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. I would strongly recommend you stop reading this and go back and read at least some of "The Bridge" which provides the back story for most of the characters in this story. I know... it's 30 chapters and lots and lots of pages, but I and a small handful of folks think it's pretty good. I have tried to provide some of the history of the characters so that you can feel like you are getting the full story just by reading Badass. So proceed as you wish. And, bad or good, your feedback is always welcome.

Badass - Part Eight

Badass - Part Eight

In search of Greta Goldheimer, we sent Ali, whose French was not perfect, but he was our languages guy and he'd picked up a ton of it during his deployment in Europe during the big dustup over there.

Along with Ali we sent out Romy LeFleur, a French Canadian originally from Quebec City. She'd come all the way from Canada to answer an ad posted by RFS in Le Journal de Montréal for a bilingual, French/English speaking law enforcement or ex-military person to join our staff. She was not just proficient in both English and French; she was a damned tough gal. She was skilled both hand to hand and with a gun. She'd served with NATO during the action in Eurasia and was stationed in France, acting as a translator as well as a combat operative. Romy was tall, like I like them, tanned, and top-notch. And perfect for this assignment.

I was present when Duane, along with Avi, gathered the two in his office at the Navy Yard. The assignment was simple and clear. Find Greta Goldheimer and bring her to me.

"Montreal is a vast city," Romy said. "It will be like finding a needle in a haystack. Can you..."

"We're narrowing the search down to the arts district in Montreal. Goldheimer is supposed to have a female friend who runs a gallery. If it becomes too much to get her and bring her across the border, contact me and additional resources will be brought in. We want this woman, and we want her soon."

"Then you shall have her," Ali said. "My sister has some ties to the Muslim community in Montreal, and I will check with her to see if she can give me any insights."

"I'm not a particularly artsy person," Romy said. "But I love Montreal, went to school there, and know her like the back of my hand. We will have this person before you know it."

I let her know we will be taking her at her word and that I would expect her in my safe house no later than the end of the month, which was about a week away. The heat was on, but my people always cook best over a high flame.

Avi took the duo to his office at Todd Recovery to orient them with regard to any questioning of Goldheimer and as to how they will be crossing the border back into the U.S. with a hostile individual on board.

In the meantime, there were still plenty of bad actors at the safe house who we were questioning, and Duane sent me off with my usual contingent of bodyguards to see what kind of intel I could acquire. Our prisoners had a few days to soften up a little, and I was optimistic that they would start opening up as Dieter Rose had before. Especially when we started playing them against each other.

Avi was so backed up at Recovery that he did not join me for this set of interrogations. But big Dom was with me and ready to strike terror into the hearts of men.

We started with Peacock, who hadn't slept in days. No more than a catnap here and there when we just couldn't keep him up anymore. He was hurting pretty badly and was starting to stink. So after I got done poking and prodding at him and asking him questions I knew he would not answer, I had two of the boys drag him to the shower, strip him down and clean him up and deodorize him. More for my sake than his.

Brumby, who lived a perfumed life, stunk the worst of all of the them, and I didn't hang around to ask him questions as my sights were set elsewhere. He was disallowed bathroom breaks and had pissed himself several times. Once he was gone, we'd have to have that room decontaminated.

My real focus today would be Winger. It was from him I expected to retrieve the most intel and the best data. For his interview, I brought a gift. A bottle of bourbon. I was getting tired of Scotch and figured that a nice bottle of Southern Comfort would fit the bill perfectly. I also brought a packet of boxers to replace the soiled ones he had been wearing for the past several days.

Before I even arrived at the safe house, the boys hosed down Winger and fed him a filling, but not too tasty meal. He hadn't eaten in three days and was strictly on water rations. When I arrived on the scene he was sitting naked in a firm metal chair, Hoovering down the meal that was sitting on a small table in front of him.

After watching him scarf down his meal, I threw a pair of boxers at him and told him to dress. He looked at me like I was crazy, but pulled the boxers up and sat back in the chair. He smiled when I plopped the bottle and two glasses in front of him on the small table. Enough of the stick for now. Time for the carrot.

