I haven't done a lot with this story for a long time, and just had a flash of inspiration as to where I want to go with it. It may get a little violent, but nothing like Hollywood, so if you object to that sort of thing, I here Disney has a new web site. Just kidding.
Dan
Rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com
Paper Tiger 4: Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war...
Tyler stood in the afternoon sun surrounded by Darren and two of his old friends from what he now thought of as his previous life. They were in the cemetery, and Tyler stared down at his own grave and small gray headstone. His death had been four months ago, five days after he'd joined the Rivera family.
"This is fucking creepy." Steve Garrett said. Almost as tall as Tyler, he wore the frayed shorts and undershirt of a skater, with beet up Vans on his feet, and a long chain looped between his pockets. At 16, he was the youngest of the group.
"You're telling me?" Tyler asked, putting his Oakleys back on. "You're not the one who died."
"You didn't have to go through the funeral, either." Gilberto Montoya, a short well dressed Hispanic boy of 17 added. "They blew your face off, Ty. Everyone heard the story. They had to use a dentist to identify you, or whoever is down there."
Tyler smelled the involvement of the family, and chose not to respond. It would be simple for a body to be produced that looked like him, and he thought he'd lost his wallet. It must have been planted on the body.
"I'm glad you're alive." Darren said quietly. "I missed you." He smiled up at Tyler. "We needed you."
They turned and headed back towards Tyler's blazer. "I never realized that I was part of anything." Tyler said, opening the locks. "I didn't feel much like a member of any group."
"You were like our conscience, man, our logic processor. We used you to keep us out of trouble." Steve laughed as he got in the truck. "I mean, fuckin' A, dude, I almost got arrested after you...uh, died."
"Like I could've stopped that, buddy. You never could stay away from the cops." Tyler started the vehicle and turned on the A/C.
"What our learned colleague is trying to say, Ty, is that you kept him from doing dumb shit on a regular basis." Berto offered.
"Yeah! What he said."
"Tyler, a lot of our friends worked for Carlos, and a lot of our friends are dead." Darren leaned up between the seats. "You weren't the only one that we buried, you're the only one that lived through it. Something bad is happening, the Trocs, or whoever is behind it, has made it real plain that they'll kill anyone that joins anyone but them."
"Fuck that." Tyler answered. "No fucking two bit gang can take west Henderson. There's too many guys that'll stop them."
"Not anymore, man. Everyone's afraid." Berto turned and met Tyler's eyes, his face obviously pained. "They're trashing the place, and they'll kill just for the kicks."
"Maybe you could get Carlos to help us." Steve looked into Tyler's face through the rearview mirror. "Don't they have any interest in our area? They used to."
"I don't know." Tyler drove in silence for a few minutes, his mind swimming. Finally he shoved everything aside. "You guys want some pizza? Resurrection has me starved."
"Jesus, what a ham." Darren shook his head. "Some shit never changes."
Three hours later, Tyler pulled into his parking stall at the Palace. Rocky's car was next to his, and he did a quick visual check as he walked by. The guard at the door waved and Tyler smiled, tossing him the keys to the Blazer.
As he entered the apartment, he found a note on the table from Rocky, and turned right around and took the private elevator up to the top floor. One of Carlos' top men stopped him in the hall and pointed him towards Manny's office. He jogged the last few yards, and was ushered in.
"Tigre," Manny looked up from a table strewn with maps and papers. "Pour a drink and come here." Manny seemed tired and irritable, and Tyler decided he didn't need a drink right now.
"Four guys in the last week. Where were they hit and what were they doing?" Carlos asked. Rocky slid him a sheet of paper. Carlos read it and sighed. "Pop, these hits are all over the city. I don't see a pattern."
"Other than they're all family employees?" Manny snapped sharply. "And that they all had more than just a little cash on them? You could by a fucking hotel for what we've lost just in the last few weeks!" The elder Rivera slumped into his chair and lit a long thin cigar.
Tyler stood next to Rocky's chair at the table and looked at the map of the city, and one of Nevada and California. There were several red dots on the map, each marking where someone on family business had died. He noticed that there were no dots what so ever around his neighborhood. "Looks like you don't shit in your own nest." He said softly.
