The Trade Off

by Frank Zafiro

  The sun wouldn’t go down for a few more hours, but it was well after dinner time. A guy like Anton would probably just be starting his business.

  Pulling to the side of the street with a rundown clapboard house as my backdrop, I flipped open the phone and pressed call, the highlight bright on Anton’s name.

  I lifted my jaw. Things were about to get real.

  The phone rang a few times, but then went to voicemail.

  Hanging up, I stared at the LED screen until it went black.

  What the hell did I do, if he didn’t —

  The face lit up, Anton’s name glowing at me as the phone vibrated in my hand.

  I opened it, pulling the earpiece to my cheek. And didn’t say a word.

  “I know you there, motherfuck. You’re the stupid fuck what killed my guys, ain’t you?” The same oily voice from before rocketed from the speaker. “It don’t matter, because I’m gonna to find you and kill you.”

  The words hung in the air.

  “Yeah, you heard me right. I’m gonna to kill you. You scared?”

  I started laughing, uncontrollable guffaws that shook my chest and had me gasping for air. Finally, I calmed down enough to reply. “No, I’m not scared, you mealy mouthed little shit. But I do have something you want.”

  A pause, like maybe he hadn’t stayed on the line to hear my maniacal laughter, but then he grunted. “Yeah? You think so? Besides yo’ ass dead?”

  “Those girls? Weren’t they yours?”

  “You still have those bitches?”

  I had piqued his interest which meant that I just had to keep him on the scent, pull him in with added incentive. “Yeah, I have them. And I’d like to make a trade.” Come on, Bull, not another girl. That’d be too obvious.

  “Yeah?” His suspicion was up, like I knew it would be.

  Honesty wasn’t going to work. “The killings were an accident. But now I’m on the run and I need credentials and a clear car to get out of town. Can you make this happen?”

  Unnerving, Anton’s silence worried me. What if I’d scared him off?

  “Yeah, you deserve getting caught.” But his tone had relented.

  Fact was, I had something of his and if I got caught, so did he. And he knew it.

  “Look, I’ll trade you the girls for a car. I don’t even need the papers.” Come on. Come on. I needed a break. He’d see right through me, and I didn’t want to start over. I held my breath, trying to sound nonchalant with a slight edge of desperation. I hadn’t eaten all day because I worried I’d get caught. My plea wasn’t far off.

  “I’m not saying yes, but I’ll meet you. I might bring you a car, I might bring a damn gun and shoot your ass.” He offered a dry laugh. “Shooting sounds fun.”

  I didn’t know what to say. So I waited.

  “Meet me in an hour at Dave’s in the Valley. In the back. Don’t be late or I’ll call the cops as I’m driving away.” He hung up.

  Well, shit. In an hour I’d be dead or beating the information out of another person.

  Making it to the Valley via back roads took almost the entire hour. I had to look up the rundown bar and grill three times on my phone before I figured out how to get there without using main roads.

  I wasn’t stupid and wasn’t going to pull into the lot in my truck – my only mode of transportation. Anton wasn’t going to bring me a car. He was most likely planning on bringing me a good old fashioned ass kicking to end with a gun behind my ear.

  Parking my rig two blocks down and across the busy street, I hoofed it toward Sprague, the main road on Dave’s storefront.

  Eight o’clock at night had two drastically different appearances between eastern Washington and northern Idaho. My home would be lit with starlight and whatever glow the moon reflected. The streets of Spokane were illuminated with car lights, streetlights, neon lights, sign lights, any and all possible electrical means of getting attention lighting up the night sky.

  I slowed before the drop into the back parking lot conjoined with others by shallow alleys. Crouching down, I duck-walked to an old tired T-Bird set up on cement blocks beside the metal railing above the dropped lot.

  White bulbs pushed at the increasing darkness, showing the placement of three guys behind a large trash can and a smaller man pacing in front of a dark colored Lincoln.

  The red glow of a lit cigarette gave away another man’s position as he perched on the dark border kitty-corner to me, only about thirty feet away.

  Four guys plus the main one. My only chance at finding Taylor. I weighed my options.

  Getting caught before even trying to get the information wasn’t an option. Doing my best to get the information that I needed was the only way I could get caught and not go crazy.

  My decision might get me killed, but any other way would certainly leave my niece to men like the ones I was about to meet.

  I stood, padding quietly down the way I’d come and around the corner to come in directly. No point in being coy.

  Whispers and a hollow bang as the men behind the trash can continued to pretend they weren’t there when I came into view brought a curse to Anton’s lips. He rolled his eyes and pointed with his flattened hand toward me. “You the man with my girls?” He looked around. “You don’t got no girls. You messing with me, ain’t you?”

  I held up my hands in the classic sign of surrender. “I’m not messing with you. But you’re not the one I want.”

  “I’m not the one you want?” He rushed into my space, puffing his chest and thrusting his chin. “I’m not the one you want? I’m the last one you’re ever gonna get, you stupid piece of shit.” He bumped my lower chest with his.

  For the first time, my size didn’t intimidate someone else. And why would it? He had four other men, most likely armed, as back up. To him, I was the small man.

