The Hitman: Dirty Rotters

by Sean McKenzie

  “Anna is missing.”

  Night’s shadows could not hide Palo’s stunning features. Her eyes were flush with worry. Apparently it was out of character for Anna not to be at home this late. Which meant one thing really. Neither of us said it aloud.

  I had found Palo easily enough. The white Phantom was literally the one other vehicle I saw with its lights on, parked on the side of the street at a stop sign at 2:30 a.m. It might as well have had a giant neon sign flashing I’m right here! I’m right here! I’m right here!

  Palo got out as I pulled in behind them, and she rushed to the passenger side door. I reached over and unlocked it, just as her slender hands were reaching for the door handle. She threw the door open in a rush and got in. She told me immediately.

  “Please, help me find her.” Palo finished.

  I stared at her for a moment. Stunned, really. She looked fabulous. Her hair was teased and loose, her lipstick was a soft shade of pink, to match her nail polish I guessed, and she was dressed in all black: jeans that were just tight enough, a matching blouse, long sleeve with slight ruffles at the cuffs, a short black leather jacket, and black flats, no socks.

  “Andrik asked me where she was after lunch,” I said, suddenly remembering. “Was she missing all day?”

  “No. I had talked to her after dinner. She called me and said that a strange man came by the office looking for her, but she was out. When she returned, he was gone.”

  “Get a name?”

  “No.” Palo shrugged. “We see a lot of people all of the time. We have business all over the world.”

  We sat in silence for a moment.

  “She’s not answering her phone. She’s not at home.” I was stating what I thought were the obvious points. She confirmed with a head nod.

  “Maybe she’s out with a friend?”

  A samurai, perhaps.

  Palo shook her head doubtfully.

  “Maybe she just wanted some privacy.”

  “No. She was worried. She would not want to be alone.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.” I realized that I sounded just like the cops I talked to the day Pamela went missing. All sorts of calm questions, while the truth burned inside me with a fury. Palo knew Anna like I knew Pamela. “Okay, Palo. Where do we start?”

  “I want to check out a few places. I want you with me.” Palo took a folded up piece of white paper out of her front pocket and handed it to me. I looked at it. It had an address. I had heard of the street before; it was on the other side of the city.

  “I can find this.”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  We both turned for our doors, me reaching for the door handle to exit, thinking that we would be taking a ride in the luxurious Phantom, and Palo reaching for her seatbelt, concluding that I was driving. I caught on before I opened the door and embarrassed myself. I turned the key and the engine came alive. I turned the lights on. I had plenty of gas for a late night ride.

  “I am sorry,” Palo said. “I had no other option.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m glad you called. I was just up doing nothing.”

  She stared ahead to the Phantom and said, “Is not my driver tonight. I do not know him. I told him stay here. You must drive, Hitman.”

  “Okay.”

  “Anna is very smart girl. Out of town she has a private room. A hideout if needed.” She motioned to the paper she gave me.

  “Anyone else know about it?”

  “No. Only me.”

  “It’s a good start.” I was ready to leave. “Ready?”

  “Yes. But first make a left. After three blocks, make a right.”

  I put the car in drive and moved around the stationary white vehicle to the stop sign. I turned left. We were on the north side of the Red Square and none of this neighborhood was that familiar. Street posts shined lights at every stop sign. Each block looked the same as the previous. Nice houses. Not rich, but definitely not poor. Lawns and houses were well maintained. Bushes trimmed neatly. Fences painted. Nice cars parked with small red lights visible on the dash. Unnecessary alarms. Money well spent. Little B would tell me that they take care of their own.

  At the third block Palo told me to turn right. I had already turned my blinker on. She seemed preoccupied. Her hands rubbed against each other as if they were either really cold or she was applying lotion that I couldn’t smell. But she was quiet.

  “How far?” I said as I turned and drove the 25mph speed limit.

  “Four blocks.”

  She said it as if it didn’t matter. As if three would have been fine, but four might just be better. She looked worried. I didn’t press her. I did as told. I kept my eyes wandering. Same houses as all the other blocks. Same makes and models. Same colors even. Same cars. Same everything.

  Boring.

  As we reached the fourth stop sign, Palo instructed, “Turn right. Drive another three blocks. Then right again and go a few blocks and we should see what to do next.”

  I did as told. I yawned deep and full. Palo sat still. After turning back onto Jean Avenue I realized we had gone in a giant circle. Palo leaned forward, peering hard into the distance. Then I was. I heard her gasp every-so gently.

  And I knew why.

  The white Phantom was gone.

  Is not my driver tonight. I do not know him. I told him stay here.

  Almost simultaneously we looked back, me through the rearview mirror, her turning and looking over the seat. Another block would take us back to where we started. I kept driving. Then I saw a set of headlights slowly rounding a corner behind us, three blocks back. I reached the next stop sign and waited.

  Then the lights went off behind us and the car stopped.

  “I did not want to be right about him,” Palo said. She was nervous. She turned back around and sat still. Her wondrous eyes found mine. “He cannot follow us.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “He will tell Andrik everything. I should not have called you.”

  “The only thing he’ll be able to tell Andrik is how he lost us. I don’t think that will sit well with Andrik.”

  As I told her that, I shut my lights off and stomped the gas pedal. We were through the next block before the headlights of the Phantom came on.

  I made a hard left two blocks later. I barely slowed down. Palo slid against the door. The tires squealed. I grinned. “Hang on.”

