“What?” he asked.
“Nothing… my parents. You ever think about yours?”
“Now’s not the time for introspection, Walt. Concentrate on the task at hand.”
“That reminds me, the Feds and locals are probably looking for us. We are going to need another set of wheels.”
“We’ll get one when we get to the safe house.”
“Do I even want to know?”
He grinned and said, “Nope.”
I nodded and for the rest of the ride, both of us were alone with our thoughts.
***
Fritz Washington tried again to reach Pete. Once again, it went to voicemail. It wasn’t like him to be unresponsive to his calls. Fritz had always made it a point of making sure he could reach his head of security at a moment’s notice. The missed call earlier had come from a number he didn’t recognize. By itself, it was nothing but without hearing from Pete, he wondered if something more ominous was afoot.
He had been watching TV in the den but now got up and wandered around the house. His security detail was outside, watching the front of the house. He wondered if he should ask them if they had heard from their boss, but quickly decided against it. ‘No, now is not the time to panic,’ he thought. The girl he was sleeping with was the key. Find her and he was sure he would find Pete. If he found out Pete was getting his ashes hauled instead of answering his call, then Pete would have some answering of his own to do.
Fritz fired up his computer in the den and then called up the CCO directory. He couldn’t remember her name but he knew she should be listed as a direct report to Pete. It took a minute, but he found her number and then tried to call her. When that went to voicemail too, he angrily hung up the phone. ‘Where in the hell is Pete?’ he thought.
Defeated, he went outside and rapped on the car window. The one named Scott rolled down the passenger window. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m having some difficulty getting in touch with your boss. By chance, you haven’t heard from him have you?”
“Not since this afternoon. Is something wrong, sir?”
“No, no just wondering, that’s all.”
“I can try and reach him if you’d like.”
Fritz frowned. “Only if you have a number I don’t have.”
“I can check…”
“Please do and see if you can reach him.”
Scott nodded and reached for his cell phone. He scrolled until he found Pete’s name and then dialed the number. “Voicemail,” he said.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, but just in case, be ready to move. I think I’ll head to the cabin tonight.”
“Is there a problem, sir?”
Fritz shook his head, “Just be ready.” He turned around and headed back into the house.
***
Sam and Jenny were both relaxing on the couch. The house was older and located near the little town of Whitewater, which sat a few miles outside of Grand Junction. It had all of the modern amenities of something newer, including a basement, which if needed could double as a safe room. Its most attractive attribute though, was the seclusion from a populated area. The two-car garage held both the blue Ford they had driven for the hit and an older model 4 x 4 Chevy pickup, which would now become their clean car.
When they arrived, they both took a few minutes to select which bedroom they wanted and then removed all the guns and ammo from the Ford. After that, they wiped it down to remove any prints they had left. They also took an industrial vacuum to the inside to remove any stray hairs and skin cells that might have held DNA markers. When they were through with the inside, they washed the outside of the car and then removed all four tires. They scrubbed the treads clean of any trace of where the car had traveled and then removed the stolen plates that were on it. Then they put the original plates back on.
If for some reason the law came knocking, the car would look like it had been beamed into the garage rather than driven here. When they were through, both of them cleaned up and then took that day’s clothes into the basement and threw them into the gas furnace. Now that all physical traces had been destroyed, they marched back upstairs to get caught up on the news and see if there had been any communications they had missed.
The five o’clock news hadn’t said anything about the ex-cop getting gunned down, or for that matter, a shooting in Valley Market. Both of them took this as good news but at the same time wondered if they should report for work or get on a plane.
***
Jenny had tried Pete several times but had only gotten voicemail. She got up from the couch and paced around the living room, trying to burn off the nervous energy that had been building over the last several hours.
Sam watched her pace for several minutes. She was making him feel more nervous. He picked up the remote and turned off the TV. “We need a plan.”
She stopped and turned to face him. Raising her arms, she scowled. “We’ve been over this,” she fumed.
Now it was his turn to stand and pace the room. “I know, but enough time has passed. No word on the news and the scanners are clean. Nobody’s looking for us. I say we stay the night here and then in the morning, we go in and see what’s what.”
“It bothers me that I can’t even get him to return a text message.”
“He’s busy.”
“You know he was going after Jacobs. What if…” she let the thought die.
“Even more of a reason for us to wait it out and head out in the morning.”
“What if we went in now?”
Sam scoffed and said, “Yeah. Hey, while we’re at it, why don’t we just crash Fritz Washington’s place. You’ve lost your focus, Jenny!”
She stared angrily back at him, flipped him the bird and walked away. He was right, she needed to harness her emotions before she did something stupid. Jenny wasn’t in love with her boss, but the thought of him getting hurt or worse gave her heartburn. She went into the kitchen and started pulling open cabinets, looking for a glass.
‘What to do… what to do…’ she thought to herself. Absently, she pushed the tap open and filled it with water. Jenny looked out into the inky darkness through the window. After spending so much time with Pete, she had learned the comings and goings of his security staff when it came to the protection of the CEO. She also had a sense of who was on the list and who wasn’t.
