Jack County Demons (5 page)

C
hapter 9

LT wandered down the town's strip. He hoped to
learn more about the place. He hoped to gather much needed Intel. And though the streets were vacant, he knew what to look for.

There were few cars out, most of them being parked acr
oss the street at a small pub. That's where the action is, he thought.

He crossed the street, easing his way toward the tavern. As he approa
ched, LT kept careful watch of his surroundings. Something was amiss in this town. He couldn't quite place it. It was just a feeling he had, a sixth sense. And though to others that might sound strange, LT had used this sixth sense many times to save his life. Now was no different.

But the town remained silent except for the passing pickup fil
led with teenagers who whooped and hollered as they tore down Main Street. LT shot them a glare, but the kids moved on without incident. LT then approached the bar. It had a green door, and frosted windows he couldn't see into. He paused at the opening, hearing the music blaring inside. Then, without another moment of pause, LT opened the door and entered.

The inside was dark, and smelled like
beer and peanuts. His type of place. He walked in, nodding to the rather large bouncer who sat next to the door. The bouncer had a rather ugly female on his lap and paid LT little attention. The bar was in the far corner of room. On the right side were booths and tables. Half were occupied, mostly by men. They weren't too rowdy, which was probably a good thing. Most drank and chatted among themselves. A few sang off-key to the Bob Dylan song playing on the jukebox. To the left was a small dance floor. Four couples were dancing, drunk and staggering and having a wonderful time. The music was loud, pounding, chanting as Dylan's hypnotic vocals were repeated by the patrons. Flashing lights pulsed to the beat of the music, a cheap version of lights that added ambience to the pub.

Near the bar, by the dance floor, was a raised platform. It was just
big enough to fit a person or two. Such attractions were commonplace to bars—it led to drunken dancing by drunken women. Sure enough, a lone woman danced on top.

LT stopped to inspect. The woman had a good figure, and after a fe
w moments he realized she must work there. The woman was half-naked, a stripper no doubt. She tossed her long hair back and forth, singing loudly, running her hands up her sides, caressing her breasts. She had a small gaggle of onlookers who hollered their delight, encouraging her to keep up the act. These men were a pitiful sight; no doubt their unattractive, overweight wives at home had little knowledge of what their men were up to. The woman faked interest as a good stripper should. She made eye contact, staring into their eyes; their blank faces offering a smile, or blowing a kiss, as they'd occasionally toss a handful of bills her way. She teased, mostly, exposing a nipple now and again, but never really undressing. LT supposed they didn't have a license to operate a nude bar. Then again, it wasn't as if anyone was checking in these parts. Local code was nonexistent, and enforcement of such things had probably never even heard of the town, let alone the bar LT calmly surveyed the room a little longer. He couldn't help but stare at the woman, though. He'd size up the occupants, and then glance back her way, watching her move, dance, undress.

LT walked slowly past a row of booths on the far right side. There were
a few women, most seated with drunken men, who cast him looks of want, of desire. He didn't want trouble, though, and politely nodded and moved on. He walked closer to the bar, then alongside it, crossing the room to the left, closer to the dancing stripper until he found an empty seat at the end.

"Hey stranger," said a woman. Her tone wasn't friendly and inviting, but not cautious either. LT turned, looking a
t the bartender. She looked to be in her thirties, a short Hispanic woman with big tits and a large ass. She was smoking a cigarette, her big lips caressing it as she inhaled.

"Hey," he replied, making himself comfortable on
the bar stool.

"Want something?" she asked.

"What's your name, darling?"

"What's it matter to you?" she asked.

"Just being friendly," he said.

"Juana. Juana Cortez," she said.

LT wasn't sure if she was lying or not, but it didn't matter. He extended his right hand. The woman paused, wondering if he was up to something. Drunk men tended to do strange things, but Juana soon realized LT wasn't drunk, or a threat. She took his hand, shaking it, and asking again, "Want something or not?"

"Sure."

"What would you like?" she asked, growing annoyed at the game.

"A beer."

"Any kind specifically?"

"Y
ou choose."

Juana nodded, still annoyed. His rugged good lucks didn't charm he
r much. She turned, grabbing a somewhat clean mug, not cold but at least mostly clean, and neared the tap. She paused a moment, then tilted the handle to a Shiner, a Texas dark beer. Topping it off with perfect head, a sign she had done this thousands of times before, Juana turned back, careful not to spill, and set the beer down in front of him. "Wanna pay for it now or start a tab?"

"I'll pay as I go," he replied.

"That'll be two-fifty."

LT reached into his front pocket, producing a
five-dollar bill and slapped it on the bar. "Keep it," he said.

"Big tipper," she said.

"Bartended a bit in my younger days," he replied.

"So, where
you from?"

"Listen mister, big tip won't get you a date. I'm not
looking to chat."

"I see," LT said, then smiled and took a swig of
beer. It tasted good. Juana looked at him again, almost in disgust, and then turned away, walking down the length of the bar to tend to her other customers.

LT spent a few minutes watching the stripper do her thing. Aero
smith was now playing, and the woman sure had moves. She bent in ways he couldn't understand, swinging her hair and singing 'Love in an Elevator' loudly. LT was enjoying it. He took a few more sips, relaxing a bit. He needed this. He had been so tense lately, and this mission was something baffling to him. He couldn't even comprehend exactly what he was doing here, and it was nice to just have a beer and watch a good-looking woman dance.