"What?" Manny leaned forward. "What was that?"
Tyler cleared his throat and met Manny's gaze. "I said I think they're not shitting in their own nest." He spun the map and pointed his finger. "Notice that none of the hits happened in this area? But the rest of the city has a pretty even spread."
"Holy shit." Rocky leaned forward and looked at the map. "Like they're not wanting their neighbors pissed off."
"That was some fast detective work, El Tigre. Know something you're not saying?" Carlos folded his arms and leaned against the bar.
"I'm not sure what I know, but I'll tell you, and you decide." Tyler told them how he'd seen some of his old friends like Manny had suggested, and that one of them had worked for Carlos before. He also told them about the gang trouble, and how his friends, who had never joined a gang, were almost being hunted down.
"The drugs are flowing pretty heavy, too." Tyler finished up, accepting a coke from Rocky. He looked at Manny and mentally crossed his fingers. "You once told me, Boss, that my job was to protect you, and your family, and to protect its assets. We have a lot of people in that area that you do business with. Can we protect them?"
Manny leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It ain't that easy, Tiger. If we attack those guys, it could start a war, and more than one family would fall against us. Not to mention some foreign investors." Manny sighed. "But you are right, we owe some people out there big, and I like to think I'm a man of honor."
"You don't think Little Tony is stupid enough to get set up with these animals, do you?" Rocky asked to the room at large. "Someone has to be the money here, and it isn't us."
"Salieri is scum, but I doubt he'd be involved. No profit." Manny blew thick gray smoke at the window. "We need to get somebody inside and find out who it is, then decide what to do from there."
Tyler felt his stomach knot up and his heart rate increase. "I think I can get you somebody inside." He said, almost in a jumble of words.
"Who?"
"My friends. They'd do it in a heart beat to beat these assholes."
Manny turned around and tilted his head. "You want to recruit boys to do this?" He shook his head. "What if they get killed?"
"They're dying anyway, Manny. They need help." Tyler leaned on the table.
"I can do this. Carlos and Rocky can help me."
"I think you volunteered us awful quick, there, Tiger." Carlos smiled lopsidedly.
"No shit." Rocky chuckled.
Tyler waved his hand impatiently, not interested in the humor. "These are my friends. I don't want them dead either, but I do want to help the family, and I know they'd do it to get their old lives back, without that fucking gang."
"Alright." Manny smiled slightly. "Carlos, you handle this. Meet with these boys and tell me what you think. Rock, get on the phone and call everyone we have in Cali. Find out if they know who's the guy behind all this build up."
There were a chorus of yes sirs, and Tyler pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and went in to the hall. Rocky stood up to leave, and Manny put his hand on his arm. "Keep that little bastard safe, Rock. I like him."
"So do I, Manny. Don't worry." Rocky smiled. Carlos followed him down to the apartment and ordered dinner for the three of them. Tyler made several calls and sent four emails before joining them at the table. He tore into his cheeseburger like it was going out of style.
"Damn, Tiger, don't Rocky feed you?" Carlos laughed and took a shot from his beer.
"Sorry, I haven't eaten since three. I was starved." Tyler swallowed hard then resumed. "I have everyone I could get a hold of meeting at a warehouse I know of in about two hours. Will you guys go with me and talk to them?"
"What, and miss out on Mission Improbable? I wouldn't miss it." Rocky sat back from the table and looked over at Carlos. "Do you remember this shy little wallflower I found last spring, you know, the kid that didn't talk much, and just followed us around?"
"Yeah." Carlos chuckled. "I wonder what happened to him."
Tyler didn't bother to force a smile. "He died about five months ago. I saw his grave stone." He stood up and put his plate on the room service cart. "You could say it changed his life."
Rocky glanced uncomfortably at Carlos. "You know, Tyler, that had to be done, right?"
"I understand it, Kelly, but it was still a shock. I need a shower." Tyler went to his room without another word.
"Might've been a good idea to clue him in, Rocky." Carlos said quietly and finished his beer.
"How do you tell someone their dead?" Rocky sighed. "I honestly didn't think he'd go looking."