Tony and Scott were his overnight bodyguards. She knew they could be trusted to a point, but to her knowledge, Pete never used them for the rough trade. Taking her phone out, she tried him one more time. When it went to voicemail, she made up her mind.
Pete had given her Fritz’s private home number as a failsafe, in case he wasn’t able to make the call himself. At the time she knew he had done it only as a show of good faith that he wasn’t just using her for sex. Now though, she began to weigh the real options of calling Fritz directly or putting it off until morning. If she told Sam, she knew he would probably scold her. She put the phone down and rubbed her temples, hoping a real solution would pop out of her. ‘Damnit, Pete! Are you dead, hurt, getting laid?’ she thought. She reached out, picked up her phone and the water, and then went back into the living room.
Sam watched her walk back in the room. “Well?” he asked plaintively.
She flopped down on the couch beside him and blew out her breath. “Morning… we’ll wait until morning.”
“Protocol,” Sam said gravely. “You think we need to take shifts or live dangerously?”
“You mean to stay up and wait for the bogeyman?”
He nodded. “All things… probably not a bad idea.”
“You can sleep now. I’m too wired. Feel like I’ve got a bag of cats running around my skull.”
Sam chuckled. “Drink some hot tea.”
“I’m not some weak-kneed soccer bitch, asshole!”
He shrugged and then got up and headed for his room. He pushed the door closed and then leaned against the wall. Jenny was rattled, that much was for sure, which made the cats in his head more agg
ressive. Shaking his head, Sam contemplated what their next move should be. He knew there were around ten to fifteen guys who handled all the rough work, Jenny being the odd one out. Well, she was the only woman in Western Colorado anyway.
Pete didn’t have a number who he confided in when it came to the deep moral issues. Jenny was probably as close as there was to that. Secretly, most of her peers considered her position to have been awarded the old-fashioned way. That wasn’t to say she lacked ice in her veins or hesitated when the time came to lock and load but as her partner, he often deferred to her for the complicated decisions, mostly because she spent a lot of time in the back seat with loaded guns while he drove.
But now things were different. Pete was at a minimum, in the wind and at the worst, he had become a buffet rack for earthworms. He thought about Washington. Sam had never considered himself much of a climber when it came to corporate work, but maybe now was the time to distance himself from the crowd of contenders to the throne.
When word got out that Pete was out of the picture, Camelot was going to go the way of the dodo bird. Which meant breadlines and boxed wine. Sam had gotten real used to surf and turf with a side of a nice red not found at Valley Market. He had scoffed at her about storming the doors of the mansion that Washington lived in, but maybe he had been a little too cavalier. Pushing himself off the wall, Sam opened the door and marched back into the living room. Jenny looked up, her face contorting into a question.
“Fuck it, let’s go now.”
“Go where?”
“The big mansion in the sky.”
“You’re serious?”
“Look, if Pete’s gone, then everything we’ve done will come around. When that happens, we need to already be out of reach, otherwise it’s turning big rocks into small rocks during the day and fighting off anal enthusiasts at night.”
“And what if he’s just busy disemboweling Ronald Jacobs and isn’t picking up the phone?”
Sam shook his head, “You said it yourself, he should have checked in by now. And no offense, but since you’ve been fucking him, has he ever not called or reached out?”
Jenny stood up now and paced back and forth, her arms crossed over her breasts. On her second turn, she stopped and looked at him. “No.”
Sam put his hands out in an ‘I told you’ fashion, then said, “Well, there you go. And you know what? Best case, Fritz knows where he’s got off to and we can run out to lend a hand.”
She stared back at him for several beats and then said, “What changed your mind?”
“CYA.”
They had worked together for a long time and had gotten to know each other’s rhythms and moods, so she knew there was something else going on. “Be straight with me, why the change of heart?”
Now it was his turn to stare. “Like I said, if he’s dead then Jacobs and the cop will be all over us. In which case we have to either get moving to a country without extradition or eliminate the threat. I say we get them before they get us.”
Jenny shrugged nonchalantly, “Beats waiting for SWAT.”
He nodded and then they both moved to start packing.
Thirty minutes later, the Chevy was packed and ready to go. Sam checked the time on his phone. “10:30 p.m., “You think he’s still up?” he asked.
“He’s rich, so yeah, probably,” she said sarcastically.
“What about Tony and Scott?”
“I’ll call them on the way. Tell them we’re en route. When we get there, we kick them loose and tell the big man what’s what.”
“Sounds good.”
***
We got to the safe house at nine. By 9:30 p.m. we had both showered and changed plus had moved his tools into a coal black Nissan Sentra. Ronald also went inside and brought out enough guns and bullets to arm a small European country. I started to object, but the look on his face made me think otherwise. By ten in the evening, we were ready to get back on the road. The only problem was, we were a little short on destinations.