Oh, the simple things.

"You like what you see?" LT turned in his chair. It was Juana. She had made her way back with a fresh beer.

"I didn't order one."

"You were about to."

"Looking for the big tip
?"

Juana didn't answer. Instead, she just stared,
making it awkward for LT. He reached into his pocket, producing another five. "Keep it," he said again.

She grinned at this. Then, Juana turned her attention to the
stripper. "What do you think?"

"She's cute. Having a good time, it seems."

"Yeah. New girl, I think. Most don't know how to work it. Doesn't matter how big the room, or if it's filled with high rollers or white trash. Besides, all the men are pigs anyways."

"You a lesbo?" he asked.

"Hardly," she said. "But men are interested in only one thing. I get it—you got a cock, I got a cootchie and two dynamite titties. Take me to dinner and then get in my panties, right?"

LT nodded, a bit amused. He'd seen this before. Women bartenders, and
especially strippers, usually hated on men. They saw the most primal instincts of males, and were often turned off by it. He couldn't blame them, though. "You dance?" he asked.

"I work it so good that the King of Spain would drop
his diamonds down my g-string."

"Nice," he said with a grin. Yup, he was entertai
ned. "Why aren't you up there?"

Before she could answer, the song ended, and the woman on the rise stepped down, collecting her cash.

Then, Juana neared the end of the bar, tucking under the entrance, and pulling herself up on the platform. She eyed LT carefully. Moments later, she had torn off her skirt, underneath a pink g-string. She still bore her high-heels. The music cranked up again. This time it was an 80s rock tune. LT couldn't place the band, but he remembered the song. That's how it was with 80s music. So catchy.

Juana began to dance, and
damn she was good. She moved with grace, shaking her hips, allowing her perfect tits to jiggle. The music thundered through the speakers, seeming to give her life and energy. Juana had everyone's attention now. The entire bar, women and men, all watched as she danced on. But she paid no attention to the nearby men, even when they began casting money her way. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on LT. She licked her lips, twisted her hips, and danced for the man as he sipped his beer.

By the time her act was over, the entire room seemed much fuller than before. LT w
asn't sure if this was his perception or not, but the place seemed somewhat crowded. The song finally wound down. Juana did a final toss of her hair, and then bowed to applause. She liked the attention, LT could tell. Then, she stepped down from the rise, collecting dozens of bills that had been tossed on stage. She glanced at the previous dancer, who stood nearby, glaring her way. She was jealous of course. Juana had a way with the crowd, and this pissed the other woman off. Juana stepped down, eyeing the woman and giggling, then made her way into a back room to redress before she went back behind the bar.

"Like what you saw?" Juana asked. She had reappeared, filling a few drinks before nearing LT.

She brought him another beer, placing it in front of him.

"I did. And I didn't order this one, either." He reached into his poc
ket, but she held an open hand out.

"On me," she said.

"Trying to get me drunk?" he asked, flirting.

"I don't need to get you drunk. I can tell you want
me."

"You can
?"

"Unless you're a faggot. You aren't, are you?"

LT laughed aloud. "Nope."

"Good. Cause I tried that once."

"A fag?"

"Ya. Tried converting him. Didn't work. Guess the bastard wante
d the cock more than my cootchie."

"There are some mysteries in life I'll never
understand," LT replied.

"You ain't married, are ya?" she asked.

"Actually, I am."

"You ain't wearing no ring."

"I forgot it at home."

"Ah, I see. Lots of men forget their rings when
they come in here," she said.

"It's not like that," LT said. He nearly began to explain, then stop
ped himself. He could tell the woman didn't care.



The Control Room was far away, in an undisclosed location, three stories underground. The main room was massive, hosting a dozen personal and various control stations with computers. Lights blinked and phones rang. On the walls were huge monitors. The main wall hosted the biggest, a large screen divided into three parts. Currently, only one section was lit up, an overview map of the area the team was presently located.

A large metal door was at the opposite end. Outside it were tw
o guards. Both were armed, and both assured nobody entered the room without the proper identification.

Other rooms and hallways surrounded the Control Room. Various offic
es, a break room with vending machines, even a small kitchen. The Control Center was capable of hosting sixty people for up to thirty days without resupply, and was unknown to even those with the highest clearance.

"Jesus!" the man said, shaking his head in disbelief. Commander J
acobs stood a third of the way back in the Control Room. He loomed over his desk; phone in hand as he looked up to the giant screen on the wall before him. Jacobs was your prototypical military officer. He was in his late forties, handsome yet rugged, and took his job seriously. So seriously, in fact, that he'd been divorced three times because of it. Work was his life goal, and this assignment had all but taken every ounce of his energy and time from him. He was an intelligent man, yet creative, and needed to be in this line of work. He dealt with some of the strangest missions conceivable.

Right now, shaking his head, Commander Jacobs stood in disbelief. Finally
, after a few brief and not so friendly words, he slammed the phone down, continuing to look at the screen. Then, he turned slightly, saying, "Lopez, get us closer to the house."

Twenty feet away, Agent Lopez sat at her desk. She was twenty-s
ix and far too beautiful to be working at a place like this. Her beauty, however, was outshined by her wit, her imagination, and her intelligence. Her dark hair was pulled back. She brushed away a strand that had fallen across her face, and then briefly looked over to the Commander. She didn't say it though she wanted to; she thought he was being too demanding, but then again, he always was.