Careful Measurements

by Layne D. Hansen

  Mike paced nervously, stamping his feet to keep them warm. There was the occasional snowflake mixed in with the large drops of cold rain. He shivered and checked his watch. The kid was late. Ten minutes now. He thought about what he was about to do. No longer was he weighing it in his mind, whether it was moral or immoral, just or unjust. The killing of a man, in theory is wrong, but is it always wrong? What if good comes from it? Would the assassination of Adolf Hitler or Josef Stalin have been wrong? Wouldn’t millions of human beings lived?

  No, Mike thought, shaking his head, this was the right thing to do. One person was nothing, particularly when that person was causing so much pain to others. If caught, he was willing to sacrifice his own life and livelihood for the betterment of the town and people he’d grown to love. That was magnanimous, he realized, grandiose even.

  Fifteen minutes late now.

  “Damn, where is he?” Mike thought out loud. He looked at his watch again and shivered. He walked to where the alley ran into a cross street then back to get warm. Mike felt for the gun again, this time sliding his hand into the pocket and fingering the metal. It was a .38 special, much like the one his father used to keep in his nightstand. It was small and easy to handle. The kid assured Mike that he knew how to use it. Of course Mike was skeptical—the kid was only eighteen. Mike would do the job himself, but he knew there was no way he could get close enough to Asher. The pistol was only effective from about twenty-five feet and even that was pushing it. The kid needed to get close.

  “You have to hit him with the first shot, Jimmy” Mike had told him emphatically. “If you don’t, you won’t have the chance to make the kill shot. His security guards will surround him and probably shoot you down before you can get away.”

  “Okay Mike, I’ve got it,” Jimmy responded impatiently.

  The kid’s tone rankled Mike and he wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Instead, he put his hand on the kid’s shoulder and spoke to him seriously.

  “Look kid, we’re not playing games here. This isn’t the range your daddy took you to alright?” Mike said emphatically.

  That first meeting was almost a week ago. Between then and now, Mike mentally battled himself. The pros, the cons, the morality. Having finally convinced himself that it was indeed the right move, Mike called for another meeting.

  Mike reached the sidewalk and turned. When he did, he saw a solitary, hooded figure standing in the rain. He reached the spot and motioned for the kid to follow him. He led him further down the alley then ducked between two buildings. Typical Hollywood stuff, Mike thought, but again, it must be the best way to do this type of thing. Mike stopped at a door and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. Mike took one last look around to see if anyone was watching them and then walked through the door after the kid.

  They had just entered Maddie’s Diner, Jimmy realized. It was a typical diner with booths along the wall opposite the long counter.

  “You’re late,” Mike said, brushing the rain from his hair.

  The kid pulled his hood off and starting brushing the rain off of his jacket and pants. “Sorry Mike. I had to walk. My Mom wouldn’t let me take either of the cars.”

  Jimmy looked sincere so Mike let it go. Still, he needed to make a point. He put his finger in the kid’s face and said, “That’s fine, but from now on, you make our meetings. I don’t pick times and places for no reason.”

  The kid nodded. He wasn’t necessarily frightened by Mike, but he didn’t want to argue, especially since he was in the wrong.

  “Okay Mike,” Jimmy said humbly. His quiet tone disarmed Mike and the issue was settled.

  Mike looked at him again and then nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the revolver. The steel of it was cold in his hands. He held it by the barrel and handed it to the kid, butt first. Jimmy hefted it and turned it back and forth, inspecting it. What struck Mike was that the kid looked like an adult handling the weapon instead of a kid playing with a toy. Jimmy looked comfortable with the pistol in his hands and that relieved Mike. The kid hit the release lever and flipped the revolver open, inspecting the six bullets. He dumped the bullets out in his hand and flicked the cylinder back into place, cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger to make sure it functioned correctly.

  “Nice, Mike,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Nice balance. Nice weight.”

