BEAT to a PULP: Hardboiled 2

by David Cranmer

  "Yo, yo, yo, Mario, why would you do that, man? I'm being straight with you."

  Mario turned. "You're right. It's not your fault Raul ran off, I guess."

  "Yeah, see?"

  "But still, there's that chance you're lying."

  Ricky was near tears. "But I'm not lying, man."

  "Probably not," Mario said. "Only break one knee." He stepped out of the room. Behind him, Ricky's screams couldn't drown out the snap of bone.

  * * *

  Haji leaned against the lamppost and lit a cigarette. Mario paced the corner, his hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. The night was cool with an early fall breeze. Watching the alley now from the street side they still saw no signs of Raul. And no signs of their money.

  "I knew I should have handled the fence myself," Mario said.

  "Who could know? We've done, what, six jobs with him now? I thought he was a standup guy."

  "All six combined wasn't what's in this take."

  "Yeah, maybe not. Still, he's gotta be long gone." Haji exhaled, the cloud of smoke rising into the yellow street light.

  From up the block came a police cruiser. It whooped once and came to a stop. Mario rolled his eyes.

  A muscle-bound cop stepped out of the car as his equally jacked up partner slid out the passenger door.

  "Mario," the driver said. "I guess if I see you out in plain view I know you can't be off getting up to no good, right?"

  "Right, Officer Lundy."

  "But it happens so infrequently," Lundy said. "It makes me wonder."

  "Wonder what?"

  "Wonder what you're doing."

  Haji stared at the sidewalk and smoked. Mario kept his hands in his pockets.

  "Just hangin' out," Mario said. He was aware of the second officer walking a wide semicircle around them, checking the alley, keeping a hand on his nightstick.

  "No big scores tonight?" Lundy asked.

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Nah, you never do." Lundy squared off with Mario. "It's been more than five years since you been sent up. You must be doing something right."

  "Keeping my nose clean, Officer."

  "Yeah. Something like that." Lundy's partner gave him a subtle shake of the head. "Okay, Mario. Good to see you staying out of trouble. But it's late. Why don't you go home and go to bed?"

  "Maybe I will," Mario said. Haji crushed his cigarette, never once looking up from the street.

  The police cruiser jumped from the curb and roared away.

  "Fuckin' pricks," Haji said.

  "Open it up," Mario said.

  Haji stepped over to the trunk of a black late-90s Impala and keyed open the trunk. A scared, skinny white guy gasped a desperate gulp of air.

  "So, Waylon, you're absolutely sure you ain't seen him?" Mario asked.

  "I swear." Waylon sucked air again. "I swear to God, Mario."

  "Okay." Mario nodded to Haji who hauled Waylon out of the trunk by his jean jacket. Once deposited on the sidewalk the man stood on shaky legs, unsure if he was dismissed or not.

  "You'll tell him we asked around about him?" Mario said.

  "Sure, sure, Mario. If I see him. I doubt I will though."

  "Yeah, well, you see him, you give him this." Mario shot out a hand that had been hiding in his pocket. His knife flashed across the skinny guy's palm, splitting skin. Waylon stifled a scream and held his wrist with his one good hand, staring down at his brand new wound like it fell there from the sky.

  "You tell him that, will you?" Mario said.

  Waylon nodded, then, off Mario's nod, sprinted down the street.

  Mario turned to Haji. "What was that Ricky said about Raul having a baby mama?"

  * * *

  Raul felt the lock start to slide. He worked the screwdriver and felt the small brass piece rotate into the open position. With slow, deliberate movements, he set down the screwdriver and eased up on the window. He crouched on the fire escape, pushing up with his legs to slowly raise the window frame.

  The room inside remained dark. When the window was halfway up, Raul paused and listened. He poked his head through, holding his breath. He didn't want his tequila-and-onions breath to be the thing that woke up the boy.

  The boy was asleep, his face lit by a streak of moonlight coming in the window over Raul's shoulder. Raul lifted the window the rest of the way open by pushing up with his back, keeping his eyes on the boy and going slow.

