Robert Ferrigno - Sins of the Assassin

“No, sir, you don’t.”

Peters opened the door to the car, waited for Rakkim to get behind the wheel. He nodded at Leo, but his eyes never left Rakkim. “That overpass up ahead, you can’t see them from here, but there’s two Rangers holed up underneath there like a couple of hairy spiders. You be careful. Don’t give them any excuse to pull you over.”

“I’ll be careful, Sarge.” Rakkim pulled out of the station, driving slowly at first, then gunned it past the overpass.

“What are you doing?” shouted Leo.

Rakkim checked the rearview. Saw the cruiser pull out from the overpass, headlights on. The cruiser followed, but kept a distance. The Rangers must be waiting until Rakkim and Leo were near their special spot. Someplace private, where no one would interrupt their fun.

Leo kept glancing behind them as Rakkim continued to accelerate.

A few miles later, Highway 27 narrowed from four lanes to two, the trees thicker as the road paralleled a river. Oncoming traffic continued to thin out at this late hour.

The cruiser’s light bar flashed blue-blue-blue behind them, the Rangers coming up fast.

“What do we do?” said Leo, his face bathed in blue light reflected off the windshield.

“We obey the law,” said Rakkim, looking for the right spot to pull over. The right spot for the Rangers. They would know the terrain, the perfect place. There it was…a gap between the trees, only briefly visible from passing vehicles. Rakkim slowed.

“Please don’t do anything stupid,” said Leo. “Anything else.”

Rakkim eased into the clearing, tires crunching up dry branches. “Whatever happens, don’t react. Stay thick as a brick.” He got out of the car, keeping his hands in plain sight as the cruiser came to a stop, headlights pinning him. Rakkim waved, looking sheepish. Leo got out, stood by the side of the car, staring at the ground.

The Rangers killed the headlights, left the blue flasher blinking. They took their time getting out, enjoying the moment, the same black and white team that he had seen at Mount Carmel. They were even bigger close up, hitching up their gear, meaty, wide-shouldered hombres who looked like they wrestled steers when they weren’t molesting tourists. Big men, big smiles, their teeth flat and white, almost fluorescent in the blue light as they ambled closer, flanking Rakkim.

They might have been wholesome once, dedicated lawmen risking their lives to keep the peace, but that was a long time ago, and missing a few paychecks didn’t have anything to do with it. It was power that had rotted them out, too many years of people paying deference to the badge, lowering their eyes, taking care not to let their shadow fall on them. Every brave man needed a mean streak, a willingness to mix it up, a slight sadism to make the wolves slink away. The Rangers’ mean streak had grown year by year, fed by the fear of the citizens who depended on them, fed by the excuses good people made for them. The Rangers were bad clean through now, more dangerous than any other predator loose among the sheep.

“Problem, Officers?” said Rakkim. “I know I was speeding-” He saw it coming, saw it in the white Ranger’s eyes before the man reached for the shock stick on his belt. Rakkim relaxed, pretended surprise as the stick jabbed him in the chest. He didn’t have to fake his cry of pain as he was jolted backward, thrown against the car. Ears ringing, he slid down the front fender of the car, lay crumpled against the wheel well.

Leo didn’t move. Just stood there with his head bowed, mumbling softly to himself. Rakkim was impressed. The kid remembered what he had been taught. Kept his cool.

“You think the speed limit doesn’t apply to you, sir?” said the white Ranger, looking down at Rakkim. “You think you’re some special case?”

“No…no,” said Rakkim, tasting blood where he had bitten the inside of his cheek. The tips of the Ranger’s boots were so shiny that Rakkim could see the stars reflected in them. “Sorry…I’m sorry.”

“A sorry son of a bitch is exactly what you are,” said the Ranger. “What’s the other one’s story, Daryl?”

The black Ranger jerked Leo’s Ident collar, pulled him close.

Leo mumbled louder but didn’t raise his head.

“Some kind of indentured idiot,” said the black Ranger, reading the collar. He released Leo. “Got a three-year tag.”

Rakkim pushed his way up against the side of the car, got unsteadily to his feet. He smelled burned electricity when he breathed through his nose. “I…I didn’t know-”

“Ignorance of the law is no excuse, sir,” said the white Ranger.

“In fact, sir, we count on that,” said the black Ranger.

Rakkim listened to them laugh.

“Three-year term of service,” said the white Ranger. “Seems to me we could use us an idiot for the scut work around the barracks.” He twirled the shock stick, eyeing Rakkim. “You might be able to get yourself out of trouble by signing the idiot over.”

“He…he’s already bought and paid for, Officer,” stammered Rakkim. “There’s a farmer in Greensboro counting on him for this year’s harvest.”

The black Ranger felt Leo’s arms, and Leo giggled. Rakkim was more impressed with Leo than ever. The black Ranger sidled over to Rakkim. “Boy hasn’t got any muscle to him at all. He’s not right for fieldwork. Seems to me, sir, you might have cheated that poor farmer in Greensboro.”

“Is that what you did, sir?” said the white Ranger. “You cheat that farmer? You promise him a good strong back and instead plan to deliver this tub a guts?”

“Ten years on the job, Jerry Lee, and I’m still surprised at the duplicity of the human heart.” The black Ranger rested one hand on the butt of his pistol as he watched Rakkim. “It’s enough to turn even a strong man to violence and drink.”

“Do you see what you’ve done, sir?” The white Ranger kneed Rakkim, doubled him over. “You’ve gone and upset my partner, and he’s a sensitive soul.”

“You best turn this boy over to us, sir,” said the black Ranger. “We can use someone to scour the floors and swab the toilets. We used to have a beaner for that but he ran off.” He flicked Leo’s collar. “No problem of that with an Ident.”

“How much is the contract on the boy?” said the white Ranger.

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” said Rakkim, “but I can’t-”

“Fifteen thousand?” The white Ranger shook his head. “That’s grand larceny last time I checked. Tell you what, sir, we’ll pay you five hundred dollars for the contract. Just submit a bill to the State Bureau of Law Enforcement.”

“I can’t…”

“What’s the security code for the collar?” asked the white Ranger.

“Officer, please…” said Rakkim.

The white Ranger cuffed him.

Rakkim stayed on his feet. It was probably a mistake, better to hit the dirt, but his patience was about at an end.

The white Ranger cocked his head at Rakkim. He had good instincts, but he wasn’t listening to them. The blue light from the cruiser strobed away behind him, his face in partial shadow. “I want the code. Now.”

Rakkim swallowed. “Code…code’s 78455.”

The white Ranger tugged at his Stetson. “Thank you kindly.”

The black Ranger remote-popped the trunk of their patrol car. Jerked a thumb at Leo. “Climb on in, idiot.”

Leo looked at Rakkim.

“Go on.” Rakkim flexed a muscle in his wrist, felt the Fedayeen knife slide into his hand. “It’s going to be all right. These nice men will take good care of you.”

“I don’t want to get inside the trunk,” wailed Leo. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

The black Ranger grabbed Leo by the scruff of the neck, dragged him to the back of the patrol car, and tossed him into the trunk.