Tom continued. “Not long after we stopped partnering, we met Mr. Beautiful and began to gain his trust.”
“If they never knew about it, what changed?” I asked. “I know Ryan could keep a secret.”
“I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I couldn’t. You know who we’re talking about. The investigations are like a vise, and slowly but surely they are closing in on those two and their men. They’re desperate and it appears they want to run for it, but first they’ve been collecting debts and favors and not taking no for an answer.”
“I’m not going to like where this goes, will I?”
“No mate, you’re not,” Tom said. “One of the men I was going to use to get me into Tikrit got squeezed and shared what he knew. Not the whole plan, we never told anyone everything, but enough to get Grist’s attention.” Tom looked at Rollie. “Grist was a captain in Army Intelligence and he has a network of informants that put our own to shame.”
“How much did he learn?” Rollie asked.
“Grist was smart enough to figure out we were going to move something valuable and relatively small. He didn’t know who the client was, but he got his hands on the courier I was going to use this week to retrieve the package in Tikrit.”
“What happened?” I said.
Tom didn’t answer right away. Rollie left the room and brought him some water.
Tom’s hands shook so hard he almost spilled the drink before he could gulp it down. “About a day before the move I received some hints to watch out. It was clear that my contacts knew more but were too terrified to do anything but hint.”
“What did they tell you?”
“It was bits and pieces that I had to put together, but I figured out that we might get hit. I wasn’t sure when or where. Just to be on the safe side, I sent a message to Mr. Beautiful’s people to relocate the stones, but I sent the courier to the original spot in Tikrit.”
“What was the guy picking up?” Rollie asked.
“A bag of marbles in a tamper-proof case.”
“Why?” I asked.
“While the courier was away, I slipped out of the Green Zone and into another area, not quite as safe as the spot in Tikrit where I sent the courier. Or so I thought,” Tom said. “I went to an area north of Tikrit called Al Mu’taridah that Mr. Beautiful and his crew picked. It was easy to find, but better, I could be sure I wasn’t followed.”
“What happened to the first courier?” Rollie said.
“I’m getting to that,” Tom said. “I decided to play it safe and send another contact to meet with the first courier for the exchange. Originally I was supposed to be the one at the meeting.”
“You changed your, mind? Why?” Rollie pressed.
“Call it instinct.”
We all knew about that.
Tom continued. “Anyway, in the meantime I managed to bring the real package to the Delivergistics supply depot where I met my people.”
“And the decoy meetup?” Rollie was hooked now.
Tom’s shoulders sagged. “I had the pickup man on my mobile. He reached the location expecting to meet the first courier carrying the bag of marbles. Instead he only saw a bag sitting at the meet spot. From his description, it was much larger than I expected and I tried to caution him, but he opened it straight away.”
“IED?” I always jumped at the sight of any unexpected packages over there.
“No. The first courier’s head. My man lifted it out and said marbles spilled out of the mouth.”
“Jeez,” Rollie said.
Tom looked into space while he spoke. “Then I heard a commotion I thought must be bystanders reacting to a bloke’s noggin on display and spitting glassies.”
“Not?” I said.
“Shouting, angry voices in broken Arabic and the phone being batted about,” Tom said. “I called out the man’s name, but knew it was over the instant I heard who’d torn the phone away from him.”
“Grist?”
Tom shook his head. “Mauser. Sounded like he expected me. ‘Tommie boy,’ he said, ‘We need to talk.’” Tom tried to take a sip of water before he realized the glass was empty. “My throat went dry and I didn’t think I’d be able to answer, but I heard my voice say that we had nothing to talk about.”
Tom accepted a refill from Rollie and took a long sip. “He disagreed,” he went on, “and made it clear it was a one-time offer to beg for mercy.” He drained the glass.
“You want something stronger, son?” Rollie said.
“I don’t drink and better get through this.” Tom smiled, but it never touched his eyes. His thoughts were still back in Iraq. “I asked Mauser if that would be my head next if I said no. He said, ‘If you don’t give it up, it’ll be your own balls going into your mouth. Where do you want to meet and hand it over?’”
Beads of sweat formed on Tom’s forehead and I hurried to the kitchen to refill his water. I could’ve used the scotch Rollie had offered, but returned to let Tom finish his story.
“You told them something to get out of there,” I said.
“I named some intersection outside the Green Zone to buy some time, but I’m sure they didn’t believe me.” Tom took the water and gulped some down. “At least the stones were in place and I didn’t need to return to the motor pool. My men there already knew how to hide them.”
“So, you packed up and hightailed it?” Rollie asked.
“Not a chance. I left with the clothes on my back until I could reach one of my bug-out kits.”
“No shit?” I said. “Boy scouts have nothing on you.” I thought about it. “Good thing. I bet they or one of their people were watching your room as soon as you hung up.”
“They were. Once I got clear and was organizing to slip out of the country, I called one of my insiders who confirmed it. Over the next few days, I got the rest of the bad news.”
My stomach did a slow barrel roll.
“My man told me that Grist and Mauser were leaning—and that’s being kind—on some of our people about Ryan.”
