headed back across the empty grounds only to find one of Nero’s suits turning the corner from the gatehouse and walking directly toward him. Jake instinctively knew something was up. This guy’s pace advertised he meant business.
When they met in the middle of the drill yard, near the old cannon, Jake noticed it was same tattoo-eyed pit bull bodyguard from earlier. As he approached Jake he asked in a gruff voice if he was the Major.
“No, I just dress in Army uniforms for shits and giggles,” replied Jake, sidestepping the ruffian without losing his stride.
“Hold up there, buddy.”
Jake increased his pace.
“I got a message from Mr. Nero.” A large hand then clutched Jake’s left shoulder to spin him around.
The instant the bodyguard’s hand grabbed him Jake clamped down on it with his right hand, and bent his assailant’s wrist outward in one quick motion. The man tried to pull away but Jake moved like a cat and had already cranked the thug’s arm behind his back. Now standing behind him with his left hand squeezing the man’s opposite shoulder for support, Jake jammed the man’s arm up the middle of his back to the point of breakage. The man cursed in agony and dropped to his knees in front of the cannon.
“No one touches me, punk,” Jake seethed in his ear. “And I’m in a real pissy mood today so what’s your message?”
“Ease off! Ease off! You’re gonna break my goddamn arm.”
Jake loosened the arm slightly but repeated his question.
“Mr. Nero wants to talk to you. He’s in the parking lot. He just needs a minute of your time, okay? You win.”
Jake dropped the arm and gave him a shove. “You really shouldn’t touch the merchandise,” he snickered. “You haven’t earned the right.” He then jogged off towards the gatehouse.
The kneeling bodyguard took a moment to gather his composure then realized his target had disappeared into the tunnel up ahead. He jumped up to catch him.
Jake’s battlefield tactics kicked in. Before approaching hostile territory, a thorough reconnaissance always proved beneficial. When he first entered under the South Redoubt gatehouse with Hibbard he remembered thinking from a military standpoint it offered a heightened view outside of the fort’s walls — a perfect sharpshooter’s position. Now it would act as a simple observatory to what this Nero fellow might be up to in the parking lot. Next to the ticket taker’s window was a steep stairwell leading to the upper levels. He scrambled up the steps and reached the guardroom, checked a musket port to see the trailing bodyguard running his way from the parade ground, then bounded up the next set of stairs to the roofed look-out platform.
Just beyond the outer walls and earthworks, in the parking lot, a long black limousine caught Jake’s eagle eyes. Nero’s other bodyguard stood outside the vehicle glancing back and forth. That man then approached Jake’s parked SUV, stood behind it, bent down for a moment out of sight, stood up then wrote something down on a piece of paper. It looked like the guy was taking his plate number, Jake thought. The bodyguard then approached an open window in the rear of the limo and spoke to a gray-haired man Jake recognized as Nero. They both turned and noticed their counterpart exiting the fort. Clown Face shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands in the air then walked up to the limo. The other guy jumped into the limo and drove it forward, blocking Jake’s SUV in.
Not one to be toyed with, Jake bounded down the gatehouse stairs and double-timed it to Nero’s vehicle. The tattoo-eyed bodyguard stood at the rear, glaring at him as he approached. The driver remained behind the wheel. Jake walked up to the closed rear window and with his fist rapped loudly on the glass.
The power window dropped halfway and Nero peered out.
Jake spoke first. “Mr. Nero I presume? Your little puppet here said you had a message for me. Make it quick, and move your ride because
When they met in the middle of the drill yard, near the old cannon, Jake noticed it was same tattoo-eyed pit bull bodyguard from earlier. As he approached Jake he asked in a gruff voice if he was the Major.
“No, I just dress in Army uniforms for shits and giggles,” replied Jake, sidestepping the ruffian without losing his stride.
“Hold up there, buddy.”
Jake increased his pace.
“I got a message from Mr. Nero.” A large hand then clutched Jake’s left shoulder to spin him around.
The instant the bodyguard’s hand grabbed him Jake clamped down on it with his right hand, and bent his assailant’s wrist outward in one quick motion. The man tried to pull away but Jake moved like a cat and had already cranked the thug’s arm behind his back. Now standing behind him with his left hand squeezing the man’s opposite shoulder for support, Jake jammed the man’s arm up the middle of his back to the point of breakage. The man cursed in agony and dropped to his knees in front of the cannon.
“No one touches me, punk,” Jake seethed in his ear. “And I’m in a real pissy mood today so what’s your message?”
“Ease off! Ease off! You’re gonna break my goddamn arm.”
Jake loosened the arm slightly but repeated his question.
“Mr. Nero wants to talk to you. He’s in the parking lot. He just needs a minute of your time, okay? You win.”
Jake dropped the arm and gave him a shove. “You really shouldn’t touch the merchandise,” he snickered. “You haven’t earned the right.” He then jogged off towards the gatehouse.
The kneeling bodyguard took a moment to gather his composure then realized his target had disappeared into the tunnel up ahead. He jumped up to catch him.
Jake’s battlefield tactics kicked in. Before approaching hostile territory, a thorough reconnaissance always proved beneficial. When he first entered under the South Redoubt gatehouse with Hibbard he remembered thinking from a military standpoint it offered a heightened view outside of the fort’s walls — a perfect sharpshooter’s position. Now it would act as a simple observatory to what this Nero fellow might be up to in the parking lot. Next to the ticket taker’s window was a steep stairwell leading to the upper levels. He scrambled up the steps and reached the guardroom, checked a musket port to see the trailing bodyguard running his way from the parade ground, then bounded up the next set of stairs to the roofed look-out platform.
Just beyond the outer walls and earthworks, in the parking lot, a long black limousine caught Jake’s eagle eyes. Nero’s other bodyguard stood outside the vehicle glancing back and forth. That man then approached Jake’s parked SUV, stood behind it, bent down for a moment out of sight, stood up then wrote something down on a piece of paper. It looked like the guy was taking his plate number, Jake thought. The bodyguard then approached an open window in the rear of the limo and spoke to a gray-haired man Jake recognized as Nero. They both turned and noticed their counterpart exiting the fort. Clown Face shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands in the air then walked up to the limo. The other guy jumped into the limo and drove it forward, blocking Jake’s SUV in.
Not one to be toyed with, Jake bounded down the gatehouse stairs and double-timed it to Nero’s vehicle. The tattoo-eyed bodyguard stood at the rear, glaring at him as he approached. The driver remained behind the wheel. Jake walked up to the closed rear window and with his fist rapped loudly on the glass.
The power window dropped halfway and Nero peered out.
Jake spoke first. “Mr. Nero I presume? Your little puppet here said you had a message for me. Make it quick, and move your ride because
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