Cold City (Repairman Jack: Early Years Trilogy) rjeyt-1

by Paul F. Wilson

  Product…Christ, how he’d come to hate that word.

  Jack’s offer to go along had been bogus. He’d been counting on Reggie turning him down. He wanted to stay with the truck. He kept it idling while he examined his options.

  He could take off now and save his half of the girls. That would mean the end of Tony, but…

  Yeah…but. Risk Tony’s life to save fourteen girls from being sold as sex slaves. One life for fourteen, or fourteen lives for one.

  He shook his head. Who was he to make that decision? Good question. The answer: his decision, by default. He was the only one behind the wheel, the only one with the option. A judgment call.

  But if he took off with his girls, what happened to Reggie’s group? Would they be switched to the other truck and carted off? Jack had the license plate number, but was it even real? Could he get to a phone in time to tell the cops to stop it?

  Too many questions, too many ways for things to go wrong.

  As Reggie approached the other vehicles, two men stepped out of the limo and another pair from the cab of the truck. Two had towels wrapped around their heads, the others wore pillboxes, all four wore ankle-length thobes – he knew what they were called now because he’d looked it up.

  “Holy–”

  Mohammedans. Two looked familiar. He was pretty sure they’d helped unload the cigarettes at the Mummy’s place, but in the dim light he couldn’t be sure. He had the impression that someone remained in the Town Car. The Mummy himself?

  He saw Reggie lean into the rear compartment.

  4

  “The deal was for thirty,” Kadir heard Tachus say.

  He remained in a crouch, revolver ready, looking up at the lighted interior of the car. He could see neither Tachus nor the driver, but he could hear them.

  “We had a little spoilage,” the driver replied. “It’s a long trip. Y’gotta expect that.”

  “We will adjust the payment accordingly.”

  “Fair enough. But since we’ve never dealt with you before, I gotta see the money before this goes any further.”

  “Of course. Osman!” Tachus raised his voice and spoke in Arabic. “Open the trunk and let him see.” He lowered it again and returned to English. “And you – do not be foolish. We are honest businessmen, but we will protect what is ours.”

  Kadir smiled as he envisioned Tachus showing the driver a pistol.

  “Hey, no need for that. We’re businessmen too. We just want to get paid what was agreed on and be on our way.”

  “Good. Then there will be no problem.”

  Kadir heard the trunk open, heard a zipper slide, followed by rummaging sounds. He peeked and saw a thin, scruffy man with hair cut short in the front and long at the back of his neck. After a while…

  “Okay,” the driver said as the trunk slammed and he returned to Tachus. “Looks good. Let’s make the transfer.”

  “We will need to inspect the cargo.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “You understand, of course, that we must make sure the count is correct and that there are no damaged goods.”

  “They’re all fine.”

  “So you say. But as you also said, we have never dealt with you before. Your idea of ‘fine’ may not agree with ours.”

  “All right, all right. But we gotta make this fast. Gonna be light soon.”

  “Back one of your trucks up to ours and we will transfer one at a time.”

  “That’s gonna take time.”

  “If all is as it should be, this will not take long. But I will not pay for damaged goods.”

  “Shit, okay. Let’s just get this show rolling.”

  The driver moved away, but Kadir maintained his position, unsure of what Tachus wanted him to do. As his legs started to cramp he began to rise, but froze as he heard a new voice say, “Hello, fucker!”

  A stream of bullets shattered the rear passenger widow. Blood and brains and bits of glass sprayed into the night over Kadir’s head, spraying him.

  Someone – the driver? – was attacking with a machine gun!

  5

  Jack watched Reggie talk, gesture to the trucks, then one of the robed guys opened the Lincoln’s trunk and showed him something. Jack couldn’t see what it was, but the way the glow from the courtesy lights within lit up Reggie’s face reminded Jack of the suitcase in Kiss Me Deadly. Money, he supposed.