“What would they know about Ryan?” I felt confused.
“They know they can’t reach him, which is common knowledge, but the problem is that they learned you are the American contact for business stateside, at least until Ryan comes back.”
“But that’s not true. I never—”
“Aren’t you?” Tom asked. “From their perspective, what will your denial mean to them?”
“Fuck, Tom! These men are killers.”
“But if they want those stones so bad and are so connected,” Rollie said, “won’t they learn where they are anyway? Why didn’t they just grab them from the motor pool or wherever you put them?”
“You forget, the investigations are tightening for them. The stones were well hidden and they no longer have access to the area where they are secured. They would need days to search unless they knew exactly where to look.”
“And you said the package is already enroute to the States,” Rollie said.
Tom grimaced. “Yes, but it gets worse. Just after the package departed for the cargo ship, Grist and Mauser volunteered to self-deport back to the States while the investigations continued. Delivergistics was more than happy to get them out of the country.”
“They’re coming here?” I said.
“They’re based in Virginia Beach with the rest of the military contractors, as you know.” Tom looked like he might cry. “But I learned that they have had unauthorized access into the Delivergistics personnel files for years.”
“Son of a bitch. So, they not only think I run Ryan’s little empire, but they have my fucking address.”
Tom pointed at Rollie. “Actually, his fucking address, mate. That’s where they send your mail. And they likely have Rollie’s name, as well, I expect.”
“Ain’t that some shit.” Rollie shook his head. “These bozos aren’t coming home on a container ship, are they?”
“No. The ship will arrive in a week. I’m told they are to fly
back in two days. We have a little time, I think.”
Chapter 22
Rollie’s Place
“Hang on,” I said. “Time to do what, exactly?”
“To prepare for their arrival.” Tom gave me his best “dumb question” look.
“We don’t even know they are coming here.”
Rollie joined in. “Aren’t they in enough trouble already? Why ask for more, messing with an old man like me?”
“Because they are desperate. Right now, they are only suspected of a number of terrible crimes, but we know the charges have merit, based on our own experience. It’s only a matter of time before they will be locked up.”
“Sooner the better,” Rollie said.
Tom shook his head. “It’ll be too late for us, mate. Don’t you see? The diamonds are their last big caper before they vanish. We have their retirement fund, savvy?”
It made sense. I took a deep breath. “I thought I was out before, Tommy old stick, but you are quite right. I’ve seen those two at work and I have no interest in being on the wrong end of either of them.” My thoughts clarified as I spoke and I held up my hand to silence Tom’s protest. “What’s more, even if I was all in on this goofy crusade, I’m not about to have Rollie dragged in.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Sorry, you don’t. Rollie saved my life once. Getting him hurt or killed isn’t my idea of how to thank him.”
“Then you have to help me,” Tom said.
“No offense, but you and Ryan cooked this fiasco up. Give me one good reason not to hand the damn things over to Grist if he and his psycho attack dog show up.”
Tom’s frown was deep enough to shut his eyes. “Why stop there? Why not turn the stones in to the police? Wash your hands of the whole bloody mess, yeah? Send those blokes to the station to collect.”
“No need to invite an anal exam from the law,” I said. “And if I have to pick who to piss off, respectfully, those guys scare me more than you do.”
Tom smiled. “Good. They should. Now think it all the way through. If you give away the stones, what do you imagine Mr. Beautiful will think about that?”
“Fuck him,” Rollie said. “Next time use Western Union.”
“Neither of you know the man. We’d never have worked for a dedicated Jihadist, but he’s hardly an innocent. Mr. Beautiful has more resources than this shipment alone and he was known in Iraq as a man willing to protect his interests.” Tom pinned his gaze to me. “He knows who you are, and has been led to believe he can trust you. You want to think twice before tossing that in the rubbish bin.”
“And if I decide to take my chances?” I sounded tough, but I already knew that living life looking over my shoulder got old fast.
Tom continued. “You do know Grist and Mauser. After what they did to my courier,” Tom glanced up at the ceiling, then back to me, “what do you think they might do to you or him to gain your cooperation, or to ensure your silence?”
An obvious question that sent a chill through the room all the same.
“So we’re fucked either way?” Rollie said. “And I thought it was going to be a boring year.”
“There’s a third possibility,” Tom said. “We win.”
“I thought that would piss them off,” I said.
“Oh, most certainly. However, if the prize is no longer available and if we deliver for our client, they may decide there is no point in retribution. We might just become less important than their efforts to stay ahead of the authorities.”
“That’s a big if,” Rollie said.
“I truly regret you became involved through no fault of you own,” Tom said, “but if we’re to gain purchase on even this reed of hope it will take all of our combined skill.”
“No need to flatter,” Rollie said. “You had me at ‘There’s no choice, sorry about that, guv’nor.’”
Rollie was getting a gleam in his eye. Not good. I wanted to figure a way to keep him far from the action if there was going to be any. Tom, it appeared, had other thoughts.
I turned to Tom. “Let’s assume for now that they are coming. What do you see as their move?”