I poured out two fingers of bourbon into each of the glasses and handed one to Winger. Upon taking it, he immediately swigged it down. I sipped mine ever so slightly. Then I took his glass and poured another two fingers, holding the glass at the far end of the table so Winger couldn't reach it. He looked at me as if he was about to ask a question.

"First one's free, Winger. Next one's gonna cost you."

He laughed, unhappily, knowing deep down inside that although he was unwilling to pay the price that he would. I could see it on his face. It was the same look that old Charlie Tendler had. Wonderment, but filled with concern.

"How's it feel?" I asked. "Knowing what a piss-poor job you did planning to repel my force, it must be killing you right now. I don't know much about your history, but I do know it was your job to control both the human and drone forces tasked with protecting your boss."

Winger just looked away from me, and at that glass two fingers filled with bourbon.

"We thought our air forces were superior to yours, Miss Todd. Apparently, we were wrong. We never planned on your little helicopter showing up. We thought we had disabled it during our attack on your property. Obviously, we were wrong."

At that, I slid the glass over to him, and he gulped it right down. That's two. If I can get five or six shots into him, he should be well lubricated and ready for the real questions.

I took the glass back and poured three fingers of bourbon, after which he smiled again. This time, seemingly a happier smile. But when he went to reach for it, Dom, who was standing behind him, grasped his bare shoulders and sat him back down. "You'll wait for the lady to offer," he said.

After about forty minutes of asking and answering questions that were doing little else but giving him a reason to drink, he asked to go to the bathroom, and we obliged. Two guys took him and watched over him as he stumbled his way to the loo, emptying his bladder.

Dom and I chatted as we awaited his return. Winger wasn't drunk on his ass, but he was happy, and amenable to answering questions. One more drink and I'd hit him with the big ones.

"Tell me, Winger, how many warehouses are in Paramus?"

"How am I supposed to know? Ask Peacock."

"I'm asking you, Winger. We know you were in charge of securing the warehouses. How many and where are they?"

"Thanks for the drink, but you're gonna kill me anyway, so no thanks."

"Funny, Winger, that's what Charlie the Chicken said. Now he's out there on the run. I even gave him the car and a shit pile of money. As far as I know he's still out there. Still breathing."

"Nah, they'll get old Charlie. Between us and the cops he ain't got a chance."

"There's always a chance as long as you're alive. Dead gets you nowhere. And that's where you will wind up if you don't answer my questions. Warehouses in Paramus, Winger?"

"There's three warehouses in Paramus. All in the same industrial park. Paramus Industrial Park, numbers 19, 251 and 303. Gacey is in charge of them."

Gacey was dead, but I didn't tell Winger. He was one of the mercenaries killed at the breach of the warehouse we knew about. That was number 303.

"Is that who's in charge now that Peacock is under wraps?"

"I don't know, maybe Butler or Gacey."

"And who would Butler and Gacey answer to?"

"Peacock."

"Other than Peacock."

"There is no other. He's the end of the line. And..."

"How about the girls? Where were the girls at the warehouse headed?"

"Not my job, not my business. We get them to the warehouses, and from there it's up to Gacey and his crew." None of which we had. "My job was security, not transportation. That was Gacey and Butler."

As far as we knew, Butler was alive and was one of the mercs we left at Peacock's place in Alpine. But now he was either locked up or being sprung. I alerted Anthony that I wanted him and Hoagie at my house at end of business today. They would be my envoys to New Jersey to check out the warehouses and determine the status of Butler.

"One last question, Winger, and for that you can earn one more shot." And I poured just a shot's worth into the glass. "Who is able to come after me now? Who's left? Where are they?"

"Why should I tell you? Haven't I told you enough. Ain't I drunk enough? I'm already dead."

"Tendler thought the same thing, and as beat up as he is, he's still alive. As far as I know, everyone who would be running after him except the cops is out of commission. Unless..."

"Gacey is around. If he is around and out, he's pissed. Butler too, I expect."

"Who would they go to for support, with Peacock gone?"

"Probably overseas, where the shipments go."