  Whatever. Reggie seemed satisfied. The trunk was closed and Reggie headed back toward Jack’s truck. He opened the passenger door again.

  “They want to check out the product.”

  That word again.

  Jack unclenched his teeth. “What’s that mean? They bring a gynecologist along?”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind. What do we do?”

  “Back your truck up to the back of theirs. We transfer the girls one at a time and–”

  A rapid series of pops followed by cries of pain and terror cut him off. Two ski-masked figures had emerged from the brush and were shooting everyone in sight. One was firing into the rear compartment of the Town Car.

  “Oh, shit!” Reggie cried as he jumped in. “Go!”

  Jack sat frozen in shock, unable to respond as he watched the Mohammedans drop. The two attackers each carried some sort of submachine gun with a long silencer on the barrel. They moved quickly and operated with deadly efficiency. One of the Mohammedans pulled out a pistol but never got a chance to fire it. In seconds all four were down.

  “What–?”

  “Go-go-go!” He rammed a fist against Jack’s shoulder. “Get the fuck outa here!”

  The punch did it. Jack shook off the paralysis, slammed the truck into DRIVE, and stomped the gas. As he yanked the wheel hard to the right, a spray of bullets stitched the hood and smashed the passenger window. Reggie screamed like a girl and ducked, slipping to the floor. Jack kept driving.

  As the truck angled away, the shooters lost their line of sight on the cab. Jack prayed they wouldn’t keep shooting – they’d hit the girls. But a glance in the passenger-side mirror showed that they’d shifted their interest from the truck to the Town Car, then they were lost from view.

  “Who are they?” Jack shouted. His heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of his chest.

  Reggie straightened from the floor. “Dunno!” He was panting like he’d just finished running a marathon.

  Jack felt a little short of breath too. An ambush was the last thing he’d expected.

  “What do they want?”

  “The money, what else? There’s three mil in the trunk of that car.”

  “Three–!”

  “Hey, a hundred grand apiece for the product.”

  “You say ‘product’ once more and I’m going to punch out your lights.”

  “What? Who the fuck you think–?”

  Jack gave him a shove that bounced him off the door. “You heard me.”

  He stared at Jack in shock for a second, then reached for his waistband.

  Oh, no. Going for his pistol –

  But he came up empty-handed.

  “Shit! The gun and the phone are back in my truck!”

  “You were going to shoot me?”

  “I don’t–” He shook his head. “Just don’t you ever lay a hand on me again.”

  “Fine. And you just remember what I said.”

  Jack reached the pavement and picked up speed. Reggie had mentioned the phone. Christ! Tony!

  “When did you last call in with the code word or whatever it was?”

  “Just before I got out of the truck. Told Tommy we were at the spot.”

  “We’ve got to find a phone before twenty minutes are up.”

  “Keep driving! And don’t worry. We were just kidding about killing him. Moose’s idea to make you cooperate. We ain’t killers.”

  Jack wasn’t buying that. But even if he was telling the truth, what would they do if they found Moose?

  Reggie was peering in his rearview. “Don’t see
nobody. Had to be the money – that was all they wanted.” He slammed the dashboard. “Shit! How’d they know?”

  “Who cares? What if they come after us? We had one gun between us and now we don’t have any.”

  “Hey, I couldn’t walk up to the buyers carrying. And no one’s coming after us. I mean, what for? They was wearing masks. We can’t identify them.”

  Good point. Reggie was obviously more attuned to this sort of situation than Jack. But Jack was more concerned about the girls. These were safe, but what about the others?

  “What do you think they’ll do with your truck?”

  Reggie shrugged. “Who cares? It’s rented with a credit card that don’t belong to nobody. Ain’t worried about the truck. The prod–” He cut off. “The girls are what worry me.”

  “Why?”

  “They’ve seen us.”

  “Haven’t seen me.”

  Well, Bonita had, but none of the others. And he didn’t think Bonita was going to accuse him of anything.

