Second Chances

by George Lee Miller

“Not unless you get in my way. I want the Dragon’s money. Where is it?”

  He walked to a closet and opened the door. A metal safe filled the space with a keypad lock. He punched in the numbers and turned the handle. Stacks of bills covered the bottom three shelves. Two trays of jewelry occupied the top shelf. I pulled the empty plastic garbage sack from the trash can and handed it to Leo.

  “Take the money. All of it.”

  He filled the sack with more money than I would see in ten years of investigations. The Dragon was doing a very lucrative business.

  I made Leo carry the sack to his Lexus. The parking lot was still empty when he popped the trunk. He moved a bag of soccer balls and orange cones out of the way and lifted the money into the back.

  “Your kids play soccer?” I asked.

  “Football. My girl plays. I’m the coach.”

  I raised my eyebrow. He didn’t look like the athletic type.

  “Back in the day, I used to play for a club team in Athens,” he said, smiling for the first time.

  I unhooked the key ring from his beltloop. “You drive,” I told him. I opened his door and checked under the seat and the door’s side pocket. I didn’t want Leo to surprise me with a spare pistol. I didn’t come up with anything, except a pink scrunchy and a plastic squirt bottle of lavender-scented hand sanitizer. There was no doubt Leo had a teenage daughter.

  The soft leather bucket seats in the Lexus LX fit like a glove against my back, a far cry from the worn cloth seats in my dated F-150. Leo pressed the start button. The engine buzzed to life, and the seat automatically adjusted to my weight. A female voice with a British accent said, Welcome back, Leo. Where would you like to go?

  Leo looked at me. Car and driver were waiting for my answer.

  “Southcross,” I told him.

  “You’re going to hit all my stores?”

  “That’s the idea. Unless Russell turns over the girl.”

  “It won’t work. The money comes from all over. The Dragon answers to the higher-ups.”

  “Then he’ll want to make a deal before the boss finds out he’s losing money.”

  “He won’t negotiate. That’s not what he does. He can’t afford to.”

  “What would you do, Leo? What would you do if someone took your daughter?”

  He didn’t answer. He twisted the transmission knob to reverse. The rearview camera popped up on the screen. The friendly British woman said, Be careful backing up. Where should I route the GPS?

  Leo spoke to his car. “We go to Southcross Pawn.”

  Thank you, Leo. Routing to Southcross Pawn. Head east on Culebra.

  “Can we turn that off,” I said.

  Leo touched a switch on the padded steering wheel. He clicked the transmission knob to drive and pulled out into morning traffic. A gold Saint Jude medallion dangling from the rearview mirror caught the sunlight. The patron saint of lost causes.

  “I’ll never get used driving without a key and a handle to shift gears,” I said. We stopped at a stoplight, and I watched the morning traffic pile up behind us. “I learned how to drive on a stick shift.”

  “So did I,” Leo said. The light turned green, and he pulled into the left lane to get around a slow-moving city bus. “Americans are spoiled. In Greece, everybody drives a stick.”

  He was still sweating despite the cool air, and he kept tapping his pinky ring on the dashboard while he drove.

  I thought about the Volkswagen I’d rented for a week in Germany. It was after I’d been discharged from the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center following the IED I’d hit in Afghanistan that ended my military career. I needed to get away from men in uniforms recovering from their battle wounds, so I rented a car and drove around in the back country. South of Heidelberg, I searched for the tiny town on the Rhine River that the Fischer family was supposed to have come from. Driving the stick and seeing the road signs in German had made me homesick for Fredericksburg, Texas.

  Forty-five minutes later, Leo pulled into the pawnshop and jewelry store on Southcross Boulevard. There were a few cars in the parking lot, and the doors were open for business.

  “Pull around to the back,” I said.

  “I’m just an accountant,” he said, as if that justified his association with the Dragon.

  “Do everything you normally do, and you won’t get hurt,” I said.