  Jimmy opened it again and reloaded the pistol. He slipped it into his jacket pocket and looked at Mike for guidance on what to do or say next. Mike led him to a booth and sat down.

  “Where you gonna do it?” Mike asked.

  Jimmy shrugged. The gesture reminded Mike that he was indeed a kid.

  “Depends. You just wanna punch his ticket or do you wanna send a message?” the kid said with an aloof air that didn’t match his words. He was only eighteen, but his mother assured Mike that her son was up to the job.

  Despite her efforts to corral Jimmy, he joined an Irish gang in South Boston when he was only thirteen. By the time he turned fifteen, she figured it was too late to get him to straighten out. Mike knew Jimmy through his mother, who he’d gone out with a few times. She joined the experiment to get Jimmy away from the gang—the staying out all night, the fights, the drugs and the drinking. Jimmy was lucky to be alive, but since coming to Blue Creek, he’d been bored. He was used to living in a big city where there was always something to do.

  “I don’t care about a message. I just want him gone,” Mike said curtly.

  Jimmy nodded and then pulled out a small notebook. He opened it and said “In that case, it’s gonna be best to hit him either at his house or his ho’s apartment.”

  Mike looked at him, eyebrows raised.

  “His ho?” Jimmy repeated. “His lady. His skank. Nigga shacks up with her all the time,” he said, grinning.

  “Okay,” Mike said, relenting, glad that the kid had been doing his homework. “When he stays there does he have any of his security with him?”

  Jimmy shook his head. The governor was careful about his security, but he wasn’t smart after hours. To Asher, any threat ended the minute he left City Hall.

  “No, man. It’s gonna be easy pickins,” Jimmy said, grinning broadly. “This guy thinks he’s bulletproof or has no idea someone’s green lighting his ass.”

  Mike’s eyebrows raised again. Jimmy sighed and rolled his eyes.

  “Green light. Have it out? Put out a hit?”

  Mike nodded, and put his palms up. “Alright, I got it. I just don’t understand all your slang, kid.”

  “That’s aight. Look, if you want me to hit this guy, I’ll hit him. No problem. The thing is, what am I gonna do after? Act like nothing happened and come work for you in one of your dinky little factories?”

  Mike thought about that for a minute then asked, “What do you wanna do, kid?” He felt foolish for never having considered that.

  “I wanna go home,” Jimmy said simply. “This place sucks. I wanna go home to Boston.”

  Mike nodded. That could easily be arranged. The kid was not under the contractual obligations of his mother. He could leave anytime he wanted. It would just take the money to get him on a flight or on a train.

  “Okay. Once it’s done you’re going to get out of town. I’ll arrange it all. You let me know the day before you’re going to do the hit and I’ll fill you in on all the arrangements.”

  Jimmy nodded then held out his fist. Mike didn’t know what to do. Jimmy made a short jabbing motion with his fist, telling Mike he wanted knuckles. Mike made a fist and bumped the kid’s knuckles.

  “Straight!” Jimmy said, laughing.

  Mike just rolled his eyes and smiled.

  It was Anna who was asleep now. Asher wanted to touch her before leaving but didn’t want to wake her. He stood there for a moment, gazing down at her. She was so beautiful, he thought. She looked like a little girl when she was s
leeping. It was just after midnight and he had a long day of meetings ahead of him. He didn’t want to leave sleeping beauty but he never got enough deep sleep when he was in her bed for some reason.

  He finished dressing and slinked out of the bedroom, hoping his movement wouldn’t wake her. Rooting around for his coat, he looked outside and saw that it was drizzling. ‘Damn,’ he thought. He hated the rain and this time of year, early April, seemed to bring lots of it. He pulled up his collar, grabbed his keys, and made his way out of Anna’s apartment and to the street where his car was parked.

