by K. M. Hodge
Michael deleted the text messages that Bobby had sent just in case some nosey guard, not on the payroll, stopped him. Then he knocked on the glass window. “See you next week, Bobby.”
The guard opened the door to let him out. As it clicked shut behind him, Michael shook out his handkerchief and wiped down the phone before rolling it up and pocketing it. Then he took out his hand sanitizer and squirted some into his palm. The guard standing beside him snickered and rolled his eyes. Michael didn’t care what the low-life guards thought of him. He pocketed the bottle and started for the hallway and out of the building.
***
Unknown Building
Ocean City, Maryland
November 18, 2005
5:41 PM
~~~
“Jude?”
Jude smoothly ended the call with his informant, never once flinching or showing signs of being “caught”. He slipped his phone back into his pants pocket, and handed his boss the papers on the printer. “I’m finished up with the stuff. Here’s what you asked for.”
“Who were you talking to?”
Jude wet his lips and leaned back in his chair. “My sister. Just checking in and letting her know I’ll be late tonight.”
“We don’t pay you to chit-chat with your family. Get back to work. We need the money transfers done before midnight.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When I come back, I expect it to be done.”
Jude pulled up the software program he’d created to transfer and launder money for The Syndicate, whom he’d been working for since high school. Without his nose stuck in the ones and zeroes, he might never have met Sally. But because he was smart, he had an on-the-books job at the local grocery chain, too. When Sally started working there, Billy had come to him and offered to pay him to keep an eye on his wife. It didn’t take Jude long to grow attached to Sally. He didn’t tell her about the money Billy gave him to spy on her. She would be furious, but Jude could see the big picture. The drunk constantly blew all of their money on booze and poker. This way at least some of that money could go to help the boy. A college fund or something like that. The boy had a real chance to get out and live the life Jude could only dream of.
His BlackBerry buzzed with an incoming message. He looked over his shoulder before pulling it out of his pocket and glancing at the notification. It was from a hacker friend of his.
~~~
From: Dreck
To: J M
Date: November 18, 2005 at 5:41 PM
Subject: Requested
---
JM,
The guy you’re looking for is living in the DC area and is actually going to be in an art show at the Shed. I’ve attached the report and all the info about the show. Let me know if you need anything else.
Dreck
~~~
Jude opened the attachments and skimmed them. Even though it would piss Sally off, he would take her to the show. As much as she denied it, he knew she wanted to see Alex again. She deserved to be happy. Hell, she deserved to be safe. Her and the boy. Maybe if things worked out with her and the spook, she could trade in being a spy for being a housewife. He chuckled. Okay, maybe not a housewife.
***
Mac’s Auto Center
Ocean City, Maryland
November 18, 2005
6:00 PM
~~~
Billy called Jude from the shop’s old phone and left a message on the voice mail—despite his distaste in leaving a record of his request—to let him know he’d be gone for a while. He needed Jude to keep an eye on Sally and the boy. Ever since she’d tried to bolt a few years ago, Billy worried she’d be gone when he got back from his little trips. She might drive him crazy, but she washed his clothes, fed him, and put out when he told her to—all for free.
“I’m heading out, Billy. You leaving tomorrow?” Joey asked.
“Yeah, I got a job in DC this week.” He grabbed a beer out of the employee mini fridge and cracked it open. “Your wife have that baby yet?”
“Naw, and she’s driving me crazy about it. No way I’m going home sober. Want to hit up O’Malley’s tonight? I hear a couple of guys might get a game going. Maybe I can win enough to get Tiff that expensive crib she wants. I told her the little shit can sleep in the dresser drawer like we did, but she’s set on some $400 convertible crib shit.”
Billy sipped beer off the lip of his can, then said, “Yeah, I’m in.”
Joey grabbed his bags out of the lockers. “What they got you doing in DC?”
“Mostly, the boss wants me to grease some palms.” Billy checked the time on the wall. “I gotta finish cleaning up the shop. I’ll meet ya at O’Malley’s in an hour.”
“All right, man. I’ll save you a seat at the table.”
Billy grabbed the broom and started a half-assed job of sweeping up the floor.
“You missed a spot.”
Billy looked up to see his brother-in-law, Mac, walking over. His work shoes scrapped against the stray granules of kitty litter that soaked up the oil on the dirty shop floor. Sally’s much-older brother, a barrel-chested man, loomed a foot taller than Billy. He used to intimidate him, but not anymore.
“You’re going again for a week, I hear.” Mac inched closer and crossed his arms over his chest. “What am I supposed to do with a man out that long?”
Billy squared his shoulders and glared right at his brother-in-law. “Take it up with the boss. You know I don’t have a say in where or when I go.”
“Just cuz you’re married to my baby sister don’t mean you get any special treatment.”
“Of course not, sir. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Mac shook his head and relaxed his arms to his sides. “You’re a piece of shit, Billy. One of these days these men you work with will see it and you’ll end up wrapped in cinder on the bottom of the river.”
“You better hope not, because that wouldn’t be good for your sister. You think they let the wives off scot-free?”
A growl escaped Mac as he turned and walked away, grumbling to himself the whole time.