  I followed Leo in through the back door and tucked my pistol behind my belt. This time it opened into the main room behind the glass counter. Two women in their forties turned to greet us. Both eyed me suspiciously.

  “You’re early,” one of the women said. She had on an orange dress that was too tight and sky-blue makeup that didn’t match.

  “My daughter’s soccer game is this afternoon,” Leo told her. I’ve got to be back on the north side by four o’clock.”

  The woman smiled. She was looking at me, waiting for an introduction. I didn’t offer one. Her eyes lingered on the scars on my forehead. All her pawnshop customers probably had scars of some kind.

  Leo led the way to the back office. I didn’t have to ask this time. There was a similar layout—a closet hiding the money safe. I handed him his janitor key ring and a plastic trash bag. He opened the door and the safe, and I watched him strip the money off the shelves. The Dragon and whoever he worked for were doing a very lucrative business. Again, I told Leo to leave the jewels.

  I followed Leo back to the Lexus and opened the trunk. He hoisted the money bag into the back. It was quite a haul.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “You know where,” I said. “Houston Street.”

  “You did your homework.”

  We climbed back in the front seat. Leo hit the start button and flipped the transmission indicator to drive. I could feel the dampness under the Kevlar vest and knew it was a mixture of sweat and blood. Luckily, following Leo the Greek around hadn’t been physically taxing, but I was worried about the final stop. Leo had started to tap his pinky ring on the dashboard again, like he knew something was coming.

  When he made the turn onto Houston Street, I made him keep driving past the pawnshop and pull into the minimart on the corner. I scanned the street and the nearby buildings for anything suspicious. His employees knew the schedule. They knew who was part of the team and who wasn’t. It was their business to know. Their livelihood depended on being aware of who was in charge and who might cause them harm.

  Leo tapped a steady beat with his pinky ring. I watched two women enter the front of the pawnshop. Fifteen minutes later, the same women came out.

  “How many employees work here?” I asked.

  “Only two.”

  “Male or female?”

  “A husband and wife. They’ve been with me for fifteen years. They’re good people. Please, don’t hurt them.”

  “Cooperate and no one gets hurt. Does your daughter really have a soccer game this afternoon?”

  “Yes. Her team plays St. Pious.”

  “What position does she play?”

  “Midfielder. She’s tough like her father. I played the same position when I was younger.”

  “I played football in high school.”

  “Ah, American football is no good. Is not a real sport.”

  “We’re gonna disagree on that point.”

  He laughed. I told him to start the car and pull around to the back door.

  “This girl you’re looking for, is she a relative?” he asked while he was waiting for the light to change so he could cross the street to the pawnshop parking lot.

  I didn’t see any reason to hold back. I told Leo the story of how I’d gotten involved with Maya and her grandfather’s relationship to my own grandpa. I also told him how I’d found Maya in the flophouse and how she’d run away again.

  “I’m no saint,” Leo confessed. “But I’m just the accountant.”

  “You said that once. That’s no excuse. You’re helping keep the Dragon i
n business.”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t have anything to do with his business. I came to this country thirty years ago. My soccer career was over. I injured my left knee. I had an operation, but I would never be the same on the field. So, I left. I put my life savings into my business. I built it up over all this time. I got married and had two beautiful children. I opened two new locations and was living the American dream. Then three years ago, the Dragon came to me and said take this money. At first, I refused, but he threatened my family. He is an animal.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  Leo kept quiet. He pulled the Lexus across the street and around to the back door of the pawnshop. There were two other cars in the lot. Next door, the Jack in the Box restaurant parking lot was overflowing with a lunch crowd. The odor of cooked meat and hot grease made me hungry. I hadn’t eaten anything since Rose’s quiche for breakfast.

  Leo cut the engine and turned to me. He wanted to explain his life. “I didn’t have a choice—” he started to say. I cut him off.

