Clean Cut Kid (A Logan Connor Thriller Book 1) Page 4

  Early on in his career he was called into questioning and interrogated because of his analysis being so close to an actual ongoing program known only to the Pentagon and a few Cabinet-level advisors to the President. Titus seemed unflappable during the questioning. He calmly diagramed his conclusions on a massive whiteboard, explaining his analysis was the only conceivable explanation for the recent increase in North Korean defectors.

  His presentation and demeanor were rewarded with a promotion, transfer, and elevated security clearance. Titus Crow was a player on the world intelligence stage. He was frequently called to Washington for strategy and analysis meetings. It was not uncommon during the gatherings for Titus to have a pleasant but amused smile cross his lips at the acceptance of his opinions at the highest levels.

  He seldom thought of home or his mother. Three years after he enlisted, his mother died in a State Hospital for the mentally ill. There was nothing to go back for. As they say in the Army, home is where you hang your hat.

  In a small travel bag, there was a folder with citations, a Meritorious Service Medal, and private letters of appreciation from his superior officers. There was even a courtesy thank you from the White House.

  What wasn’t in the official Agency record were his frequent in the field assignments, covert operations that were buried deep in the Intel community. These operations were often in conjunction with parallel CIA operations. They were “off the books”, extremely dangerous, and often listed as furlough days.

  Titus was respected, requested, and in some circles feared. He was direct, no-nonsense, and projected a take no prisoners disposition during field operations. When it came to discipline and the training of entry-level personnel, Titus expected and got the highest levels of efficiency.

  Now after ten years of Army service he sits in a slightly over the hill armchair in a small two-bedroom apartment, ready to take on a new life, a new set of goals, and assignment.

  Beyond the door Titus heard the sound of feet coming up the stairs, moments later, the metallic ring of the key going into the lock at the front door announced the arrival of his new roommate.

  “Anybody home?”

  Titus smiled at the hesitant voice. “In here!” he replied.

  Logan Connor entered the small living space. Titus stood and met him at the doorway. “Titus Crow.” He extended his hand in welcome.

  “Logan Connor.” There was an awkward silence as the two men looked at each other. “So, have you picked a room?”

  “No, I just got here an hour ago. I’ve kind of been decompressing in this chair. Long drive from Virginia. Feel free, I have no preference.” Titus looked down at Logan’s two small bags. “Throw those in your room and I’ll buy you a beer. We can get acquainted.”

  “I don’t drink, but I can have a coke,” Logan said sheepishly.

  “Works for me. You hungry? I’m starved.”

  “Me too. If you like burgers, the Varsity Grill is awesome.”

  “They got beer?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Then let’s go!” Titus clapped his hands.

  The Varsity Grill opened in 1924 amongst the flappers and raccoon skin coats of the Varsity Club. A prohibition raid exposed the Varsity Club as a cover for an illegal liquor operation. The ringleaders were jailed and the club was disbanded, membership was forbidden, and the charter for a campus organization revoked.

  Today, the Varsity is a hangout for students and a must-visit for parents and friends. The basics of the grill haven’t changed much since it opened. The focal point is still the front to back counter. The booths are chrome and Formica from an early fifties remodel following a fire. Pictures of winning sports teams and celebrity alumni cover the walls. Black ceiling fans accent the original stark white and black checked tile floors.

  The menu is simple and still relatively inexpensive. The “’24” is a greasy hamburger patty, in white bread grilled in the fat from the patty. Cheese is an option but discouraged for the authentic effect. The only condiment is a thick slathering of mayonnaise. The two-dollar price is a loss leader and a nostalgic favorite at the Variety.

  “This is quite a place.”

  “It is kind of a rite of passage, you’re not really a Chamberlain Bobcat until you eat at the Varsity.” Logan smiled. “This makes you official.”

  The cute redheaded waitress gave a bright smile to the two handsome diners as they stood looking for a seat. “Hi, guys. I have one for you right here. I’m Chrissie. I’ll get you set up.”