The Syndicate wouldn’t do shit to Sally, but Mac didn’t need to know that. Billy knew Sally’s brother blamed himself for her ending up with Billy. Mac had served time for assaulting a cop while Sally and Billy were in high school. When her mom’s long string of boyfriends started to take an interest in her, there wasn’t anyone else but Billy to protect her. So, as soon as Sally had turned seventeen, she and Billy had gone down to the courthouse to get hitched.
“Clean up the breakroom, too, before you leave,” Mac called out from the backroom office.
“Yes, sir.”
Billy shoved the broom handle hard, taking his frustrations out on the floor. This song-and-dance routine with Sally’s brother was getting old. If only someone would take care of him, then Billy could run the shop and be the big man for once. No more taking orders. Yeah, if only.
***
Red’s Backroom Bar
Salisbury, Maryland
November 19, 2005
9:45 PM
~~~
“Don’t look now, but that fine drink of water is checking you out.”
Sally swatted at Jude. “Shut-up. I'm a mother.”
“So what, you turned in your libido at the maternity ward?” Jude’s eyes bugged out at her and his lips pursed, creating a comical effect.
“Yes.” She pressed the beer glass up to her lips to hide her smile. Her friend was persistent in his efforts to get her laid.
“How long we talkin’?” Jude shifted on the stool and leaned in towards her. “Cause ya wait too long and your stuff’s gonna shrivel up like a prune.”
For that Sally gave his shin a swift kick. “Shut-up, ya old queen.”
“Take that back, Sally Ann. I am not old.”
She rolled her eyes and shrugged.
“I'm not taking your prune self out anymore if you're gonna be mean. That fine Irishman might
be a good cure for that attitude of yours. That’s all I’m saying.” He tossed a bar nut in his mouth and winked.
“You know what the most useless thing on a woman is?”
“What?”
“A fucking drunk man, that’s what.” Sally took a sip of her drink. “So, I think I’ll pass. But thanks for thinking of me.”
Sally snuck a glance at the man who'd been staring at her chest all night long. Not exactly her type, but not ugly either. His dirty blonde hair hung over his glasses and he wore a flannel shirt and a ripped pair of jeans that hung low on his narrow hips. The old Sally would have followed him into the men’s bathroom an hour ago, but motherhood had taken the wind out of her sails.
Jude rolled his eyes at her, but didn’t saying anything more. He didn’t need to. If it wasn’t for him, she would never leave the trailer. Billy and one of his buddies had taken off bright and early that morning for God only knows where. She couldn’t use her abusive husband as her excuse to stay home and watch Lost. The boy loved it when Jude’s sister Mary babysat him, and he begged her to go out so he could stay up late and drink Kool-Aid all night. His lips and teeth would be purple for days.
Sally flipped her wrist to check the time. “Quit worrying about my aged plum and start worrying about the fact that this guy is late. Didn't he say 9?”
Jude examined his watch; a new prototype he said would revolutionize the spy world. “It's 9:45. Untwist those granny panties and order yourself another beer. He’ll come. This place is pretty far out. He might’ve got stuck in traffic.”
“We managed it just fine,” she grumbled.
They were the only ones sitting at the bar. The handful of other patrons sat at the tables and were all wobbling in their seats from too much drink. They obviously couldn’t hold their liquor. Not like the Ocean City men could. “You sure picked the crappiest bar to meet at.”
Jude glared and leaned in closer to her. “Hush. My friend owns the place.”
Sally flagged down the bartender and got another pint to help her loosen up a little. These days, she put all of her pent-up energy into learning the business and she could use a bit of relaxation. Jude had guessed right on getting her involved. She didn’t like to brag, but she could do the job better than any of the other men. Their new informant, if he showed, would be their first big push into the spy-for-hire world. She knew too much and needed to start doing something to bring it all down before they sucked her boy into their world and she lost him forever.
“How’s the Z man likein’ school?”
Sally sighed. Her brilliant boy kept her on her toes and his teachers didn’t quite know what to do with him. While the other kids his age chose to eat glue, he would scuttle off to a corner with a book. “He likes it better. They still aren’t challenging him, though. I’ve been taking him to the library every week to check out more stuff. Not that I can teach him much of anything.”
Jude straightened his spine and nodded in the direction of the front doors. “Told you he’d come.”
A clean-cut man, dressed in a cheap suit, walked through the bar’s door. He looked to be in his early thirties. Jude hadn’t told her anything about the guy, but now, seeing him, she found herself intrigued. The man walked over to them and sat down on the stool between Sally and Jude. He flagged the bartender with a wave of his hand.
“Scotch, neat.”
Sally looked down at her beer, trying to avoid embarrassing herself. It really had been a long…long time.
“Is it safe to talk here?” the man asked Jude.
“Yeah, it’s safe.” Jude didn’t even look over at the man. Instead, he stared ahead at the muted TV.
Jude didn’t like football so she knew he didn’t give two shits about the Raven’s game. This was all for show. The whole thing seemed a little ridiculous to her. Even as guarded as she was, she thought this side talk might be a bit of overkill. She hid her smirk in her glass and took a long gulp of her beer.
