Snitch

by Rene Gutteridge

  At least twenty minutes had passed when Jesse saw Kyle in the doorway. Kyle’s eyes weren’t wide, and he didn’t glance around wildly. A good start, anyway. Jesse had told him to think, “I own the place.” He wasn’t owning anything as he walked in, but at least he didn’t look petrified. Ed said something about his cue stick and Jesse engaged. He didn’t want Ed to think he was distracted. Jesse nodded and pointed out it was Ed’s shot.

  Jesse moved around the table, trying to find Kyle through the growing crowd. He spotted the top of his head moving toward a cluster of tables near the bar. Then he lost sight of him.

  Jesse had to finish this game quickly. He concentrated, and within two minutes, the game was over. He let Ed win because he didn’t want Ed to insist on another game. Jesse nodded toward the bar. “I want to beat the crowd.”

  “Know what you mean,” Ed said, holding up a pint of beer.

  Jesse walked to the bar. He climbed onto a stool and ordered a light beer. He turned and let his eyes scan the crowd as he looked between bodies for Kyle. Finally he spotted him, but didn’t let his eyes rest there. Instead, he became a casual observer, but wearing an expression that told anyone who noticed that he wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. Kyle sat at a table and nursed a beer, doing little more than trying not to gawk at the women who passed by. Jesse smiled to himself. These weren’t the kind of girls you’d find at church.

  Jesse began to think the man wasn’t going to show when he saw someone making a beeline toward Kyle’s table. Jesse sat up a little taller, and then it happened. Kyle’s face registered recognition. His eyes widened. He stood up like he wasn’t supposed to and offered a hand. Jesse could only see the back of the guy’s head, but they shook hands awkwardly, and then both sat down.

  Jesse gulped his drink. Rock and roll time.

  “Good to see you again.”

  Mason tried to smile. He wasn’t sure what was up with the manners. It reminded him of Rhyne’s recent transformation. Better clothes, cleaner shave, and “good business manners.” Whatever that meant.

  “Uh … yeah. Good for both of us.” Mason grinned. “So you’re ready to do business?”

  “Maybe.”

  Mason laughed. Great. This would take some finesse. Well, it wasn’t the first time. And thankfully, this guy looked way more nervous than Mason felt.

  “Maybe, huh. Okay, so what’s it going to take? I’ve got a lot of …” Mason paused. Manners. That meant watching his language. “What do you want?”

  “To make money.”

  He liked the way this guy thought. “I meant what kinds of parts are you looking for?”

  “I know. I’m just messing with you.”

  “Money’s good. If we work this right, we’ll both be happy.” Mason, studied the man for a moment, then said, “What’s your name?”

  “Kyle.”

  “Mason.”

  “Good to meet you.”

  Mason sighed. He would never get used to this. “So what are you looking for? I got a little of everything, and the good stuff, too.”

  “First, I need to know who I’m doing business with.”

  “I already told you my name.”

  “Are … Well, are you the person I’m going to be doing business with?”

  Mason felt a strange awkwardness. This guy was starting to suspect something.

  “Look, I used to have a partner. He decided he wanted to go into the drug business. And not the small-time. I’m talking the kind that can get your head in a bowling bag, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t bowl.”

  Mason grinned. “Exactly.”

  “So we’ll deal with you?”

  “We?” Mason asked, then watched as a flicker of panic crossed the guy’s face.

  Maybe it wasn’t panic. Maybe this guy was just high-strung, or strung-out. Either way, his guard went up. “Kyle” didn’t look like there should be a “we” with him.

  And then, to Mason’s surprise, the guy’s hand went over his head and he waved.

  Ron paced near the table where Wiz sat wearing earphones. Mack took notes. Dozer stood at the window with binoculars. Ron noticed Wiz looking around the room. He tapped him on the shoulder. “Pay attention to what you’re doing.”

  “Sorry,” Wiz said, pulling an earphone off one of his ears. “This place is freaking me out. This is like Tweekerville times ten.”

  “Nobody’s bothering us,” Ron said, glancing at Ned, who, after five attempts to score a drink, was now restricted to the corner where he concentrated on a game of checkers with an invisible opponent.