  It had started to rain that cold, drizzly rain around ten, but Jimmy was glad for it. The older guys in his gang told him to use the elements because the sounds of rain and wind cloaks everything and keeps people indoors. Jimmy pulled his hood over his head and found a dark spot across the street from Asher’s car. The plan was to ambush him as he was unlocking his car—something that took time and concentration.

  Mike told him to take him down with two shots, but Jimmy thought it would be better to empty all six bullets into Asher’s body. That would ensure a kill and then he could get out of this lame-ass place. He’d miss his Mom, but to a kid who was used to running around one of America’s largest cities with enough money to do pretty much anything he wanted, Blue Creek was a prison.

  The tempo of the rain increased, forcing Jimmy to hunker down. He felt like lion in one of those National Geographic movies, just waiting for his prey. He smiled at that thought. He mindlessly fingered the pistol that was in the pouch of his hoodie and hunched down further. It could be a long night.

  “You sonofabitch!” she screamed into the phone and then ended the call. She was tempted to roll down the window and throw the phone out. It would be symbolic of her ridding herself of her sonofabitch husband. That would be great, she thought. Too bad the bastard wasn’t with her right now. She heard her baby’s cries from the backseat and groaned. Why couldn’t she catch a break? Why couldn’t she have married a responsible man who would help her raise their child?

  The sole purpose of this drive was to get the baby to sleep, but once the baby finally fell asleep, her asshole husband had to call and piss her off and make her yell and now the baby was awake again. The phone was ringing again but she ignored it. The baby was crying louder now. Hungry? Tired? ‘It was always something!’ she thought.

  Why couldn’t she go out and get drunk on a Monday night and hang out with her friends? Oh yeah, because she was responsible. She had to work and she had the baby to take care of and daycare and the cleaning and the cooking and the laundry. And, oh yeah, she had no friends because her asshole husband didn’t want to let her out of the house unless it was to do something for his lazy ass.

  The phone rang again but she hit the ignore button. She didn’t want to listen to his slurred speech and the rock music in the background. If it weren’t for the money thing she would have been gone a long time ago.

  “Bastard! Dragging me out to this lame-ass place with no friends and nothing to do but take care of you!” she mumbled to herself, forgetting that it had been her idea to fill out their information on the experiment’s website without telling him and then forging his signature on the paperwork without his even knowing it.

  Now, he reminded her time and time again, if she was so unhappy she could go out and earn the money to buy their way out of this place and she could go home to her precious mother. The phone rang again and this time she almost did throw it out. Instead, she let it ring and ring and ring.

  The crisp air and rain wakened Asher’s senses but he knew he would be exhausted when he got home. He needed to get some sleep. ‘Damn meetings,’ he thought. He reveled in the power and influence he held over others, even though none of the proposals he made were actually his. He was just the public face, he remembered bitterly. That was going to change soon, though.

  He rooted around his pocket for his keys. When he pulled them out he heard something plastic click on the ground, probably his debit card.

  “Damn.” he said, bending down to pick it up.

  Jimmy was frozen and soaked with rain. He’d almost bailed on this stakeout and gone home to warm up, but he didn’t want to put it off for yet another night. He wanted to get this over with. He needed to get it over with. Boston was beckoning him home and hitting Asher was his ticket. Just when he was about to leave he saw Asher exit the apartment and walk towards the street. He could see Asher rooting around in his pocket. Probably looking for his keys. When Asher walked around the car, his back was turned to Jimmy. Jimmy made his move and started to cross the street, slowly at first. He reached into the pouch of his hoodie and pulled out the revolver. Moving faster now, Jimmy concealed the gun behind his right hip.

  Halfway across the street, Jimmy raised the gun and fired a shot. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Asher bent over to pick something up, causing the shot to miss high. He missed but his target was still there, not moving. Jimmy was focused now. He wouldn’t miss again. He was so focused, in fact, he didn’t hear or see the SUV bearing down on him.

