The Third Rescue

by Jay Mackey

  “No, I’ll go,” said Penny. “But this crazy lunatic better say something pretty damn incredible, or you’re going to find yourself chasing your fantasies on a bicycle.”

  26

  Las Vegas, April 2018

  Penny didn’t make any avoidance maneuvers on the way to Starbucks, despite Oval’s repeated requests. She said going through all that trouble again would be “stupid.” Oval was left to try to spot the telltale white car on his own after CJ declared neutrality, expressing his skepticism that anyone was actually following them.

  “Personal opinion,” CJ said. “Jack is paranoid, and you’re delusional, Oval.”

  That drew a smile from Penny and a shrug from Oval, who said, “You’ll be singing a different tune when the dude with the white shirt shows up at Starbucks.”

  But he didn’t. Show up, that is. Unfortunately, neither had Jack by the time the trio were nearly finished with their lattes. Oval hadn’t noticed the passage of time—he was too occupied by tracking the many white cars driving by on the main street outside.

  Penny, though, demonstrated her lack of patience. Starting at fifteen, she started counting off the minutes that Jack was late. “Sixteen minutes now. Let’s go,” she said. “Seventeen minutes. That’s enough.”

  CJ tried to distract her. “Did I tell you how much I like those green shorts on you?” he said when she reached eighteen.

  “You’re full of shit,” she said. “And it’s now nineteen minutes.”

  “And that pink T-shirt is perfect.”

  “If you had an ounce of sincerity in your entire body, I’d be shocked.”

  CJ grinned, and raised his eyebrows.

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “Did you do something different with your hair this morning?”

  “Stop. I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”

  CJ continued smiling.

  “Twenty-one minutes. Last call, sleazeball.”

  The ring of his phone rescued CJ. It was Jack.

  “Just listen, don’t talk.” He then gave CJ instructions, telling him to leave the Starbucks, cross the street, walk about three blocks, with two turns, and go into the store at an address he had CJ repeat back. Then he hung up.

  Naturally, Penny didn’t think much of the plan. But Oval did.

  “Hey, this is cool,” he said. “It’s like one of those deliver-the-ransom type deals they always show in bad movies. I’ll bet when we get to the next place, a pay phone will ring, and we’ll answer and get instructions for us to go somewhere else.”

  “Pay phone?” said Penny. “Like there’s even such a thing.” Turning to CJ, she continued, “If your buddy doesn’t show at the next place, you’re on your own.”

  She looked at both CJ and Oval to make sure they understood her ultimatum. They both nodded.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go, little lemmings.”

  The next store turned out to be another coffee shop, this one a local shop rather than a Starbucks. Jack walked in right behind them.

  “So let’s get something to drink, on me, and we’ll sit down and talk,” he said. He gave CJ a twenty-dollar bill and told him to get him a medium dark roast, and then went to a table in a back corner.

  Standing in line, Penny whispered to CJ, “This better be good.”

  “I know.”

  They’d had lattes at Starbucks, so they each got an iced drink that was more sugar than coffee, and they joined Jack in the corner.

  Oval started talking before he even got seated. “Okay, I have to know. Let’s get the elephant out of the room, so to speak. Were you abducted by aliens?”

  “Oh, Jesus, who told you that?” said Jack. He didn’t look as upset as CJ feared he’d be when Oval sprang the question. “Was it Mille?” Seeing Oval nod slightly, he continued. “She knows better than that.” He paused, looking down at his beat-up briefcase, which he’d brought with him, while the kids waited to see if he was going to answer.

  Finally, he looked up at Oval and said, “No, I was not abducted.”

  He paused again, taking a loud sip of his coffee. But then he spoke again. “I sort of volunteered.” He smiled and took another sip of coffee.

  “But that’s a story for another day,” he said.

  27

  Las Vegas, April 2018

  “Not another time,” insisted CJ. “Now. You can’t say you’ve been abducted, or not abducted, or whatever, by aliens, and just blow it off.”