  And then it hit me. He was a rooster. He postured before his colleagues, and most likely his soldiers. He needed to appear big and strong.

  “I’m looking for a girl,” I said. “Blonde hair and blue eyes. Young. Taken a few nights ago. I just want the girl. That’s all.”

  His yelling into my face didn’t unnerve me and I sure as hell wasn’t going to cow down to him. But keeping my calm would hopefully calm him a few degrees, enough to think anyway.

  He jerked back from me, crossing his arms and darting a look behind the trash cans. Returning his gaze to my face, he tilted his head back and squinted at me. “Why you want her? She your daughter or something?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, she’s my niece.”

  He shrugged. “Nice piece of ass like that, she wanted by lots of people.” He looked again off to my right and considered something. When he looked at me again, the sly smile he offered chilled me to the bones. “I don’t have her. But I know who does.”

  Holding up his hand, he reached into the pocket of his jeans.

  I tensed, expecting a bullet to my heart any second.

  Instead, he pulled out a pen and scratched something on a slip of paper. He held it up between two fingers. “What are you going to do, if you find her? This niece?”

  “I’m going to bring her home.” I watched him, but he seemed dissatisfied with my answer. I found I was too. “By any means possible.”

  His smile widened, the light glinting off his teeth. “Shee-it. Now we’re talking.”

  And he passed over a piece of paper with an address. “Pasco.” He tapped the white scrap in my fingers before turning.

  “Wait,” I said.

  He turned back to me, his expression open.

  “Why?” I said. I’d figured on a fight, or at least some haggling. He gave it up too easy.

  He shrugged. “Some shit just work out,” he said. “You take care of your business, maybe that helps mine.”

  I thought about that. I guessed it was as good an answer as any.

  Anton turned around again and walked away. In seconds they disappeared, leaving me standing in the parking lot. I was still stuck with a certainty that
it had been entirely too easy and I couldn’t help but feel a trap waited for me between there and Taylor.

  The last thing I had time for was a wild goose chase. But at the same time, I couldn’t afford to ignore the location he’d given me on the slightest chance it might be true.

  I gritted my teeth. Okay. Pasco it was.

  EIGHTEEN

  Gus

  Interstate 90 to Ritzville took about an hour, and then I stopped for gas. A twisted, cutting kind of hunger brewed in my belly. Marlene’s restaurant across the street called out to me and I thought about getting something hot to eat. But I didn’t know how much time Faina or Taylor had before they got moved to another location. I didn’t want to miss that window. So the meatloaf would have to wait.

  I bought some cashews and beef jerky from the gas station, topped off the tank, and hit the highway again.

  From Ritzville, the Tri-Cities were a straight shot down Highway 395. A little over an hour of driving the speed limit. Less the way I drove.

  I crossed the Columbia River and into Kennewick. Then I pulled over and pulled out a map. It was times like these that I wished the department had issued me a smart phone instead of the basic one in my purse now.

  As if on cue, my phone buzzed. I reached in, fumbled around and found it. When I looked at the screen, I immediately recognized Shepard’s number.

  I put the phone away.

  I examined the map to the tune of my phone’s insistent vibrations. The sound reminded me that I had more than one deadline to deal with. Not just when the girls might get moved, and not when the feds pulled the plug on our undercover operation. I only had a few hours before Shepard considered me AWOL or worse and put out a locate on me. I’d be best to avoid the local police after that.

  Or any police, for that matter.

  I traced the intersecting highways and interstates until I realized I’d overshot. I groaned, put the map away, and pulled back into traffic.

  It took me almost forty minutes to find the place. When I did, I double-checked the numbers Anton had written. They matched.

  The house sat in the middle of a residential block that looked as normal as apple pie. Wally and the Beav might as well have been skateboarding down the sidewalk, singing Boy Scout songs. I doubted anyone on the street made less than six figures.

  I parked up the street about half a block away. From that vantage point, I took a hard look at the house. It was painted a nondescript beige.

  Thick shrubs lined the beds along the front, stopping at window height. An eight-foot fence on the near side hid whatever was in the back yard. I lifted my binocs to my face and peered closer. The gate had a small padlock on it.

  A heavy front door sat behind a screen door with security bars. Hell, there was probably a door bar behind that, complete with murder holes and a spot to dump boiling oil, too.

  Shades were drawn in all of the windows facing the street. The porch light burned even though it was still light out and would be for a couple more hours. So either they left it on, or someone was there.

  No cars on the street in front of the house. But there was a short driveway that led to a two and a half car garage on the far side. Plenty of room to park a van in there.

  And, more importantly, to arrive and leave without anyone seeing who was inside that van.

  I realized I was clenching my teeth and forced myself to relax. I massaged the corner of my jaw.

  You’d think I’d be more relaxed. Getting laid is supposed to do that, especially when it’s been a while.

  Especially when the sex is good.

  I gave my head a short shake.

  Focus.

  I need to focus.

  I thought about things for moment or two. The front of the house looked impregnable.

  An alley, maybe?

  I put the car in gear and drove slowly past the house. I saw no sign of movement or occupancy. At the corner, I took a left and looked for an alley.

  None.

