Troubleshooter Read Free

they're in an expansion, muscling in on the Cholos for who's gonna move quantity in and around L.A. Other gangs they've just absorbed, but their hating Mexicans is a big part of the Sinners' appeal to the national membership. The Cholos have a more diversified portfolio of controlled substances, but the Sinners want to take the meth away from them completely--get a monopoly. They've almost got it with operations in Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, West Texas, maybe Oregon. As far as one-percenters go, they rule the seaboard and the Southwest."
    "One-percenters?"
    Tannino stepped in, "The American Motorcycle Association issued a statement after the Hollister incident--you know, Brando?--that ninety-nine percent of bikers are law-abiding citizens. The outlaws embraced the one-percent tag."
    "So it's a badge of sorts."
    "Would you rather be a loser or an outlaw?" Tim asked.
    "Neither. But point taken." The mayor shot a sigh. "What other rackets are they into?"
    "They're strong on handguns, assault weapons, and low-end prostitution. Call girls they leave to the mob, along with gambling and hijacked electronics. They're smart that way--they mind the terrain, dominate their sectors."
    "They're a business," Strauss declared.
    "More like a conglomerate."
    Tannino focused his dark brown eyes on Tim. "What's your gut?"
    "Having looked at no evidence?" Tim asked.
    The marshal waved his hand impatiently.
    "Normally bikers take their medicine and do their time. They don't want to stir trouble for the whole organization, so they go down nice and quiet. A decision like this had to come from above. Something big's in the works for the club to take a risk like this. And Kaner and Laurey are key elements of it."
    "Like what?"
    "That's what we have to figure out. But whatever it is, it requires their chief nomads back in action."
    "Who do you think worked the break?"
    "The other Sinner nomads already top your suspect list. They're the hit men and muscle, the guys with the know-how and the balls to pull off something like this. Guerrera came up in that scene. I'm sure he and Bear are working up the names as we speak."
    "What are the nomads?" Strauss asked.
    "They're a chapter not based at a location. Always on the move. No home turf. When a club member becomes a fugitive, they'll send him to the nomads--it keeps him from the law and insulates the other chapters from investigation. The different chapters help hide the nomads as they move around the country."
    "An Underground Railroad for shitheels," Strauss observed.
    "Right. And in exchange the nomads do the dirty work for the national club, since they're already wanted." Tim turned to Tannino. "One thing should be clear: Guys like this, they rarely come in alive."
    Tannino's weariness showed in his face, the kind of tired that anger wore down to. "Fine by me."
    "They're white guys, right?" Strauss asked. "The Laughing Sinners?"
    "Yes."
    "Good. The press can't play the race card. That'll make it easier to sell the body bags." Strauss observed Tim, his face holding a hint of curiosity. "You do know why you got called in for this case, Deputy Rackley?"
    "I have an idea."
    "That freelance work you did a while back. Infiltrating and dismantling that crew of vigilantes." Though Strauss offered the for-public-consumption version, the gleam in his eyes showed he knew better. "We have a name for you around City Hall." Strauss drew out the pause, his expression an odd hybrid of respect and disdain. "'Troubleshooter.' So this case? As we'd say in the Rangers, it's a free-fire zone."
    Tim met Strauss's eyes. "I'm gonna bring them in alive if I can."
    "And if you can't?"
    Tim studied the mayor, then Frank Palton's twisted badge on the desk. "Then I won't."

    Chapter 4
    The right side of the six-foot-by-four-foot face was a mass of bubbled scar tissue. Were it not for the mug shot thrown from the computer projector onto the far wall, the command post would have been pitch black. Staring out from the nomad's right