A nurse came over to tell us Hondo was in his room and we went up.
**
Hondo’s chest was bandaged and there was a drain tube leading out of the gauze to a soft plastic bag attached to the bottom of his bed frame. There was watery pink fluid dripping into it. An IV drip was going in his left arm. He looked sleepy and had dark hollows under his eyes, but he was awake.
I pointed to the drain bag below his bed. “They going to run that back through?”
Hondo said, “One can only hope.”
Hunter moved beside him and brushed the hair from his forehead. “You’ve probably felt better, huh?”
Hondo nodded. I said, “They won’t allow you to have the sword in here.”
He shrugged, “I thought it was worth a try.”
I said, “You feel up to telling us about it?”
He nodded and told us what happened.
**
Hondo parked off-center behind a suburban, thirty yards from the entrance to the Caspian Diamond. He left his driver’s view open to the front door, with the rest of the Mercedes hidden behind the big Chevy. He wore his sunglasses and listened to a CD of Motown’s Greatest Hits, observing those who came and went through the smoked glass door and into the darkness beyond. Each time the door opened music escaped and over the next thirty minutes, Hondo heard clipped refrains from various artists ranging from Eminem to Aerosmith to Adele.
A Lexus pulled into the parking lot behind him and Hondo watched in his rear view mirror as a petite strawberry blond Hispanic woman got out and walked to the door. She wore tight designer jeans, Reeboks and a tucked-in white tee shirt. The small red purse hung at her hip from a thin strap that ran over the shoulder.
She opened the door and Hondo heard Katy Perry singing California Gurls as the woman disappeared into the dark. The song went silent as the door closed. Hondo replaced the Motown CD with the Stones and adjusted the volume down. He thought about calling Ronny, but figured he’d wait.
A thump came from the entrance door. Hondo watched, and several seconds later the door burst open to Katy singing and the small strawberry haired woman running out screaming, her tee shirt half torn off and fluttering behind her. Carl Rakes was several steps behind but caught up fast and yanked her backward by the hair. The woman fell and screamed. Carl wrapped her under one arm and walked back inside. It all happened in less than twenty seconds.
Hondo took off his glasses, put them on the dash and trotted toward the doors. A large bald headed man wearing a black leather jacket came out and held his hand up for Hondo to stop. Someone inside turned up the volume to ear-splitting levels and Axl Rose vibrated the outside air with, Welcome to the Jungle.
The man at the door was good. Hondo pulled his Glock and the man leaped at him, grabbing the pistol with both hands. He hit the magazine release and it dropped from the pistol. Hondo fired the remaining round into the man’s shoulder and the man grunted and kicked the magazine into the parking lot. Hondo dropped the Glock and hit him with a three-punch combination. The man crashed into the wall, then sunk to the ground, head lolling.
Hondo opened the smoked glass door and walked into darkness and the ear-throbbing music. Carl had the woman at the edge of the bar near the office door. Rakes held her hair with one hand and slapped her hard across the face with the other. “Vhere de Veemin? Vhere de shid Veemin?” The woman had her arms up, but Carl’s blows were knocking them away like they were nothing.
Carl saw Hondo and snarled orders at two rough looking men. They came at Hondo with their fists clenched. Hondo kicked the first one hard in the face and he went sprawling across the floor. The second one swung a roundhouse at Hondo’s head and Hondo blocked it, then grabbed the man by his throat and crotch, lifted him and threw him into a cluster of tables and chairs. The man landed hard and didn’t get up.
Carl released the tiny woman, who staggered away, regained her senses and ran by Hondo and out the door. A naked dancer and the rest of the crowed moved as far away as they could get.
Carl moved to his left as Hondo walked toward him. Rakes circled until Hondo was standing at the edge of the bar, his back to the office door. The air throbbed with the music.
Carl yelled to be heard, “Voman is gone. Is over. You go now.”
Hondo said, “Not yet.”
Carl smiled, “You wish for the hurt from me, Dah? I break your shidsnarl face and piss at your throad.”
Hondo was concentrating on Rakes when he felt the smallest push of air from behind him. Door, Hondo thought and started to turn as a lightning bolt hit him in the back and rocketed molten-hot pain completely through his chest.
Hondo went down on his side with a weight riding him to the floor. Simon Mortay was on him, his hand still on the sword cane’s hilt.
Hondo tried to breath and the pain was terrible, like an exposed nerve in a tooth being scraped with a file. He struggled and heard Carl laugh. The weight came off his back and Simon stood up, then put his foot against Hondo’s back and tried to pull out the sword, but it wouldn’t come. Mortay pulled several times, yanking hard enough to drag Hondo’s body several feet.
Carl said, “I pull it,” and took a step toward them.
Hondo pushed with his legs and one arm and got to his feet. He pulled the Black Ops knife from his pocket, opened it with the same move and continued the motion with the blade toward Carl’s throat.
Carl’s eyes widened and he jerked back. The blade left a tiny red line across the front of his adam’s apple. Mortay yelled and jumped away and he and Carl watched Hondo stagger, holding the knife out toward them, ready to do battle.