"You notice the tattoo?" Carlos smiled, changing the subject. "A tiger with a gun?"
"Yeah, I saw it. I guess he has changed."
Twelve guys met them at the warehouse that night, all friends of Tyler's and all employed by the family in one way or another, although none of them had known that they had that in common. Mostly they had been delivery boys, dropping packages off to one place or another, and only Tyler had 'made it big', so to speak, living at the Western Palace.
Tyler sat on a crate in the deserted warehouse that would become their meeting place, looking out over the group. "Look, this is easy to understand. There's a total of eight gangs here now, and all of them hate each other. Why are they suddenly working together?"
Lance Burke, a reed thin dark haired kid with a trace of acne looked up with a look of disgust on his face. "Dude, there's like a billion dollars getting' spread around. Everyone's flashin' rich clothes and guns and shit.
Like the fairy godmother is goin' fuckin' nuts with wishes, you know?"
"But why?" Berto asked. "Why all the attention here, man? What's special about it?"
Until now, Carlos and Rocky had stayed out of the conversation, listening. They were surprised by how old these guys seemed, well past their actual ages, and how much each of them despised what was happening.
Carlos pushed away from the wall and folded his arms, walking over near Tyler. "I'll tell you something. You all got good questions, but none of us no the answers. El Tigre here," he put his hand on Tyler's shoulder, "Has some ideas to find out what is happening. We all need to know, before something happens we can't stop."
"My dad knows your dad, Carlos." Nathan Cowler said quietly. He had an average height and build, with a long thin nose and read hair. "He said your dad used to watch our neighborhood. So what happened?"
"Sometimes we get so involved in outside shit, we forget to watch our own house, know what I mean?" Rocky said, not moving from his perch near the wall. "We're here to fix that tonight."
"How?" Steve Garrett asked. "There's a whole lot of them, and none of us."
"If you guys are up for it, we're going to turn into some antibiotics." Carlos chuckled. "The best way to beat an infection is inside out, right?
Tyler stood up and subconsciously squared his shoulders. "We need to get somebody inside. If we can find out why this is happening, we can stop it, and we can go back to what we had. If you guys will help me, I'll help you, and Carlos and Rocky will help us all."
"I'm your man." Lance looked up angrily. "I've had those fuckers tryin' to get me for over a month. They promise all kinds of shit if I go in." He hung his head, obviously not wanting to do what he'd just suggested.
"What gang, Lance?" Tyler asked, moving over the open floor towards him.
"Straight Shooters. It's a cover for the fuckin' Trocs, Man, everyone knows it." The tall boy lit a cigarette and exhaled. "I hate 'em, Tyler. I hate 'em bad."
Tyler patted his shoulder. "I don't have a lot of answers for you, but I can promise we'll watch out for you, and if anything goes wrong, I'll get you out."
"If I didn't see a dead man walkin', I'd tell you you're fuckin' high." Lance smiled slightly. "I can do it, Ty."
"Let's talk about it later." Carlos said and clapped his hands and rubbed them. "For the rest of us, we're going to do a little Zorro on their asses." He began to tell them about a plan he had, and before long, everyone was laughing.
For two weeks, Lance trained with Rocky in self-defense and shooting. No one saw them except Tyler and Carlos, and for the boys from the newly founded Tiger's Army, it was like Lance had disappeared.
Tyler and Darren spent almost every night driving through Henderson in various vehicles, watching for signs of the gangs, and three nights walking the streets in the shadows, writing down addresses and talking to businesses.
Tyler leaned on a tree and took his battered Nike off, dumping a pebble on the sidewalk. He heard Darren chuckle, and he glanced over at the side of the store where his friend stood.
"You remember that day when you pulled me back here?" Darren asked, jerking his thumb at the alley. "You got no idea how bad you fucked me up, bro. I nearly shit my pants."
"I said I was sorry." Tyler shook his head. "I didn't know I was dead."
Darren shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned on the brick wall. "I never saw a ghost before. It was pretty intense. Especially when he kicked the dog shit out of the bad guys for me."
Tyler laughed. "Just like the old days. You didn't have a clue, and I had to save your ass."