  Jack ignored him, reaching into his old briefcase and pulling out an old, yellow legal pad, with writing and doodles and what looked like coffee stains on wrinkled pages.

  After waiting for just a few seconds for Jack to answer CJ, Penny said, “Yeah, and what makes you think that white shirt man is following us?”

  Jack looked up at her, but not before casually taking another sip of his still-too-hot coffee. He said, “You have to understand, I’m a well-known figure around here, a pain in the ass to some. There are people who keep tabs on me, listen to my phone, search my mail and my email, and sometimes follow me. Now, maybe that guy yesterday was one of those people—he was new. I hadn’t seen him before. But he didn’t look like the usual type. He looked like a banker who’d lost his way.”

  A banker? Yolanda said the guy looking for me looked like a banker. Damn!

  “Whether he followed you or was keeping tabs on me isn’t important,” Jack continued. “The thing is, I might have something that’ll interest you, and you might have something that’ll help me, and I don’t want them to get in the way.” He sipped some more coffee, and looked down at his pad, before looking up at CJ again. “Plus, of course, these guys might be dangerous. People have died.”

  Apparently, that was too much for Penny. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said. “Are you kidding me?” Then, in a mocking tone, waving her arms over her head, she said, “They’re out to get me. They’re out to get us all. Run for your lives.”

  “Penny!” said CJ. “Stop. You’re not helping anything.”

  But Jack didn’t seem disturbed. “Oh, it’s okay. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

  “I’d really like to hear what you’ve got,” said CJ.

  Jack looked back at his legal pad. “You said you’re related to Little Bull Matzelini, right?”

  “Right. Little Bull was my great-uncle and was Penny’s grandfather.”

  “And Little Bull has been dead for a long time. But your grandfather was . . .”

  “He was Giuseppe, who was known as Gus. He was Little Bull’s younger brother.”

  “Okay. I went back to my notes after we talked yesterday, and it’s possible that Gus might know something, or have seen something, that would help me.”

  “What? What would he know?”

  Oval added, “And why would he know it? He doesn’t even live here.”

  Jack looked at Oval and nodded. “Let me take a step back, and give you some background,” he said. “I’ve been looking into something that happened a long time ago. Something that the government has been, shall we say, less than forthcoming about. This fellow Anthony Faccio, Tony Faccio, who I had the displeasure of spending some time with in rather close quarters—”

  “It must have been a long time ago,” interrupted Oval. “’Cause he died back in, like, ’82. We saw the newspaper story.”

  “Yes, I knew him before then,” said Jack. “Anyway, he was present at this event. But I lost contact with him, and he subsequently died, as you said.” He stopped, sipped coffee, and seemed to think about what he wanted to say next. Finally, he continued, “That’s where your grandfather comes in. See, Tony Faccio told me that Little Bull Matzelini was present at this event, but I don’t remember if he said Gus was present too. It was so long ago.” He shook his head, and looked at the kids, almost apologetically.

  “Little Bull died before I could speak to him. But maybe if I could talk to your grandfather.” Jack looked at CJ, as if he was asking permission.

  “Why didn’t
you talk to him before?” asked CJ.

  Oval added, “Yeah, it’s not like this just happened. You’ve had a few years, if this thing, whatever it was, happened before 1982. A few decades.”

  Jack nodded, and said, “A couple things. One, I was gone for quite a long time. And then I had a few difficulties that kept me from my quest. Plus, by the time I was able to work on this, many people had died, like Little Bull and Tony Faccio. And on top of that, now I learn that your grandfather had changed his name. He no longer goes by Matzelini.”

  “Well, geez,” said CJ. “That was forever ago. Like 1982.”

  Jack shrugged. “I didn’t know. And to tell the truth, I was looking in different directions, focused on the government. I knew they had the answers. But if I could talk to your grandfather now . . .”

  CJ said, “Sure. Let’s see.” He pulled out his cell phone and looked at it. “It’s Wednesday morning, so it’s a good time to call. But no, wait, there’s the time difference. So no, it’s still the big lunch rush at home, probably. You should wait another half hour or so to call him.”

