find out.
I’d like to think I was one of the nine; not that I was ever in a position to find out for-real. But I knew a few guys who were Ones. I wasn’t, but I knew some who were.
Sometimes the ‘one’ is completely not the one you would have thought he was.
Don’t be so hard on yourself – I’m sure you’re solidly in the “nothing but targets” group with me.
*hangs bullseye on chest*
Bummer of a birthmark.
I wasn’t that bad, but I only knew one Warrior, and it twern’t me.
This warrior was an enlisted in my unit during Desert Storm. He went on to do great things and overcame a nasty war crimes charge. Huge man, obviously fierce, but gentle as could be when just hanging out.
https://americaresurgent.org/maj-fred-galvin-usmc-ret/
Doubt I’d be “shouldn’t even be there”. Sure I wouldn’t be “Warrior”. Odds are I’d be “Bullet Sponge”, but maybe “Real Fighter” – I’m told I can be very cold, and I can have a really bad temper.
I don’t think anybody knows until the moment is upon them.
This conversation prompted me as to the subject of my next Profile in Toxic Masculinity. Stay tuned.
Finest kind, Ozy. I find myself looking forward to Thursdays lately.
Awesome story.
Well, two weeks after the Biden mandate for the vax, company I work for just sent out the first e-mail regarding it. Key take away was that the Labor Department hasn’t issued any specific guidelines for implementation yet. It does have the line that employees would either need to get vaxed or tested weekly. I’m sure that will make sense for those of us who work remote.
My company sent out a similar email, although they were more non-committal on how it should affect WFH people.
Sorry to run by with the quick doff of the cap, but I’m kinda in the middle of a PI Motion in ((that)) lawsuit and it has to get filed today.
Glad you all are liking the story; the pace picks up from here on out (I think, anyway).
Give em hell!
Fox News had someone on, hoe it wasn’t one of the lawyers, talking about the Navy’s seal statement. Just accepted their assertion that the vax order is a lawful order. Got me yelling at the tv.
Oh, now I remember. Ex seal and ex Congress critter
I prefer hoes to lawyers (present company excepted).
I knew one who was both.
Minny Mizzola, Esq.
Excuse me, it is Sex Worker – Attorney
Harumph!
It’s a half-Jewish lawsuit?
🙂
Thanks Ozy!
Huzzah! Great one Ozy! now we’re rollin’
Alright, Ozy! I love a cliffhanger, this is how you do serial. “Tune in next week”.
*eyebrow waggle*
Is Marcus, Jefferts? Is Jefferts, El Unico? Did Kendrick meet his untimely demise at the business end of a hammer? Tune in next Thursday morning boys and girls and remember, OBEY!
Cain is for Charlie and Delta is for Cain.
Drink your Oveltine!
OT:
I’ll put this in the Forums, but we’ve started an apprenticeship program for maintenance techs. Honestly, it’s good work, all hands-on. If you’re early enough in your career or if you’ve got a kid who’s out of high school, check it out.
https://gf.com/careers/GF-Maintenance-Technician-Apprenticeship
How about a soon to be out of work radar technician?
Sounds ideal.
I know a guy who does this. Good pay. Great healthcare. Time off and schedule are shit. They’re hiring.
https://jobs.bnsf.com/job/Fort-Worth-Dispatcher-Trainee-TX-76131/791400900/
What are the locations? I’ve got a son who’s expressing interesting in tech school rather than college.
This is for the Malta NY location.
Ah, thanks. Can’t see him moving out of Dixie, though.
Oof, that uniform, though.
Random photo, taken in town.
Great stuff, Ozy!
I’d be worried about this getting us on a list, if we weren’t already.
They’re coming for your mortgage.
They’re definitely looking to disallow people with certain viewpoints from participation in society and the economy. Not good at all but not unexpected.
Prepare now. The status quo will not last, and people who are too entangled in the mainstream society/economy are gonna get more than just an unwanted jab by the end of it.
Given the news as of late. Italy going full Vax or no pay, US looking at other ways to punish and force, Isreal just trying to stick its way out of it…yeah
Oh look, they’ve banned horses on the border.
🙄
*buys stock in ATV manufacturers*
Motorized vehicles were used to drag black men to their deaths. Racist!
What a clown show that no one can stop… We are all just passengers until something goes ‘pop’
Stupidest timeline confirmed.
They’ll top it inside of a week.
Do camels require reins? They’d probably be better suited too.
Their only goal is to keep you safe and healthy
https://www.zerohedge.com/covid-19/moderna-ceo-sees-return-normal-life-year-if-we-all-take-vaccine-booster-shots-indefinitely
Funny how well that fits in with their bottom line.
Yes. “Public health” just so happens to give them an indefinite supply of cash to roll around in.
https://www.projectveritas.com/news/fda-official-blow-dart-african-americans-with-covid-vaccine-is-where-were/
WHAT
THE
FUCK?
I watched the video when it dropped last night.
I hate to say this, but my impression of the blow darts was more joking than serious.
There is a good bit at the end about political appointees playing politics with science.
Overall, I’m a bit disappointed in this release. There’s not much there.
Even if the blow dart thing was him stealing Pie’s bit…the rest is a bit, uh, disconcerting.
“Overall, I’m a bit disappointed in this release. There’s not much there.”
Pretty much my reaction to all of the Project Veritas stuff. Mostly hype, very little substance.
Yup. At the very least, rather than trying to drag 10 minutes of interesting footage across 5 parts, they could just release a single part with the worst offending stuff and then release the full footage separately. I turned off part 2 after one minute because it was amply clear that it was just some FDA idiot blabbering hyperbolically in a social situation. Bad taste? yes. Indicative of bigger problems? sure. Groundbreaking, even in the slightest? nope.
