Jimmy held himself and shivered before tenderly touching his lip. He winced at the pain. He blew his nose onto the ground, ejecting a bloody snot ball. He took a deep breath through his nose.
“Stand guard. You were former military. Which branch? Army SF?”
“Marines. Army operators were good. I liked working with them. The D-boys were a strange bunch, but they accomplished the mission.”
“D-boys?”
“Delta Force. Elite, but under the radar. Like Seal Team Six. Still, I’m happy to have been in the Corps.”
I took the spot in the doorway, pulling my collar tightly to my ears as Jimmy sat with his back against me. I unbuttoned my coat so he could pull a small part of it over his arms.
“Why are you here, Ian? Even my own people didn’t come.”
I closed my eyes. “Your people respect you and your wishes. I guarantee they’re worried about you. I think you’ll see them this morning, bringing breakfast for you and any other homeless in the area.”
“I had you to protect me, so I didn’t get the full experience. If they bring food and water, I won’t experience what the others are going through.” Jimmy’s hair remained plastered to his head as he shook the rain and mist from it.
“You just slept in a doorway after getting the shit kicked out of you. I don’t need to jump into the abyss to see that it’s a terrible fall. Have you seen the horrors within?”
Jimmy nodded but didn’t speak.
“To learn the best lessons, one must be uncomfortable and open. You’ve been both. You have seen exactly what goes on down here. A week of this might break you, and then you won’t be able to help them. What is your goal, Jimmy? I know the answer. You thought you wanted to die, but you couched it in understanding the homeless. You were playing politics, giving yourself an out. When the angry bums were beating you, you curled up. That tells me you were trying to protect yourself. If you wanted to die, you would have taken it all, wide open. Kick me in the Jimmy, you pricks!”
I chuckled at my joke. Jimmy’s chin sagged to his chest.
“You’ve learned hard lessons. It bothers you because you’re a good man. How many times are you going to make me say it? It hurts me, especially telling it to a politician. I have no respect for your chosen profession, no disrespect intended.”
Jimmy perked up. “None taken. My profession created this.” He spread his arms wide to take in the entirety of our basement entrance.
“That’s crap. Politicians might have created conditions that people did not react well to, but you didn’t create this. Every society in the world has homeless. How do you keep people moving forward without leaving an entire class behind? Social programs without being a socialist. Necessary but evil, but they aren’t. It’s not Robin Hood, taking from those who can afford it and giving to those who don’t. It’s about serving the needs. There are homeless down here who aren’t homeless. You’ll see them show up in the daylight, set up, and look miserable in order to beg. Some make their living that way, probably more than working fast food. But they ruin it for the real homeless.”
“You’re telling me to go home?”
“I’m asking you if you learned what you need to know to help these people.”
“I’m not sure.”
“You think about it while I catch some sleep. You’re harshing my homeless buzz, Jimmy. Let me sleep in this doorway while smelling your piss. Next time, try to shoot it farther away.”
“You are a hard man, Ian Bragg. As much as I know I shouldn’t, I like you, and I never properly thanked you.”
“I don’t know why you’re still talking while I’m trying to get some shut-eye,” I grumbled. Jimmy snorted.
“Have it your way.”
“Does that make me the king, the burger king?” Jimmy snorted a loud kind of laugh, the type you give when you’re free to be yourself.
I relaxed into the wedge. It wasn’t that uncomfortable. Being up for twenty-four hours straight was the best submission to sleep’s mystic rhythms.
***
“Go on, get out of there!” a gruff voice shouted. “Move along, now.”
Jimmy had fallen back asleep, but no one had caused us any problems. Pre-dawn was the time for waking and moving, finding a new spot. Jimmy stood, cracked his back, and offered me a hand up. I checked the time. Two and a half hours. It was nearly seven in the morning.
It would have to be enough sleep.
“Is it time to take your newfound knowledge into the council chambers?” I asked, hopeful that Jimmy had seen the light.