"To whom, Winger? Who's the overseas connection? Names, Winger."

"I got nobody, and I got no names."

"Any other facilities we should be looking at? Safe houses, storage lockers, safe deposit boxes? Tell me where to look."

"Sorry, lady, but you got the wrong guy. I'm just a soldier who follows orders."

"I am your new general, soldier. Follow my orders."

He just broke up and started laughing, maybe just a little too drunk.

"Alright, boys, lock him down now and let him sleep it off. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow we bring back the stick."

Before leaving the safe house we spent a little more time with Peacock and Brumby, but to no avail. Peacock wasn't talking and Brumby just didn't know anything about logistics. But he did know something about Goldheimer. And he casually just threw it out there while begging to be fed.

"Peintre de la Nuit is Greta's hang out in Montreal. It's in the arts district. That's all I know. Please feed me. I haven't had..."

"Feed him, Dom. Feed him well for now." I looked over at Brumby and said, "You keep feeding me tidbits like this, Bill, and at least you won't starve to death."

On the way home, I called Linnie Lawrence to ask about what I could do about Mr. Butler and his legal status.

"Let me get this straight, Hannah. You want me to send one of my attorneys into New Jersey and bail out one of your enemy's men so that you can recapture him?"

"Sounds about right. I just don't want anyone but us knowing the last part. I certainly can't visit him in jail, but his attorney can. All I know is his name is James Butler and he would have been arrested the week of April eighteenth in Alpine, New Jersey along with many other mercenary types. Find him for me, Linnie and keep me informed every step of the way."

"Strange request, but here I go sticking my neck out yet again for Hannah Todd. Does it ever end, Hannah?"

"God, I wish it would. I'd like to spend more time being just plain old mom and not so much the bitch on wheels I have become."

"I've got just the gal to do this. She's Jersey Barred and does primarily criminal work. Real barracuda, that one."

"Sounds like my kind of fish. Thanks again, Linnie."

"Oh yeah, just wait till you get my bill."

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As I requested, Anthony and Hoagie showed up at my place a little after five, so I invited them for dinner. With children scrambling and babies crying, it was a bit of a distraction for Anthony, but Hoagie, father of two, ate it up. The kids loved Hoagie and, even more so, loved his name. Uncle Hoagie. Everyone in Philly has had a hoagie, but only my kids had an 'uncle' Hoagie.

Once the free for all that was dinner was over, the kids went outside to play and Hoagie, Anthony and I adjourned to my office.

"Here's the job, boys. I recently found out there are two additional warehouses out there in the same industrial park as the one we hit. I don't know what's in them, I don't know who's minding the store, and I won't know my next move until I find that out. Anthony, you're my Jersey guy, and we all know what Hoagie is. I need to find out who, what, where, how and when about these places. I fear there are more girls involved, so that puts us on the clock. Sooner is better than later."

Anthony gave me a serious look. "Do you think we should head up now? I've got my go bag ready, and I could be on the way in half an hour."

"I think tomorrow is better. I'd like to start out thinking this is a day trip, so early morning is best. Hit the highway before sunup, and I want you to go in, Hoagie, as a salesman selling LTL trucking services. Anthony, you may get recognized, so I want you in the background. We're after buildings 19 and 251. Anything you can glean from observation will be good. I also want to release a couple of wasp drones so we can track what's going on after they kick you out of there. I'm having Rhee Spanner send up one of her Robos to monitor things. You just get in, place the drone, look around and get out. I expect they will be pretty jumpy, so don't do anything to arouse suspicion. Talk to Lizzie tonight about papers - business cards, promotional material, etc. It's important to look the part. Hoagie, wear a nice suit."

"My favorite thing. I thought I didn't have to wear suits in this job. I was really starting to like that."

"Do you have a suit, Hoagie?"

"I have two."

"Then wear a fucking suit. Think of it as a costume for our little costume party."

Before we got any further, Duane stepped into the office. He just got home, and when Bertha told him we were up in the office, he decided to make an appearance.

"Alright, you three, what's the story here. Catch me up and leave nothing out."

