Angle of Attack

by Lee Baldwin

  “Million,” says my big brother.

  Holy hell, I could hire two attorneys. Takes a few minutes to adjust to that, then I’m asking questions about all the ways things can go wrong. Paranoid or cautious, don’t care what you call it. “What if they try to take the money back from you after I’ve given up the plane?”

  “Well I’m meeting them a long way from here, and I’ll be on a trail bike out in the bush. All farmland and game trails from here to there. When I have the money I’ll tell you. When you shut off the engine you’ll tell me. That’s when I ride away.”

  I think for a second. “What if they came up with a way to just trap the plane when it’s on the ground?”

  “Look, these are old dudes, a group of pilots. They don’t want any trouble just want the plane. That’s what your fly-by of the landing area is all about. We picked this area north of Gallup because it’s remote. The buyer is well connected in aviation circles. There will be only one person there, with a motorcycle. They want the plane bad, brah.”

  “I trade the P-51 for a motorcycle.” Doesn’t sound so appealing. And Wade had trusted Drake. Wade insists it’s not like a drug deal, just a few high rollers want a special airplane. The only risk is, this buyer might be a front for the party it was stolen from, if it was stolen before we stole it. We don’t even know if that’s true, it was in that Hollister barn so damn many years.

  “Okay so after I’m away on the bike then what?”

  “You are coming back here, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s the idea. I’m thinking what I do is ditch the bike, hop on a Greyhound somewhere. Bus around a day or two then come back and get myself over here.”

  “Hell why do that? You’ll have your new ID. Why not just bring the bike back, or rent a car? Call me and I’ll pick you up.”

  There’s more. We’d thought and talked about this in every detail for years. There are challenging parts of not being found. Can’t do anything the same as you used to. Can’t hang out at the same places, can’t buy the same booze, can’t work the same job. Flying gliders will be out for me, especially since so many people know me in that circle, former students will recognize me, especially around contests. If I want to fly, it will be power, or nothing.

  But do I want a life of always being that careful? I think back over all the precautions Wade and I had put in place over the years. For instance I never bring a phone here that has batteries in it. Only prepaid dumb phones. No snoopy phone companies watching my every move, it’s not just my paranoia says they do that. And there are apps that let anybody track your smart phone. Live with it.

  I never drove here in a car, always rode a bike through the arroyo. Would’ve done it at night but then you need lights and you become more noticeable. Daylight is best. The life I’m going to manufacture will make me older. So what, I’ll look young for my age. Every move I make has to be completely unexpected.

  How else could I work my life, with my half of two point three million bucks? Just thinking of that, I feel lighter. There are people I’d regret leaving behind. Stacy. The twins. And Tharcia. How do I know who she is, if I take off?

  Next day I’m on the bike, heading back through the dry riverbed, the drive home. Somewhere along the way I flip the burner phone, carefully wiped, into a restaurant dumpster, minus its batteries and totally bent. No connection.

  At home, the telltale lights inform me the swimming pool is unoccupied, everything’s clear. I put my phone back together and look through messages. Wolfe wanting me to call him immediately, from two days ago. Three messages from Montana. Two from Tharcia. The twins. Couple calls from people were at the party saying thanks for a good evening, and can we do that again.

  So first person I call is Montana. Amazingly, she picks up.

  “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “Yes, Montana, and it’s great to hear your voice too.”

  “Don’t get cute. Why didn’t you call me? Got something important.”

  “I left you messages. Now you’re the one in a big rush. So now you’re finally going to admit you wanted to shoot me?”

  Her voice is now all syrupy sweet. “You blockhead, of course I don’t want to shoot you. Wolfe is delusional. How could I know Roswell would be there?”

  Her non sequitur stops me cold. She knows nothing about Drake. But it also means that someone from Mick’s network was trying to kill me, and Drake walked into the middle of it. She’d asked about my evening life, so I think she’s behind it. Which means the last thing I want is to be anywhere near her.

  “So what’s up?”

  “Well you’re right about one thing, I did talk to Mick. He says he can help you. He wants to give you a fresh start. He told me about his proposal, and I found out something about your guy.”