He studied me while I yawned. I didn’t bother covering my mouth. I closed my jacket.
“You have a wife.” Jimmy talked as if he were thinking.
“I should be next to her right damn now, Jimmy.”
He held up his hands. “Yes, Ian. I’ve learned what I need to know. Let’s head to my campaign office. They open at seven. We can get cleaned up. I need to start crafting a proposal.”
“Good choice. I want to get out of here. I have an appointment with my wife for some private time, and I don’t want to miss that.”
“Take it from me. Don’t make her the second choice too often. You won’t like the result.”
Jimmy hobbled up the short stairs and ended by hopping on one foot.
“Hang on.” I bumped his hip and grabbed him to shoulder some of his weight. “It’ll loosen up after you use it a bit.”
“I should probably stay off it,” Jimmy countered.
“Welcome to Marine Corps rules. You need to walk, you walk. There is no other choice. I’m not going to call a cab.”
“You have your phone with you?”
I looked at him. “I’m not here to make a statement. I also have money and a gun.”
“You can’t have a gun down here.” Jimmy looked shocked.
I found his surprise amusing. “I can take on three men when they don’t see me coming, but next time, it might be five, or it could be druggies with guns. This is a dangerous place, and I’m not going to risk my safety without giving myself a fighting chance. The homeless have to live with it every day, so you need to do your politician thing and try to make it less horrible.”
“Fine. Can I use your phone to call my wife?”
“No. You are not using my phone to call your wife. I’m not happy that this number is on your phone.” We headed uphill, walking slowly while Jimmy powered through the pain in his knee. He needed to get it looked at, but later. His homeless lesson was not yet complete. The pain would drive it home better and make him appreciate it, especially after he crossed the finish line.
“Sorry. I didn’t think that through.”
“Call her from your office. We’ll be there shortly.” I wanted to get something to eat. It had been too long since my last meal.
And coffee.
We rounded the corner and I stopped. I pulled Jimmy back. “The press is waiting for you, so this is the end of the line for me. Can you make it the rest of the way?”
He took one step and almost fell. “I don’t think so.”
“You know I can’t be seen with you. I’ll find someone to help you. Get around the corner and lean against the wall.” I turned Jimmy loose and made myself scarce, heading downhill. I walked quickly up the parallel road, catching the side street to emerge above the campaign office. I staggered and stumbled my way toward the crowd. I stopped when I got close and shielded my eyes. The reporters casually eased away from me. “It’s Jimmy Tripplethorn!” I pointed down the road.
The press glanced at me only to see where I was pointing, and I kept my arm in front of my face to block any pictures. Cameramen and reporters took off down the street. I stumbled onto the side road. Once out of sight, I picked up my pace.
I needed to beat the rush to the coffee shop. I buttoned my jacket to look more presentable. I walked with a purpose. People would pick up on that without knowing what made me different. I removed a twenty from my wallet to wave at the barista. I was willing to pay
anything for a cup of coffee at that moment in time.
My kingdom for a horse, or something like that. I had a full day ahead and didn’t have time to go home. I would only get one shot at completing the contract on Daniel Nader.
His appointment with destiny raced toward me at the speed of cold molasses.
There were two others in line at the open-air shop. The mud and dirt on my jacket convinced the next person in line to keep their distance. When I reached the counter, I put the twenty down and slid it over before ordering. Two cups of coffee, one with plenty of room for cream, and a blueberry muffin. They handed them over and waved at the next customer.
I plied my coffee with as much half and half as would fit before retreating to a table, where I enjoyed sitting down on a seat that wasn’t a concrete step. I slugged down the creamed coffee as if it were milk, then ate the muffin slowly, savoring it. When I was finished, I wiped my table down and dumped my trash. I walked away with my second coffee still steaming.
