Badass

Badass - A Hannah Todd Story

Badass - A Hannah Todd Story

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This work is copyrighted by the author. All characters involved in sexual activity are eighteen years of age or older at the time of portrayal.

This is the continuing adventures of Hannah Todd. If you have not already, I would strongly recommend you stop reading this and go back and read at least some of "The Bridge" which provides the backstory for most of the characters in this story. Bad or good, your feedback is always welcome.

There's not a lot of 'read meat' in this Part, but it is transitional, leading to more substantial episodes ahead.

Badass - Part Twelve

Badass - Part Twelve

It was late by the time the chopper arrived back at the airfield. Or should I say, early? Just before sunrise. Everyone was mandated to go home and arrive at my house tonight for dinner. Dinner would be at eight so they'd all have time to truly rest.

They were greeted by Archer, Rapper and Danny, who took the documentation and such in hand, except for two things. A special stash of memory sticks and a ledger from Peacock's office and that damned bird. Herman took those and brought them straight to my place. He also dragged his tired ass upstairs to one of my guest rooms and camped out until about four in the afternoon. Nobody got any sleep last night including Duane and me. Once the kids were off to school, we jumped into bed and caught a few Zees ourselves.

As for the yappy bird, Herman took it out to The Greenhouse where it could enjoy an environment more to its liking. "Let that motherfucker yap all night." Herman said. "Let Leo deal with that mouth for now."

"Lute Steep, Lute Steep," it called out constantly. No matter what you asked it, that was all it would say.

In fact, when the team arrived for dinner, everyone kept going, "Lute Steep, Lute Steep." And when Holly and I got downstairs after tucking the kids in, that was the talk. Much to my chagrin.

"Come on, people," I said. "Get with the program. This is serious business tonight. After dinner we can discuss who is gonna strangle that bird and who's gonna cook it and eat it."

"Don't look at me, missy," Bertha said. "Chickens and turkeys are the only birds I cook. You want to cook a damned parrot; you find someone else to do it."

That brought on a raucous laugh from all in attendance, and we sat down to what smelled like a meal fit for a queen. And when that meal was presented, it passed more than the sniff test. It was a feast. My guys love it when Bertha cooks them meat, and tonight's dinner would be medallions of beef with a bechamel sauce, Hasselback potatoes and grilled vegetables. As always, everyone ate quietly, with reverence for the chef.

Dinner was well attended, in anticipation of our meeting in the Greenhouse. In attendance were Duane and I, of course, Dom, my triple-A - Avi, Alec and Anthony, Ronnie and Caroline, and Juicy too. Herman had stayed over, and it was he who first mentioned this incursion.

"I'm afraid we missed something last night. It just seemed too easy. And I missed watching the thing blow up. That was always my favorite part."

"Yeah," I said. "But isn't it good to know that when the shit hit the fan you were two hundred miles away?"

"You're so practical, Queen Bee. I guess it's a gut thing."

"Well, we have the explosion video, so a trip to the videoconference room should settle your stomach. And I think, in deference to the bird, we'll conduct our usual debrief here in the dining room instead of the Greenhouse and avoid the parrot's monologue."

"Just keep that damned bird out of this house." Bertha said. "I spoke to Leo about it earlier today, and it's driving him crazy. He did a little research, and the bird is from South America. It's a black macaw, and a good-sized one."

"Well," I said. "Tomorrow, we take this bird to the safe house and see what effect it has on Peacock. Given the number of drives we collected, I'm sure we will need his cooperation in opening at least some of them."

Avi said, "Maybe that bird is the key to Peacock really opening up. And just maybe he'll tell us who the hell Lute Steep is." That drew laughs.

Herman just wanted him to shut the damned bird up.

Everyone discussed his or her part of the mission, and we all discussed the results. The team had gone about their business in a very straightforward manner, and the job got done. However, we all wondered if we'd left anything important behind.

"We're not going to worry about that, team." I let them know how I felt. "I, for one, consider this mission one hundred percent completed to my satisfaction."

Dom and Juicy went upstairs to see the video of Peacock's house exploding, but on the way got waylaid by the babies. Dom can never pass by a baby. Especially one that's asleep. And especially my twins, whom he'd grown extremely fond of. When they finally returned to the dining room, others funneled upstairs to see the blast. Everyone returned with smiles on their faces.

