Vengeance Unchained by Cliff Mansfield & Boyd Craven Jr. & LA Bayles

Author:Cliff Mansfield & Boyd Craven Jr. & LA Bayles [Mansfield, Cliff & Craven, Boyd Jr. & Bayles, LA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Raventhorne Books
Published: 2024-05-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Lies and Deception

The four men stared out the windows at a series of garbage-strewn, vacant lots. There was no clubhouse, or any other house, close to the address JJ had given them.

“Little bastard lied to us,” said Mayorga.

“Ya think, Jesse?” snapped Colton, punching the steering wheel. Tires spun on the wet pavement as he pulled away from the curb.

They rode in silence for a while. First east, then west along 129th, but they had no clue what to look for. There were no houses with billboards over them proclaiming ‘129th Street Eastsiders.’

Rain pounded the streets of Portland. Sheets of water hammered against the metal roof of the van, grating on Colton’s nerves. Even Cletus’s cheerful statement, “But, at least the rain smells pleasant!” evoked surly grunts.

On a hunch, Colton pulled the windowless van to the side of 129th Street, across from another vacant lot. To the north, Saint Mary’s Catholic Church took up half the block—its Gothic design imposing in the dimming light. To the south, Andy’s Used Cars covered the remaining corner of the block in low budget cars to serve Northeast Portland’s thrift-conscious community.

It was unfathomable that a criminal gang like the 129th Street Eastsiders could hide in plain view in the community, and house their criminal enterprise in the midst of so many decent citizens, without drawing attention.

Dale Anderson raised the possibility that the gang was using the church, but the church teemed with groups of devout parishioners several times a day. It would be hard to run a criminal organization amid the comings and goings at the church, so the men quickly dismissed that idea.

“Where to now, Captain?” asked Mayorga.

“We should have grabbed that other gangbanger, Brazil or whatever, when we took the kid,” said Colton. His voice was strained, exhausted.

“You mean Shaquille Barzee,” said Anderson.

“Yeah, the bastard that little asshole JJ was with when we found him,” said Colton. “He was driving a red Camry, right?”

“That’s it!” Cletus smiled. “I got the license plate, Captain. GAU 078.”

Colton slapped the steering wheel. “I could kiss your ugly ass.”

“Get in line.” Cletus winked at Mayorga.

“You could have mentioned that little tidbit of vital information somewhat sooner, ya bucket-head,” grouched Anderson.

“Focus, guys,” warned Colton. “We’ll cruise this street until we find the asshole.”

Cletus held back for a minute, thinking. Then finally he said, “Captain, Sheriff Wallace said if we ever need help we ‘sposed to go to him. Maybe we should see if he means it.”

“What’s Wallace gonna do?” asked Colton.

Cletus shrugged, a big hulking shadow in the rear of the van. “Run the plate and give us an address?”

Colton looked at his huge friend. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Cletus looked hurt. “I haves good ideas sometimes, boss man!”

They all laughed. “Think he will do it?”

“He’s a retired Marine,” said Cletus. “He said he’ll help us. I trust him.”

“Wait,” said Anderson. “What’s his name, Cletus?”

“Sheriff Wallace,” said Cletus.

Anderson gave him a pained look. “His whole name, ya big dummy.”

“Joe Wallace.”

“I knew it!” Anderson said. “Major Joseph Wallace

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