No one had messed with my car despite its remaining in the day lot overnight. It started right up, and I put on my music because I needed that as much as coffee. I dialed to Middletown Dreams and pointed the car’s nose out of the lot. I checked the map app to find a YMCA not far away. I drove straight there.
I was happy to pay for a shower and use of the bathroom, cleaning up and dressing in my slacks, dress shoes, and a button-down shirt. I was as refreshed as I needed to be for what I had to do. My old clothes went into the dumpster on the way out of the building. I called Jenny from the parking lot.
“I missed you,” she said when she answered.
“I let Jimmy know he was harshing my newlywed buzz. Our first night apart, and I am completely destroyed.”
“Are you on your way home?” Her sultry summons made me wish it were true.
“Only one more thing to do, and then I’m coming home for good.”
“I’ll be ready for you.” We listened to each other breathe for a few moments before Jenny continued, “I saw Jimmy’s return on the news. He made a profound statement, before one of his staff took him to the hospital. The talking heads at the news stations seemed concerned about his physical health, but when he talked, he was bright and engaging. Does he owe a good night’s sleep to you?”
“We should discuss what the finer points of a good night’s sleep looks like. But yes. I watched so he could sleep after getting himself beat up by a few angry bums. I convinced them of the error of their ways before Jimmy was battered into a coma.”
“Of course you did. You’re an educator, just like me.”
“I like how you think. I need to go, but I’ll be home this afternoon. I love you, Jenny.”
“Please stay safe, Ian. I love you, too.” She ended the call. I looked at the blank screen before I powered the phone down and tucked it into my shirt pocket.
I headed to Kirkland, turning up the music and sipping my coffee as I ran through scenarios in the variety of ways they might play out. I was like a pilot practicing emergency action drills to be ready in case something happens and there’s no time to think, hoping the whole time he never has to implement them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Be ready to pay the price of your dreams. Free cheese can only be found in a mousetrap.” Paulo Coelho
The parking area I had picked was full, as was the secondary spot. It bugged me, but not enough to get angry. I drove two blocks farther away and parked at a short-term metered spot on the street. I sat in the car and waited with the window rolled down, leaning back to take in the nice weather. Parking patrol did me the courtesy of not coming by.
As the time counted down, I left my spot and drove around the block to check on the parking area. Two spots had opened. I drove in and shut the car down. I acted like I was on my phone while I casually wiped down the inside of the car, the steering wheel, the seat belt clip, the gear shift, the radio, and more.
In most of my DN74 scenarios, I would abandon the car where it was.
Once outside, I locked it with the key instead of the fob to surreptitiously wipe down the door handle. I took care of the back door on the way around the trunk and to the other side. I had already wiped Jenny’s prints from the passenger side. She had touched everything, it seemed, so I wiped everything, twice.
I carefully tossed my sports coat over my shoulder to keep the pistol from flying out and held it with one finger while I walked into a nearby building, through the lobby, and with my jacket on, left through a side door. Around another building, into a crowd, and then by myself once outside a store camera’s view. I entered the parking garage by the construction entrance and walked down the rear stairs to the basement.
I waited at the bottom of the stairs, ready to climb up if someone was coming down and stepping into the garage if someone arrived by car and came toward the stairs.
Pictures on the open net showed Daniel Nader with his 2007 Porsche 911 Turbo Coupe. It looked like a flattened VW Bug to me, but it didn’t act like one. It was a street-legal race car. It embodied the persona of Xterra Worldwide’s chairman.
The clock slowly wound down. A car made its way to the basement level, but it didn’t sound like a sports car. I stepped into the roadway as the wheels squeaked on the turns to the final level. I walked down the middle, my hand inside my jacket, gripping the M1911A1. A Prius appeared. I waved with my free hand and stepped aside for the car to pass, but the driver maneuvered it into an empty spot.
I kept walking. The driver took her time getting out. I heard the throaty growl of the Porsche. Two levels above.
