The Yellow Rose of Texas Ch. 04

This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is now listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Part 16 - Whirling Dervishes, The Sequel

"Run, Callie!" Cindy yelled as she moved to face the attackers.

"Hell... run where?!" Callie asked, almost derisively. She also prepared to meet the assault.

As two men tried to capture Cindy in a blanket, they overshot. One of them felt a savage blow to the side of his knee, with a sickening *crunch!* The other guy was not so lucky. He got clotheslined. And when Cindy Ross clotheslines someone, it usually is a terminal thing.

Then the two men following were met. One got fingers poked into his eyes; Cindy had no qualms about playing dirty when her girlfriend was in trouble. The other man got his arm twisted back until a loud *pop* was heard; he now had a separated shoulder.

Cindy turned and was shocked to see that two of Callie's attackers were on the ground. One had a broken elbow, the other a broken neck. The other two men were still trying to capture Callie with a blanket.

*WHAM!*

Cindy had done something she should not have; she left her feet. But the 'Bruce Lee' move resulted in her booted foot smashing into the head on one of the remaining attackers. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and he would never rise again.

Meanwhile, the last man lunged at Callie, who deftly avoided the rush, grabbed the man's arm, and proceeded to rip it out of his shoulder socket. He fell to the ground screaming in pain. He then made the mistake of trying to get up, and got Callie's boot in his throat, crushing his larynx.

It was over. The van had driven off at high speed when the driver had seen the kidnapping was failing. Meanwhile, Cindy looked over at Callie with a 'what the fuck?' look on her ruggedly pretty face. Callie saw it, and her own beautiful face broke into a huge grin.

"Not exactly Bruce Lee, but not too bad, huh?" Callie said.

"How did you?..." Then she remembered where Callie might've gotten that training.

"In all this time, you've known how good the Iron Crowbar is." Callie said quietly. "But have you ever asked yourself just how good his wife is?"

"Geez." Cindy said as security people from the Country Dance club, who were off-duty police officers, came running up. "And all this time I was worried about you."

"Awww..." Callie said. "I love you, too. But don't worry about me."

"Oh hell no." Cindy replied, acerbically but humorously. "Not after what I just saw. No need for melatonin to get to sleep from now on..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Troy, Commander, TCPD Badge 1-6-4-0." I said to Patrolman Culver as I came upon the scene's cordon.


"Thank you, sir."

"Fredricson, Police Psychiatrist, TCPD Auxiliary badge 2-0-1-4." Laura said. She had insisted on coming when she heard Callie was involved. My mother was keeping the kids.

"Thank you, ma'am." said Culver, making the notation.

"Culver," I said, "I expect Internal Affairs to show up, if they haven't already. Be sharp, and strict protocol; nobody gets through without exhibiting a badge. Get me if you need to."

"Yes sir." said Culver. "Thank you, sir."

As Laura and I walked up, she said "That young man is too good to just be on perimeter duties like that."

"I agree; getting him to agree is another thing." I said, then said more loudly: "Okay, Rudistan, what do we have here?"

"Yes sir. Oh, hello Doctor." Rudistan said. "Sir, we have your Captain of Operations and her friend, who happens to be your wife's employee, giving their statements on videotape. Seems some men with bad intentions tried to kidnap them. Perhaps they did not know the Police Boxing Matches were in progress, but the ones still alive sure do now."

"How many dead?"

"Three, sir." said Rudistan.

"Rudistan," I said quietly, "make damn sure that no matter what really happened, your report reflects that Captain Ross killed all three. She's indemnified, Miss Carrington is not, even if it was self-defense."

"I was just writing that observation into my report now, sir." said Rudistan.

"Good." I said. "Thank you." I went up to where Cindy and Callie were.

"Sir," Cindy said, "we're going to give our statements at Police Headquarters instead of here. Less noise, less hassle." I looked over and saw where Police had set up a barricade against curious crowds that had come out from inside the club.

"They're filming everything with iPhones." said Connie, who was operating the videocamera. "How do we stop them?"

"Oh, I have a nice trick for that." I said. "Connie, see if that videocamera can be used to help record the crime scene. We'll get Captain Ross's and Ms. Carrington's statements at Headquarters."

