by Simon Wood
Moran wasn’t talking to Todd anymore. Vandrel answered that he understood.
“Todd,” Vandrel said. “I think you should leave now.”
“I think that would be a good idea,” Moran said.
“Hey, it doesn’t have to end this way. It’s not over.”
“It was over a long time ago,” Moran said.
“Todd, if you go back to my shop, you’ll find the money I owe you and you can take your pick of the cars,” Vandrel said, his tone clipped and abrupt as if his words were holding back a breaking dam.
“Vandrel,” Todd insisted.
Vandrel turned his automatic on Todd. “Do as you’re damn well told.”
Moran stepped back from the counter, unlocked the main door and pushed it open for Todd. Todd didn’t have to be asked twice. He squeezed by Moran. In the doorway, he stopped. Moran and Vandrel had turned their guns on each other.
“I’m sorry I let you down, Vandrel.”
“You didn’t. We’re finally going to get this problem resolved.”
Moran closed the door.
Todd raced back to the Buick and gunned the engine. He pulled a U-turn to get back to Vandrel’s. As he headed out of town, he passed by Moran’s hardware store. As the store receded into the distance, two flashes of light from inside it reflected in his rearview mirror. He didn’t stop to check that everyone was okay. It was too late for that. There was only one thing to do now.
Get out of town.
PART THREE: TRADING UP
Todd rode the Greyhound into Dallas. This hadn’t been the plan. He’d collected the ten grand from Vandrel’s warehouse and hit the road in the Buick. He was going anywhere except Dumont. He was about fifty miles out from town when good sense sank in. Moran and Vandrel had taught Todd a lot about his new life. One thing he’d learned was never to go anywhere without a gun. Everyone needed insurance. He was swapping carriers from State Farm to Smith and Wesson. He might never have to use his insurance, but it was good to have it with him. The second and more important thing he’d learned was a grudge was a grudge was a grudge.
The small man had gone to a lot of trouble to bury Todd, because Todd had screwed up his operations. He’d cost the small man money, personnel and credibility and he wasn’t about to forget that in a hurry. It didn’t matter where Todd went or what he did to cover his tracks. He was sure the small man would find him and get his pound of flesh.
Todd couldn’t risk driving the Buick to Dallas. The car was hot and it would be even hotter when Moran’s first customer found the bodies. He couldn’t afford to leave a trail all the way to Dallas. He dumped the Buick in Amarillo and caught the bus.
The Greyhound got in early. Over breakfast at a diner, Todd skimmed the yellow pages for Ruskin’s dealership. His breakfast partner at the counter remarked he wouldn’t go to Ruskin’s if he had the choice. Todd had no intention of buying a car from Ruskin’s, but he did need wheels. He asked his breakfast partner where he would go to buy a car if he had to choose. He recommended a dealership out towards Rochester Park.
After breakfast, Todd phoned for a cab to take him out there. He picked up a ten year old Toyota Corolla from a nearby lot for three grand. It wasn’t much to look at, but the engine was sound. It would do and it still left him seven grand in his pocket. Ready for action, he drove out to Ruskin’s.
Ruskin’s wasn’t a franchise dealership catering to one of the big name car manufacturers. Instead, it was a secondhand dealership catering to the prestige market. Their cars were lightly used. Mercedes and BMWs took up most of the inventory. A fully loaded Infiniti claimed the bottom rung of the “For Sale” ladder.
Todd parked on a side street, slipped out of his jeans and tee shirt and pulled on a pair of dress slacks and a button-down shirt. If he was going to pretend to be a prospective buyer then he had to look like one. He crossed the street and entered the lot. He cast an eye over a Mercedes C-class and wondered if the Lexus he’d been bringing here would have ended up on this lot. It seemed likely.
It took just under a minute before a salesperson smelled blood in the water and zeroed in for the kill.
“Hi,” the young, clean-cut woman in her early thirties said. “I noticed you admiring that C-class.”
“It certainly looks like my kind of car,” Todd remarked.
She presented Todd with her card and introduced herself. “Charlie Ruskin.”
Todd fought to keep his surprise in check. Charlie Ruskin was the small man’s contact. He’d never said it was a woman.
“So this is your dealership?” Todd asked.
“Sadly, no. It’s my father’s, but it’ll be mine some day. Would you like a test drive?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She was slick. Todd had to give her that. Instead of running back into the office to grab the keys off the board, she produced them from her pocket and handed them to him.
They got in the car and Todd guided the Mercedes onto the street. Charlie outlined a route she wanted him to take. It took several minutes to thread the vehicle through the choked streets onto the freeway. This provided Charlie the perfect opportunity to wax lyrical about the qualities of German engineering and craftsmanship. She slipped price into the conversation, which was a bitter pill to swallow, but she sweetened the taste by mentioning the C-class’ great resale value. On the freeway, Todd whisked the C-class up to eighty-five without feeling a thing. It drove how a Mercedes should drive.
“How does it grab you?” she asked.
“By the balls and doesn’t let go.”
“So I can take from that statement that you’re interested.”