  I’m damn glad this is a phone convo so I can go quietly apoplectic where she can’t see.

  “Wait a minute,” I say with forced calm, “Mick talked to you about my weekend research project?” It worked for Bullworth. Let’s see if Montana gets it.

  “Yes and you need to meet me. Movies, Tuesday night. We’ll drive there together.”

  Just like in high school, she wants to help me kill someone. On a date. What a modern couple. I don’t want to get into more detail on the phone so I just ask her when and where. It’s the Century 21 on Winchester in San Jose. Fine.

  I dial Wolfe. “Detective, it’s Clay. I just had a very interesting convo with Montana.”

  “You mean you’ve seen her? No one here has seen her for two days. Her daughter says she’s been home only once, picked up some things and left.”

  I fill Wolfe in on what Montana had said. It confirms what he’s deduced about the link between her and Mick. Telling him makes it more real, and I feel sick. I ask if he found anything about the pistol, any prints on it or the photos.

  “Nothing on the weapon, there’s a partial on one of the rounds from the clip. Lots of prints on the photos, the baggie, we’re looking at everything.”

  I am sure nothing in any of that will trace back to Mick. That would be the Holy Grail. That’s when it dawns on me, what I want.

  “Detective, is there any way to take Mick out of circulation? Disconnect him from his little empire?”

  Wolfe is silent for a few moments. “That has been discussed and it’s being considered. What we are lacking now is the means. There are certain legality issues. You know he runs a network from inside. It’s a corporate pyramid structure, modeled after the Cosa Nostra.”

  Does Wolfe think he’s telling me anything new? Chill, dude. I was inside for three years, an unwilling part of that. Imprisoned gangbangers are pushed to complete their GED’s and learn everything in the prison libraries about the law. All paid for with taxpayer money. According to Mick, the only reason I didn’t become part of that is I went to the San Luis Obispo Country Club instead of Lancaster. But if Mick is so effing powerful, why didn’t he pull me over there? He’s the one incriminated me in the first place. And I know why he did, to cover his own fuckup. That will come back to bite him hard. The fact that I don’t yet know how is a mere detail.

  “But what would it take to totally nail him? Cut off from his setup.”

  The detective is silent for a minute on the other end. “Evidence is the problem. What I know of this case so far is he has loyal people. An unrelated crime could do it, if we can find anything on him. An angle he is not prepared to defend.”

  Wolfe turns back to the current situation. “Be sure you talk to me before this evening. Working something out over here.”

  I say sure fine and hang up. Montana knows all about the proposed hit, and Mick’s apparently coached her to make sure I go through with it. It sounds way fishy. Mick threatening me with the lives of two people he actually cares about. And Montana stepping up to make sure I do it. Wolfe fiddling in the background with arrangements he won’t disclose.

  I’m in a bind, and there are few options. Only way out is through Wolfe. The best plan I can sor
t out unfortunately depends on him. Has he become simpatico enough so I can trust him? Given what I must set in motion, will he work with me, or in trapping Montana, will he also snare me into a violation that sends me back to prison? Smack into the hands of Mick’s crowd on the inside.

  Chapter 10

  Bad Moon Rising

  ONE O’CLOCK THE FOLLOWING afternoon, I find out what Wolfe is working on. He plans to capture Montana and bring her in, under arrest or willingly, pick one. Sounds to me like she’s going to be charged. Presents me with a moral dilemma. Do I warn her because she’s a friend, at least a former friend, or do I keep my yap shut? Phone to my ear, I’m sitting feet up on a cardboard box in my living room. Wolfe is walking me through the details.

  “No, Mr. Clay, it’s critical that you meet her somewhere away from Councilman Carruthers’ home. Under no circumstances are you to get close to that location with Agent Harrison. Understand?”

  “Capisc.”

  “Do not obtain any kind of firearm. You are not to be armed. My men will be counting on that.”

  “Absolutely,” I say. Last thing I want is some amped-up cop thinking I need subduing with deadly force. I’m hoping it won’t come to that. Thinking I should practice my dead possum pose.