Before we broke for the night, the topic of Ali and Romy in Canada, pursuing Greta Goldheimer, came up. Danny in the Closet was monitoring that situation and he reported to Duane, who had also heard from Romy on the ground in Montreal.

"Ali and Romy have had a good eye on Francois Peintre, but have not yet gotten a visual on Goldheimer. Rhee Spanner's extraction team is ready to go, but they're awaiting word from Ali. From Peintre's actions, it appears that she is hiding someone in that shop. Either there or in her opulent home."

Avi was curious. He had to ask. "Is this Peintre woman a member of Peacock's organization? Or is she just a friend Goldheimer is imposing on?"

"Romy just placed a wasp drone at the shop, but it has not yet been helpful." Duane said. "That leads me to believe Goldheimer is at her home rather than the shop."

"And the extraction team?" I asked.

"They are ready to go. They just need a location and a target. They know what to do from there."

"Alright," I said. "Anyone else who wants to see the blast do it now. I'm kicking you all out for now. There are some things I want to review tonight and tomorrow as I'm back to the safe house and interrogation of Peacock. Avi, I'm gonna want you with me. You too, Domingo."

"Yes, ma'am." They said simultaneously.

"Until then, it's back to business as usual. Or at least as usual as it is for us."

Before Herman fell into bed this morning, he dumped the contents of Peacock's desk into the safe in my home office. Duane and I went up and recovered the memory sticks and ledger that Herman left for us to review.

The ledger was pretty much gobbledygook, but in a form we were all too familiar with. This was a slave trader's ledger. Similar to the ones we retrieved from the lockers of George Barry, Sr. and Peace Dunbar. The markings and notations were different, but the format was strikingly similar and we expected it had something to do with the drives. The problem we had was that all the drives were password-protected. Duane had his own solution to that.

He used the only code we had. The combination to the safe. We plugged in the most prominent of the drives, a blue one, and plugged in 452856. Didn't that thing open in a heartbeat? Wasn't Duane Royce impressed with himself? You betcha. But not as impressed as he was with what we found on that drive.

The directories on the drive were broken into four sub-folders: Contacts, receivables, auctions and transportation. Unfortunately, each of the sub-folders was encrypted, and Duane's magic password did not work in our attempt to open them. So, he tried Lute Steep, ten different ways. None worked. Looks like we'll have to work over Peacock for the passcodes.

Fortunately for us, the other drives, the black and white ones, were not password protected or encrypted in any way. But not that fortunate. They were a horror show. One we were all too familiar with. Dozens and dozens of girls in or on their way to bondage. Their journeys preserved in file after file on these memory sticks.

I found myself reliving the nightmare of Peace Dunbar and his enslavement of hundreds of girls. Several of which we, through Todd Recovery and Acquisitions, had reclaimed. I still couldn't help shed tears as I watched the beginnings of what they were putting these girls through. Looks like we'll have lots more work ahead of us at both Recovery and Acquisitions. Not to mention Juicy said there was about ten more pounds of memory sticks and drives from the big safe in the basement.

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I don't know if it was the mission, or the memory sticks or just my circadian rhythm being off, but I had a real hard time getting to sleep. In fact, I did not sleep at all. I just rolled and tumbled and drove Duane a little crazy. He wound up getting almost as little sleep as I had.

I decided to give Duane a break and rolled out of bed at a little past four in the morning. I adjourned to my office and pulled the journal out of the safe to see if I could make heads or tails of it. And of course, to see if I could find any passcodes. But to no avail. Nothing popped out, and nothing worked. I even tried several combinations of Lute Steep, but without success.

I knew what Deacon Peacock and his ilk were, but these memory sticks really drove it home. From fresh faces to the depths of depravity, he and his people broke these poor creatures, leaving them nothing more than broken items for sale to the highest bidder. And what I could glean from the ledger, the price was steep.

I was down in the kitchen making coffee when Bertha marched in at five-thirty on the dot. Ninja, who was one of the night shifters, was with me and we discussed the latest mission. He congratulated me on another success and asked to see the footage of the exploding house. Once Bertha took control of the kitchen, we walked up together and watched that big old house just blow up all over the place. It was truly a wonder to behold, and I loaded a copy onto my tablet so I'd have something to tickle Peacock with. Seeing that ought to give him pause.