I gave Duane the rundown of my day and my plan for tomorrow. He approved of everything and dismissed the boys. "Anything else I can help with before the boys go?"

"There's one thing, but you and I can do that alone. Together. Tonight." The boys got a good laugh and off they went with the promise to meet in the morning for their trip to Paramus. Anthony would pick up the papers from Lizzie, and would drive; Hoagie would hunt.

Duane had a late dinner, and I sat with him throughout. Just sitting there watching him eat is a turn-on for me. Just being close to him is usually enough. After all this time, you would think it would fade, but it hasn't. He's still this big, hunky man that just makes my loins stir. Tonight, we can deal with my loins.

The kids were all in their rooms now, reading and such, and we went up to tuck them all in. The babies were already asleep when their father reached over and kissed them goodnight. We smiled at each other and embraced. Our little prizes. The one thing we did together that transcended all other things. Sure, I love my other kids, but I loved that these two came from him.

We took a nice walk around the property just to clear our heads. Holding hands, Duane told me that with the acquisition of Guardians at the Gate, another security firm, we had increased our staff by nearly twenty percent. The merging of the two entities also brought us many new clients who would now be under the protective umbrella of Royce Field Services. This would keep both Duane and Herman extremely busy for months.

It was cool for an April night, so we cut our walk short and headed upstairs to our suite. Deciding to set the stage for a relaxing and comforting night, I ran the hot tub and relieved my tired old man of his day wear. Something more suitable for the hot tub. Nothing.

Duane got into the tub first and held his hand out to me. I followed him in and lay with my back against his front. My happy place. As the jets streamed, he stroked me and kissed me and all around brought me comfort. Something I craved after a day with Peacock and the other scumbags.

After half an hour in the tub, we got out and dried off, jumping into bed naked, and quietly and gently attacked each other in that way. The sex was soft and loving. Not a romp, but not a big orgasm-fest. Just gentle waves rolling through me until such time as Duane shot his load, satisfying him for the night. And me too.

We cleaned up, donned our jammies and were asleep in minutes.

Five thirty comes very early, especially when two screaming babies herald the start of a new day. While Duane got ready for another day facing newly acquired agents, Becca and I had the babies and were cleaning them up and changing them. The diva was a dream. Duanee a nightmare, as usual. Still grabbing at my tits, but that ship had sailed. I hate that he cries when I slap his paws away as he grabs his favorite part of my anatomy. Just like his father.

At six the first call came. It was Hoagie. They had hit Lizzie's place first thing and picked up business cards for Hoagie as well as pamphlets for the fictitious company he would claim to represent. Both operators had earpieces hooked to the limited comm link we had set up. Rhee's Robo was on the link and he chimed in as we spoke. "Spanner on board. This is Robo Rick. As soon as those wasps light up, I'll let you all know status.

The Robo knew his job. It was just to sit back and wait until the Wasp drones were set in the two warehouses. Then he would relay the drones' signals to me in my office and Danny in the Closet. We would take it from there.

In the meantime, Ali and Rony were planning their trip to Montreal. They would be surveilling a shop in the arts district called Peintre de la Noir. It was a small gallery in the middle of the action. It was owned by Francois Peintre, Greta Goldheimer's friend. Romy had a contact in Quebec City who could get them back into the U.S. surreptitiously. Getting into Canada would be easy. Getting out, not so much. Today they would leave for their 'vacation' up north.

At quarter to nine, Hoagie and Anthony reached their first destination, Building 19, at the Paramus Industrial Park. Anthony dropped Hoagie off and headed around to Building 251 so that he could do a walk around, seeing if anything was out of place or suspicious.

Hoagie went through the main entrance, a single doorway, leading to a shop in front that gave no visual cues as to what was inside the greater warehouse. Both men there seemed anxious about seeing this stranger but did not disallow him entry. Then Hoagie went into his rant about the best LTL company in Jersey. There wasn't much to see and the two men didn't seem remotely interested, but Hoagie left the pamphlet and his card, as well as the wasp drone that he left tucked under the counter, hidden but able to make its escape when the time was right.