Authors: Joe Nobody
Putnam accepted the evidence and then asked, “Where did you find this?”
BB nodded toward a table with a map and then moved to show his superior where he’d collected the evidence.
Zach picked up the old battery and realized that it was a size used in high-end flashlights, some cameras, military-grade optics, and as BB had stated, night vision devices. He had to agree with the old ranger’s assessment. After an intense firefight, with dozens of Marines scurrying confused in all directions, it was unlikely any of the invaders was taking pictures or shining a torch. Night vision, however, made sense.
Putnam returned his attention to Zach and Sam. “Your assignment just had its priority raised, Rangers. I suggest you get moving. I’ll put out a bulletin, but without a physical description, there’s not much to go on.”
Despite the urgency in the major’s voice, Zach took a moment to shake BB’s hand. “Thanks for the help, ‘Old School.’ Despite being a tequila-soaked old bastard, you’re still the best.”
For just a second, a hint of kindness flashed behind BB’s eyes as he accepted Zach’s palm. “Be safe out there, Ranger Bass. My gut says you’re after a very, very bad hombre. Don’t take that old saying of one riot, one ranger too far.”
“One riot, one ranger,” Zach repeated, invoking the phrase long associated with the organization.
As Sam and Zach left the command tent, she said, “You know that old saying about the riot isn’t based on any sort of factual history.”
“I know,” Zach sighed. “Like most Western legends, time and the retelling have exaggerated the tale.”
“Since I’ve joined our elite, little band of crime fighters, I’ve heard so many different stories on the source of that slogan. Which one do you subscribe to?”
“The Dallas prizefight was the one that seemed to be based on an actual event,” Zach replied as they waited for a flight back to their truck.
Sam rolled her eyes, “Oh Lord, not another legend. What happened in Dallas? Who was fighting?”
“The story goes that in the late 1890s, Ranger Captain Bill McDonald had been sent by the governor to Dallas, the officer’s mission to stop an illegal prizefight. The bout had been heavy publicized, with travelers from all over the territory in town to witness the contest.”
Zach’s retelling was interrupted by the roar of a landing copter. As soon as the noise died down, he continued, “Fearing a riot would erupt when the match was canceled, the very nervous mayor of Dallas had met Ranger McDonald’s train. The politician had been shocked to find only one lawman aboard. When asked where the other rangers were, it’s claimed that the grizzled, old captain replied, ‘Hell, ain’t I enough? After all, there’s only one prizefight!’”
The lady ranger chuckled, nodding her head in recognition. “I remember that story now. From what I’ve read, just about every man with a badge was actually in Dallas for the contest. According to some accounts, most of the rangers wanted to see the bout for themselves.”
“Yeah, I know,” Zach sighed. “But the fight was canceled, and Dallas didn’t burn. Nowadays, it’s the spirit of the thing that counts. The rangers operated on their own back in those days. They didn’t have radios, or backup, or computers. BB was only trying to warn us that we might be going up against long odds, and my gut says he’s right about that.”
Sam patted her pistol and grinned, “Can we change it to one riot, two rangers?”
Sam and Zach made for San Antonio after leaving the crime scene.
“Why not Del Rio?” the lady ranger asked.
“Too small. Whoever came across was somebody important if BB has his shit in one bag. It would be too easy to be noticed in Del Rio, so I’m throwing the dice and guessing the larger town.”
“Why do you question BB’s findings? It seemed like you really respected the guy,” Sam questioned.
Zach didn’t answer right away, almost as if he was having trouble choosing his words. Finally, he said, “Something happened with BB back in the day. I heard rumors and tall tales, but nothing official. Most of the stories centered on the man having trouble with hard liquor and a bad temperament. Then, all of a sudden, he was gone. No retirement party, no goodbyes or farewells … he just vanished. For a man who had over 30 years of service as a ranger, that’s never good news. You’ll find that when one of our own has issues; no one likes to talk about it. That’s why I was stunned to see him at the crime scene.”
“Maybe he’s managed to get back into Major Putnam’s good graces?” Sam speculated.
“I have been told he’s living in Mexico,” Zach countered. “I’ve heard rumors that he does some bounty hunting down there. No, I’d be more inclined to say that Putnam asked him to come across hoping BB knew or had heard something. Whatever the reason, it was good to see that old law dog. He looked like he had cleaned up his act. I sure hope so.”
On the way to the Alamo City, both rangers started calling every source, informant, and “in the know,” individual they could think of.
The route took them by two gas stations that ran side businesses cashing checks for those who didn’t have bank accounts, often a prime source of interesting information.
They visited a couple of ex-gang bangers who’d seen the light after one or more jail terms and now preferred to work with law enforcement.
Word of the Langtry Massacre had already spread across the entire republic. Most of the people Zach and Sam contacted knew right away why the two rangers were beating the proverbial bushes. No one had any information of value.