  When the window was fully raised, he dipped back out the fire escape, grabbed the gym bag by the handle, and swung it into the room ahead of him. He brought his legs over the window frame and was fully in the room.

  He left the bag on the floor and crouched down next to the sleeping figure. He put a hand over the boy's mouth.

  "Shhhh, don't be scared, Beto. It's Daddy."

  Beto's eyes went wide, then the fog of sleep dissipated and Raul saw recognition. He knew it was safe to take his hand away.

  "Daddy, what are you doing here?"

  Raul set a finger across the boy's lips. "Quiet, now. I brought you a present."

  He leaned over and lifted the gym bag onto the bed, laying it across the boy's legs.

  "What is it?"

  "Just a present. It's for you. You can't open it yet, though. I'm going to put it under the bed. I want you to keep it there until the weekend. You can't even tell your mom."

  Raul swung the bag down and pushed it under Beto's bed. Several toys made a rattle as they were shoved out of the way and Raul pulled back on the bag. He checked the doorway, but it was empty and open.

  "Why can't I look?" Beto smiled.

  "It's a surprise." Raul chucked his son under the chin. "And hey, listen, I have to go away for a little while. But I'll be back, okay?"

  "Mom said she doesn't want you around anyway."

  Damn. Six years old and she already had the kid turned against him. "Yeah, I know. But she'll be happy once she opens that present with you."

  "I thought you said I couldn't tell her."

  "Not until the weekend. Okay, buddy?"

  "Okay, Daddy."

  Raul leaned over and kissed his son on the forehead. "Love you, buddy."

  "Love you too, Daddy."

  "You gonna be my little man and keep our secret?"

  Beto nodded, his hair rustling on the pillow.

  Raul felt the cold steel of a gun come to a rest on the back of his neck. "What secret?"

  He closed his eyes. At the time giving Selena the gun was such a good idea. Now, she seemed to delight in pulling it on him.

  "Can't a father and son share one little secret?"

  "Can't a mother go to sleep without worrying her son's room is being broken into in the middle of the night?"

  "It's just me."

  "That makes it better?"

  Raul looked into his son's eyes. The boy watched the conversation like it was an ordinary one, and for Raul and Selena—it was.

  "Will you put that away?"

  "Will you leave my son's room?"

  "He's my son, too."

  The gun came away from his neck. Raul turned to see Selena. He wished he knew exactly what he'd done to make her hate him so. Every time he saw her, he felt the pull again, to fall into her arms, to make a little brother for Beto.

  Selena let the gun dangle by her hip.

  "I was just leaving," Raul said.

  "You have your visitation days," she said.

  "I have to go out of town for a while."

  "Where?"

  "Just out of town."

  Selena chuckled. No sense getting into it. More secrets and lies, she knew the drill. Her only job was to protect Beto from it.

  "You can leave the way you came in." She gestured toward the window with the gun. "Next time there'll be a new lock on it."

  Raul gave her a hard look, but she deflected it. He turned and ran a hand across his son's hair. "See you soon, okay buddy?"

  Beto nodded.

  Selena watched as Raul c
limbed back onto the fire escape.

  At least the money was out of his hands. He felt strange leaving $326,000 under his son's bed. He was only slightly confident Beto would keep the secret until the weekend, especially when Selena would pressure him to reveal what they talked about. All he really needed were a few hours. After that, even if Mario did catch up with him, there would be no way to ever trace the money back to his family.

  Mario could do what he wanted then.

  Raul's feet hit the pavement of the alley below.

  "Your watch broken or something?"

  Raul froze. He could smell the smoke from Haji's cigarette. This was all happening much faster than he anticipated. He turned slowly, showing no threat, hands outstretched to his sides.

  "Mario," he said.

  "I mean, if your watch was broken or something I can see maybe being a little bit late. This, though, I don't know what to think."

  There were no guns drawn, no knives gleaming in the overhead lights shining down from the backs of the buildings. Mario stood with his hands in his pockets, waiting for an explanation.

  "Mario," Raul began, "I was gonna call you. Things have changed a little bit. I needed to pass off the money so we wouldn't get busted with it."