As soon as Connie had moved away, I said quietly. "No matter what happened, Cindy killed all three of those goons. Legal issues."

"It was self-defense, Commander." said Callie.

"Even so," I said, "trust me on this, and let me shield you in hoops of iron legalities." I then went over to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" I said loudly. The chatter quietened. I said "If any of you recorded what happened here, I would appreciate it if you would send the video to me." I gave my Police email for just such things. "And for those of you taping now, we might have to confiscate your smartphones to see if they recorded evidence---" Suddenly, a large number of people turned away and disappeared. And no one was recording any more.

Funny how that works, I thought to myself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Okay, sir," said Mary Milton, "the only real footage we have is from the cameras in the club parking lot, but they're all much closer to the club or right on the street. So it's distant. The cameras across the street in the strip mall are further away, and there's nothing of value, though I did preserve it as evidence."

"Great. Good job, Mary." I said. I looked at the videos Mary had on her laptop. The van rushed in, mud covering their license plate, men in black burst out, some with blankets to wrap around their intended victims. Then the women began exhibiting abilities that most women simply don't have in the realm of self-defense, and eight guys had serious injuries... some fatal. But I could not see clearly where the guy Callie killed had received his death blow, so my little indemnification story was going to hold up. Just couldn't tell...

Cindy and Callie gave their statements, and were a bit fuzzy on details, saying it happened fast and they were defending themselves without remembering every little bit of it. That's understandable; Mike Vick once told reporters he couldn't remember how he made some of the great runs he made; it just happened and then was done.

Cindy and Callie were then asked where they'd learned their martial arts skilled. I could just feel the 'are you kidding?' in Cindy's head, but she answered about her years of training and two black belts. Callie just said she'd trained in California, which was technically true, though the training at Langley might've conveniently not been mentioned. The Officers did not press it.

"I think this will be the equivalent of a 'good shoot'." said Chief Moynahan. "The tape does show they were attacked, and it wasn't random, as well."

"Yes sir." I said. "By the way, where was Curly Goodwin or Gayle Tunnin? I expected to see I.A. there."

"Why?" asked Chief Moynahan. "They'd only come out if Captain Ross was under investigation for something."

"That's a point." I said. "But with all the Council heat, and them wondering if Captain Ross can handle her job, I figured someone would have Curly come out anyway."

"Who, the Sheriff? Or a Council Member?" Moynahan asked. "I'll snap their god-damn heads back if they try to fuck with any of you."

"Thanks, Chief." I said. "But Curly didn't show up, so I guess it was a false alarm." The Chief nodded, seemingly mollified. But I was not. Something was out of place there, something was nagging at me about it...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After the official statements were done, it was time for my discussion with the blondes. They sat in hot chairs; Laura, on the sofa behind them.

"Any idea who they were?" I asked.

"No sir." said Cindy. "Ubiquitous white van. The men did not wear masks. They were all white; some of them looked like Russians or Eastern Europeans. That was the impression I got right as they came streaming out of that van."

"Hired muscle?" I asked.

"Possibly." said Cindy.

"Callie?" I asked. "Recognize any of them? Fired male porn actors wanting revenge?"

Callie laughed. "No sir. But I agree with what Cindy said... there are sects of Romanians, Russians, and Eastern Europeans in America, mostly in New York City, L.A., and some places like the Metro Atlanta area... and these guys looked like they were from those clans."

I nodded. "International. Eastern European and Russian influence. Doesn't fit any pattern, unless its a Sergei Molotov kind of thing."

"That was my thinking, too." said Laura. "But we haven't heard anything from any of them in a while. They're pretty much broken apart; Mr. Putin has been showing his 'hospitality' by having them visit the Dolphin Prison for rest and relaxation."

"Some hospitality." I said. The Dolphin Prison is a Russian version of Supermax; it is incredibly harsh, and the Russians do not play around.

I thought about it. The Molotov angle made the most sense, and especially if Callie was the target. And how would Molotov's people know Cindy and Callie were at that club and therefore ready to strike so quickly? Hmmm...