Late in the afternoon, Zach steered the pickup into a convenience store parking lot and pulled into an empty space facing the street. He glanced over at Sam’s khaki slacks, plain white shirt, and hiking boots. “Do you have anything more… umm… more attractive in your overnight bag?”
“Why Zachariah Bass! State your intentions,” Sam responded in an innocent, alluring tone.
Snorting, the ranger knew a trap when he saw one. “Strictly business, Ranger Temple.”
“Good. I’d hate to experience an accidental discharge of my weapon into your knee cap … or perhaps slightly higher.”
“So do you have something more provocative in your suitcase?”
Sam frowned, “Yes, I have a couple of more casual get-ups in my bag. Why?”
Pointing with his head toward a business across the street, he answered, “Because I need you to be a distraction for a minute after we go in that fine establishment over there.”
Following his indication, Sam read the sign, “The Rio Cabaret, San Antone’s Finest Gentleman’s Club. Seriously, Zach? You want me to go with you into a topless bar?”
“Yes, I do. There’s someone in there we need to talk to, but I need a diversion.”
“Don’t you think I’m a little old to be going undercover as a topless dancer?”
Zach couldn’t help himself. “Those places are usually pretty dark inside, and we only need a few seconds.”
“Pretty dark inside! Only a few seconds! Why you … you thick-skulled….”
Zach clenched, anticipating a long-winded blast of foul language. Sam, however, stopped short and flashed the evilest smirk the ranger had ever seen on his partner’s face.
On a roll, he threw the verbal dice again. “You can pull it off … no pun intended.”
“Pull it off? Ha, ha, ha, Ranger Bass. What a funny man you are. Start explaining, before I get really pissed.”
It took less than a minute for Zach to expound on his plan. Without any questions or comment, Sam reached for the small bag in the truck’s backseat.
He had chosen the convenience store so his partner could utilize the lady’s room for a quick wardrobe change. Much to his surprise, after digging around in her luggage, Sam began unlacing her boots.
The ranger thought his partner was bluffing when she undid the top button of her slacks. A moment later, her eyes never leaving his face, Sam began wiggling out of her pants. “Dark, huh?”
She took just the right amount of time, exposing her thighs at a speed that fell somewhere between a shy schoolgirl and a seductive tease. Zach had to admit, the woman beside him had the longest damn legs he’d ever seen on a female. “Only need to distract them for a minute, huh?” she whispered.
Zach’s discomfort increased exponentially when Sam began unbuttoning her blouse. Again, at just the perfect pace, she exposed one shoulder and then the other, leaving nothing but a pair of sheer white panties and an extremely thin sports bra covering her ample assets. “Pretty dark inside, eh?”
Zach pretended not to notice, but his peripheral vision strained for a glimpse of the show. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “This is very unprofessional behavior, Ranger Temple. And besides, you’re just being mean.”
Sam fluttered her eyelashes in innocence. “Obviously, from your earlier comments, you don’t think I’m an attractive woman. So what’s the harm? Surely a dedicated crime fighter such as yourself can’t be distracted by something as innocent as your partner changing for an undercover op.”
He started to reply but held it. Then he made a serious attempt to keep his face forward, pretending to scan the street. His tactic didn’t work very well. While his eyes were cooperative, his testosterone level won out.
She took her time, tugging on a pair of stockings first, gracefully smoothing the nylon material along her legs. Next came a casual red blouse, and finally a skirt that didn’t reach her knees. “Happy now?” she asked with a coy tone.
“Yes, you look professional. Excellent choice, Ranger Temple.”
“Thank you,” she replied, pulling up her skirt and strapping on a mid-thigh holster.
Then with a grin and a quick, “See you in a minute,” she was out of the truck and strolling toward the street, an exaggerated hip-swing in her stride.
Sam could hear the club’s massive stereo system long before she reached the front entrance. After pulling open the heavy, ornate wooden door, the thump of the bass was like a hammer hitting her in the chest.
Zach had been absolutely correct about it being dark inside. Sam hesitated at the entrance, trying to give her vision time to adjust. She finally could make out a smiling young woman behind a counter, a cash register resting next to the bored girl’s elbow. Another female was standing nearby, her micro-miniskirt and skimpy top announcing that she was a waitress.
“There’s a ten dollar cover tonight,” the hostess shouted over the music.
“I’m here to apply for a job,” Sam yelled back. “Is the manager in?”
The two girls, both in their early 20s, scanned the lady ranger up and down and then exchanged a look that clearly asked, “Is she serious?”
They, however, were well trained in the finer aspects of customer service and didn’t voice their doubts. “No, the manager isn’t here right now, but Butch does most of the interviewing anyway. Come on with me,” the waitress said.
As Sam was being led through an inner door and into the main room, she asked, “Who is Butch?”