"Fuck you, Tiger." Darren smiled back. "Did you happen to see the tag on this wall?"
"No, why?"
"Look." Darren moved away, and Tyler walked over and looked at the bricks.
"I guess Steve and Lawson and the guys have been busy." On the wall, a drawing of Tyler's tattoo had been done with a thick black marker. Underneath the tiger holding a pistol were the words 'The Army is coming' in what Tyler had always called tagger script.
"Looks good, doesn't it?" Tyler reached out and touched it.
"It's all over town, man. I see what Carlos meant about Zorro. Give to the poor, steal from the rich, all that shit." Darren yawned hugely. "Dude, its 4:30. Can we go get some sleep, please?"
"Yeah, sorry." Tyler pulled himself away from the wall. "I didn't mean to stay out this late." They headed back towards the warehouse to get the nondescript 4-door car that Tyler had borrowed. "We're gonna be busy tomorrow. Rocky's back at noon."
"Great. So much for sleep." Darren yawned again.
"You might as well come back to the Palace with me since you're gonna be needed when he gets back. I'll get you a room, or you can crash on my couch." They walked across the heavily cracked and weeded parking lot, and Tyler pulled out the keys. "Man, I'm starved."
A shadow moved near the car, and Darren looked up. A man with silver hair stood up from behind the car holding a gun, and aimed it at Tyler. "No!" Darren shouted, causing Tyler to look up, and he jumped to try and get in front of Tyler. Something struck the back of his head, and glittering lights sparkled in his vision. He landed heavily on his knees; the rough rocks and grit digging into his palms and through his pants.
Tyler saw Darren pitch forward and whirled, trying to get his pistol out of its customary place in the right cargo pocket of his shorts, but didn't have time. He barely recognized that it was a shoe in his sight before the foot impacted on the side of his head, flipping him into a backward somersault. He was out when he hit the ground.
At a little after 7am, Carlos poured a cup of coffee and handed it to his dad. Manny and Rocky sat at the conference room table that sat just off Manny's office at the Western Palace. Several bundles of paper were piled on the table, and Manny picked up two sheets from a stack near his elbow.
"So what you're telling me is the internet porno is profitable, yes?" He asked Rocky, nodding to Carlos and taking the cup from him.
"A hell of a lot more than we thought." Rocky leaned back in his chair and tossed his notes on the table. "We generated over forty million last year, and it'll be double that this year."
"Mmm." Manny mumbled, looking at the pages. "Good. Send the numbers to Morgan, and tell him I want the whole picture doubled. Have this Manderson get in touch with Morgan for what he needs."
"Got it." Rocky scribbled a note and leaned back with his coffee and sipped it.
"Pop, these figures from the car dealerships in Anaheim and Sacramento don't look right. I'm not sure, but these numbers are low." Carlos handed a sheet to Manny and sat down. "Both of them are showing the same increase percentage. That's pretty unlikely."
"Who do we have that can look into it?" Manny asked.
"Reed in San Francisco would be my first choice. His accounts are perfect." Carlos answered.
"Good, do that." Manny dismissed the problem to Carlos. "Well, boys, you've done well. Looks like everything's in good shape." The phone rang, and Manny picked it up. "Yeah? Yeah, hold on." Without looking up he handed the phone to Carlos.
"This is Carlos." He answered, accepting the paperwork back from his dad. "You got who in the garage?" His brows furrowed together, and Rocky immediately sat up. "Send him up." He hung up the phone. "Rock, go meet the elevator. Some kid says he's a friend of El Tigre, and that they got jumped this morning."
Rocky jumped up without a word and trotted out of the office and down the hall. Manny's guards were already waiting at the doors when he ran up, and he didn't have to wait very long. A pleasant bell chimed, and the doors slid open, revealing Ricky from the garage and a skinny dark haired kid.
Rocky recognized him as one of the kids that Tyler had introduced to him a few weeks ago at the warehouse. "Darren, isn't it?" He asked, holding his handout and guiding the kid by the shoulders out of the elevator. "What happened, kid?"
"We was going back to the car this morning to go home so Tyler could meet you here." The kid spoke in a rush, clearly terrified by his surroundings. "An older guy, with white hair, you know, in a pony tail? He stood up behind the car with a gun, man."