  Although the rain had muffled the gunshot somewhat, Asher still recognized the pistol’s loud report and the snap of the bullet flying overhead. Asher turned to see someone walking towards him with a pistol raised towards him. The best thing for him to do would have been to close the distance and push or punch or do something to disarm the gunman. Instead he ran away, giving the attacker a chance to fire another shot.

  Fortunately for Asher, though, the second shot never came. However, another type of roaring sound ripped through the night air.

  She finally answered on the bajillionth time her sonofabitch husband called.

  “What!” she screamed.

  Her husband was so drunk now she couldn’t understand anything he was saying.

  “Hey asshole! I don’t want to talk to you! Quit calling me!” she yelled and hit the end button. Before she could set the phone down it rang again. She looked at the screen to verify that it was him, but she already knew it was. Who else would call her? She angrily punched the ignore button and set the phone down on the passenger seat. She was mad and her windshield was covered with rain and her baby was crying so loudly that she barely noticed the loud thud.

  Asher estimated that the body flew at least twenty feet in the air before landing on top of another parked car. The kid, who’d tried to kill him, crashed through the back window. Not knowing what else to do, the governor retreated to Anna’s apartment. He found her standing on her front stoop, a blanket draped around her shoulders.

  “What the hell just happened?” she asked, her face wrenched with shock.

  “Some bastard just tried to shoot me!”

  “What?”

  Asher grabbed Anna by the shoulders and led her inside. He called his security detail and told them where to pick him up. He should probably go to the hospital, but he was the governor. The doctor could come and see him at his house.

  Now that they were in the light, she saw that his face was bruised and had road rash. His hair was matted down with rain. Altogether, he looked like Mike Tyson had punched him.

  “What happened to your face?” she asked, concerned. She gently reached her hand towards his face. He grabbed her wrist and moved away from her.

  “What?” he asked, distracted. He looked at himself in the hallway mirror. “Oh,” he said, “I must’ve hit my head when I jumped out of the way.”

  “You should go to the hospital,” she said, still quite concerned about him.

  “No. Look, I’m fine. My security detail is going to be here any minute. I’ll get checked later. I’ve got to get out of here. Who knows if someone else is after me too.”

  Anna looked at him with wide eyes. She hadn’t considered this. Less than five minutes later a large, black Suburban pulled into her driveway. Two security agents exited the vehicle and came to the door. They surrounded Asher and escorte
d him to the SUV. He looked back at Anna, who was now standing outside her door. He waved at her and then ducked into the Suburban.

  News of the attempted assassination of Governor Asher spread quickly. During the attack he took a header and bruised his face. He went to the hospital as a precaution. Anna called the media and made sure they were aware of the incident. Pictures of the governor’s face were quickly plastered all over the internet. A freelance photographer got pictures of Asher’s car with bullet holes in it. The local media was having a heyday and many bloggers tried to connect the story to something bigger. One reporter insinuated that Mike Wilson had possibly been involved. Luckily for Mike, the story went nowhere.

  Jimmy, the perpetrator, suffered a broken hip, three broken ribs, a cracked vertebrae, a fractured skull, and a separated shoulder. Nearly his entire body was black and blue. He was life-flighted to a hospital in nearby Ogden, Utah, where he would be treated for his injuries. Once recovered enough, he would return to Blue Creek to face justice. During a visit to the hospital, Mike promised Jimmy that he wouldn’t spend a single day in jail for what happened. Jimmy couldn’t speak, but Mike could tell that Jimmy believed him.

  CHAPTER

  18

  As time passed, the story of the assassination attempt began to fade from the public consciousness. Instead, the citizens of Blue Creek began to remember the misery they were feeling. Unemployment was still high and the economy continued its downward spiral. No amount of sympathetic press coverage for Governor Asher could wipe those facts away. Yet, while economic conditions in Blue Creek continued to worsen, the trio of Charlie Henry, Anna and Asher pushed ahead with their agenda. The new set of economic policies was about to be introduced. To give them a better chance to pass, they would be voted on as a package instead of individually.