  “That’s fine,” said Jack. “Could I have his number?”

  CJ nodded, but before giving Jack the number, he asked, “So what was this event you talk about?”

  Jack gave him a half smile. He looked at Penny and then at Oval, who were both staring at him. Jack said, “I don’t know if . . .” He shook his head. “Look, I’ve been trying to uncover some truths, some things that certain people don’t want uncovered.”

  Penny interrupted. “Yeah, yeah, you told us they were out to get you already. So what’s new? What’s really going on?”

  Jack held up his hand. “Hold on, let me finish,” he said. “You may not believe me, but let me tell you, they are after me.” He reached into his briefcase a brought out a sheaf of papers over two inches thick, with a big clip holding them together. “I’ve asked nicely, pleaded, begged and threatened. For nothing. They’ve given me nothing. Of course, that’s after they held me prisoner, tortured me, and confined me to a mental ward.” He waved the papers around, and continued, “So now I’m going to expose the whole thing. How? By publishing this book and promoting it all over the place. Oh, they’ll deny everything, all right. But if I have witnesses, people who will verify certain details, the truth will stick.”

  “Is that why you want to talk to my grandfather?” asked CJ. “To get him to verify your story?”

  “Maybe,” said Jack. “But I’m a little concerned, that if he went to all the trouble to change his name and move to someplace different, maybe he’s worried that these people are after him, too. Maybe if I get you guys involved in all this, and if somebody’s following you, or if somebody’s following me and sees you, then maybe it’ll come back on your grandfather, and on you. Do you know what I’m saying? He could be at risk here. As could all of you.”

  Penny’s eyes grew, and Oval’s mouth dropped.

  “Now, you tell us,” said CJ. “It might have been nice to know that before you lured us here.”

  Oval looked at CJ, and said, “Crap, are we in trouble for something?”

  Penny answered, “We’re not in trouble. It’s this asshole who’s in trouble.” She pointed to Jack.

  “That’s true,” said Jack, “and I’d like to keep it that way.” Turning to CJ, he said, “But I still need to talk to your grandfather. Please, give me his number.”

  CJ said, “No. Here’s how we’ll do it. I’ll call him on my phone, and then, if he’s willing, I’ll let you talk with him. That way, there won’t be any connection between the two of you. No calls from you to him on your cell phone, or vice-versa.”

  “Okay, I like it,” said Jack. “But what if I need to call him back?”

  “If he wants you to call him back, he can give you his number. I’m not going to do that.”

  “I’d prefer that you not overhear the conversation,” said Jack.

  “Tough,” said CJ. “I’d prefer to hear what’s going on. It’s us who’s being followed, according to you. I want to know why.”

  “Smart thinking,” said Oval.

  “There may be hope for you yet,” said Penny, leaning over and squeezing CJ’s arm.

  So CJ called Noga, who answered on the second ring. CJ explained that he had someone who wanted to talk to him about something that happened a long time ago. “But the guy’s a little nuts, and a lot paranoid, so you may not want to talk to him. He says it has something to do with Tony Faccio, if that helps.”

  “Put him on,” said Noga.

  28

  Las Vegas, April 2018

  “My name is Jack Dobbins,” Jack said into the phone. “But I used to be Captain Jack Omdahl, M.D. Not that that makes any difference.”

  CJ wanted to hear both sides of the conversation, but Jack refused to put the phone on speaker, so he had to do with just hearing the one side, and even that was difficult, because Jack talked quietly.

  “Yes. Thanks,” Jack continued. “CJ and his friends are doing well. We’re here in downtown Las Vegas, having a coffee together.”

  He turned his back to the kids as he listened to Gus’s reply.

  “Well, the reason I wanted to speak to you is . . . Yes, I knew Tony Faccio for a time, and he mentioned your brother’s name, and I believe he mentioned yours as well . . . No, no, it was well before that. Maybe seventeen or eighteen years before, something like that. And in fact, that’s what I need to ask you about. See, Mr. Faccio was at a certain event back then, and he implied that your brother and perhaps you might have been present as well.