At six-thirty I went upstairs and woke Holly and the kids. Holly did Celeste's hair and I dealt with Georgia's kinky dirty blonde braids. Georgie kept his cut short and required no effort.

Georgie wanted some fresh blueberries with his oatmeal today, so Ninja walked him out to the Farm where they picked half a peck together. During that time, Georgie heard the squawking from the Greenhouse. It was that incessant bird. Once he saw the bird, both he and Ninja came running back to the house.

"Mommy, mommy, there's a big bird in the Greenhouse and he's talking."

The girls broke out laughing. But I didn't.

"That bird belongs to a friend of mine, Georgie. I just held him here for the night. I was bird-sitting."

"He's pretty, but he won't shut up."

"That's okay, son. He'll be gone by the time you get home from school."

"He's cool. Can we get one?"

"No, and don't ask again. That thing would drive us crazy. You should see what he did to your uncle Herman. He wants to strangle it."

At eight-thirty Archer and Herb arrived, and they took the kids to school.

It had been too long, and I was ready for a good run before starting my day. At a bit before nine I met Caroline outside the kitchen and we took off around the property to get our five miles in. I started out drained, but felt invigorated by the end of the run. Ready for a day facing my enemy.

At a little before ten, my shower done and sitting at my vanity making myself up, my supercell rang in. It was Les McKelly.

"What the fuck, Hannah? What's with the damned boxes? Like we don't have enough going on here at Recovery. What are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry, Les. That's supposed to go to the analysts at RFS. We just needed a safe place to store it until they got into the office. Ship it over there, with extra security. It's very sensitive stuff. It will get to you, but not just yet. Duane and Herman will know what to do with it."

"Fine. Just what I need. More fuckin shit to deal with."

"This is the stash from last night, Les."

"What about last night?"

"I expect you'll hear. Just try to get a news station from Newark or Paramus. They'll be blasting it all day long. You'll see. Back to work, Les."

"Yes, boss lady."

"Talk to Herman. He's at the Yard today. And Duane is coming. They will sort it all out. Trust me."

"Oh, I trust you. I trust that there's more work coming my way."

Letting Duane sleep in a bit was a great idea. He looked refreshed when he came down, looking dapper in his blue suit.

"So, Hannah, my dear. What are you up to today?"

"I'm going to visit the birdman and bring him his parrot. Maybe he can make heads or tails out of what this thing is saying. I'm also going to see if I can get him to open some of these drives. Especially the blue one. I expect it's the key to everything else."

"Just copy the drive first and let him open that one. The original may be rigged to melt down if you try to open the wrong file. Better to experiment with a copy. There's a special program Anthony uses to copy encrypted files. Get with him and he will guide you."

"Sound advice, my love. I'll see if Anthony will accompany me to the safe house today along with Dom and Avi."

"I'm going to the Navy Yard now. Herm and I are going to spend a little time with the analysts, getting a handle on just what it is we acquired last night. I will call you on your supercell if anything happens so we can coordinate. The stash is being moved to my office, where Herman and I will do a once-over. Expect more drives tonight."

"It's gonna be a long night."

"I fear you're right."

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The ride from home to the safe house was no fun. Anthony, Avi and Dom, along with that incessant bird made it in record time with Anthony behind the wheel. The consensus was to put the parrot in the trunk, but cooler heads prevailed.

That bird squawked the entire time, but when we entered the safe house, it suddenly fell silent. Like it sensed something new. We carried the bird to the room where a naked, stinking Peacock sat, chained to his chair. The bird went buck.

"Nevermore. Nevermore!" the bird called out. And he flapped his wings. He wouldn't stop until we let him out of his cage and he flew and lit on Peacock's shoulder. The bird grasped his master's shoulder so tightly he drew a little blood with his talons, not used to his master being naked. "Nevermore. Nevermore!"

"Please unchain me so that I might mind the beast. He's very sensitive. Raven, my Raven. How are you boy?"

"Pretty boy. Pretty boy."

"That's right, Raven is a pretty boy. Please. Have you fed him?"

