Deep White Cover (Deep Cover Book 1) by Joel W. Barrows

Author:Joel W. Barrows [Barrows, Joel W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books
Published: 2019-05-05T11:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 50

8:25 p.m., Friday, July 10th, Bubba’s Big-League Bar & Grill, Victoria, Texas.

It was another Friday night, another ballgame, and another beer at Bubba’s. Ward felt his growing paunch and recalled something about a promised six-mile run. Once again, it would have to wait. These opportunities to bond could not be ignored, and Ward was hopeful that this night might yield something more than the usual barroom banter. Surprisingly, he and Sullivan had been joined by Jim Byrd. Ward wondered at the reason for Byrd’s presence. It was not camaraderie. A fourth man also joined them. Willie Hammond had been introduced as a friend of Byrd’s.

Sullivan tilted his bottle toward Ed Maddox. “Warren was mighty impressed with your work on that website,” he said. The comment was mostly for Byrd’s benefit. Sullivan was eager for the man to accept Ed as one of them.

Ward thought he heard a snort from Byrd. He ignored it. “Thanks, Ben,” he replied. “It was no big deal…really. And there’s still a lot of work to be done with linking in the other groups.”

“That’s what I hear,” Byrd added, gratuitously.

Ward felt a wry smile start to creep onto his face, before he stopped it. The truth was, not only had he helped set up links to a handful of like-minded organizations, he had greatly improved the readability of the site and the means to navigate it. The PR guy, Warren Graves, had been duly impressed, as had Harold Doyle. Wouldn’t they be surprised when, after the arrests started, the government pulled the plug?

“Well, I hear Royce looked ’er over and was real pleased,” Sullivan noted, eyeing Byrd.

Sullivan grabbed a cup from the bar that he’d set aside for the purpose and spat tobacco juice into it. It was a statement as much as anything else.

Ward appreciated the effort. Part of him was fond of the old rancher. It happened with every undercover op. There was always one or two of them that, despite their racist beliefs, despite their terrible crimes, you somehow grew to like. Sullivan was bigoted and pretty damned ignorant. There was little doubt about that. But in other respects, he was good-hearted, the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back. Ward was always puzzled by this moral dichotomy. He wondered what made Sullivan think the way he did. Upbringing, he guessed.

“Well, enough of this,” Byrd said. He gestured up at the television screen. “Damn game’s over,” he said. “It’s the top of the seventh and we’re already down nine to fuckin’ three.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Hell, with it. Let’s get outta here, get some barbecue. I know a place. It’s about eight, ten blocks.”

“Sounds good to me,” Hammond threw in.

“Sure, why not,” Ward said. “Okay with you, Ben?”

Sullivan glanced at Byrd. “I suppose,” he said reluctantly. “I’ve had a few tonight. Guess I could use somethin’ to soak up the alcohol. Don’t need another goddamned DWI. That’s for sure.”

Ward wondered how many drunk-driving convictions the three men had collected between them.

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