She was out and walking. The car beeped when she locked it as she kept going. The growl was slow and deliberate. Searching. Not in a hurry. He was in complete control. Make her wait. Make her beg for him. Walking speed. Around a corner and down. I hurried toward the stairway to give myself the length of the parking area in which to work.
I checked the pistol. A round in the chamber. Thumb on the safety and pistol in my hand. A robbery gone awry. Blow his head off and keep walking. I’d be long gone by the time anyone came to check.
The silver Porsche turned the far corner. The driver, with his arm hanging casually out the window, approached me agonizingly slowly. I walked down the middle of the lane, raised my pistol, and aimed at him.
The challenge was on, and his fight or flight fear response activated. He snarled through the windshield. He jammed the gas pedal to the firewall and redlined the engine as he charged.
I stopped and danced back. A new plan instantly flashed into my mind. I gave him the finger with my left hand while continuing to aim with my right. Like a matador, I balanced on the balls of my feet, dodging at the last instant. The brakes squealed for a millisecond before the Porsche slammed into the back of a Nissan Maxima. The airbag popped into Nader’s face.
I stuffed the pistol into my waistband while running to the car. I reached through the open window to wrap an arm around his head. I pulled and twisted. He was strong and starting to fight. With a desperate surge, I pushed away from the car, using the door and my body weight for leverage, falling back, bending and twisting. His neck snapped. I shoved him back into the driver’s seat, looked around quickly, and brushed myself off. I strode toward the stairway, expecting the Prius driver to appear, but she was long gone.
Upstairs to the ground level. No one. I moved the pistol to my jacket pocket, then took the coat off since it was covered in talcum powder from the airbag. I carried it over my shoulder as I walked across the short open area, into a different building, and out the far side, where I made a beeline straight for my car. I jumped in, carefully backed out, and drove away.
As I cleared the downtown area, I still had not heard a siren. I continued driving the speed limit until I was thirty miles to the east, then pulled into a Denny’s. I headed inside to order breakfast for lunch. I ate casually, leaving my phone off.
After I finished, I asked the cashier if she could call me a cab. It arrived in under five minutes. I jumpe
d inside, carrying nothing except my bundled-up suit jacket. I gave the driver Jenny’s address. He headed out, and thankfully, he wasn’t a talker. We listened to the oldies station as we churned through the miles.
Once in the driveway, I gave him a generous tip and wished him well. The fresh air smelled like home.
Jenny waved from the living room window. I smiled, but I didn’t feel the internal peace I’d thought I would.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“You cannot run away from the truth because truth will find you.” ColoZeus Benz
The weekend rolled around before the news of Daniel Nader’s accident and untimely demise hit the airwaves, but then it exploded. An SEC investigation had been ongoing. The implication? He’d committed suicide rather than face the impending charges.
It became a big story that was serving to gut Xterra Worldwide. A day ago, people’s investments were safe. Today, they were gone. The fallacy was that the money hadn’t been there yesterday either. They’d only thought it was. With spotlights shining into the void of Daniel Nader’s hedge fund, the ugliness was clear for all to see. The investigators, both media and government, were far better at rooting out irregularities than I could have ever been.
I remained validated. I had only killed bad people. It was time to leave the game.
In other news, Jimmy roared back into the public eye. His ratings jumped. He looked more confident. Instead of being in the background, he kept Tricia by his side, touching her, holding her.
She masked her sadness well, but her eyes told the truth. Her dad had delivered a lesson on brute force and the use of power to shape the world. Jimmy had been given a new life. It didn’t look like he was going to squander it. Tricia had a new life, too: dutiful wife and supporter of Jimmy Tripplethorn.
On the sale boards, a red Porsche Panamera showed up, discounted nicely for anyone with fifty grand to spend.
As I did, I checked my accounts each day. In my deposit account, two amounts showed up—a four-figure deposit and a six-figure deposit. Adding the two together delivered a phone number. No new gigs were shown on a hidden bulletin board.
The Operator Page 16