  Titus slid into the booth. “I think college life is going to suit me.”

  “There are lots of pretty girls around here that’s for sure.”

  “Have you got one?”

  “No, not really. I have an awesome group of friends we kind of all do things together. Not a lot of pairing off. I’d flunk out for sure if I had a girlfriend distracting me.” Logan laughed. “Sure is fun to flirt though.”

  “So, what’s good?” Titus asked, looking up at Chrissie as she handed him a menu.

  “Dinner and movie always work for me.” Chrissie giggled.

  “Duly noted.” Titus gave Logan a wink. “I’m in need of a burger. And a beer. Fries too.”

  “They come with the burger. Let’s get you the Varsity. Best burger in the state.”

  Chrissie turned to leave the table.

  “Uhh, Chrissie.” Titus said.

  As she turned Titus made the motion of a gun pointing at Logan. He dropped his thumb and gave her a polite but unfeeling smile.

  “I am so sorry! What would you like?”

  “24 and a coke.”

  “Right away, so sorry.” Chrissie scurried toward the kitchen.

  “Yeah, you’re going to do well.” Logan laughed.

  “So, what’s your major, Mr. Connor?”

  “I have no clue. I’ve struggled all summer trying to decide on something but, nothing really excites me, you know? I mean, I get it, 80% of people don’t use their degree in their career, but I still want something that at least matters to me. Something, I will be able to at least enjoy, you know?”

  “No, I get it. I kind of fell into mine. I picked up my general ed stuff at night school and they gave me a bunch of ‘life experience’ credits for time served.”

  Logan’s expression gave away his thoughts. They didn’t tell him he was rooming with an ex-con. He looked around the room, toward the kitchen, and even studied Chrissie’s backside for a moment.

  “What’s up with you?” Titus turned to look at what Logan was staring at. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

  “No, no I’m good.” Logan looked at Titus for a long moment. “So, uh, what were you in for? Or is that a tacky thing to ask? I mean, off-limits or uh…”

  Titus laughed heartily. “Time served!” he laughed again truly enjoying the moment. “I was in the Army. Not jail!”

  Logan exhaled and made a grimacing expression. “I just thought.”

  “That’s all on me. I’m so used to saying it to other people in the military, I just…” He broke into laughter again. “You should have seen your face. You looked like you messed your shorts!”

  “I about did.” Logan chuckled.

  The laughter broke the polite and restrained ice that the two new roommates confronted. They could now get down to becoming friends. Logan, the younger of the partnership, yielded to Titus’ age, experience, and worldliness. Titus looked at Logan as he did all new recruits to his division. He almost intuitively felt a roll of protector.

  A comfortable silence fell over the table for a minute or two as Titus took in the décor of the Varsity.

  “I really appreciate the history here. You know, America seems to throw away anything older than a few years. Tear it down, build a new one. Repaint, remodel, and ruin places that could be something special in the future. In the rest of the world, they cherish tradition, except for those ISIS animals, who know nothing but destruction.” Titus wished he hadn’t made the ISIS remark.

&n
bsp; “Were you in Iraq?” Logan asked.

  “There’s not a whole lot of the world I haven’t seen. I was there for a while.”

  “Is it OK to talk about your time in the army?”

  “You mean do I have PTSD? Will I flip out and start screaming and hearing machine guns in my head?” Titus paused for effect. “No, ask away. I’ll tell you if there is something I can’t talk about.”

  “What was your job?”

  “Mostly intelligence work, a lot of analysis of information. Interesting but not very exciting.” Titus would not volunteer anything. If asked he would answer, but he wasn’t interested in telling war stories.

  “That sounds interesting. A lot of thought time,” Logan replied thoughtfully.

  “That’s a good way to put it. Yeah, a lot of time reading and pondering all the angles.” There was more to this kid than he thought. Titus continued, “It is a team effort of course but the whole point of the analysis is to apply what you know, what you’ve learned and put it through the filter of what does it actually mean.”