“Do you have the stuff?” Jude asked.
Sally tried to suppress a giggle. This would be her first case with Jude and already she couldn’t keep a straight face.
“Is something funny?” The man glared at her. “I’m putting my life on the line, shit bird.”
Sally wiped the beer foam off her lips and shook her head. “And you think we aren’t?”
The man gripped the bar like he might get up and hit her. Teach her a lesson.
“Don’t mind her, she’s cranky today. We all got skin in the game on this one. But we also want to get this out in the open. Expose them. We can’t do that without your help,” Jude said, almost pleading with the man.
The informant grabbed the napkin in front of him and twisted and untwisted it. “You say that, but I’m the one in the thick of things. You’s guys get to hide behind some computer.”
Jude nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
All these years working together and Sally had never seen Jude belly up to anyone. This guy must be legit. Her friend stared her down, as best he could with the man between them. She did tend to get herself in trouble with her barbed tongue. But, for Jude, she could keep herself in check, especially if this guy really could help them out.
“What can we do to make things easier for you?” Jude asked.
The man looked ahead at the game. “The Ravens are really shitting the bed this season. It’s a good thing I’m not a betting man.”
“No such thing as a sure thing in football.” Jude leaned into the bar and shot him a wayward glance. “But if you don’t show up at all, you’re guaranteed to lose.”
The man harrumphed. “Yeah….”
“Can we count on you?”
Their source continued to twist the napkin and Sally noticed beads of sweat gathering at his hairline, making his face glisten. She covered his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze. “I know. It’s scary.”
The man yanked his hand loose. “What do you know about how I feel?”
“I’m married to an Ocean City thug and you know what I do. He thinks I bag groceries. He doesn’t have a clue that I trade in secrets and turn in men like him to the police, all tied up with a bow. So, yeah, I know what it’s like to be afraid. I’m scared every damn day of my life and yet I’m still here.”
Jude gave her a sidelong glance. So, she’d lied a little. If it got them what they needed, what did it matter? Sally extended her hand once more, this time to shake. “Let’s start over. I’m Sally.”
The man took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Gary.”
“Do you have something for us, Gary? Because, if not, I can talk all night about the Ravens and their piss-poor season. But I don’t think that’s how you want to spend your evening. You came all this way, after all.” Sally paused, not taking her eyes off the man. “What’ll it be Gary? Are you in or are you out?”
“They killed my sister. The detectives on the case said it was a mugging or something, but that’s bull.” Gary took a drink of his scotch and swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Rachel…was….”
“Who’s girl was she?” Sally asked.
Gary pulled a crumpled photo out of his pants pocket and handed it to her. “Some big-wig lawyer. He and his cronies in the state senate are as dirty as they come. My sis let some stuff slip about this guy. Said if anything happened to her that I should pick up an envelope from her PO Box in DC.” Gary looked away and swallowed hard. “She told me not to worry. That she would be careful. But I did worry about her. I didn’t like what she did, but she wouldn’t get out of the business. I tried so many times, I can’t count.”
Sally fought the urge to bite her nails. The man in the photo looked an awful lot like the man who’d shown up at her brother’s shop. The one she’d seen on the security cam.
Jude cleared his throat. “What do you have on him?”
“If he knew….” He paused and sucked in a breath. “These guys wouldn’t think twice about taking me out. She got too close. I’m sur
e of it.” Gary reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a thick stack of papers. Sally took it and started to skim through them. Campaign contributions, printed e-mails and copied receipts made up the stack.
A nagging feeling tugged at Sally’s gut and she went with it. “Is there more?”
“Yeah, there’s more.”
“Good.” Sally passed off the papers to her partner. “We can help you.”
“It’s a good place to start,” Jude said.
“Before we can do anything, we need to know what you’re looking to get out of this?” Sally asked.
“I want him and everyone around him to pay.” Gary twisted the napkin so hard it ripped.
“We can turn his world upside down, drain his bank account, and even get the police involved, but we don’t kill folks. Just so we’re clear.” Jude’s eyebrows came together to form one long line.
“I don’t want him dead.” The poor man balled up the napkin in his fist. “No, I want him to live each day in hell on earth. Like me.”
Sally stared absentmindedly at the TV screen and clutched her fist to keep from biting her nails. “That we can do.”
***
CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
November 20, 2005
1:00 PM
~~~
Alex took a long drag of his cigarette, pulling the sweet tobacco into his lungs. His request to be a part of the task force investigating The Syndicate hadn’t gone well. He couldn’t really explain it to himself, let alone his boss. The right career move would be to take another tour overseas, but he couldn’t. Not after what had happened last time. The project between the CIA and FBI would be a better fit for him—especially in his current state of mind. He’d read the files and knew he would be perfect for the job. If he did well, he could still move up and get the promotion his boss had been dangling over his head for the last few years.
He put out his cigarette, fished out his cellphone, and dialed Doc. The call went to voice mail.
“Hey Doc, I know you aren’t talking to me, but I wish you would. I really need to talk to you. That therapist you recommended is a joke. She thinks I can solve all my problems by doodling and I really don’t see the point in that. I need you. Please call me back. Please.”