Lobo Malo

Chapter 17 - Main Gauche

The Attic, West End Sector
0652 EST

"How did Kelso find this place?" Gregory asked as he set his backpack down on the floor.

"Don't know, but I'm glad she did." Ryckmen leaned against a door frame. "The Campus is nice and all, but Brother Henry seems a little less than thrilled by our presence. We're going to need to do a lot of hearts-and-minds work to get a warm welcome there."

"Kind of what the plan is, isn't it? Hitting the Outcasts where it hurts to enkindle some of that goodwill we need?"

"Yeah. Between the True Sons and the Outcasts, the latter is probably the more immediate threat. And immediate threats are always the ones that grab people's attention the hardest. Ridgeway's been turning himself into an American warlord, so he realizes at least intellectually he has to leave enough people alive to actually keep him in the style he'd like to become accustomed. Shaw, on the other hand, is more of the 'kill'em all and let God sort them out' school of thought."

"How do you think she got that way, Lowell? How do you convince people to become so hostile to life that they're willing, even eager, to join a suicide army?"

Ryckmen shook his head. "I don't know, Paxton. It's not like being in the 'Stans. There, half the time it was guys too ignorant to know how they were being used. There might be folks like that among the Outcasts, but if that's the case, there's likely somebody higher up just like those mullahs who told the Taliban they didn't need to be able to read in order to know the Word. And honestly, those are the guys we need to be putting a stop to, not the dumb bastards they've put between us and them."

"Are we absolutely sure Shaw's one of those higher ups?"

"We have to operate on the premise that she is. And if that is the case," finished Ryckmen grimly as Tarvey and Bundmeister came into the room, "then we need to put her down fast and hard."

"Maybe so," Tarvey said as he reached into a net bag and pulled out a tomato, tossing it gently to Gregory. "But not the object of tonight's raid. No, we're going after Shaw's right hand man."

"Harlan Lloyd," nodded Bundmeister. "Known as 'The Strategist' among the Outcasts. Though I gotta say, looking at his dossier, I kinda want to knock his teeth down his throat."

"Because he's orchestrated the depraved and sadistic murder of God knows how many people?" Gregory asked around a bite of tomato.

"No. He just has the kind of face that makes you want to punch it. Hard. And repeatedly."

Ryckmen brought up the dossier on his watch. "Is this a recent photo?" he asked. "Thought the Outcasts went for the skinhead look."

"They do, and no, that photo is not recent." Gregory brought up his own watch. "That was taken about two years ago, some lobbying event. Lloyd used to be a big name on K Street before Black Friday."

Frowning, Ryckmen closed the dossier. "I know we're not in on making the snatch, but do we have a recent photo? I've been on jobs where the designated team lost the target, and then the target runs into the security detail. And while I wouldn't want to cast aspersions on Kelso, the Demon Murphy has not died of Green Poison as far as I know."

Gregory fiddled with his watch, bringing up a virtual keyboard and typing for a few moments. "Nothing. Which I would find super-weird if I didn't know he was a lobbyist. Not exactly somebody who likes to be out and about in the public eye. He's much more comfortable in smoky back rooms."

Ryckmen grunted in acknowledgment. "We're slated to go in around 2030 hours tonight. We'll get up about 1800 hours, do a final weapons check and planning review, roll out at 2000 hours. I'll take first watch. Ricky, I'll wake you up around 1130. Rest up, guys."