  “Cool. So where does the data come from? I mean where do you get the stuff to analyze?”

  “Operatives, people on the ground. They are our eyes and ears. A lot of satellite images, aerial photos, drone stuff. Of course, there are those unfortunate bastards that get captured.”

  “You mean enemy soldiers?”

  “Soldier doesn’t really apply. A goat herder in the hills of Afghanistan can shoot our guys just as dead as a trained uniformed Iranian regular.”

  Logan thought hard before he asked his next question. He was completely intrigued by what he was hearing.

  “How do you get them to talk? The captured guys, I mean.”

  “You beat it out of them,” Titus said as matter of fact as ordering another coke.

  Logan didn’t respond.

  Titus laughed. “Logan, you and I are going to get along great, you fall for all my BS!”

  Before he could respond, Chrissie appeared with their order on a large brown plastic tray. “24, a Varsity, and a coke. Anything else?”

  Titus picked up a bottle of ketchup from the metal rack next to the wall. “This is all I need. And my beer.”

  “I am so sorry.” Chrissie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back. Is yours right?”

  “I’m good,” Logan replied.

  Chrissie started to return the clever line she had been practicing, but a loud squeal came from the back of the room.

  Logan looked down the long restaurant. His expression of concern made Titus turn in the booth to have a look.

  “Stop it!’ A woman’s voice cut through the restaurant. “Leave us alone!”

  Titus slid from the booth and stood facing the voice. From his vantage point, he could see three large men hovering around a booth against the far back wall. He began moving in the sound of male laughter. One of the young men stood and shifted his position a bit. Titus could see the beautiful face of a young woman framed in a hijab.

  As he walked, the sound of laughter grew louder and the woman’s protest grew more frantic. Titus stood at the next booth from the woman and her two friends, one without a scarf, the other two covered. The young woman with her back to the wall looked at Titus. The fear and anger in her eyes made it clear she was not welcoming the attention of the three standing at the end of the booth. A couple of college students slid past Titus leaving their uneaten meal behind.

  “Hi, guys,” Titus said, cheerfully.

  The three turned and faced the voice. “Yeah?”

  “I was just trying to have a nice conversation with my friend down there.” Titus turned and pointed at Logan, now standing at their booth. “And I couldn’t help but hear all the commotion. Is there a problem down here?”

  “Not that concerns you,” A thick buzz cut member of the trio replied.

  The others chuckled and made remarks under their breath.

  “Ladies, are these gentlemen friends of yours?”

  “Certainly not!” There was no longer fear in the woman’s eyes facing Titus. It was replaced with pure hate.

  “Seems to me your attention is unwelcome here.”

  “Seems to me what’s not welcome here are these terrorist bitches. Their people killed my brother,” A member of the group in a Chamberlain t-shirt explained.

  “You know that is a very rude and uncivilized way to refer to a lady.”

  “Lady my…”

  Titus cut him off, “As-salāmu’alaykum. I’m Titus.”

  “Wa-Alaikum-Salaam,” The woman smiled. “I’m Yameena. This is my friend Aaliyah and our new roommate, Sydney.

  “I think it is time for you to leave,” Titus said, turning back to the three annoying visitors.

  “How ’bout you and your harem get out of our diner? We don’t need these rag heads soiling our air and our view. We are Americans here, not A-rabs.”

  “She can stay if she wants.” The third of the group finally spoke indicating Sydney, a pretty blue-eyed blonde.

  “Aaliyah, where were you born?”

  “Portland, Oregon.”

  “Yameena?”

  “Baltimore.”

  “Sydney?”

  “Copenhagen, Denmark.”

  “Well, you fools are going to let the only foreigner stay, and you want to drive two Americans citizens from this place!” Titus laughed aloud. “Alright, time to go.”

  “You really want to start this? We will stomp you into a bloody puddle.”

  “Probably not.”