  “We all have a choice.” I didn’t want to hear Leo’s sad tale. “The only victim here is Maya Chavez and the other girls whose lives the Dragon’s ruined.” I held up the Springfield. “Last stop. Let’s go.” I handed him the janitor keys and followed him to the door.

  I scanned the stacks of secondhand goods. There was one older guy in a blue mechanic jumper examining a set of used metric tools. The husband and wife team were behind the counter. The woman looked in her sixties and wore a bright yellow tracksuit. The man was the same age and sitting at a desk sorting papers. He had a gray T-shirt that matched his shoulder-length hair.

  “Everything, all right, Mr. Leo?” the man asked.

  The woman stayed at the end of the counter, studying me. She eyed the bulky Kevlar vest under my shirt. She knew something was up.

  “Everything’s cool, Buddy,” Leo said. “We’re going in the office for a moment.”

  The man turned to me expecting an introduction. I smiled but didn’t say anything. I watched his hands for any sign of nervousness. His wife occupied herself with something in the glass counter.

  The mechanic decided he didn’t want the tools and walked out the front door, triggering an electric bell. I pulled the Springfield and pointed it at Buddy. “Lock the front door.”

  Buddy’s eyes shifted from me to Leo.

  Leo nodded, and the man went to the door.

  I walked behind the counter toward his wife. There was a small TV monitor that showed four surveillance cameras. One pointed at the front door, one at the counter, one at the back door, and one at the back parking lot. They had watched us park and walk inside.

  Buddy locked the front door and walked back to the counter. He stood beside his wife.

  “Both of you go in the back room,” I said.

  Buddy and his wife looked at each other but didn’t move.

  “It’s okay, Buddy. Do what he says,” Leo said to them.

  The husband and wife team reluctantly walked toward the back office. I motioned Leo to follow. We formed a single file. The woman went through the office door first, followed by Buddy. Leo went next. The door opened in.

  Something moved in the shadows. I caught the outline of two men behind the door. I kicked the metal hard, then dropped to my knees.

  Four quick shots exploded in the small space. Four holes appeared in the metal door at chest level. One of the men jumped from behind the door. I fired from my crouching position. The .45 slug caught him in the chest and blew him against the wall. The woman screamed. Three more shots rang out. The last one hit me in the chest. The Kevlar held, but the impact knocked me to the ground, sending shock waves of pain through my chest and down my arms.

  The other man appeared out of the shadows. He wore sunglasses, a black T-shirt, and jeans. His hair was slicked back, and a skull tattoo covered the front of his neck.

  “You fucked up, man,” he said, aiming the pistol at my head. He dropped his guard, thinking I was hit or already dead.

  I rolled quickly to my left and kicked him in the knee. He went down and dropped the pistol. I dove on his chest and grabbed him around the throat. He tried to counterpunch, but I pinned his arms with my knees. The woman was still screaming.

  I was in the doorway on top of the thug. He kicked at my back. The impacts jarred the wound in my chest. His core muscles contracted under my weight. I squeezed his neck, cutting off the blood flow to his brain. A minute ticked by, then another. His kicks got less frequent and weaker. Finally, he stopped moving.

  I grabbed the door handle and pulled myself up. “Get the money.”

  The woman stopped screaming.

  Leo opened the safe. He found a plastic trash bag and filled it with the money. I noticed a stack of computer disks on the top shelf.

  “Take those too,” I said to Leo.

  He hesitated for moment. He was calculating his options. He looked from the contents to my .45, then to the unconscious man on the floor. He took the disks and dropped them into the bag.

  “You stay inside,” I said to Buddy and his wife. “Keep the front door locked until we’re gone. Understand?”

  They both nodded. I followed Leo to the Lexus, opened the door, and watched him toss the heavy bag in the back with the other two. I took the handful of computer disks to the front seat for closer inspection. Leo got in beside me.

  “Where to?”

  “Just drive.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  I directed Leo toward Loop 410, and we hit the on-ramp headed south. I wanted to put some distance between us and the pawnshop. Someone would have heard Buddy’s wife screaming and the gun shots and called the police.

