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Saturday, March 22, 2014

Excerpt From "The Standard"!!!

            “Say, Miss, I’ve a bit of a problem and could use a lift,” the dark-haired, ruggedly handsome man stuck his head in the passenger window.                                                                              

“Sorry, dude, out of gas,” she replied curtly.                                                                                            

“Well, I’ll tell ye, I’ve got no trouble payin’,” he replied, opening his suit jacket to show his Glock in his waistband while pulling a soggy $100 from his pocket.                                                  

“You don’t have to do that,” she grimaced.                                                                                         

“Well, if I told ye I was havin’ t’drive, I might,” he replied. “Go on and scoot over, I’ll get us filled up. Don’t do anything silly, I’m pretty much out of sorts right now and might do something desperate.”                                                                                                                                     

“Are you carjacking me?”                                                                                                                

“Kinda hirin’ ye at this point,” he replied. “I’ve got a couple more big bills on me and lots more waitin’ where I’m going. Judgin’ from the look of this vehicle, I’m pretty sure you can use the money.”                                                                                                                                               

“Hey, if you don’t like it, you can go carjack somebody else,” she shot back.                            

“Y’know, that may not be the worst idea,” he mused. “Look, gimme the key and I’ll fill her up. Ye’d best move over and not get any funny ideas. G’wan and take the $100 for now, I’ll give ye some more later.”                                                                                                                                

“Are you a drug dealer?” she wondered as she stuffed the bill down the front of her T-shirt into her large-cupped bra.                                                                                                                        

“Nay, but I’ve put a couple out of business as of late,” he replied, fishing his credit card out of his wallet before going around to the driver’s side. He gunned the engine and drove the VW over to the gas pump before switching it back off to fill the tank up. She watched moodily as he got back into the car, heading back towards the highway.                                                                                  

“So are you a cop?”                                                                                                                            

“Not in the strictest sense of the word,” he cruised onto the access road towards the highway entrance. “What do you do? How d’you put gas in the tank?”                                                         

“I’m unemployed right now, I get my checks,” she replied. He glanced over and saw she was an attractive woman in her twenties. She wore her hair in a spiked shoulder-length punk style, though her thick Goth makeup and nose piercing were not to his liking. Her hourglass figure and generous bosom, however, were more than sufficient compensation.                                     

“I’m Jack, by the way,” he cruised onto the highway and could see emergency vehicles all over the road in the distance where he just sent Jimmy Burke and the O’Connor brothers to the briny deep. That meant that neither MI6 nor the CIA had any way of knowing their plans to dispose of Jack Gawain had gone astray.                                                                                                             

“I’m Darcy,” she replied. “So where we headed?”                                                                           

“Over the bridge to the ferry. I need to pick up some money, then I’ll have to get us out to the airport. I might need to rent a room in the meantime to get my bearings. If I get as much as I’m expecting at Port Bolivar, I’ll probably be able t’give ye enough t’get this piece of shite tuned up.”                                                                                                                                                       

“Hey, fuck you. I didn’t see you cruising up in a limousine, dude.”                                                   

“Y’got some mouth on ye, missy,” he smirked.                                                                                 

“Glad you like it. Where you from anyway, Germany?”                                                                    

“Now that’ll get ye a bullet in yer arse,” he chuckled. “I’m from Norn Iron.”                                    


“Nor-thern Ire-land, ye silly twit.”                                                                                                       

“Don’t blame me, you sound like you just got off a boat.”                                                                

They slowed to a crawl as the police diverted traffic to the right lane, emergency vehicles filling the area where he ran the Explorer off into the bay. He could see patrol boats down below, indicating they had not made much progress in getting the SUV out of the water. He smiled and waved at a lady cop as she waved him through the bottleneck.                                                                   

“Wonder what happened?” Darcy peered out the rear window.                                                         

“Ah, some silly bastards making rude remarks about the Protestants in Belfast.”                        

“Yeah, how do you know?”                                                                                                                

“Well, I just put ‘em in there, don’t y’know.”                                                                          


“Feel me pants leg, if ye like. I got soaked to the gills.”                                                                      

“So you walked to the gas station, then carjacked me…holy shit,” Darcy realized. “That’s why you’re carrying a gun and your money’s soaking wet.”

“Y’know, yer pretty bright. Y’oughtta think of goin’ back t’school while your dole holds up,” he said airily.                                                                                                                                            

“And maybe you should go back and take some English lessons, you son of a bitch.”                  

“Language, child,” he chided as they continued down the highway. At length they came in sight of the ferry to Port Bolivar. Gawain’s luck continued to hold out as they arrived right on time to pull onto the boat before it left the dock.                                                                                            

“So how come you didn’t stick around for the cops?”                                                                        

“To tell the truth, the bastards were plannin’ t’do me in, but it didn’t go well for them.”                    

“Dude, this is some deep shit,” she shook her head. “You’re not going to kill me so I don’t talk, are you?”                                                                                                                                              

“And y’think they’d believe ye for one minute, with that shit stickin’ outta yer nose and all?”                                                                                                                                                                    

“Fuck you,” she snapped.      

The ferry let them off at Port Bolivar, and they drove to the nearest gas station to ask directions to the Port Bolivar RV Park. The Winnebago was parked in the rear just as they had been instructed by Six at the MI6 phone number. Gawain left Darcy in the VW as he accessed the truck, using the combination he had been given to unlock the door. Darcy felt a thrill rush through her body, feeling as if she had woke up in the middle of a Mission Impossible movie.                  

At length he returned to the Beetle and got back in, gunning the engine and heading back towards the ferry.                                                                                                                                        

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he explained. “We’re going to take a room on Galveston Beach while I get things sorted out. I need to get on the Internet and make some calls. I may need you to ride me around for a bit longer, but I assure you I’ll make it well worth your while.”                                 

“Hey, if you have another one of those soggy hundreds to spare, it’s all good by me.” 

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