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Before he could berate himself too much, though, noise downstairs in the bar caught his attention. It didn’t sound like any of the other brothers; Pony could hear voices that he didn’t recognize and he put a hand on the grip of the pistol he had tucked under his jacket, mostly as a precaution, as he moved down the last of the steps and into the bar.
There, he saw a half-dozen men and women in blue windbreakers spreading out through the bar like they owned the place. He’d never seen any of them before, and not a single of the intruders looked like they belonged there. Every one of them were clean-shaven, clothes pressed, and they all reeked of office work.
“What’s going on here?” Pony said, holding up a hand to keep them from advancing further into the clubhouse.
“FBI,” a middle-aged man announced, holding up a piece of folded paper. “I’m Special Agent Harris. We have a warrant to search the premises.”
Pony saw the stenciled FBI in yellow letters on the backs of the blue windbreakers and shook his head in disbelief. Still, he took his hand off his pistol and snatched the folded paper out of Special Agent Harris’s hand.
“Search the premises?” he said while he looked over the warrant. “For what?”
“That’s our business,” Harris said. “Do not try to interfere or you’ll be arrested for obstruction.”
Pony was no lawyer. He had no idea what he was looking at when it came to the warrant, no way to tell if it was legit or not, and no way of knowing what limitations might be on it. But he did know that his home was being invaded, and right now, he was the only thing standing in the way until reinforcements arrived.
“Obstruction?” he said, squaring up to Harris. “I’ll give you an obstruction, you f…”
“What’s going on here?”
The voice came from the entrance to the clubhouse, cutting Pony off before he could get himself into trouble by talking too much shit to the FBI. It was Griz, towering over all of the FBI agents, striding into the clubhouse to stand next to Pony.
“That’s what I asked,” Pony said, handing Griz the paper. “Says he has a warrant.”
“A warrant?” Griz said, looking at the paper like it was a dog turd someone found in the bar.
“That’s what he says. And not to get the way or we’ll be arrested for obstruction.”
“Oh, I’ll give you a fucking obstruction, FBI guy,” Griz said.
To Pony’s surprise, Griz didn’t try to get physical. Instead, he got out his phone, tapped on the screen, and put it to his ear.
“No calls,” Harris said.
“I’ll call whoever the fuck I want,” Griz said. “Especially since it’s my attorney.”
My attorney?Pony thought, then remembered that Griz’s lady had worked as an attorney until recently.
“Becca?” Griz said into his phone. “No, no, I know… babe, listen, please. I’m at the clubhouse. There’s a ton of FBI guys here who say they have a warrant to search… hang on.”
Griz held out the phone towards Harris, and put it on speaker. Almost immediately, Pony could hear Becca start to lay into the FBI guys as only she could.
“I am legal counsel for the club. With whom am I speaking?” she said.
The lead FBI agent bristled, but answered, “I am Special Agent Harris of the FBI. We…”
“Well, Special Agent whoever you are, here’s the deal,” Becca said. “You are not to conduct your search until I arrive. Those men you see there do not have the legal expertise to review your warrant for legitimacy, but I do. I will be there momentarily. If you conduct your search before I arrive, anything you find will be inadmissible in court.”
“That’s not…” Harris said. “That’s not correct, at all.”
Pony kept a poker face on. As he recalled, Becca had been a corporate lawyer, not a criminal attorney, and had been pressed into service as the MC’s legal representation in the past with mixed results.
“Don’t lecture me on correct, Special Agent Haddish.”
“Harris.Special Agent…”
“Whatever. You heard me. I am only a few minutes away, so delay your search until I arrive.”
“I’m not…” Harris began to say, but the phone clicked as Becca hung up on her end.