  I needed to get out of the Kevlar. It was hard to breathe. When I moved to unroll the window, a stabbing pain shot through my chest. My bandage and the T-shirt underneath the vest were soaked with blood. I had to stay focused long enough to call Russell, then get rid of Leo.

  “Get off here,” I said, pointing to the South Presa Street exit.

  He drove a few blocks north to the Mission San Juan Capistrano parking lot and stopped under a shade tree. I opened my door. A tour bus had just pulled up, and a couple dozen blue-haired ladies with their husbands in tow were slowly climbing down the steps and ambling toward the large wooden cross stuck in a patch of prickly pear cactus. Beyond that stood the eighteenth-century white limestone church surrounded by the remains of the eighteenth-century stone wall.

  Leo sat behind the wheel, tapping his pinky ring on the center console.

  “Ever take the tour?” I asked.

  It took him a minute to focus on what I was saying. Finally, he said, “No. I went to the Alamo once.”

  “You should tour the missions. Bring your kids. Show them some Texas history.”

  “I’m from Greece. We invented history. The house I grew up in was older than this mission.”

  We watched the senior tour group gather around the cross.

  “How much money do we have?”

  Leo did a quick calculation in his head. “Two million three hundred and thirty thousand.”

  “You’re pretty sure about that?”

  “I’m always sure about money,” he said.

  “Call Russell. He’ll take your call. You’re the accountant.”

  Leo touched a button on the steering wheel. The dashboard lit up. The British female voice spoke: Good afternoon, Leo. How may I help?

  “Call Russell Stevens,” he ordered.

  Calling Russell Stevens, the voice responded. After a series of electronic beeps, the phone rang.

  The Dragon’s raspy voice answered. “What is it?”

  “I’m here with the accountant and a bag of your money, dickhead.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Take a wild guess. The boys you sent were sloppy.”

  “Goddamn you, Nick Fischer.”

  “We can end this tonight.�
� I pointed the Springfield at Leo. “Tell him how much we got.”

  “Two million three hundred and thirty thousand,” Leo recited.

  “You want it back, hand over Maya,” I said.

  “My people will kill you and your whole fucking family.”

  “Too late. I don’t have a family. There’s just me. So let’s make a deal.”

  “I don’t negotiate.”

  “That’s too bad. I’ll have to keep going.”

  “Fuck you! No matter what you do, you’re dead.”

  “I’ll sweeten the pot. You give me Maya, and I’ll give you the money and throw in the stack of computer disks that you left in Leo’s safe.”

  He didn’t speak.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “She made her choice.”

  “She doesn’t know what she wants. She’s eighteen. Let her go.” I waited for Russell to respond. The silence stretched to thirty seconds.

  “You’re dead, asshole.” He disconnected.

  “Charming guy.”

  “No one has ever crossed the Dragon and lived. He is the devil. An evil spirit.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I do not know.”

  I pressed the Springfield against his forehead. “Tell me, Leo. He’s gonna kill you anyway.”

  He didn’t move. “I-I would tell you if I knew. I don’t owe the Dragon anything. He killed my wife. She talked about his money. She mentioned his name. She broke his code of silence, so he killed her. You asked why I didn’t go to the police. I have two children. I do what he asks. My kids are all I have.”

  “What’s on the computer disks?”

  “Men with underage girls. Russell provides the girls and tapes what happens. Then he blackmails the men. There are dozens of men he’s caught on tape. Police, judges, politicians. All perverts who like young girls.”

  “Get out,” I said. “Out of the car.”

  His jaw clenched tight and his double chin shook. “You’re gonna to kill me.”

  “No, Leo. Go home to your kids. Russell’s going to come after you. Get the kids and take a little vacation.” A wave of pain shot from my chest down both arms. I lost my grip on the pistol, and it dropped into my lap.