  "Can the shit."

  Raul swallowed hard, thankful, in a way, he could stop scrambling for a credible lie.

  "I know who's up there." Mario lifted his chin to the top of the fire escape and the window Raul climbed out of. "And I know my money's inside. So here's what's gonna happen next. You climb back up that ladder and you get it for me. You come back down, you hand me the money, and then we go somewhere and talk."

  Mario took a few steps closer to Raul, hands still in his pockets.

  "If you don't get my money back down here in three minutes, I go up there and take it. And whoever is up there is not gonna like how I get it. I'll go into that apartment, kill every living thing inside, including any pets or houseplants, and then I take my money back. I think the first option is better for all of us."

  "I don't like killing kids," Haji said, driving the point home.

  Raul looked at the sidekick in his mohawk, then back to Mario.

  Mario said, "You know I'm serious, right?"

  "I know you are."

  "Better get climbing."

  Raul stood still for a moment. There was no use arguing. No use trying to come up with a clever plan. He was busted and he knew it. Two against one. Raul didn't even have a gun. Nothing to do but climb the fire escape and go steal $326,000 back from his son.

  * * *

  "Daddy? I thought you left."

  Raul put a finger to his lips to shush his son. "Something came up. I need to take this back for a little while." He finished sliding the gym bag out from under Beto's bed.

  "Why?"

  "I'll bring it back, I promise." Raul eyed the open window, thinking. "Can you do Daddy a favor?"

  Beto shifted in his bed. "What?"

  "You know the gun Mommy had earlier? The one she was using to play the game with Daddy?" Beto nodded. "Do you know where she keeps it?"

  The boy nodded again.

  "I need you to get it for me. But, hey, listen to me." Raul leaned close. "She can't know you're taking it, okay? Can you be extra super quiet?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. You be my little man and bring me that gun. You only touch the handle, okay? Only the wood part. Promise me."

  "I promise."

  "Okay." Raul kissed his son's forehead. "Go on now."

  Beto slid out of bed and walked on bare feet to his open door. Like a miniature cat burglar he moved into the hall and out of sight.

  Raul ran a hand across his scalp. Sweat beaded under his hair and across his upper lip. He had no real way out of this, but at least maybe he could even the playing field.

  Somehow in all his days of stealing from other people, he never knew what guilt felt like. Now, stealing from his own son—stealing stolen money—Raul felt guilt like ulcers in his stomach.

  He heard a toilet flush. Selena. She wasn't back in bed, she'd been in the bathroom. He heard the water run. Raul started to panic. Beto would have to pass her in the hall on his way back from her bedroom with the gun. If she caught Raul back in her apartment, urging her son to steal her gun, she would shoot him for sure. The money in the gym bag could pay for Beto's therapy later on.

  But if Raul didn't come downstairs with the money soon, Selena and Beto would be dead.

  The boy slipped into the room. Raul exhaled, moved on his knees over to the door, and pushed it most of the way closed as he heard the bathroom door open down the hall.

  Raul clamped a hand over his son's mouth and took the gun from his hand. He hadn't lived with Selena long enough to know her habits. Would she stop off and check on the boy before going to back to sleep? Raul would find out soon enough.

  Raul held his breath again as he listened to the rise and fall of her footsteps in the hallway outside the door. She passed by.

  "Good boy," he said to Beto. "Now get back in bed."

  He tucked the gun into the small of his back and swung the gym bag out in front of him. Raul could see Mario and Haji watching him descend. Haji had exchanged his cigarette for a gun in his hand.

  Raul reached the last platform, but paused before taking the final ladder to the alley below.

  "We still do the split," he said.

  "Says who?" Mario said. "I think you gave up your share when you didn't show."

  "I'm here now. We split three ways."

  "Only reason you're here now is I found you."

  Raul tightened his grip on the gym bag in his left hand. "It's my kid, Mario. I was giving it to my kid."

  "He probably would have been very happy with your third. But you got greedy. Now come down."

  "I fucked up. Don't take it out on him."