It will receive more traction in the black community. I have no doubt about that.
Yeah, he’s an economist at the FDA, not someone in a position of power. If he worked anywhere else it’d be even more of a nothingburger.
You don’t think those are common sentiments amongst his coworkers?
He’s just some random nutjob?
Certainly could be. Probably common sentiments amongst my neighbors. That doesn’t tell me anything new.
To be clear – lots of our fellow citizens have totalitarian impulses. I didn’t need Project Veritas to tell me that.
I am amazed anyone over 40 thinks that way. My generation and the one above had it beaten into us that totalitarianism is bad, mmmkay. We had Holocaust survivors as guest speakers at school, FFS.
Many, if not most, of my neighbors are severely educated. The rest are under 40.
Although there was that Mayfield / Mayberry “trust authority” (cops, doctors, teachers…) sensibility the Boomers were raised with.
And one doofus teacher insisted that Hitler tried to exterminate anyone with dark hair.
I assume they knew what color hair Adolf had.
That kind of checks out then, right?
Er, she, and presumably.
One of my five (or so) worst teachers. The worst (I generalize) seem to have some combo of apathy, disdain, ignorance, or unreasonableness. Mr. Hand wasn’t so bad in comparison.
They’re also jokes, shitty jokes but that’s what they are and, yes, I’m sure they reflect his and many of his coworkers’ beliefs on what should be done in an exaggerated way.
Isn’t that just saying the quiet part out loud?
This actually doesn’t move the needle for me at all. Punks like this are so far removed from danger, discomfort and other real-world challenges that they think they can say and do anything. I guess this is what happens when bullying is removed from the human experience.
This is true.
I’d venture it’s true of most politicians & bureaucrats. Which is why it should move the needle for you, imo.
My thought as well. “Punks like this” are now running the entire federal government.
Assault, reasonable fear for life or great bodily harm . . . .
You know what comes next. I see somebody aiming a gun at me, I’m not waiting to see if its a dart gun or something else.
That reminds me – I need to get my ammo for my four day shotgun class at Front Sight next week. 600 rounds – oof.
Isn’t he a low level official who was plied with alcohol and is kind of talking shit? I wouldn’t take this too seriously.
*points to Australia*
Fair point. Rubber bullets yesterday, MRAPs today.
He’s an “economist”, so nobody who can really do much. But as stated above, he’s probably not the only one who thinks this way.
So let’s see what happens to him. If he is disavowed and fired, great. If not, well, that tells us something too.
I know which way I’m betting.
That guy is having a bad day today.
Which pleases me
Turns out practically none of the Afghans we evacuated were green card holders.
It was clear almost immediately that the administration cared only about running up a big number of evacuees. They were packing people onto the planes as fast as they could, with zero (zip, nada) screening or selection. Look at their PR push during and after the evacuation – it was all “look at how many! greatest airlift in history! blah blah”.
What vile people. As I told Mrs. Dean last night – no matter how bad we think Our Masters are, they are worse.
It was clear almost immediately that the administration cared only about running up a big number of evacuees.
Actual American citizens aside.
How stupid are they to expect people to swallow this tripe?
https://frinkiac.com/caption/S07E05/718367
I wonder what her vaccination status is.
At gunpoint is the only way I would eat Chipolte.
Or even Chipotle.
They’re building a new one in my town. I’ll give them a chance. I haven’t eaten at one in years though.
I don’t get the hate. It’s fine. There are worse fast-fast food options.
https://www.bubbakoos.com/menu
We just got one of these. We haven’t tried them yet, but they list keto bowls on their menu.
For sure. It’s just the post-meal GI distress that I don’t like. Same thing happens at Famous Dave’s BBQ place.
Oblig: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRv9_Q3HOmg
Today in TV history
One of the best shows ever.
One of my favorite shows as a yute.
When I was young, my dad watched that show. I would have been 5 in ’76.
The only thing I remember is wondering why they would fly to where people shot at them.
My father was in a tennis club with a member of the Black Sheep Squadron.
Saturdays, 7 pm Eastern, H&I (Heroes & Icons) channel.
Don’t remember seeing it during it’s original run, but I prefer The Rat Patrol, which comes on a little later, and I’m not ashamed to say that it’s simply because the cast is cuter. (Shallow chick confirmed)
Yes on Rat Patrol.
That and Combat.
12 o clock high
The Bee, again.
FBI Admits It’s Really Hard To Solve Crime They Didn’t Make Up Themselves
Wrongthink must be purged everywhere!
https://github.com/prometheus/prometheus/pull/9376
“sanity check” is NOT OK!.
JFC
I’m certain they’ve fixed all their other bugs.
The king of rain talk pretty one day..
He’s Belgian, IIRC. Young enough that this sort of goodthink seems natural, I’m sure.
Un belgique, king of the divan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ln31raI2ezY
Without even clicking, I have that song running through my head now.
YouTube comments amuse on occasion:
Like any random comment here: drôle, sexy, boozy.
King of Rain.
Molly’s fave band, in the 80s anyway.
Singer was married to her sister, IIRC.
Nice product placement on her notebook in Sixteen Candles
And in PIP: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfdcbZxzKWc
“I told him he [Duckie] was my kid.”
“Ain’t no such thing as a sanity clause!”
Dammit.
There ain’t no sanity clause.
All must bend the knee, and let those who do so eagerly or reluctantly be seen and distinguished from each other.
Don’t be the last to stop applauding?
er, first
Well, don’t get caught, anyway
Yeah, that.
Got my first one today…applicant looking for a new job because his current one is mandating vaccinations.
? ?