  “Which one do you think is Martha?” Wiz asked, his eyes darting all over the room.

  “I don’t know. I don’t care. Focus on your job.”

  “Nothing is happening. All I hear is Jesse breathing and Led Zeppelin blasting from a really bad sound system.” Wiz continued to stare at the room full of patients.

  “Maybe we need to order him a Xanax,” said Mack.

  “Don’t get carried away there, Hazard, or you’re going to have to start confessing things again,” Wiz countered.

  Mack smiled.

  “I think it’s the redhead,” Wiz said, pointing to the plump woman nearby, who seemed to be sizing everyone up.

  “What’ve you got down there?” Ron asked Dozer.

  “Nothing, Sarge. They’re still inside. It’s getting crowded,” Dozer said, his eyes still pressed to the binoculars. “So, Sarge, what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever had to eyeball?”

  “You’re looking at it.”

  “Dang it!” Wiz said suddenly.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Ron.

  Wiz sighed. “I’ve got to pee.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry. I’m in horrible pain. I’ve got to go.”

  “He’s living up to his nickname,” Dozer said.

  “Why didn’t you go before we started?”

  Wiz looked at the doorway. “I was afraid to walk through … them.”

  Mack gave him a serious look. “Bathrooms up here don’t work. You have to go down to the third floor, through the doorway on your right, then take a left down a really dark hallway. The lights aren’t working. Two rooms on your right have warnings about entering at your own risk. Don’t go there. The bathroom—it’ll be on your left.”

  Wiz looked terrified. “I think I’ll use a cup.”

  Mack laughed. “I’m just kidding, Wiz. They’re next to the elevators.”

  He looked at Ron. “Can I go? Nothing is going on here.”

  Ron nodded and ordered Mack to the chair. She put on the headphones and listened with full concentration.

  “Anything?” Ron asked.

  She shook her head but then held up her hand. “Wait! I’ve got something!”

  Chapter 26

  I got the signal. I’m going over,” Jesse said quietly as he slid off the barstool. He moved through the crowd, past two women who wanted his attention. One look and they walked off. He was a few feet from the table, still maneuvering through people when Jesse got his first glimpse of this guy’s face.

  A shock of fear rippled down his body. Mason Capps! Jesse stopped midstride. If Capps saw him, their cover would be blown.

  He had to think fast.

  Capps had done nothing wrong, so he couldn’t make an arrest, but if he walked off, it might kill the whole case. Not to mention leave Kyle hanging.

  Jesse made eye contact with Kyle, who looked puzzled. Before Kyle waved again, Jesse walked briskly to the table, stumbled, bumped into the table, and knocked Kyle’s drink with his hand. It spilled down onto Kyle’s shirt and made him gasp.

  “Sorry.” Jesse mumbled and continued his fake drunken waddle down the short, dark hallway that housed a pay phone and the restrooms. He hoped Kyle would get the hint.

  Within a few seconds, Kyle joined him. “What’s going on?” he whispered.

  Jesse didn’t speak to Kyle first. “Wiz, you’ve got to get down here. Now. My cover is abou
t to be blown. Kyle is on his own until you get here. Hurry. It can’t be Dozer. Tell him it’s Mason Capps.” Jesse looked at Kyle. “Kyle, listen to me. I know this guy. He’s going to know we’re cops if he sees my face. You’re going to have to take control of this situation. Is he looking at us?” Kyle glanced behind him and nodded.

  “Hit me.”

  “What?” Kyle gasped.

  “Don’t look so scared. You have to convince Mason that you’re in control here. I just spilled beer all over you. You’re mad. Now pull back and punch me in the stomach as hard as you can.”

  “I can’t do that!”

  “You’ve got to, Kyle. Hurry up. Hit me!”

  Kyle pulled back his arm like he was about to hit a tennis ball, then swung at Jesse, landing a weak punch in his stomach. Jesse bent over and clutched his stomach, pretending the punch knocked the wind out of him. “Harder!” Jesse said. “Hit me in the face!”

  Kyle slapped his hand across Jesse’s cheek. Jesse clenched his teeth in frustration. This wasn’t a girl fight.

  “Kyle,” Jesse harshly whispered. “Don’t slap me! Hit me in the nose!”