“Very much so. The price is in my range.”
She beamed. “We have a deal then?”
“We have a deal.”
“How will you be paying?”
“Cash.”
“We don’t get many of your kind in these parts nowadays.”
“Well, I had intended on trading in my previous car, but I had to sell it. Sadly, for well below its blue book value.”
“If you haven’t finalized the sale and it’s our kind of automobile, I’m sure I can make you a better offer. What’s the model?”
“A black Lexus with six kilos of cocaine stitched into the back seat and a corpse in the trunk. Interested?”
The color drained from her face, washing away that car-savvy saleswoman persona to reveal a frightened little girl, lost and alone. Todd piled on the pain by producing the .357. He didn’t aim it at her. He just let her know that he wasn’t going to be a pushover.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it. You have to understand that.”
“We need somewhere where we can talk.”
Charlie directed Todd to Sargent Park. It was small and pleasant, even though a railroad ran through it. They stayed in the car, since Todd didn’t want to be overheard. Charlie called into the dealership, told them the sale was a done deal and that she was showing Todd around since he was new to the city. Charlie carried off the lie with conviction. She hung up and clipped the cell phone to her belt.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“To know how it all works.”
“Simple really.” Her eyes were on the gun. “I receive a call. They tell me a car is coming. When it arrives, I call a number.”
“What kind of number? Local? Out of state?”
“Local.”
“And what happens when you make the call?”
“We make an arrangement to meet. My contact comes, removes whatever is being transported and goes.”
“Who is he?”
“He calls himself Fox, but I don’t think that’s his name.”
“What happens to the car?”
“We dress it up and sell it. That’s it. Can I go now?”
“No.”
She went to protest, but he tightened his grip on the .357 and she settled down. He felt like a shit for threatening her this way. It wasn’t her fault. She was just a cog in the
machinery, just like him.
“How did you get mixed up in all this?” Todd asked.
She sagged, seeming to relax, even with the loaded gun pointed at her. “My father. He’s a good man, but he’s not without his faults.”
“What are his faults?”
“There’s only one, really. He’s a gambler. He’ll bet on anything—horses, football, baseball. You name it, he’ll put money on it.”
“Obviously, he’s not a successful gambler.”
She snorted derisively. “No. For every dollar he wins, he loses a hundred.”
Todd saw where this sob story was heading. “Losses like that mount up.”
“Is two hundred and fifty grand a big enough mound?”
Todd said nothing.
She went on to describe how her father’s addiction had almost cost them everything. Creditors clued her in to the problem first. They claimed delinquency on bills she swore were paid. When she looked into the accounts, it was all too obvious that her father had been siphoning the sales from the dealership to feed the track and bookies. Before she had a chance to confront him, the money problems went away and a new one started. She received her first phone call telling her to expect an out of state delivery. Her father explained these were the terms of the loan he had with his new lender.
“How long has this been going on?” Todd asked.
“Over two years.”
“How often do the calls come?”
“Once a month. Sometimes twice. Last November, it was every week.”
“Always drugs?”
She sighed. “I try not to look, but yes. Cocaine.”
“All part of a flexible payment scheme. How long before your father’s debt is paid off?”
“Will there ever be a final payment?” she said bitterly.
That was the great thing about loan sharks. With interest rates in the stratosphere, there was never any prospect of paying off the principle. The small man had a nice little thing working for him.
“Where’s your father now?”
“Retired.” The word twisted her features like it had left a sour taste on her tongue. “When the call came to me and not him, he went to pieces. He was no good on the lot. It was for the best.”
“Does he still gamble?”
“No. He doesn’t go out much and the bookies know not to take his calls.” She straightened, regaining her composure after this confessional. “How do you fit into all this?”
“Similar story to you.”
Charlie didn’t look content to leave it there—gun or no gun—so Todd told her the whole sorry tale. He shouldn’t have told her. In a clinch, she could use it against him, but what harm could it do him? None of this was news to the small man. Deep down, he wanted to tell someone. This wasn’t something he could share with his closest friend, but he could share it with someone who’d been down the same road. He felt liberated after he told her, but it didn’t last long.
“I don’t know who your small man is, but my orders don’t come from the Bay Area.”
“What?”
“My calls come from Seattle.”
Todd drove Charlie back to the dealership in silence. They both had plenty on their minds. At the car lot, he got out of the car and handed her the keys.
“I suppose you’re not really buying the car,” she said.
“Sorry. No.”
She shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world. I’ll tell them you had a change of heart.”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“Call it a favor.”
“A favor for a man who pulls a gun on me? You’re asking a lot.”
“I know.” From the corner of his eye, Todd noticed Charlie’s salesmen watching them. “Tell them I’m moving into town and I’ll be back in a few days to collect the car.” He nodded in the direction of the gawking salesmen.
“And is there a reason for all this?”
“How would you like to pay off your father’s debt once and for all?”