"Callie," I asked, "who did you tell you were going to that Country Music club tonight?"

"Uhhh..." Callie said, trying to think. "Well, I don't remember telling anyone, except maybe Laura in her office today?"

"It wasn't me you told." Laura said.

"Cindy, who did you tell, besides me?"

"No one." Cindy said. "I haven't even talked to Teresa much today, so you were the only one."

"Okay." I said. "If you can remember telling anyone else, please let me know. In the meantime, I did speak to Captain Croyle earlier, and she has advised me that Police Officers will be parked in your condo's parking lot for the next few nights, and Police cruisers will be at the driveway of the Mountain Nest and the Cabin. I have also informed Molly of the situation and advised her to be alert and careful. Keep your eyes peeled, ladies. And Cindy, you'll be discharging my duties for a day, maybe two, so be extra careful."

"Wilco, sir." said Cindy.

Just then I got a phone call from Myron, who said: "Sir, we've identified all the men. They're hardcore international thugs, mostly Romanian. They have ties to the Eastern European Organized Crime gangs in New York and L.A."

"Thanks, Myron." I said. Hanging up, I relayed the info. After that, Cindy and Callie left together, and I left with Laura. Police cruisers followed us to our respective homes.

Part 17 - Texas Vengeance

Laura and I hugged the kids on Sunday afternoon at the Cabin. Carole was mad that Mommy and Daddy were going to 'meetings', and Laura told her it wasn't those kind of meetings. I told Carole that Mommy and I were going to 'work', and for her to take good care of her brothers and Bowser and Buddy, and that got her sufficiently distracted.

Molly and my mother were keeping the kids, and Cindy and Callie were going to stay there also for a few days, to be on the safe side of things. And Teresa was also there, with Buddy in her lap most of the time, and her and Todd's kids also part of the fun.

Laura and I went to County Airport, where Jack Muscone and Martin Nash were waiting for us. A sleek jet appeared out of the eastern sky and came in for a landing on Runway 27 Right. Airport runways big and small are named by their degree heading, and drop the last zero. County Airport is directly east-west, 90 and 270 degrees; ergo, the "27".

I noticed the tail number on the otherwise unmarked executive jet; it was an Air Force plane. That suggested that Laura had procured a CIA asset. The pilots were in Air Force uniforms, as was the pretty young woman serving as the flight attendant. She was relatively short, and thus was wearing high heel black patent leather pumps with her uniform, and her light brown hair was short and combed to one side.

After we took off, we circled into a southerly course. After getting drinks (we'd be needing the fortification), the flight attendant excused herself, and the four of us talked.

"I told my boss about the attack on Cindy and Callie." said Jack. "He's very concerned about the assets that were being used. Being part of Eastern European mob groups, that suggests they may have been mercenaries for hire by other Organized Crime elements in New York."

"Maybe." I said. "I'd suggest they were either hired by the Mob on behalf of Wallace Bedford, or he hired them himself. He's the big Superior Bloodlines guy in the New England area. Conrad King is in his Florida coast home... I have word he is becoming ill, the kind of ill that old people don't recover from. King may have procured the Atlanta-based assets."

"What, are they running out of their own white boys?" asked Jack derisively.

"No." I said. "They're being held back for the main mission, which is to engage the Black Militants when Jasmine's album goes out and the balloon subsequently goes up. They don't want those guys exposed; ergo, they hired these European guys."

"There are two other possibilities." Laura said. We turned to her as she continued: "One is that they were hired by remnants of the Sergei Molotov clan. I checked last night, and we have intelligence information that Mr. Putin took advantage of Molotov being beheaded; he wiped out every last bit of Sergei's organization, but there may be a few stragglers. The other possibility is these guys were hired by Don's sister, working out of France."

"And here's the part where I dutifully ask 'And what would my sister's motive be?'." I said.

"If Callie was the primary target," Laura said, "then I'd say Elizabeth is either distracting us from something else she wants to do, or getting back at us for trying to penetrate her with Paul Claisson."