  “Detective, it sounds like you plan to arrest Agent Harrison, am I right?”

  “We would prefer that she come in on her own. I’ve left her messages to that effect. We have secured her office and my team is searching there now.”

  Thing I’m wondering is, what is going on with Montana that pushed her to such a ridiculous extreme as a police sting created especially for her?

  “Let’s change the schedule on her,” Wolfe continues. “Call tonight and arrange to meet her in the parking lot of Spartan Stadium. As close to 10 PM as you can make it. Park next to her driver’s door, do not get into her car. We will be on you with telephoto lenses.”

  Yeah, I say to myself. Telescopic laser-dot rifle sights is probably more the story.

  “And Mr. Clay. We want absolutely no heroics from you, is that understood? This must end peacefully.”

  All I can do is mutter into the phone, yah sure, and hang up. I don’t care if he’s done or not I’ve heard enough. Hero, schmero. If Wolfe and his cop buddies had any idea how inconvenient this is for my plans they would give me a hero badge just for putting up with it. I turn my phone off. I’ve had more crap than I can deal with today. So for a mindless chore I busy myself getting rid of excess debris around the place and generally making it presentable. Am I worried about tonight? Hell yeah. I know that Montana wants to finish what she started the day I walked into her office, only there won’t be any mistakes this time. Because this time she will be holding the gun.

  So about eight-thirty that evening I call her. She actually picks up. I come right to the point.

  “I looked into this, I have it wired. I’m taking care of it ahead of schedule. I’ll let you know how it works out.”

  “You utter imbecile,” are the first words out of her mouth. I can tell her teeth are clenched when she says that. “You don’t have a prayer of pulling this off without me.”

  “Actually, sweet cheeks, my chances of survival are better on my own, without you in particular.”

  “Not so fast. Where are you doing this?”

  “You nuts? You wanna talk about that right here on the phone? Why don’t you just send a few tweets about it?”

  “Then we have to meet.”

  “It’ll have to be before 11. After that I’m busy.”

  “You mean tonight? You’re doing it tonight?”

  “Shut the fuck up. You’re out of it. See ya.” I punch off.

  What works on Montana is ignoring her. She absolutely can’t stand it. My phone chimes. Of course it’s her. What did I tell you?

  “Not so fast,” she picks up where she left off. “I got some info you’re going to need. I can meet you after 10. Down the street from his house. You know who I mean. Construction project. Look for my Jeep.”

  “Big N-O to that, sweet life. Gotta be no later than 10. Be at the Spartan Stadium. Parking lot. See you there wise ass.”

  I hang up. She is thinking to hit Carruthers at his house. Spartan is only 10 minutes from the Councilman’s place. Wolfe and I discussed that, I’d looked it over on Google Earth, and driven by slow with a video camera. High walls around gated homes in that neighborhood, but there is one good vantage point that allows a shot where Carruthers’ limo lets him off at his door. A new home under construction up the street. Vantage point and good cover. Of course, as Wolfe says, I am not to go there.

  I send Wolfe a quick text: it is set 10 pm at spartan

  I’d had messages from Tharcia but hadn’t called her back. I get her voice mail and hang up. Couple minutes later a text comes back.

  nrrdgrrl: hang on 5 min

  Sure. So I go back to what I was doing, which is heating up a frying pan for scrambled eggs. Finally decided I’d rather die on a full stomach.

  Phone rings.

  “Hey Tharcia.”

  “Hey Stuka what shakes?”

  “Getting ready to take a trip.”

  “Going to lie in the sun somewhere?”

  Now she mentions it, that’s not so bad an idea. “You might say that. Sunny Mexico. Sunny Senoritas.”

  “Funny you don’t seem the Mexico type. I could see you piloting a float plane among the islands of British Columbia.”

  “That has some appeal. How’s school going?”

  “It’s okay. Mom’s been weird though and it’s hard coping with that.”

  “Weird how? What’s she doing?”