  Jesse didn’t have time to blink before he felt his face explode in pain. Within seconds blood dripped to the floor. Jesse kept his head down. “Grab my shirt. You’re going to have to hang on a little bit longer. Wiz is on his way down. Do you hear me? Tell Mason you won’t do business with him until you get a contact number. Tell him you’ll call with the location of the body shop. You’re going to have to go solo until Wiz can get down here. Now, take me by the arm and pull me toward that exit door at the end of the hallway.” Jesse pretended to stumble along as they walked toward the door. Jesse pushed it open with both hands and met the darkness. “Go, Kyle. Get back in there. You can save this thing. Make him believe you. If you get into trouble, run out this back door. I’ll be here.” The door closed, and Jesse fell against the wall of the adjacent building, pulling his T-shirt to his nose to try to stop the bleeding.

  “Wiz … can you hear me? They’re at a table near the pay phone. Get in there!”

  “What? Why?” Ron kneeled next to Mack.

  “He said send Wiz down, that it’s somebody named Mason—”

  Dozer rushed to the table. “Mason Capps?”

  “That’s it,” Mack said. “Then he told Kyle to hit him. It sounded like Kyle was hitting him hard.”

  Dozer’s fingers tore through his hair. “He’s making it seem like Kyle’s in charge.”

  “But that puts Kyle down there alone,” Ron said. His chest felt tight and he looked toward the elevators. The doors opened, and Wiz walked into the room.

  Dozer swore under his breath. “I can’t go down there either! I was part of the arrest team.”

  “Wiz, change in plans,” Ron said, beckoning him over.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Jesse’s cover is blown. You have to go down there,” Dozer said.

  “Wait,” Ron said, turning to the window for a moment. “Wait.”

  “What?” Wiz asked.

  Ron paused for several seconds, then looked at Mack. “I want you to go.”

  “Me?” Mack asked.

  “Listen carefully,” Ron said, getting close to her. “You’ve got to go down there and distract Mason, make him forget what he’s doing there. It’s got to be sexy, Mack. That’s our only hope for saving this deal. Another guy comes in and this guy will get suspicious. But women make men lose their minds. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah. I get it.” Mack threw her badge on the table and put her gun in a holster around her ankle.

  “Pose as a woman every guy wants,” Ron continued. Mack turned and headed toward the door.

  “I’m taking the stairs!”

  “Where are they in the bar?” Ron shouted back.

  Mack opened the door to the stairwell. “Somewhere near a telephone, I think!” Then she disappeared.

  “Get on the headset,” Ron ordered Dozer, who slid into the chair. Ron’s cell rang as he grabbed the binoculars. “Yeah?”

  “Its Jesse. I’m staying at the back of the building in case Kyle needs me. I told him to leave through this exit if he gets in trouble.”

  “Do you think Mason saw your face?”

  “No. Is Wiz in yet?”

  “It’s not Wiz. It’s Mack.”

  “What?”

  “She can save this deal. She’ll be there in two minutes. Hold on.” Ron and Dozer turned at the sudden sound of loud commotion behind them. A small, mousy woman with dark hair wound into a disheveled bun was screaming at the top of her lungs. Two orderlies and a nurse rushed her, but she eluded them. She tipped over two chairs and knocked over an elderly man twice her size who was trying to get out of her way.

  “Code nine! Code nine!” the nurse shouted.

  “What’s happening?” Dozer asked as they watched the once-quiet room shatter into disarray. A long beep sounded, and the doors to the room slammed shut. The commotion was so loud, Ron couldn’t hear Jesse.

  “I’m going to have to call you back!” Ron shouted.

  “What’s code nine?” Dozer yelled.

  A doctor rushed through a side door carrying a large syringe and a small bag. The woman shrieked when she saw it coming, and began kicking and thrashing, knocking the nurse into a table.

  “Secure her!” the doctor ordered. “What happened?”

  The woman howled like a wild dog.

  Dr. Shapel burst through the main doors.

  “Martha!” Dr. Shapel shouted. “Calm down!”

  A nervous chill worked its way down Ron’s spine.

  “No, Martha!” Dr. Shapel shouted. “The telephones are not coming to get you!”