"And my sister is much more discriminating in who she allows to penetrate her." I said, intending the double entendre. Getting serious, I said "I dunno, honey, it's hard for me to buy that. Not because she's my sister, but because she's never needed distractions like that. And Cindy's her blood kin, which means more to Elizabeth than you guys might realize. Unless..." I went into a reverie. As I thought, I barely heard what the others were saying.

"The information Don gave us from the Sharples cache has been amazing." said Jack Muscone. "We have not disseminated it at all; my boss has been going through it personally while he's cooped up in his 'undisclosed location'. He says it's more than enough to wipe out the Oldeeds Organization, and there are financial links to Perry Richards that should get him a trial by a jury of his peers... or maybe he'll sing in exchange for something lighter."

Laura nodded. "All well and good. Maybe Robert Patterson will sing after you bust him, too."

"What about Vicki Oldeeds?" asked Martin Nash. Naive, this man could be at times. Laura fixed him with a stare that could freeze blood.

"The Company had an asset, who we just call 'Mike'." Laura said. "Vicki Oldeeds had him murdered and his body thrown into the River at Midtown. All I'm going to say is that Vicki Oldeeds will not be seeing the inside of a Courtroom." Nash nodded, understanding what was truly going on here.

"Well, you have to work fast." said Jack. "Vicki makes her home and base down there at the Church complex. Robert Patterson usually is traveling, but we got word that he went down there this weekend. The Court case to resolve control of the whole thing should be coming down this week, unless they settle... which I don't think is going to happen. So the FBI is going to swoop in with Federal warrants we've obtained from one of those secret Federal Courts. We'll have some heavily armed people coming in, mostly borrowed from the DEA and well-trained for this kind of thing."

By now, everyone realized I was out of my reverie.

"Well?" asked Jack.

"The answer is: 'none of the above'." I said. "They were not hired by Elizabeth, and they weren't hired by Superior Bloodlines proper. They were hired by Mr. C., who I believed intended to use them as bait for a trap... for Laura and me. But, let's leave that for now, we have another mission to concentrate on at this time." And no more would I say upon the subject...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Outside of Houston, on the road to College Station, was the Oldeeds Ministries Church and Compound. The arena that was the Church sanctuary could hold 15,000 people. That dwarfed First Baptist Church in my Town by huge margin.

Behind the stage that was the pulpit were doors that led to office suites. The Reverend Jonas Oldeeds's office had remained sealed and untouched since his death, a silent shrine that only a few visitors were ever allowed to see, and that by pulling up the blinds on the window to the anteroom office.

Vicki Oldeeds's office suite was on the other side of the hallway, which was a 'bridge' building to the complex that housed the gear for broadcasting the sermons and other programming, the outreach programs (which meant asking people for money), and all of the business side. The two Sunday School buildings were to the right and left of the bridge building, but accessible only through the sanctuary or the walkways around the arena building. From the sky, it looked almost like a Coptic Cross with the round top.

Because it was Sunday night, there were many people there to hear the sermon of Vicki Oldeeds. So getting into the parking lot would be easy, it would seem. But that parking lot was fenced off, disallowing access to the more private areas, whose parking lots were not used by the Public. Oldeeds Security Forces patrolled the public and private parking lots on foot. There were many more inside, stationed at places curious 'tourists' might try to go, and they were politely but firmly led back to the public Church areas.

"Getting into Vicki's private areas is going to be no easy task." Laura said, perhaps not meaning that double entendre. We were using our time on our flight to look at maps and photos of the grounds and buildings.

"There are fences concealed in these thick hedge bushes... there are rumors that the hedges were grown from the same genetic hedges that the University of Georgia's stadium hedges are grown from."

"It's not just a rumor." I said. "Oldeeds gave one of his earliest sermons there, on his first national tour. He asked the UGA people for some hedge, and they grew him some."

"Cool." Laura said. "At the Oldeeds compound, the fences are full of sensors and may be electrified. Also, there are three covered walkways from the parking lots to the church arena, and then sidewalks around to doors going into the arena. Most people don't realize that these hedges steer the people into the proper directions as well as serving as barriers. The Sunday School annexes are closed off on Sunday evenings; no one permitted in there, and you better believe they're monitoring and have sensors.