We were both standing in the garage, looking over the top of the car. Ronald had changed into a blue or black flannel and jeans, with high top boots that looked like they had been torn off a wayward G.I. I, on the other hand, had changed into a shirt that was one size too small and jeans that were made for a small boy. I drew the line at flip-flops and wiped the blood off my new hiking boots.
“We need to stop by a store and get clothes that fit,” I said to Ronald as I was getting into the car.
Ronald patted his stomach and belched. “Time you got out and got some exercise.”
“Not helping,” I said.
“I wish I could stop somewhere, but at the moment our presence in public should probably be kept to a minimum. In the meantime, how about you just suck it up, buttercup?”
I stared back at him and thought about driving my new boot up his ass and then maybe using his head as a hood ornament. To say my mood had soured was an understatement. My mind was starting to flash back to the beating I had given Silas. I kept wincing at the image of the nail driving into his testicles and Ronald attaching his penis to the side of his leg. I wondered if my actions would be viewed with amusement or disdain when I was put in prison. I shook my head to clear out the images and then had a thought.
“Kind of wish you hadn’t called Marcie about the hit team.”
“Yea about that…”
“Come again?”
“I felt it was better to wait until you had calmed down a little before I made that particular call.”
“Who… did… you… call… Ronald…?”
He shrugged but didn’t answer.
“I’m waiting…”
He was getting in the car but stopped and looked back over at me. “Walt, I know some of this is hard and new for you because you were a cop and now you’re a crook. However, since I’ve always been a crook, you have to trust me until this is over. Otherwise, I’ll drop you at the nearest mail stop and be on my way.”
He hesitated and then got in the car and started it. I stood there like a mannequin in a dress shop, looking befuddled and lost. Until that very minute, the full weight of the line I had crossed hadn’t been real to me. My legs felt like they were encased in cement and refused to move. My hand began to throb and I felt the blood rush to my head. I became nauseous and felt my bowels threaten to give way. I reached out to steady myself against the car, sucking air until my lungs felt like they were going to explode. My body began to rock.
Ronald turned off the engine and got out. “Do I really have to leave you here?”
I nodded my head and then shook it slowly, putting my hands up in surrender. Then I waved him off. Ronald looked at me like I was a circus animal who should be taken out and quietly put down. “Walt, I’m only going to say this once. We have a small window of opportunity. If we blow it, then not only is the hit team going to be long gone but that little sadistic demonstration you put on back there will have been for nothing and you’ll have plenty of time to think about it while your ass is being used like a Piñata.”
The gas bubbles in my stomach wouldn’t relent. Stepping back, I closed the door and went back inside. I said to him over my shoulder, “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me!”
***
Ronald watched him go back inside. He debated whether or not he should leave without him. Realizing if he left, he would only get himself arrested, Ronald acquiesced he would wait and they would leave together. He shook his head and was about to get back in the car when a thought struck. He pulled the scrap of paper from his shirt pocket and looked at the address and phone number for the hit team that had tried to take out Walt. He knew roughly where it was. Whitewater wasn’t that far, especially at this time of night. The irony was that they had passed right by it not two hours ago.
Ronald tried to visualize where it was. Vaguely he recalled a house that set way back in the adobes. Getting close without being seen would be a challenge, but not impossible. A plan started to form in his mind.
It was a long shot, but right now it was either that or drive over to the gated community where Fritz Washington lived. He would have a contingent of guards and gunfire would definitely bring out the lookie-loos, not to mention the cops. He started the car and opened the garage door. Walt appeared in the doorway and ambled over to the car, his hand pressed against his stomach. He climbed in and shut the door.
“Where we going?” he asked.
“Hunting. Buckle up, it’s about to get bumpy.”
***
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in the parking lot of a rundown hotel that set off the main drag through the backwater town of Whitewater. To call it a town was being generous. There was the hotel which catered to motorists with dubious means. It also had a post office and a small gas station. The citizens of Whitewater had forsaken the conventional means of building homes. Most houses came with wheels that had over time been converted to homes that appeared to have the architectural design of a post-apocalyptic holocaust.
The house where the hitters were supposedly holed up was set off the road a quarter of a mile from the highway and across from the hotel. From here, we could see a glow coming from the windows that had shades drawn across them. Ronald took out a set of night vision binoculars and a standard set. For a few minutes, we took turns at watching the house.
“Well, you’re either right and they're still here or their poor stewards of their employer’s money,” I said.
“One way to find out.”
Ronald picked up his phone and then took the number for the hit team out of his pocket. Checking the number, he punched it in. It rang six times before it was answered.
Sam and Jenny had just loaded the last of what they were going to need into the Chevy and had finished wiping down the safe house when Jenny’s phone rang. They both stopped and looked at the ringing phone sitting on the hood of the truck.
“That him?” Sam asked.
She shook her head, then pouted her lips and shrugged. Instead of moving to pick it up, she just stared at it, afraid of who or what might be on the other end.
On The Devil's Side of Heaven Page 31