***
Todd was risking a lot by trusting Charlie Ruskin, but she was in a bind, just like he was. She had to know that the people pulling her strings didn’t care about her. If the drug running ever came crashing down on her head, the puppet masters would find themselves another puppet. It was in her best interests to work with him. He’d outlined a plan to her that could set her free. It wasn’t without risk, but it could work. Still, she could sell him out. It might buy her a few brownie points with the people in Seattle. That was why he spent the next couple of hours watching Charlie from across the street. She didn’t jump on her cell phone the moment he stepped off the lot and no one unusual visited her. She looked to be playing it his way.
He returned to his Toyota and went in search of a motel. He found a place that wouldn’t keep his details on file and didn’t object to cash. He looked forward to the day he didn’t have to hide out in crappy accommodations to avoid someone tracking him down and putting a bullet in him.
He changed out of his formal clothes into jeans and a tee shirt. Thoughts of Seattle crept to the forefront of his mind. If the scheme to use stolen cars to traffic drugs originated in Seattle, then what was the small man’s part in it? Was this a side business or his role in someone else’s empire? Todd liked to think it was the latter. If the small man was a small fish, then he had to report to someone bigger. The bigger boss would have the power to squash him. But if he was the head honcho, then there was no hope of toppling him.
Too nervous to eat, Todd drove back to Ruskin’s Dealership. By the time he reached the car lot, everyone had left for the day, except Charlie. He parked on a side street. He didn’t want the Toyota to tip anyone off. He walked into Charlie’s office just as the sun deserted Texas in favor of California. She looked how he felt.
“Still want to do this?” Todd asked.
“No, but I’m going to anyway.”
He smiled. “Join the club.”
He coached her on what to say then made her repeat it to him three times. He wanted to go for a fourth but she lost her temper, complaining she wasn’t a damn actress. It was a fair point. If she rehearsed too hard, her performance would come over as just that—a performance.
“Okay, then,” Todd handed Charlie the phone, “let’s get this party started.”
Todd sat close so that he could listen in. His cheek brushed against hers. Her skin felt good against his. He smelled her perfume. It had faded during the day, but it accented her natural scent. He smelled alcohol too. He didn’t blame her. He could do with a drink himself.
She punched in the number to her local contact, and when he answered, she said, “It’s Charlie. We’ve got a delivery.”
“A delivery?” Fox said. “We’re not expecting a delivery.”
“I know, but he’s here.”
“I’ll check it out and call you back.”
“No.” Charlie put just the right note of fear in the word. “Come now. Please.”
That stopped him in his tracks. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“It’s the guy. He scares me. He’s--” she groped for a word.
“He’s what?” Fox encouraged with a note of anger building in his voice. It wasn’t directed at Charlie but at the non-existent courier. It seemed that Fox liked Charlie, which might play to their advantage. “Tell me, Charlie.”
“He seems violent. He’s not the usual driver we get. There’s something wrong about him. He means trouble.”
“What car does he have?”
“A black Lexus.”
“Keep him there. I’ll be there in thirty.”
“Hurry,” she begged and hung up.
“Wow, you’re good,” Todd said.
She smiled. “I have my moments.” Then the smile fell away. “Usually when I’m scared.”
Todd wanted to tell her not to be, but couldn’t. He was just as scared. He had no feel for the person on his way over to them. The guy migh
t be a pushover when it came down to it, but that was wishful thinking. It was more than likely this guy was going to be all fireworks. Todd had the bad feeling he’d have to use the gun the small man had planted on him.
Charlie led Todd to the service bays where the exchanges took place. Todd wanted everything to go down here. Fox would be edgy because he was expecting a hostile situation with Todd, the little drug mule that could, but he would be comfortable in these surroundings. He’d feel that he knew the location and think he had the upper hand. Well, he wouldn’t be expecting the welcome wagon Todd had in store for him.
The service shop was clean and free of oil stains. If it hadn’t been for the telltale odor of engine oil and other lubricants, Todd would have believed the place was never used. That was to be expected with a prestige automobile dealership, he supposed. Clients expected clean, modern and efficient. He was more used to jalopy shops where the oil was so saturated into the floors Exxon could drill to reclaim it.
“Which door will he come to?” he asked.
“That one,” Charlie replied and pointed at the main rollup door.
“Good.” He rolled a pair of tool chests over to the door and positioned them to the right of the entrance to create a blind spot. He hid behind the chests.
“What should I do?” Charlie asked.
“Do as I told you. I just need you to distract him and I’ll take it from there. Just be ready to react if and when things get messy.”
Messy. Could things go any other way? Probably not. Todd removed the .357 from the back of his waistband and checked that all the rounds were safe and snug in their chambers. The backsides of six cartridges stared back at him, just like they had all the times before. It wasn’t like they were going to fall out or mutiny against him, but he still checked and double-checked and triple-checked—and give it a minute, and he’d probably quadruple-check. He took comfort in the OCD tendency he’d developed. It helped pass the time.
“Do you think he’ll come alone?” Charlie asked.
Todd never considered the connection arriving with his crew. That changed everything. His plan wouldn’t work. He couldn’t take on a crew alone. He emerged from behind the tool chests. “I thought he worked alone.”