  "I'm gonna take it out on him and his little pink belly if you don't come down off that ladder and give me my fucking money." Mario's voice was always unnervingly even. Even when he threatened you. He said such awful things so matter-of-fact that you knew he meant them.

  "Throw down the bag," Haji said.

  "Haj," Raul said. "You know I would never fuck you."

  "You already did."

  Raul knew negotiating time was over. If he gave up the money he was dead. If he went down to face them he was dead. Only one way out and it was a long shot.

  Raul drew the gun, fired at Haji first since his weapon was out in the open.

  From his high vantage point, Raul had clean shots. He fired twice, catching Haji through the top of the skull with one shot, he wasn't sure which. The scalp just below the bristles of Haji's mohawk opened up, spilling its contents. His body crumpled to the alley floor.

  Mario was on the move. Raul got two shots in before Mario slipped behind a dumpster. At least one shot landed and Mario grunted hard.

  Lights were coming on in neighboring buildings. A dog barked.

  Two shots came winging up from behind the dumpster. Raul staggered back as one bullet dug into the meat of his upper arm. His hand released the gym bag and it banged to the metal grating of the fire escape.

  "Daddy?" Above him, two stories up, Beto leaned out his window.

  "Get back inside!"

  "Raul is that you, you motherfucker." Selena's light was on in her bedroom.

  Two more shots rang out from behind the dumpster. The glass on Selena's window shattered and Raul could hear her cursing loudly as she disappeared into the room.

  Raul stuffed the gun back in his waistband and broke for the ladder, snatching up the gym bag and climbing two, sometimes three rungs at a time. Mario took one pot shot as him as he climbed, but kept his shooting conservative. The shot caught Raul in the meat of his upper thigh, an inch below his buttocks. Raul gripped tight to the ladder rung in his hand as he fought through the wave of pain.

  Beto was out on the fire escape now, fear in his eyes as his dad moved slowly up the two flights. When he was b
elow Beto, Raul stopped and lifted the bag high overhead, his body reluctant to do any more climbing.

  "Take it," he commanded.

  Beto leaned over the railing and took one loop of the gym bag's handle. The other he couldn't reach.

  "Take it, little man." Raul's arm burned. He raised the bag as high as he could with his good arm. The money inside proved heavier than he remembered.

  Another shot rang out. Mario's patience paid off. Raul felt a sharp sting in his side, then he was gasping for air. His knees went instantly weak and he fell to the metal grating of the second floor fire escape. As he did he pulled the bag down.

  Beto held on.

  The boy pitched forward over the railing, his hand still gripped tight to the loop of the handle. When Raul saw him start to go, he threw himself forward, clipping his collarbone on the top railing of the fire escape.

  "Hold on!" With two hands pinched tight around the second loop of the bag's handle, Raul held on. His son went past him in the air, head down and aiming at the alley floor. When he got even with the lip of the fire escape the bag stretched tight, the loops pulling in opposite directions.

  The stitching held. Beto was dangling from one loop of the bag's handle out over the edge of the fire escape, Raul gripping tight to the other loop, his chest pressed against the railing.

  Mario came out from his hiding place. Raul could hear Selena scream above him.

  "Why couldn't you just be cool, man?" Mario asked. "Why'd you have to skip the split?"

  "So he won't have to do this shit, Mario. For him."

  Raul could see the terror in his son's eyes. Beto held on silently despite the tears streaming down his cheeks.

  Mario raised his gun. "I'll give you the choice. I can shoot him and get it over with. Or I can shoot you and he'll fall and maybe he'll make it. Maybe he'll get paralyzed, maybe he'll die. If he does die it won't be quick though." Mario followed the swinging boy with the barrel of the gun. "Up to you."

  Raul spoke quietly to his son. "Can you hold on a little longer?"

  The boy nodded. Raul swung his arm, pulling the boy to the left. When the momentum had carried him as far as it would, he pulled back to the right, getting the boy into a swinging rhythm.

  Mario continued to follow the pendulum movements of the swinging boy with the sight of his handgun.