“When we planned this out, Ryan and I saw the Delivergistics facility as a natural and convenient entry to the country. We hadn’t expected many problems from that point forward and you see how that’s worked out, but I think our venue can play in our favor.”
I’d been thinking the opposite. “If Grist knows the package is coming to Philadelphia, to our base here, doesn’t that help them?”
“Yes and no. It does tell them where to begin, but the same problems they faced in Iraq apply here. They are known to the corporate security here and won’t be permitted on the facility.”
Rollie leaned forward in his seat. “From what you’ve said already, these two don’t sound like the permission types.”
“No. But they still don’t know exactly where to look, the shipment coming over is large. It wouldn’t be possible to search it all in secret.”
“Riiiight. And why go to all that trouble if you can drop in on the one of the planners who can lead you right to it?” I fought the urge to look out the window again.
Tom nodded. “Exactly. That’s why I think their first move when they get up here is to come to this house, looking for you or anyone who knows you.”
“Nothing pisses me off more than getting run off my own land,” Rollie said.
“Rollie,” I said, “this is no time to go all Alamo on me. These guys are pros. I doubt they’ll just knock on the front door.”
He stood. “I didn’t say we’d be here when they arrive, just that it pisses me off. C’mon kid, pack a lunch, we’re bugging out.”
* * *
Fishtown, Scorpio Photography Studios: Several hours later
I shouldered my bug-out bag, which consisted of little more than dumping my laundry basket into a borrowed duffel bag along with everything related to Ryan’s list and a shaving kit. I’d need to pick up a new toothbrush, but if those assholes searched the place maybe they’d see mine in the third-floor bathroom at Rollie’s place and think we were coming back.
I stared up at the stone walls of the old church. Years ago, it had been sold and converted into a photography studio owned by one of Rollie’s old friends. Not all that long ago the tower roof had served as a perch for an old sniper to ply his trade, watching over me while I was on a rooftop a couple hundred yards away saving Beth’s life the night Ryan died. Another tale I couldn’t discuss in public.
“Drop your bag anywhere, kid,” Rollie said. “I need help with this footlocker.” He stood at the side door. Next to the church the property had a small fenced-in parking area. We’d taken the Blue Bomber and left my truck at Rollie’s place. If Grist was into the employee files, he likely knew what I drove.
I stepped inside and adjusted to the classic architecture and the scent of darkroom chemicals in place of candle wax and incense. In one corner, tarps and background screens made up the portrait area. “Sal still does his pictures old school?”
“He does them every school. The digital stuff is upstairs and you should see when he goes super-vintage and takes shots with real flash powder. Crazy bastard keeps trying to dress me like I’m in some damn western.” Rollie lifted one end of the footlocker.
“That I’d like to see.” I picked up the other end. “Damn, Rollie you fill this with lead bricks?” He just looked at me and I realized it was a dumb question. “Why’d you need to pack all your rounds?”
“This is nothing. But it ought to be enough.”
“I wish I could promise it was too many,” I said. “How long did Sal say we could stay?”
“No worries there. He’s gone for a month on a European tour, unless he comes home early with some models for a private shoot.”
“This is damn generous of him.”
“We’ll keep his fridge and bar stocked. You have to help patch any bullet holes.”
“Not funny.”
“
I was serious.” He backed his way to what I was thrilled to see was an elevator that had been added. Framed photos of elaborate foods covered the boxy exterior of the structure all the way to the ceiling. “I meant it when I said I hate bugging out in the first place. And I can’t even get mad at you for starting this shit.”
He put his end down inside the wood-paneled elevator car and we rode it up two floors, where it opened into what must have been the administrative building. Now it looked more like a luxury loft. A huge picture window with sliding curtains overlooked the former chapel level.
“Looks like a corporate box at a stadium,” I said.
“Yeah. Old Sal broke through in a big way. I’ll show you the gallery and shop downstairs later.”
“Not to look a gift church in the mouth, but are you sure it’s a good idea to have a public access area while we are hiding?”
“Don’t sweat it kid. The gallery will stay closed until he gets back. I don’t see how your guys will make the connection, but even if they cruise by and want to ask questions, the place will be quiet as a tomb.”
“Nice choice of words.” But that reminded me. “Let’s move it on the unpacking. We have to warn off friends or anyone that might come by the place. If Grist stakes it out, they might be the ones getting grilled.”
“Good point.”
I left Rollie to unpack his arsenal but hoped like hell it wouldn’t come to us needing it. Grist and Mauser were a two-man wrecking crew. I knew which end of a gun to point, but I didn’t do much shooting and was never all that good. Not that I wouldn’t try, if necessary. Rollie, on the other hand, joked about his age, but I saw firsthand that he could drill anything with his rifle, as long as he got the chance to aim.
I didn’t think Grist could know about Rollie’s background, so there was that, but we were going to focus on avoiding them if at all possible. A two-way running gunfight seemed like a recipe for suicide.
At least Sandy wasn’t part of this mess, but that made me think of who was most at risk to get caught up.
Short Cut (The Reluctant Hustler Book 2) Page 13