  Dozer looked at Ron. “Oops.” Ron looked at Wiz, who was hiding under the table.

  With his hands planted on the table and feet on the ground, Mason watched this unassuming man throttle the tattooed bald guy. He didn’t look capable of killing a fly. Kyle emerged out of the darkness of the hallway. As he approached the table, Kyle looked at the blood on his knuckles. Then he looked at Mason. “Sorry about that.”

  “Uh … okay, yeah. No problem.” Mason took his cue from Kyle, who seemed to relax as he sat down.

  “Where were we?” Kyle asked, fussing with his beer-stained shirt.

  Mason cleared his throat and pointed to Kyle’s empty glass. “You wanna ’nother beer?”

  “No. Thank you, though.”

  Mason gulped his drink and set it carefully back down on the table. He definitely didn’t want to knock it over onto Kyle. He glanced toward the hallway, which was quiet and dark again. “Anyway, back to our bus—”

  A pack of cigarettes landed on the table. “Care for one?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah, I guess.” He pulled one from the pack. “You got a lot of willpower to carry them with you and not smoke.”

  “It’ll trigger my asthma. I mean, at night. Night air triggers the asthma and then you add the smoke … I break out in hives everywhere, my hay fever kicks in. It’s a meth. Mess, I mean.”

  Mason rolled the cigarette through his fingers. “You do drugs?”

  “Only for the asthma,” Kyle said, pointing to his lungs. “Geez, when are they gonna legalize that stuff, you know?”

  Mason relaxed in his chair. “Let’s get down to business.”

  “Hey, baby …” A woman with her thumbs hooked inside the back pockets of her jeans walked up. She swung her arm around Kyle’s neck, which turned three shades of red, but she stared at Mason. He felt every ounce of this woman’s flirt. “So, this is the guy?” she asked Kyle.

  Kyle nodded. The girl plopped down on Kyle’s lap and stuck out her hand. “I’m Mackenzie.”

  “Uh … Mason …”

  “Mason. I like that name.”

  “Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

  “Did I already miss it?” Mackenzie asked Kyle.

  “Miss what?”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend like you don’t know wh
at I’m talking about.” She smiled at Mason like Kyle wasn’t even sitting there. “Baby, get me my drink, will you?” She stood up but Kyle looked perplexed. “My drink. You know the one.”

  Kyle clearly didn’t. She sighed and rolled her eyes, glancing at Mason. “Men. Coke with a shot of vanilla.”

  Oh … right … that …”

  “You want a refill?” she asked Mason.

  What weirdos. “No, thanks.”

  Kyle walked away and the chick slid into his seat, easing her elbows forward on the table toward him. “I hear you’re the one I want to talk to.”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Word gets around.” She paused and grinned at him. “My brother doesn’t think the shop’s ready yet, but I do.”

  “That’s your brother?” This was getting even weirder.

  “No,” she said. “That’s Kyle. We like to feel people out before we get down to serious business. Because we’re only interested in serious business. And we’re only in this for serious money.”

  “So, let’s talk—”

  Suddenly Kyle was back at the table. “Um … sorry to interrupt, but the guy said that if you want Vanilla Coke, there’s a hamburger joint down the street.”

  Mackenzie giggled. “You’re such a joker. You know that I meant Coke with vanilla vodka.”

  “Oh. Right.” Kyle left again.

  “Let’s be up front,” she said. “Is there anything that could complicate this?”

  “Besides spilling a beer?”

  “Like you being a cop.”

  Mason laughed. “You think I’m a cop?”

  “Are you?”

  “Lady, I just got out of jail. I’m trying to lay low, you know, until my court date. Still, a guy’s gotta make money, you know? I’ve got some parts if you’re interested. That’s it. I’m not Vegas vice, and I’m not Steve Wynn.”

  Kyle returned with her drink.

  “Go get me a napkin, will you, babe? And a pen?”

  “Okay. Sure.” Kyle was gone again. Mason didn’t see a lot of women in this kind of role. Her boyfriend just beat up a big tough guy, and this lady was bossing him around like he was her cabana boy. What else was she capable of? Brandi just did what she was told and shut up when she needed to.