  The back yard of my target house butted up against a backyard on the next block over. That place had a four-foot chain link fence in the front and down the side, so I was able to see over and into the back yard. My gaze settled on the same wooden eight-foot wall.

  Then I saw the For Sale sign.

  I smiled.

  Maybe my luck was turning.

  I brushed the smile away and set to planning. Ideas clicked through my brain. I tossed some of them aside. Held a few others up to the light and examined them. Meanwhile I re-positioned my car up the block so that I could watch the target address.

  After half an hour, I didn’t think I was going to come up with any kind of plan that would work. But after about an hour, I had something.

  Not much, but something.

  Now I had to wait for dark.

  NINETEEN

  Bull

  Pasco… more like Piss-co. I hadn’t been that way in years. In fact the last time was with the ex Mrs. Bull. I don’t remember anything extraordinary about the vacation or even the company. I do remember the boring-ass drive there and even worse ride back.

  But I wouldn’t be leaving for another hour. I had too much to do. Since I was after people who obviously were willing to kill to keep their hands on their assets, I had some packing to do. I didn’t own a store in Washington – too many politics and red tape around things that should be a person’s right. And yet… a warehouse for storing supplies? Well, hell, my largest one was just off Sullivan, still in the Valley and easily accessible at night.

  Since it was my inventory and my money, a convenient enough mindset at the moment, I had zero qualms grabbing another handgun and more ammunition. Well, I had a key, right? I’d replace them or buy them. It didn’t matter to me. What was a grand when it came to my niece’s life?

  I hadn’t eaten in a while and the McDonald’s on Sullivan stood between me and the freeway which would take me to the Tri-Cities. A Big Mac and fries had the appeal of a steak about then and I spared precious minutes to purchase a milkshake too. The ride would pass much faster if I wasn’t thinking about hunger the entire time.

  On the freeway heading west, I let my mind wander to Taylor. The true terror of her situation had flirted with my subconscious, giving me peeks here and there with anxiety in my stomach and a dull ache between my eyes. But there in the cab of my truck, I couldn’t help but allow the seriousness wash over me.

  If I couldn’t get her in the next twelve hours or so, I might not be able to save her. Ever. She’d be lost to us… for this lifetime anyway.

  And the things that would happen to her, I couldn’t fully comprehend. I was a straight shot kind of guy. If I couldn’t get it willingly, I sure as hell wasn’t going to pay for it. That just seemed messed up.

  Plus, it wasn’t every day I met someone who left a lasting impression on me – like the woman who I’d been with the night before. She’d done something to me. Helped me harden my resolve? Pushed me toward a definite goal? I don’t know. All I knew was, after she left that morning, I had a fiercer determination to get the job done and get my life in order to settle down. Too many things were awry and unfortunately it took Taylor being gone and a one-night stand with someone as pissed as me to make me realize it.

  The exit sign for Pasco caught the reflection of my headlights. For a Saturday night, I-90 had a thin collection of cars traveling the same direction as myself. The dark covered up the dullness of the scenery. At least the stars were easier to see.

  The hastily scribbled address didn’t strike anything resembling familiarity inside me, so I pulled out my phone and punched in the numbers on Maps. I hated smart phones… the damn things tied me to the world too well. GPS and Google Earth made my hunting job easier and yet it also made it easier for everyone else in the world, too.

  I got a Google Earth image along with the location and the three route options to getting there. The house had a more respectable look than I’d expected. And yes, I had expected a building similar to the one I’d killed
those men in.

  Odd, how I could so easily accept that I’d killed people. Like a matter-of-fact acceptance of something that had needed done.

  Shrugging, I caught myself. Once I made that mental shift to accepting the act and even justifying killing, who knew where it would stop? As soon as I’d realized how much I’d enjoyed traditional hunting, I’d made it my vocation. What would I do if I found I liked killing the bad guys just as much?

  The question twisted my stomach and left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  I knew myself just well enough not to follow that path any further.

  Darkness protected the neighborhoods. Google Earth didn’t showcase evening shots and I got lost more than once thinking I’d found the house when Maps beeped at me to turn different ways and I didn’t do what it said.

  I hated asking for directions – even from a damn phone.

  Normally, I packed a knife with me. Mostly as a tool, truthfully. Never had to use it as a weapon before. But if I got close enough to use a knife in this situation, the type of people I was going to see probably wouldn’t let me out alive.

  No, I’m not stupid, never have been. I’m one man going against an undefined force to save one girl they may or may not still have. The odds were daunting.

  But I was nothing if not confident in my skills as a hunter. And I had guns. And I’d already killed people. At this rate, what was a couple more to add to my case?

  Finally, I pulled in front of the house, but only paused long enough to verify the address and get the lay of the land. Continuing past, I located a house with all the lights off and an empty driveway to park in front of.

  I shut off my truck and hunkered down. The locks automatically lowered when driving, so I didn’t have anything to do to further safe-zone the rig. Watching the street where the house sat seemed as a good a plan as any at the moment.

  What I needed to do was get inside. Inside a house that looked like it had every right to be heavily guarded and well-secured. If I didn’t have a way in, I’d have to watch for movement.