  Without warning, Buzz Cut threw a punch at Titus. He leaned left; the punch hit nothing but air. An instant later Titus drove the butt of his hand hard just under the Buzz Cut’s nose, knocking out his front teeth and breaking his nose. He crumpled to the floor screaming and crying out in pain.

  From the corner of his eye, Titus saw the one in the Chamberlain t-shirt grabbing for his arm. Spinning to face him head-on, Titus brought his knee hard up into t-shirt’s genitals before he knew he was hit. He took another step toward Titus, receiving a hard fist to the side of his neck. T-shirt spun and violently hurled onto the counter, all the pain of the double assault hitting him at once.

  “You aren’t going to hit me with sucker punches. Ain’t gonna happen.”

  “You need to help your friends. Take them out the back, maybe they can save a bit of their dignity.” Titus didn’t raise his voice.

  “Like hell, I will. You’re a dead man,” shouted the last one standing.

  As if he were a pitcher winding up for a fastball, everything about the man’s body telegraphed the punch he was about to throw. Titus came up on the balls of his feet in anticipation of the attack. As his assailant’s arm stretched full out, Titus went left, slamming his fist just under the man’s armpit. It’s a movement he practiced a thousand times. Instantly, Titus grabbed the extended wrist just inches from his body. A sharp twist opened the man’s hand allowing Titus to grab his thumb and twist the man’s arm hard to the shoulder. The women gasped as the tearing of tendons and the dislocating of cartilage cut through moments of silence before the man screamed in agony.

  “Like I said, time to go.” Titus held the man’s fist above and behind his shoulder as he guided him out the front of the Varsity.

  As he passed the astounded Logan, Titus smiled and gave the man’s arm a violent yank upward. “Be right back.”

  The sirens blared and sounded as if they were inside the small diner. Two patrol cars screeched to a stopped behind the cars parked at the curb. The officers leaped from their cars upon seeing Titus and his prisoner.

  “Hold it right there. Hands up!”

  Titus gave the squirming, groaning man a stiff shove toward the police and raised his hands.

  “You want to explain what’s going on here?”

  “I’m a new student at Chamberlain and my roommate brought me here for a quiet welcome to the school, lunch.”

  “You writing a book? Why’s this guy all curled up
on the sidewalk?”

  “He and two of his buddies were accosting and insulting three girls in the diner. I told them they were disturbing my lunch, and don’t abuse the ladies.”

  “Two others?” The younger of the two officers asked.

  “Yes, sir. They’re inside.”

  “ID?”

  “Yes, sir. May I take my wallet out?”

  “Please.” The older officer said. He looked suspiciously at Titus. “Who’s that?” The policeman pointed behind Titus at the door where Logan now stood.

  “That’s my roommate. He wasn’t involved. Here you are, I think everything is in order.” Titus’ voice was calm, and his demeanor was relaxed and not aggressive. Titus handed the older policeman his wallet.

  “Titus Crow. That’s you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The policeman took a few steps over to his fellow officer. He opened the wallet for him to see.

  “No friggin’ way,” the younger man said looking from the wallet to Titus.

  The older officer moved the few feet to where Titus stood. He spoke softly. In fact, he spoke so softly that Logan wasn’t able to hear any part of it. After a minute or so, the policeman patted Titus on the shoulder, shook hands with him, and nodded and smiled at Logan.

  An ambulance, lights flashing, no siren, pulled up behind a police car.

  “Might be better if they went around to the back, those fellas are laying right by the back door,” Titus said loud enough for the younger cop to hear.

  The older man nodded and said, “Go ahead.”

  Titus and the policeman made their way to the front door of the Varsity. “Is it OK if we eat our lunch?”

  “Fine with me.”

  “Logan, what do you say we finish our lunch?”

  “Uh, yeah, lunch. That would be good.”

  As the officer made his way to the back of the diner, the site of two strapping lads lying on the floor crying and groaning, brought a chuckle to the policeman, “I’ll be damned,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Are you ladies alright?”