  “Hey, they seen me, okay? I loaded them into the house and I loaded them into the trucks. They can identify me.”

  “Well, you’ll be back in North Carolina and they’ll be shipped back to wherever they came from. Where did they come from?”

  Reggie shrugged. “Who knows, who cares?” He chewed a fingernail. “We gotta do something with the ones sitting behind us. We get caught with them, we’re fucked.”

  “Why don’t we–”

  “Turn here!” Reggie said, pointing to the right. “I got an idea. I know a place on the north shore we can go. No one’ll see us.”

  “No one’ll see us what?”

  “Hey, just drive and lemme think, okay?”

  Jack glanced at him. Reggie and thinking… not exactly a match made in heaven.

  6

  Kadir didn’t have to look to know Tachus was beyond help. He glanced down at the revolver in his hand – what chance did this little thing with its six rounds have against a machine gun?

  He dropped flat and slithered under the limo. He heard shots, shouts, screams, saw Osman hit the ground on the far side of the car. In the light from the open car door he watched his torn throat pump dark blood. The man stared at Kadir, blinked twice, twitched, then lay still. The blood stopped pumping.

  “That all of them?” said a voice.

  “Yeah,” replied another. “But we’ve got to go after that truck.”

  “No kidding,” said the first. “But first–”

  Kadir jumped as a short, sharp burst sounded at the rear of the car. He heard the trunk pop open. Cold liquid began to splash his legs.

  “Damn! I hit the money.”

  “You also hit the gas tank.”

  Gas! Kadir could smell it now, but didn’t dare move his feet.

  “Jesus, bro,” said the first voice. “Will you look at that? Beautiful or what?”

  “Yeah, beautiful. Meanwhile the other truck is getting away.”

  “Yeah. But a couple of details first.”

  As Kadir watched, booted feet kicked Osman’s body onto its back. It jerked as more bullets were fired into it.

  What were they doing? Clearly he was dead.

  More bursts of gunfire from farther away in the clearing. Kadir used the sounds to cover him as he squirmed from under the car and rolled into the rank grass at the nearby edge of the clearing.

  He held his breath as one of the attackers returned to the car. He could see only two figures moving about the clearing, both wearing ski masks. They reminded him of the Palestinian heroes from the Munich Olympics.

  “Last one,” the approaching attacker said.

  He fired a few more rounds into the rear compartment – why shoot Tachus again? – and then stopped by the trunk. There he used a cigarette lighter to set fire to a piece of paper the size of a dollar bill – it might even have been money – and then dropped it at the rear of the limo. Kadir could not contain a gasp of shock as the gasoline on the ground burst into flame. His sound apparently was covered by the woomp! of ignition, because the attacker hurried away without a second look.

  Kadir stayed low until he heard the remaining cargo truck start up and drive off. Then he rose and reentered the clearing, giving the burning car a wide berth. He glanced into the open rear section where Tachus sprawled, the top of his head missing. His crotch had been blasted to a bloody ruin.

  Kadir backed away and saw that Osman’s genitals had been blasted away as well. As he staggered about the clearing he noticed that the same had been done to Faraq and Saleem. Why? What did this mean?

  He jumped as the limo’s gas tank exploded, sending a ball of flame into the air.

  He hurried to the truck they’d brought but the keys were not in the ignition and he couldn’t bring himself to search the ruined body of the driver. So Kadir did the only thing he could think of.

  He ran. He didn’t know where he was going. He simply ran.

  7

  Jack followed Reggie’s directions to the northern limit of the Staten Island waterfront. He didn’t know the island’s geography, but figured those dockyards across the channel had to be in Bayonne. Reggie hadn’t been kidding about it being deserted – at least at the moment. Who knew what it would be like once more people were out and about. Clouds had scudded in and it looked and felt like rain.

  “There’s a boat ramp around here somewhere,” Reggie was saying, craning his neck as he peered through the windshield.

