Baker's Luck

by D D Loomis

  Several more shots had been fired by now. Shouts and screams increased to a roar. I staggered over to Mom, who was lying in a pool of blood. Three men burst into the lobby.

  “You alright, Francis?” John hovered over me while I felt Mom’s throat for a pulse. It was there, but thready.

  “Yeah, but we have to get some medical help. Mom’s been shot.”

  “9-1-1’s been called, and we got a couple nurses who are part of the group. They’re on their way.”

  Once the nurses arrived, I stood back, watching. This was all because of me. I clenched my fists, the rage building up as in the past. Dave gestured me over to the guy I’d knocked out. “This one’s coming ‘round.”

  “Let’s get him into the office,” I grated, striding over. “We’ve got a few questions he needs to answer.”

  * * *

  I laid the pliers next to the whimpering pile of shit that had shot Mom. It had been easier than before to block off what I did to get information from him. Not a good sign. Had to keep hold of my humanity, or… “Okay, I guess we’re done.”

  “You turn into a different person when you’re riled up,” Dave said, shaking his head. “Glad you’re on my side.”

  The faraway sound of sirens brought me to full alert. “Time to go. You still want to take part in this?” I asked, looking him in the eye. “It could get messy.”

  He nodded, eyes glinting like a bird of prey. “Yeah, I think we need to clean house on the crew that set this up.” He reached down and slit the inside of the man’s upper thigh, which began gushing blood.

  When we left the office, I was startled at the number of people in the lobby. Most looked sick, but all had a determined look on their faces. The screams and moans from the guy we’d been working on must have sounded bad out here. “How’s everyone?” I asked John, who’d stepped forward.

  “Mom and two others need help right away or they’ll die,” he said. “The others are okay. What do we do now?”

  “Dave and I are going to go visit the asshole who ordered this. The guy we got their boss’ address from in the office will be dead before the cops get here.” I touched a bloody dressing on John’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  He grimaced. “Just pissed at myself. Didn’t see the fifth guy in time. I’m afraid he got away in a stolen car.”

  I shrugged. “Not much we can do about that. Long as you’re okay. Leave our names out of any of this for the time being, will you? Just tell the cops you guys killed all the attackers, and the one in the office fell down the stairs. We’ll be in touch when it’s over. That okay?”

  John turned to the mass of people in the room. “You heard the man. Anyone got a problem with that?” There were a few murmurs, but everyone shook their heads. He faced us. “Some of us plan on sticking around until the workshop is officially over, another three days. If you’re done before then, we’d appreciate a face-to-face meeting with you about all that happened.”

  I nodded. “I will. And if you’re sticking around here, y’might want to keep an eye out, especially after the cops leave. These are bad dudes, and must want me pretty bad to track me here.”

  He gave a humorless smile. “We’ve got enough armament from the perps and what some of us brought along we can take care of ourselves. Plus I’ll pass on word to the deputies when they show up.”

  Without another word, I headed for my room to wash some of the blood off and change clothes.

  When the ambulances and police arrived, Dave and I slipped into my Escape and waited. Minutes later the first ambulance started down the hill, with us close behind. I’d entered Willie’s address into the GPS, which told us we had a trip of two hours.

  Both of us were silent, sunk into our own thoughts. The simmering rage was still in my head, a black thing that kept trying to take over, like back in the office. It had been over a year since its last visit. Could I shove it back in its cave after this was over?

  I brushed the thought aside. No time now. Maybe later.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The first hour of our trip flew by. Every time my mind started to relax, images of the violence I’d seen and dished out earlier in the evening would capture me. I was in the process of forcing my hands to relax their death grip on the steering wheel when Dave opened his eyes.

  “You look tense. Want me to drive?”

  I shrugged, trying to ease the tension between my shoulder blades. “No, I’ll be all right. My brain keeps going back over what just happened. Tightens me up.”

  He sat up and stretched, emitting a groan. “Yeh, me, too. About the time I start to drift off, I see the guy I killed in the car.” He gave himself a shake, and glanced at me. “What’s your plan when we get to Willie’s place?”

  My mind blanked. “Uh…”

  “I’ve got some thoughts on what should go down,” he said, ignoring my hesitation. “Do a soft recon of the place, and try our best to not kill everyone this time. We need to gather information, and make sure who all of the bad guys are. I’ll bet Willie has a boss. Which means we’ve got a bigger chore than you might think.”

  “You’re right.” I shook my head. “Somehow, I’ve got to remove myself from the radar of these goons. Might keep more innocent people from being hurt.”

  “Yes. And identifying everyone who knows about you in their camp would help cut down on who we need to get rid of.”

  I nodded grudgingly. “Probably the best approach. But still…”

  He shrugged. “I still want to kill ‘em all, too. But that solution’ll probably mean we end up dead.”

  I glanced at my watch. “Another half-hour and we can stop for gas. Take a little time to strategize, too. That sound good?”

  Dave stretched again, and settled back. “Okay with me. And a little coffee might be called for.”

