Read Online Reckless Endangerment by Robert K. Tanenbaum - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert K. Tanenbaum
Tags: Fiction, General, LEGAL, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Terrorists, Karp; Butch (Fictitious character), Ciampi; Marlene (Fictitious character), Palestinian Arabs, Jews; American
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wished never to have to do so again.
This was, in fact, a prime reason for the training. Four years previously, on leaving the D.A.’s office, Marlene had started a private security agency for the express purpose of protecting women from the deadly attentions of men. Ninety percent of this work was paper shuffling and phone calls—arranging for protective orders, urging the police to enforce same, riding herd on the prosecution of villains, or a kind of social work—encouraging women to get out of violent situations. When this did not work, in perhaps nine percent of her cases, Marlene moved bodies, supplying women and their children with new homes, in apartments if they could afford it, or shelters if they could not, and new identities when required. Marlene was also not averse to engaging in heart-to-heart talks with the men involved, explaining in some detail what would happen to them if they did not lay off. Often this worked.
It was the remaining one percent that caused Marlene the most trouble. This small fraction consisted of men who would not be dissuaded by the law or by Marlene’s threats. Some odd derangement of their brains had conflated love with absolute possession, so that if they could not have access to their chosen one on their terms, they would eventually kill her, any children that happened to be convenient, and, ordinarily, themselves afterward. Marlene preferred that they die before rather than afterward, and since she could not afford to mount a perpetual watch on the women in question (for the proportion, while small, represented in a city the size of New York a considerable number), she had started the gun classes.
Strictly speaking, this was illegal. New York does not approve of its citizens carrying concealed weapons, and Marlene tended to agree. New York makes an exception for retired cops working private, security guards, and storekeepers, but not usually for women in fear of their lives. Marlene’s scam was to “hire” Joan Savitch and her other clients in similar straits as “trainees.” They paid Marlene a fee, and she trained them as bodyguards, each of whose sole client was herself. Thus they could carry guns under Marlene’s ticket, just like Wackenhut’s square-badge legions.
“Let’s forget about the .22 now,” said Marlene to her trainee. “The statistics tell you that most people who get shot get it from a range of seven feet or less. The main thing here is not to turn you into Annie Oakley, but to get you used to firing a serious pistol.”
Savitch pointed at the .22. “This isn’t a serious pistol?”
“No.” Marlene opened an aluminum suitcase lined with foam fingers and brought out a Smith & Wesson Airweight Model 49 and a box of .38 Special IP hollow-points. “This is a serious pistol. A .38, two-inch barrel, weighs a pound and a half loaded, got a shrouded hammer so it doesn’t catch on anything. Load it up and try it.”
Savitch took the thing, grimacing as she felt the solid weight of it, and filled the cylinder. Marlene clipped a new target to the traveler and sent it down-range, but only for about ten feet. Savitch took aim and fired a round and yelped.
“Yeah, it’s a lot louder. You have to get used to it. You’re going to have to shoot a couple of loads with the earmuffs off too.”
The woman shot off the rest of the cylinder, in two-round bursts as she had been taught, nicely chewing up the chest area of the man-shape. Still a crummy pattern, but Marlene was mainly interested in her pupil’s ability to get off large-caliber rounds without flinching. She had the woman reload and fire again.
“How do you like it?” asked Marlene.
“I love it,” Savitch said with an edge in her voice. “Do you have it in beige?”
“Yeah, right,” said Marlene. “This is what we do instead of Tupperware. Want to try some more?”
“No, I think I’m all shot out today.” She placed the pistol—thud—on the shooting stand and turned away from the
This was, in fact, a prime reason for the training. Four years previously, on leaving the D.A.’s office, Marlene had started a private security agency for the express purpose of protecting women from the deadly attentions of men. Ninety percent of this work was paper shuffling and phone calls—arranging for protective orders, urging the police to enforce same, riding herd on the prosecution of villains, or a kind of social work—encouraging women to get out of violent situations. When this did not work, in perhaps nine percent of her cases, Marlene moved bodies, supplying women and their children with new homes, in apartments if they could afford it, or shelters if they could not, and new identities when required. Marlene was also not averse to engaging in heart-to-heart talks with the men involved, explaining in some detail what would happen to them if they did not lay off. Often this worked.
It was the remaining one percent that caused Marlene the most trouble. This small fraction consisted of men who would not be dissuaded by the law or by Marlene’s threats. Some odd derangement of their brains had conflated love with absolute possession, so that if they could not have access to their chosen one on their terms, they would eventually kill her, any children that happened to be convenient, and, ordinarily, themselves afterward. Marlene preferred that they die before rather than afterward, and since she could not afford to mount a perpetual watch on the women in question (for the proportion, while small, represented in a city the size of New York a considerable number), she had started the gun classes.
Strictly speaking, this was illegal. New York does not approve of its citizens carrying concealed weapons, and Marlene tended to agree. New York makes an exception for retired cops working private, security guards, and storekeepers, but not usually for women in fear of their lives. Marlene’s scam was to “hire” Joan Savitch and her other clients in similar straits as “trainees.” They paid Marlene a fee, and she trained them as bodyguards, each of whose sole client was herself. Thus they could carry guns under Marlene’s ticket, just like Wackenhut’s square-badge legions.
“Let’s forget about the .22 now,” said Marlene to her trainee. “The statistics tell you that most people who get shot get it from a range of seven feet or less. The main thing here is not to turn you into Annie Oakley, but to get you used to firing a serious pistol.”
Savitch pointed at the .22. “This isn’t a serious pistol?”
“No.” Marlene opened an aluminum suitcase lined with foam fingers and brought out a Smith & Wesson Airweight Model 49 and a box of .38 Special IP hollow-points. “This is a serious pistol. A .38, two-inch barrel, weighs a pound and a half loaded, got a shrouded hammer so it doesn’t catch on anything. Load it up and try it.”
Savitch took the thing, grimacing as she felt the solid weight of it, and filled the cylinder. Marlene clipped a new target to the traveler and sent it down-range, but only for about ten feet. Savitch took aim and fired a round and yelped.
“Yeah, it’s a lot louder. You have to get used to it. You’re going to have to shoot a couple of loads with the earmuffs off too.”
The woman shot off the rest of the cylinder, in two-round bursts as she had been taught, nicely chewing up the chest area of the man-shape. Still a crummy pattern, but Marlene was mainly interested in her pupil’s ability to get off large-caliber rounds without flinching. She had the woman reload and fire again.
“How do you like it?” asked Marlene.
“I love it,” Savitch said with an edge in her voice. “Do you have it in beige?”
“Yeah, right,” said Marlene. “This is what we do instead of Tupperware. Want to try some more?”
“No, I think I’m all shot out today.” She placed the pistol—thud—on the shooting stand and turned away from the
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