  “Boat ramp? You’ve got a boat around here?”

  He looked at Jack as if he’d grown a third eye. “What? No. Did rent one here once, though.”

  “Fishing?”

  Another look. “Hey, no. Had to get rid of something.”

  Jack hesitated, then decided he had to ask what. But before he could speak, Reggie straightened and pointed to the left.

  “There! Get us over there.”

  As Jack approached he saw a ramp sloping down from the pavement to the water, lined on either side with wooden bulkheading.

  “What to we need this for?”

  “You’re going to back the truck into the water.”

  “What for?”

  “We’re gonna sink it.”

  “What? But the girls–”

  “Yeah.” Reggie nodded, a small smile playing about his lips. “You catch on fast, Archie.”

  Jack stared at him. He wasn’t kidding.

  “No way!”

  “Yes, way. Yes, fuckin-A way! This way they don’t talk and they don’t give out no descriptions.”

  He was really serious. Jack couldn’t wrap his mind around the casual cold-bloodedness.

  “Uh-uh. Not happening.”

  Reggie made a disgusted face. “Or what? You gonna pussy out on me? All right, get out. Get out! I’ll do it myself! Move!”

  The only move Jack made was to slide his right hand to the noon position on the steering wheel.

  Reggie slid closer. “Come on, Archie! Get the fuck out and let–”

  Jack straightened his elbow, slamming the knife edge of his hand against Reggie’s throat. The short chop didn’t carry the force to crush his larynx, but enough to spasm it. As Reggie clutched his throat and made choking noises, Jack felt the dark break loose again. He grabbed his head and smashed it back against the passenger door. The glass had been blown out by a bullet, but his skull landed with a thud against the bottom of the window frame. Jack slammed it a second and third time until Reggie’s eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp.

  He released him and let him slump in the seat. Jack leaned back, panting. He watched Reggie breathe. Okay. Still alive. Now what?

  He had a truck rented by someone who probably didn’t exist, with fourteen illegal young girls in the back and an unconscious man in the front.

  He was in deep shit.

  The girls. The girls came first. Had to figure out what to do with the girls. Had to put some distance between himself and them. And quickly. He could walk away from the truck, but that left
him conspicuous and vulnerable to being picked up.

  He could dump Reggie here, let the girls out, drive away, and report them at the first pay phone he found. Some sort of social services agency would pick them up, feed them, keep them warm, and find a way to get them back to their families.

  Yeah. That seemed like the best for all concerned.

  He checked Reggie’s hoodie pouch and found a set of keys. As he slipped out of the cab and hurried around the back, he prayed one of them fit the lock on the rear doors or his plan was shot. The air temperature was probably in the forties but the wind off the water made it feel sub-freezing. His second try was a hit – the padlock shackle popped up. He pulled one of the doors open and saw a crowd of frightened faces.

  “Usted es libre! Correr!”

  They stared at him.

  He motioned toward the ground. “Salte! Usted es libre! Correr! Correr!”

  Something hard and round jammed against the back of his neck as a voice said, “What the fuck are you up to?”

  That didn’t sound like Reggie.

  The girls screamed as a hand grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face up against the unopened rear door. Hurt like hell but he refused to groan.

  Who the hell was this? One of those dead Mohammedans’ friends? Probably thought he and Reggie had double-crossed them.

  “You listening?” the voice said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Might as well tell him.

  “Letting them go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  Another voice came from around the passenger side of the truck.

  “We got one already down here, bro.”

  Someone must have found Reggie.

  “What?”

  “Looks like a little falling out between slimeballs.”

  Slimeballs? Did he think – well, what else would he think?

  “Quedense!” the first guy said and closed the truck’s back door. The girls inside wailed.

  “They’ve been cooped up in there all night,” Jack said.

  “Like you care.”

  The guy tightened his grip on Jack’s neck and dragged him toward the passenger side. Jack got a glance at him and his bladder clenched when he saw the ski mask.