  * * *

  Midnight had come and gone by the time I turned onto Monroe Road, on the outskirts of Charlotte. Minutes later, a large sign on the right proclaimed we were passing the entrance to Tyson Meadow, our destination. According to the sign, each lot was at least two acres in size.

  “Go two more blocks and turn right,” Dave said, intently eyeing the GPS on his cell phone. “We might be able to find a place to park there while we look around.”

  Once stopped on a tree-lined street, we weaponed up with knives and pistols before beginning our prowl. Dave had purchased a dark blue hoody sweat shirt when we stopped to get some gas. I was already clad in dark clothes. Two ski masks from the kit I used when prepping for night prowling, part of my stock in trade for several years, covered our faces. “You take the lead,” I said. “You’ve got the GPS.”

  Dave moved out, heading across the vacant lot to our front. Even though it was closing in on one a.m., lights were still on in several of the homes. This meant slow and silent movement was called for. Twenty minutes passed before we found ourselves at the back of our objective. After slipping over the fence, I hunkered down next to Dave at the corner of the attached garage. The place was two thousand square feet, smaller than those around it. Surprising, since I would’ve expected someone like Willie to flaunt his importance.

  The sound of a door opening and voices inside the garage brought me to my feet and moving towards a window three feet from us. Lights bloomed in the garage, making me flinch back. Being careful, I slowly raised my head and peeked inside. Two men were stacking large boxes on the floor, voices raised in complaint.

  The shortest one was also the loudest. “What the hell they have to do this shit so late for? It’d look more normal if they showed up durin’ the day.” His querulous voice trailed off when they headed back inside, probably for another load.

  I tapped Dave on the shoulder. “I’m going to check out the perimeter,” I whispered, and glided off.

  By the time I’d returned, the stack of boxes had grown to ten. At Dave’s urging we backed up
against the fence.

  “This is the first time the boss has used his home as a staging area,” he whispered. “Those goons inside were grouching about having to unload the boxes just a couple nights ago, and now load ‘em up. Apparently Willie had a rule that no drugs were ever brought to his home. ‘Til now.”

  A van eased to a stop in the street, then backed into the driveway when the garage door went up. The side of the truck was marked “Evans Plumbing,” apparently to act as an excuse for the visit. Two men got out, giving a half wave to the two inside. “Hey, guys, you got any coffee?”

  Shorty gave him a nod. “Sure, c’mon in. Might even have somethin’ to nibble on.”

  By the time they’d disappeared, Dave had covered the distance to the garage and was opening the passenger door of the van. I’d half-risen to join him when the four trooped back into the garage. The van’s door eased shut, and I could see Dave low-crawling back towards me. The spike of fear and tension I’d gotten when he did his stunt faded, and I relaxed.

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” he whispered. “Wanted to see if they had any information about where they were going.”

  When he hesitated, I nudged him. “And?”

  “They’ll be crossing into Canada at Buffalo. Headed for a place called Fort Erie in Ontario.”

  I settled back, leaning against the fence. “Okay, good. While they’re loading up, let’s go around to the other side of this place. I found a window that wasn’t locked. I think a look inside is called for.”

  “Lead on,” he whispered.

  Within five minutes we were creeping through the living room. Other than a lamp that had been accidentally nudged off a side table into an overstuffed chair, we’d been successful on our silent entry. And fortunate. I shuddered, thanking our lucky stars an easy chair had been where the lamp ended. The sound of the garage door shutting had us diving for cover behind a couch.

  “I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m gonna grab forty winks.” Shorty’s whiny voice echoed through the house. I shivered. That kind of voice must drive his buddy crazy if he had to listen to it all the time.

  “Forget it. The next load’s due to be picked up in two hours. You’ll stay awake, like the boss said.” The gravelly voice of the second guy was even worse than the first one, making me feel creepy inside.

  A door opened and their voices faded when they descended into the basement. We crept over to the opened doorway, all senses alert. I leaned close to Dave. “If they come back up, we’ll take ‘em. You get the front one, I’ll take what’s left.” He nodded, and moved to the other side of the opening.

  Shorty’s voice echoed up the stairs. “Wonder how Gerard and his crew are doing.”

  “They prob’ly called the boss. We won’t hear about it ‘til they show up and start bragging ‘bout kidnappin’ the asshole who caused all the ruckus. By the way, did you lock up the garage? I forgot to check.”

  “No, I thought you did. I didn’t go through the house after those guys left, either.”

  There was a loud sigh. “Damn it, your laziness is rubbin’ off. C’mon, let’s take care of business.”

  I flattened myself against the wall, like Dave was doing on the far side of the doorway. Since most of the available light was from the basement, we were in deep shadow when the two plodded up the stairs. The first was two steps into the room when Dave piled on, taking him to the floor with a loud thud.

  Shorty had his pistol half out when I clobbered the side of his head with an ash tray, dropping him like a rock. Within seconds both were stretched out on the floor, faint moans emanating from Shorty.

  Once more I pushed the dark anger down, swallowing the urge to slit their throats. I’ll find some tape,” I said, striding towards the garage.

  * * *

  “Nice job, if I do say so myself,” Dave said, surveying the two hapless men on the living room couch, securely wrapped in duct tape.

