Perfect Justice

7.

GARTH DELIVERED ANOTHER BLOW to the same soft spot in Ben’s stomach. Both boys grinned. They slapped each other’s palms in a high five.

Ben fell to the sidewalk, pressing his hand against his abdomen. “Why don’t we stay calm and talk—”

His entreaty was interrupted by a swift kick to his chest. Ben doubled over, then fell on all fours to the pavement. This one was going to be harder to shrug off.

He tried to catch his breath. “Look—let’s just—”

Garth wasn’t listening. He slid a pair of brass knuckles over his fingers, then cocked his arm back to deliver another blow.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Garth froze.

“Is this Kincaid?”

Ben wheeled around and saw three men standing behind him. They were large men, broad-chested, well muscled. All three were dressed in identical outfits—blue jeans and camouflage green shirts with the emblem of a burning cross over the heart. ASP leisure wear.

“I’m Kincaid.” Ben tried to straighten, but his stomach muscles protested mightily.

“I’m Sonny Banner. You’re representing Donny?”

Ben nodded.

“That figures.” Banner stepped between Ben and the two locals. “Trying to beat up a duly appointed lawyer. Typical gook-lover trick.”

“Go back to your camp and shoot some more scarecrows,” Garth sneered. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. You and everyone else in this jerkwater town got all the lawyers too scared to represent Donny. Then, when we dig up an out-of-towner, you try to run him off.”

“We just don’t like outsiders.”

“Oh, yeah? I don’t see you beating up on those Vietcong-loving lawyers down the street.” He nodded toward an office at the next corner.

“You don’t scare me,” Garth said. “I got friends. Lots of ’em.

“We know all about you,” Banner replied, hovering over Garth. “We know where you and your scrawny pals meet. We know how many of you there are. We know you’re all enemies of God and the Aryan race.”

“You’re crazy,” Garth scoffed. “Fuckin’ lunatic.”

“And we know that you’re out to make sure Donny doesn’t get a fair shake.”

“Bullshit. We just want to make sure hateful bastards like you don’t kill off everyone in town!”

Banner’s neck muscles tightened. His fingers curled into a fist.

“Major!” one of his friends barked.

“Yes, soldier?”

“In private, sir.” The man whispered, but not so low that Ben couldn’t hear what he was saying. “Sir, we’re attracting attention from the locals. The Grand Dragon specifically said—”

“I don’t need you to remind me of my orders, soldier.” Banner squared his shoulders and looked down at Garth. “You—will—leave,” he spat. “And you will leave Mr. Kincaid alone.”

“Oh, will I?”

Banner’s two soldiers closed on either side. “Yes,” he said. “You will.”

The two boys exchanged a glance. They were outnumbered and outmuscled. “We’ll leave,” Garth said finally. “But this is just a postponement. To be continued.” The two boys strode back to their pickup and drove away.

After they left, Banner helped Ben to his feet. “I’m sorry that had to happen.”

“Not your fault. Appreciate the assist. Lucky you happened by.”

“It wasn’t luck. We’ve been assigned to protect you.”

“Assigned?”

“By Grand Dragon Dunagan. He knew they’d try something like this. And if not them, someone else. Unfortunately, Mr. Kincaid, you made many enemies when you took Donny’s case.

So he was learning. “Well, anyway, thanks. See you later.”

“Oh, no,” Banner explained. “I don’t think you understand. We’re supposed to stick to you like glue. We’re your bodyguards.”

“My—” Ben tried not to react visibly. “Look, I’m grateful, but I need to conduct some interviews this morning. I don’t think anyone’s going to talk to me if I’m surrounded by three huge ASP men.”

“Oh, you might be surprised,” Banner said, pounding a fist into his palm. “We can be very persuasive.”

“That kind of persuasion I don’t need. Uh—because it could get my evidence tossed out by the judge,” he added quickly. “Look, why don’t you gentlemen relax in that bar across the street. The Bluebell. Stretch out, have a drink or two. If I need help, I’ll know where to find you.”

“Well …” Ben could almost see the gears turning in Banner’s brain. “I suppose that would be all right. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

“I’m sure. And hey, thanks again.”

Ben watched as his bodyguards crossed the street. Good God, he told himself. I voted for Clinton. I’m a member of the ACLU. And now I have bodyguards assigned by the Anglo-Saxon Patrol.

It was then that the full irony of his situation hit Ben like a thunderbolt. As a result of this case, his entire world had turned topsy-turvy. The people he found reprehensible were his friends. The people he sympathized with were his enemies. Correction: they were the opposition.

He was the enemy.