“He’s the bouncer and the manager’s right-hand man. He normally screens all the girls anyway. He looks mean, but really he’s just a big, old, horny, teddy bear.”
Ranger Temple’s senses were suddenly assaulted by thick cigarette smoke, even louder music, and a visual orchestra of flashing, strobing lights.
She was led to the end of a long bar where a man with a shaved head sat scanning the stage and audience. A topless, rather appealing, young woman was gyrating seductively onstage, much to the delight of the mostly male onlookers.
Butch was the anticipated poster child for the bouncer’s guild. After the waitress cupped her hand and informed the large gent of Sam’s request, the behemoth slid off of his barstool perch and offered his hand.
Well over six feet tall and probably topping out at 350 pounds, Sam accepted the oversized hand while wondering what had happened to Butch’s neck. It was as if that body part had completely disappeared.
“How can I help you?” he asked in a deep baritone that competed with the stereo’s bass.
“I lost my job recently,” Sam shouted her practiced response. “I’m not shy and heard that dancers can make some good money. I thought I would check it out.”
The bouncer’s eyes immediately moved to scan the lady ranger’s body but gave no hint of his assessment. “How are your tits?” he asked, as nonchalant as if he was asking an old friend about his grandchildren.
“I’ve not had any complaints,” Sam responded, subconsciously glancing down at her top.
Butch moved closer so as to be understood over the music. “Most of the successful girls here have implants. Have you had your boobs done?”
Before Sam could answer, movement drew her eye. Butch noticed it at the same time.
Zach was there, escorting both of the girls from the front. It took the bouncer just a second to recognize the tall ranger before he made a quick move for the bar.
Zach was quicker, catching the big man’s arm as it stretched toward the button under the counter. “Don’t do it!” Zach snapped, “I’m not here for that anyway. I only want to talk to one of your clients without being announced.”
For just a second, Sam thought Butch was going to fight. She spotted the muscles across his back tense as he began reaching for his weapon. The lady ranger’s hand moved for her own iron.
It was with no small amount of relief when she noted the massive fellow relax and nod at her partner. “If you say so, Ranger. You know we don’t want any trouble with the law.”
“I’m going to go up to the VIP room, Butch. I spied Chico’s Mercedes out in the lot. I just want to talk to him. Understood?”
“Yes, be my guest,” the heavily muscled bouncer continued, his voice dripping with disdain.
“If Chico gets any warning that I’m on my way … even the slightest hint, then the rangers will come down on this club so hard you’ll be lucky to get a bitch dog to dance in here. Understood?”
Again, the big man nodded. Sam could tell he didn’t like it, but there was little he could do.
The Rio Cabaret was, as Zach had explained, a “player’s club.”
Like most similar establishments, the primary dance floor was an extremely controlled environment. “A guy could encounter more female skin at a church picnic than in the main area,” he clarified for his female partner. “The customers can’t touch the girls and would be tossed out on their ears if they even tried.
“Those fraternization rules, however, are completely ignored in the VIP room,” Zach had gone on to explain. “It’s on the second floor, and a few of the willing, young ladies are allowed to invite high rollers up the executive level for additional entertainment. The bouncer has a control under the bar. If he sees the cops come in, he sends a warning upstairs, and everybody gets their pants on real quick. While I could give a shit less about a vice bust today, if Chico is up there, his bodyguards will get real mean, real quick. They’ll probably try to hustle him out the back door or hide him someplace. I want the element of surprise on our side.”
As the two rangers ascended the stairs, Zach outlined his plan. “I want you to act like one of the dancers taking a John up for a little fun and games. Flirt me up. Rub around on my lap. Make it believable. You know the drill.”
Sam paused on the first landing, turning to glare at her partner, “And just how would I know the
drill
?”
“Why Ranger Temple, you’ve never seduced a man?”
“Not like that,” came the indignant reply.
“You’ve never seen a television show or movie that had a scene showing how the girls act in a strip club?”
The lady ranger had to think about that one. Finally, she nodded, but it was clear she didn’t like her role in the upcoming drama.
Zach turned to continue his climb up the steps, but Sam stopped him again. “Hang on a second.”
He watched with a mixture of fascination and desire as she pulled a bobby pin from behind her head and then folded up her skirt so that it barely concealed her panties. It was so short, she had had to relocate the pistol and holster to her clutch.
Then, with a series of swift movements, she unbuttoned her blouse and began twisting the tails, eventually forming a large knot right under her partially exposed breasts. Her stomach was smooth and flat, with a shadow of well-formed abs.
Zach was amazed. Shaking his head, he had to admit the woman was damn hot. “You don’t need the low lights, Sam. You’re the classiest woman in this place – bar none.”
“I
do know how
to seduce a man, Ranger Bass,” she grinned back. “The problem is finding one worthy of the effort.”