  I nodded, trying not to laugh. “Don’t you think tying them up face to face was a bit much? Especially since we only left ‘em in their underwear.” Man, that Gorilla tape was good stuff. No way were they getting out of that anytime soon.

  I turned away from the pitiful scene of two men in an enforced embrace, tape over their mouths. “We should have time to case this place before the next visitors arrive. I’ll take this level if you do the second floor. We can save the basement for last.” I headed off, intent on my search.

  Dave trotted back down the stairs just as I dumped a sack of goodies I’d found in one of the bedrooms on the kitchen table. “Not much to find,” he said. “Some cash, and a safe.”

  I straightened from the small pile of jewels I’d found in the side bedroom. “Only a little better on the first floor. The safe sounds interesting, let me give it a looksee.”

  Another hour passed before I managed to open the wall safe, a small Stanwalt. One of the simpler of safes, but it took longer than usual due to its newly upgraded digital system. The ten by fourteen inch interior had been packed with several envelopes, and fourteen thousand in cash–mostly twenties.

  We’d just settled at the kitchen table to enjoy a cup of coffee before our next guests arrived, when one of the cell phones we’d borrowed from the two creeps buzzed. I picked it up. “Yeh?” I grunted.

  “Open the garage. We’re here.” The line went dead.

  Dave jumped up from his chair. “Showtime. I’ll take the driver.” He disappeared towards the front door.

  I stood, ensuring my pistol had a round up the barrel before entering the garage and pushing the door opener. I’d made sure the lights in the garage would stay out during this next part.

  * * *

  I straightened from the job of taping the last victim, and rubbed my face. This was getting to be more like work all the time. “Let’s put these two in the bedroom,” I said. “No sense in leaving them all in the same room.”

  Dave was dragging his towards the bedroom doorway before I finished my sentence. “Good idea. It’s almost four, and we need to get the hell outta here before it begins to lighten up outside. Wouldn’t want some nosey neighbor getting a look at us.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall as I drug the last guy into the bedroom. “Time sure flies when you’re having fun.”

  By four-thirty, I’d driven halfway across town to a parking garage only ten blocks from the Federal Building. I parked in the basement, and laid my seat back down. “Let’s grab a little sleep before we do anything else,” I muttered, exhaustion nibbling at my innards.

  “Good thinking.” Dave hesitated, giving me a glance. “What’s our next move?”

  “We’ll call my FBI contact, read him in on what we’ve been doing, and especially about that van heading for the border. Since they’re stopping for the night before crossing, we got some time. Then we’ll keep looking for Willie. I still want a word with him.” I blinked sleepily, shifting around into a more comfortable position.

  “Okay. Sounds like a plan.” Dave paused again. “I saw the look in your eyes when you took down that first guy. Thought for a minute you were going to finish him off.”

  I let my eyes close. “Yeah. Truth be known, I wanted to kill something ‘bout then.”

  There was a rustling as Dave settled into a more comfortable position. “Don’t mean to pry, but it seems as if there’s more feeding your anger than what happened at Wildacres.”

  I sighed in resignation. “Yeah, I’ve been fighting for a few years with some issues. Tend to get carried away with the revenge bit sometimes.” For the next ten minutes I told him of my past, and highlighted the points that led to my having a problem controlling my emotions.

  “…So I’ve been struggling ever since with my tendency toward violence…” A buzzing snore from the lump in the passenger seat drove a chuckle out of me. Guess I’d have to improve on my storytelling, couldn’t keep an audience interested
anymore. I squirmed around, sleep cutting me off in mid-thought.

  The sound of a seatback being raised brought me back to the land of the living. I groaned theatrically while raising my seat. “What time is it?”

  “Seven a.m.,” Dave said through a huge yawn. “I gotta hit the head. How ‘bout making that call to your contact? Then we can get somewhere that has a bathroom.”

  I nodded, feeling the same urges. “Good idea. Besides that, we might want to find a place to eat. I’m starving!”

  * * *

  I held the phone away from my ear, astonished at the language I was hearing from my normally unflappable FBI contact. “Hey, tone it down, Mike,” I said, managing to catch him between breaths. “First off, you don’t have any evidence I was involved. And second, if you want the rundown on what happened at Wildacres from my viewpoint, meet us at the Waffle House. It’s the one where Arrowood Road and I-75 intersect, less than a mile from your office.” I hastily shut off my phone, and turned attention back to the waffle in front of me.

  Dave frowned as he looked up from his bacon and eggs. “You sure he won’t bring the cavalry down on us? He sounded pissed.”

  “Pretty sure he won’t,” I said, stuffing a piece of waffle in my mouth. God, I sure hoped not. That would put a crimp in our plans to chase down Willie. I looked around the almost-deserted restaurant while I chewed, willing away the tension that kept stealing into my mind. Have to work up a good story for Mike, one that would make sure we were still free by the end of the day.

  We’d just finished our meal and were on our second cup of coffee when Mike came through the door, followed by a still-bandaged Lenny who looked like she should still be in the hospital. I gave her a closer look, since she definitely looked twenty years younger under all those bandages on her head. Instead of grey, her hair was now a light brown.