"Nevermore. Nevermore."

Dom unchained him and threw him the robe, which by now stunk as bad as he did. The bird didn't seem to mind.

"Tell me, Deacon." I asked. "What is the meaning of Lute Steep?"

A small smile took over Peacock's face and he chuckled just a bit. "That's code. It's a distress call I taught to Raven for times when he detected danger. He's very perceptive."

I pulled out a bag Herman had collected from Peacock's office, filled with a bunch of hard nuts. Brazil nut, I believe. "Will he eat these?"

"He loves them. Please, may I feed him a few?"

"Sure, Deacon. That's the good news."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. The bad news is I've got four volunteers who would like to strangle him to death right in front of you."

"Lute Steep, Lute Steep!"

"See," Peacock said. "Distress. He knows. Right, Raven? Calm down, my good boy."

"Good boy. Good boy."

"Why would you want to kill an innocent bird? Me, I can understand. But him. That's just vile."

I held out the copy of the blue memory stick. I plugged it into a laptop computer that had no Bluetooth and no WiFi attached. Totally self-contained. The screen lit up, and I plugged in the combination code to open the drive.

"This is as far as I can take this, Deacon. Show me how to open these four directories, and today may just be a good day for you. Then tell me the secret to opening the rest."

"Try starling. S-t-a-r-l-i-n-g. That's the next step after the combination. You can..."

I held my hand up to hush him and typed s-t-a-r-l-i-n-g. It immediately opened the directory named 'Contacts.' A list of over a hundred names flooded the screen. Each file gives contact details, locations and relationships. It was a who's who of bad guys. Some names familiar, but mostly not. Rose, Brumby and Goldheimer were on there. So was Tom Gacey's. A name that had come up more than once.

There was a much shorter list in the folder marked 'Auctions.' Maybe two or three dozen names of venues where auctions of everything from stolen art to trafficked girls could be bid on. Under 'Auctions' there was a subdirectory entitled 'Schedules.' Each file was the date and location of future and some past auctions offering goods and slaves for sale. Young female slaves. And the notebook we had collected from Peacock's desk was suddenly starting to make more sense.

Peacock was like a pig in shit with that bird of his. Like a long-lost friend came to visit him in prison. I excused myself and called Duane.

"How are you fellows doing so far?"

"Well, Hannah, we've been able to open a few drives with predictable results. There are a few of those key drives though that will open but not the sub-folders."

"Try starling. It worked for us."

"Wait a minute. Just hang in there. I think I've..."

"All small letters."

"Got it. It opened. I'm gonna give this to a couple of my analysts to sort through. I'll bring some things home, and we can look together and figure it all out."

"I cannot begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to that. Not!"

"You keep beating that guy up and I'll let you know if there is anything else not letting me in."

"I don't know that I'll have to. He's being oddly cooperative."

"I have a feeling you'll find out why soon."

"Love you, my big man."

"Love you, Hannah."

I gave the staff directions to get Peacock showered. Under full observation, of course. And with the bird back in its cage. It had quieted down substantially and was way more docile than before. Hearing his master's voice helped. A black parrot named Raven. Go figure.

Before we left the safe-house, I had one more thing to ask Peacock.

"Tell me, Deacon, how deep is Francois Pientre into your thing?"

"She has knowledge. Will that get me another one of those delicious mushroom specials?"

"No, but a reportage of her proclivities and tendencies will suffice for now. We know the rest."

"What's to know?"

"Very successful. Travels with two bodyguards, has two at home; one posing as a butler, the other as the gardener and handyman. One always at the shop posing as a clerk. And one posing as a laborer. So, she's well-staffed. Lives basically alone and currently has a visitor. I want Goldheimer, but do I take Peintre too?"

"I'm not sure what use either of them would be to you. I don't see the gendarmes banging down Frankie's door. Why would you want her?"

"To be honest with you, I'm not sure. But it occurs to me that if I put all the pieces together, they will form a whole and that entirety will bring me what I want."

"It sounds like you are biting off more than you can chew. The big dogs know when to say enough."

"I wouldn't be citing scripture down there in the cheap seats. You've just had your first shower in more than a week and you're begging for mushrooms. Count your fucking blessings. You're in no position to judge or give advice."