  The next stop was a hard right, 35mph at a ninety degree angle, which sent Palo tight against my right side. We fishtailed. More squealing. More grinning. Before Palo could resituate herself back upright, I made another hard right, keeping her frame pressed against mine. She smelled great. I didn’t mind.

  I floored it then. The El Camino’s 450 horse power engine roared to life, thrusting forward like a shotgun blast, matting our backs to the seats. And I was a hard driver. The Phantom was a beautiful car, speed and comfort, and may have been a match in a long distance race, but this was a shoot out of short blocks. Stop then go. Left then right. Black marks on the pavement in sloppy fishtails. It was right up my alley. The Phantom wasn’t going to catch us. Not a chance.

  We were on the second block when the headlights lit up the mirrors. Palo shrieked, “He’s coming!”

  “Hang on!”

  We had run through a dozen intersections already. A few more wouldn’t matter at this time of night, in this upscale neighborhood where folks were already fast asleep. We needed to get out of town. We needed distractions.

  Or one big distraction.

  I checked the clock, did the math in my head, then came to the next street and made another hard right. Palo fought a good fight to keep from sliding into me again, but in the end physics won, and in turn, so did I.

  “Where are we going?” she asked quickly.

  “I know a spot. Bear with me.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing!”

  For the first time in a long time, I did.

  I needed to time everything just right.
Which meant I had to be near the location, but not to it yet. It was a quarter to three and I still had a few minutes to kill. The Phantom wasn’t pressing us either, but keeping back a block at a time, as if he didn’t understand that his job now was ruined. I think he just didn’t know what to do anymore, so he followed us.

  I made another right hand turn, slower this time, not so much in a mad panic, partly to respect Palo, and partly to buy some precious time. I didn’t want to be early, and being late would kill everything.

  We were back in my stomping land where I knew much of the area. I knew that there would be folks out and about, that traffic would still be enough to force us to keep the speed limit, and the most important factor: I knew about schedules. Trains, in particular.

  We made our way through the busier areas where folks were either walking or standing, alone or in groups. I rolled through the stop signs when it was safe enough. The Phantom made full stops.

  A half a mile ahead of us the houses stopped. No street lights any more. No houses. No people. No avenues or side streets. The street sloped to a short rise, venturing through a thick wooded area leading out of town into the country. Atop the rise were the train tracks, crossing left and right, north and south.

  “Where is it?” I said quietly. I kept driving. Everything went quiet. I grew nervous.

  Dammit.

  We were under a hundred yards when I saw the light of the train. Palo did too. She pointed to it. Her slender hand reached out in front of my face, pointing to the left. She grimaced in worry. I smiled in relief. It was early. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe nightly train runs didn’t use exact time schedules like clockwork. Maybe they had more slack than a guy punching in working an eight hour shift.

  “Hang on!”

  I stepped on the gas hard. Pedal to the floor. The rubber of my sneaker sole met the carpet. It was going to be tight. I had miscalculated it. To our left, coming like a cannon ball, was the train, moving steady, unaware. A juggernaut through the black. My hands wrapped around the steering wheel, white-knuckled. I heard Palo scream. From the corner of my eyes I noticed her squirm and grab hold of the door handle.

  The train pressed closer.

  So did we.

  The lights from the Phantom did too. I guess the driver caught on. He deserved more credit than I gave him.

  I stared at the light of the train. We were destined to reach the same spot in the road at the same time. Collision was inevitable. I pressed my right foot harder down onto the gas pedal, but it didn’t budge.

  “Hitman?” Palo’s voice was pleading.

  We were within twenty yards now. Speeding over 90mph. One hell of a ticket.

  The train whistled, loud and long. A warning.

  Ten yards. Another warning. Longer, though just as unnecessary.

  I could make out the entire train now. It was long. Blacker than the night around it. The Phantom was now within a block, and hitting the brakes hard, skidding slightly to the right. I could picture the driver screaming.

  We raced up the slope to the summit, both of us screaming over the train’s nightmarish wail, and jumped the hill as the train swept past just behind, missing the taillights by inches. We landed a short distance later, not smoothly, and braked hard.

  Palo was still screaming as the car stopped at a narrow two-track overgrown by weeds leading into a thicket where the woods began. In the day it was hard to see. In the pitch darkness, it was invisible. I killed the headlights and backed in. The woods swallowed us from the world.

  A moment later I killed the engine.

  Palo punched my arm.

  I looked over to her. She was mad and scared and visibly shaking. “What?”

  “I pay you to save us, not kill us!”

  “It wasn’t that close,” I lied.

  “What are we doing here?” she was mystified. I could barely see her.

  “Waiting.”

  I could hear her heavy breathing. A moment later the rumbling of the train died away. Through the breaks in the trees I saw headlights barrel over the small rise. Palo and I watched the white Phantom speed right past us.

  “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t. I took a guess.” I saw her mouth open in shock. “What else would he do? The guy followed us all the way here. I figured he saw himself having three options. One was to remain and wait out the train. The second was to backtrack and either go around the train from the front, or the rear, and come to the same place, maybe hoping to see us circling back. But that was costly either way. Too much of a gamble.”

  “What of the third?”

  The third was to go back and tell Andrik that he failed. I imagine when this is over, he’ll go back and park it right where you told him to stay. Not a word to Andrik.”

  I started up the car. I drove out to the road. We looked to the right and saw nothing but darkness. I turned left.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Probably out in the middle of nowhere asking himself that very same question.” I smiled.

  “You are a crazy driver, Hitman.” Palo mused. “My angel.

  Chapter 16