  “Well, I happen to have been present, and I’m trying to . . .

  “There was a bit of a skirmish, in the desert, north of . . . Right. A skirmish is what I’d call it. You might call it something else if you were there.

  “Yes, I was attached to Edwards Air Force Base, officially, in the Medical Corps . . . And so the question I have is, were you present at this skirmish or whatever you’d like to call it?

  “No. Really? Are you sure about that? . . . It was a long time ago. Look, I’m not the bad guy here, I assure you . . . Please. I— . . . No. I understand, but if you’d just—”

  Now Jack turned back and handed the phone to CJ, looking dejected. “Here,” he said. “He wants to talk to you.”

  CJ took the phone. “Hello, Noga?” he said.

  Noga said, quickly, “Look. I don’t know who this guy is, or how he got ahold of you, but he’s bad news. Get out of there, and do not, I said do not talk to him again. Got it?”

  “Okay, Noga. I’ve got it.”

  “I’m serious, CJ. Get out now.”

  “Right. Talk to you later. Bye.” CJ disconnected, and took a look at Jack, who was staring at him, looking . . . what, was that hopeful? Desperate?

  Should he do what Noga said and leave the coffee shop? Or should he try to understand what had just happened? What was it they said about curiosity and the cat? But CJ got a very strong vibe from Jack. He might be bad news, as Noga said, but if so, CJ was pretty sure it wasn’t intentional, and Jack had no ill will directed at CJ.

  “So,” CJ said, still staring at Jack. “What was this skirmish you talked about?”

  Jack looked down at the table, picked up his coffee, which was now empty, and put it down again. He looked uncomfortable. After a long pause, during which CJ kept staring at him, unblinking, he said, “Look. This doesn’t really have anything to do with you. I just thought . . . I don’t know what I thought.”

  Penny, who looked angrier than ever, her eyes just narrow slits focused on Jack, said, “You better think of something, there, buddy.”

  “Yeah, what’s this got to do with CJ’s grandmother, anyway?” said Oval, looking confused.

  Jack’s expression quickly changed from dejected to surprised as he turned to Oval. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe nothing.”

  Now CJ was surprised. “But that’s what we’ve been doing, searching for her parents, or at least her heritage. That’
s why Ms. Parsons at the library told us to talk to you. And you said we could help each other.”

  “No, no,” said Jack. “You were interested in some of the same time periods that interest me. Like the late forties.”

  “When Nini was born,” said CJ.

  “And the mid-sixties,” said Jack.

  “When she and Noga met.”

  “You had the article from 1982.”

  “Right. That’s when they moved to Kentucky.”

  “And changed their name,” added Oval.

  “And that’s when something happened with your pal, Tony Faccio, that probably caused them to move and change their name,” said Penny, now looking skeptically at Jack.

  Jack now looked at each of them, shaking his head. Gradually, his eyes got big, and he put his hands to his face, covering everything but those big eyes.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he said.

  29

  Las Vegas, May 1982

  It was a hot night, even for Vegas. Gus had been working late, and his brother had just dropped him off at home. Working late wasn’t unusual; Gus and Little Bull often worked past midnight, into the wee hours of the morning. They did whatever they had to do, whatever their bosses asked them to do. That was how to get ahead, according to their father, who should know. He was a big boss, important. He reported directly to the president of the casino holding company, and that was pretty high up.

  Gus ran a crew, reporting to his brother, who was in charge of security for one of the casinos owned by the holding company. That night, Gus had been making sure a high roller, one of the casino’s best customers, had made it to the airport on time and without incident. That sort of assignment was often more difficult than it sounded, because these high-value, very wealthy customers frequently traveled with an entourage of family, friends, mistresses, and hangers-on, and Gus had to keep all these people out of the grips of con artists, thieves, drug dealers, and the cops.