  “Hasn’t been around. Clay, I’m worried. Couple days ago she was here while I was at class, took a ton of her stuff, left things in a mess. It’s like she moved out. Wolfe has been calling me.”

  I recall the sign on Tharcia’s door, Actual Parent Wanted. “What’s life like with her usually? You guys do stuff?”

  I hear her sigh, can almost see her frustrated expression.

  “We used to. She was more involved with my stuff when I was in high school. Now at State it’s different, she’s preoccupied. I want a home life. I want to hang out with her.”

  “Well she’s around, right? You see her every day?”

  “Besides right now? She’s always been this driven career girl with a major nightlife. She leaves the house before seven, I might not see her until late in the evening. Sometimes after I’m asleep she kisses me goodnight. Like I was two years old.”

  “She have a second job?”

  “No. We’ve never lacked for money and stuff. She’s just always busy. When we talk, she’s telling me how to do my life. How to not be homo. She totally doesn’t get me.”

  I recall the tension in the room between Montana, Rayne, and Tharcia the night Wolfe came by. “When did you let her know you’re gay, baby?”

  Wow. That baby thing just slipped out. She doesn’t seem to notice. Either that, or it’s okay with her.

  “She says I’m only experimenting. Doesn’t even admit the fact,” Tharcia says sadly. “Looks at Rayne and my other girlfriends as a bad influence. Like it’s all them trying to perv on me. Nothing about who they are as people and what my preferences are. Not like it is any part of who I am.”

  “That bites,” I agree. “Gay was not on the radar when we were growing up. It was all hetero.”

  “But you got me right away,” she says. “Me and Rayne. Rayne was way jealous of you at first.” Sound in her voice is gratitude, and something else. She goes on.

  “Your vacation. Where are you actually going?”

  “New Mexico.” I omit the fact I’m flying there in a stolen airplane. “I’m taking a cycling tour of Monument Valley, Arches, Wild Horse Canyon. I’ll be up there a few weeks.” Oh, I can be such a great liar where’s my Oscar?

  “You’re gonna bike through the Utah desert in late November? You’ll freeze your cojones.”

  “Hah, listen to you, a la
dylike journalism student, making reference to a total stranger’s body parts. You got a license for that?”

  “You’re not the least bit total,” she laughs. “Although you are a bit strange.”

  Maybe because her voice sounds like Montana’s, I get a flash from the old days with her, after we first got together with Mick. Things were easy, all kidding and light banter, fooling around. Until the time I found them kissing at the shooting range. The sullen way Mick looked at me. I passed it off at the time, but I recall his expression. Irritated, inconvenienced. He was looking at me as a sexual rival. For Montana.

  “O hey will you be in town tomorrow at all? I have a break between afternoon classes. I’ll treat you a coffee.”

  “Sure. What’s that retro soda fountain place in the mall, on Second street?”

  “You may be thinking of Johnny Rocket. It’s on First though.”

  “Yah. Let’s meet there. Tell your Rayne girl if she can make it.”

  “Stuka?”

  “Mm?”

  “Did that thing really happen?”

  I know what she’s thinking. The mirror thing.

  “You know it did,” I say.

  “Made me happy.”

  Sound of her voice saying that makes me short of breath. “Times two,” I manage to say. When I punch off the call it’s more than definite with me. I’m not leaving.

  I’m so nervous I get to the stadium way early. So I cruise up Tenth Street and drive up 280 to Saratoga and turn around, too fidgety to wait in the car. I get back still 20 minutes early, so I hang all tense outside the stadium gates, up a side street with the lights off. That’s when I see something that wakes up a stray memory. A car. Of course it’s a thumper, but the exhaust leak is familiar, from the night of the blues jam at my place. After Mick’s enforcer took the gun from my head and walked off, I heard a car drive away. This one sounds the same, as it departs the stadium parking lot.

  All is still. Can’t wait any longer. I drive slowly into the lot. There’s a vehicle small and distant in a back corner of the vast lot, lights out. I take a deep breath and head that way. I pull the El Camino next to her Jeep, my door by hers. A cigarette butt burns on the pavement.