"Gray hair and a pony tail." Rocky nodded, leading the boy towards the conference room.
"I was trying to get in front of Tyler, man, and somebody hit me. Like with something metal or some shit." Darren touched the back of his head, which still burned. "I hit the pavement, Rocky. I couldn't help it." He swallowed hard, trying to choke back emotions. "Then whoever hit me kicked Tyler in the head. I went out, man."
They entered the room with Manny and Carlos, and Rocky held up his hand to keep them from asking questions just yet. "What happened next, Darren?" Rocky asked gently, ushering him to a chair.
"When I woke up, the sun was up. I was by myself, and I found this on the ground." A tear slipped down one of the boy's cheeks, and he reached in his pocket and pulled out a blond ponytail. "They cut it off him, man!" Darren sniffed, trying not to get to upset and failing miserably.
Manny listened as Rocky filled him in; speaking in short clipped tones and sentences. It was obvious to both Rivera's that the Rock was enraged but containing it. At one point, Carlos got the kid a soda and called for the doctor to check the head wound, then ordered a room prepared so Darren could sleep.
Mann y stood up and came around the table, patting Rocky's shoulder, then leaning on the table near Darren. "You were damned smart to come here, boy, and very loyal to try and save Tyler." Manny patted his knee. "I want you to go with the doctor here and get some rest, and Carlos and Rocky will tell you what we find out when you wake up, okay?"
Darren nodded and stood up to follow Brian out of the room, stopping in front of Rocky. His brown eyes were bloodshot as he looked up, and his face was pained. "I tried to stop 'em." He said quietly.
Rocky swallowed hard. He reached out and wrapped his arms around the kid. "Ya done good, Darren. I'll find him, okay?" The boy nodded, and Rocky let him go. "Brian, put him in Tyler's room. He's family." Brian nodded, and Darren favored Rocky with a smile, then turned to leave.
"Silver hair and a ponytail. Sounds like that guy that Little Tony had at McAulliffe's house." Carlos sat back and pushed his coffee away. "You okay, Rock?" He could clearly tell that Rocky wasn't.
"Why would they grab him?" Rocky snarled and paced to the windows. "Nobody knows him. He hasn't done anything. Why would Salieri want Tyler?"
"You know," Manny rumbled, stroking his chin, "Salieri lost some men in that fight, and we embarrassed him in front of several families."
"C'mon, Pop. Tyler was a guard, and everyone knew it." Carlos said.
"Yeah, a guard that if anyone was watching got better treatment than most hired guns do. It wouldn't take much to figure out that Tyler is 'inside', yes?" Manny shook his head. "They might think that he's valuable to me."
"He is to me." Rocky mumbled from the window.
Manny sighed. "He's a good kid, Rocky, and he is one of mine. I'm not writing him off." Manny soothed. "He's family, and we'll find him."
Rocky's eyes were red when he turned back to the table, and a hot fire burned in them. "I think that we've been invited to play a little game, Manny, and I'm going to take them up on it."
"What game?" Carlos asked, not liking the look in Rocky's eyes.
"Hide and seek." Rocky headed for the door.
"Hey, where are you going?" Manny stood up and blocked the door, putting a firm hand on Rocky's chest. "You aren't worth a shit until you calm down a little, son, and you know it."
"If they're in Vegas, Manny, then they have him at Little Tony's place up by Laughlin. I gotta go get him." Rocky insisted.
"I didn't say we wouldn't go get him, Rock. I said you need to calm down first, before you get yourself killed. Now sit down." Manny ordered, turning a chair for him. "You think you're to big for me to spank, boy?" He said, not unkindly. Rocky hesitated, then sat in the chair.
Tyler fought his way up out of the darkness, concentrating on getting his eyes to open. A dull throb pierced the side of his head, pulsing with his heartbeat. His eyes fluttered open, revealing his lap. He groaned and lifted his head, immediately wishing he hadn't. Sitting behind a huge wooden desk sat a balding monster with tiny black eyes, his face bunched up with seething anger. Little Tony Salieri.