Precipice

by J. Robert Kinney

  Shannon again jumped in between the two men. She smiled sweetly, “It’s alright. We’ll just go over there ourselves. Thank you so much.” Grasping her partner’s arm, she steered him away from the counter before he could issue another retort. She wasn’t looking forward to paying that booth a visit any more than Randal, but getting into a bar fight with three beefy strangers was not a wise career, or life, move right now.

  The table in question sat a few feet from the edge of the bar. Set deep in the corner, it was darker and murkier than the others, which made it seem even shadier. Opening that curtain was the last thing either wanted to do, but if Mack was on the other side of that barrier, it needed to be done.

  They knocked on the metal partition separating the booth from its neighbor, but there was no way Mack heard it over the blasting music. They might as well knock on a feather pillow.

  Groaning, Dominic reached up, gripped the edge of the curtain and took a deep breath before giving it a sharp tug. Its rings slid smoothly and effortlessly across the bar at the top and the cloth glided open.

  The corner booth was set in a semi-circle, with a small table in the middle to accommodate drinks. Two scantily-clad women sat on either side of a large, black man in the middle. He had to be Mack.

  He didn’t look like the rest of the crowd, though he obviously worked hard to fit in. Dressed in jeans, a fake leather jacket, and rimless glasses, he reclined on the plush cushioned seat, arms resting on the back of the pillows. His contented smile revealed a set of faux fangs. The face of woman to his right was buried in Mack’s neck, taking the motif too far and pretending to suck his blood. Thankfully the dim lighting obscured the majority of their view, but they got the idea.

  At their abrupt appearance, Mack jumped and his beefy arm knocked one of the girls to the floor. She spun to look at the two detectives, her mouth agape, revealing her own set of sharpened canines.

  “Occupied! Try another.” he growled at the two newcomers. Agitated, he reached out his beefy hand to close the curtain, but Dominic held firm to the fabric.

  Shannon struggled to keep her eyes on his face. “No. I think we found the right booth. Are you Anthony Mack? Big Tony?” She almost had to yell. She studied his face.

  A passing interest in microexpressions as a youth had revitalized when she joined the agency, and one thing she knew: it’s impossible to fully conceal emotions without extensive training. Mack was no exception. His eyes widened and nostrils flared, before quickly trying to recover and save face. A millisecond later, his demeanor took on a passive appearance.

  “Depends. Who’s asking?” His voice was less confident and brash this time.

  Both detectives flashed their badges. “Someone who’s curious about your involvement with a recent break-in at a museum.” Dominic chose to leave out the murder for now. People get defensive when a murder accusation is brought into the conversation.

  The man relaxed. He wet his lips with his tongue, confident and smug. “Sorry…You’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t know nothing about a museum.” He waved his left hand dismissively at the duo. “Now if you’ll excuse us, you can see we’re busy.”

  “We see that, but we’re still going to need to talk to you.”

  “Can it wa-?”

  Shannon interrupted with a stern glare and a curt shake of the head. “No, it can’t wait.” She crinkled her face. The odor of this place was irritating.

  “Fine.” He hefted his large body up and out of the booth. He leaned toward the two young women and winked in what he must have assumed was a seductive manner. “Don’t you go anywhere, ladies. We’ll be continuing this in a few minutes.” He turned toward the two agents. “Anywhere in particular?” he leered, ogling Shannon with a lustful eye.

  “Outside would be fantastic.” The pounding music was headache-inducing and the overall weird factor unnerved her. The fresh air would be a welcome respite to the sweat and incense stench inside.

  Mack hesitated about being led outside by two strangers and muttered “I’d really prefer…” but his response was cut off by the sudden jab of a blunt metal object being dug into the lower part of his spine.

  Shannon had managed to slip her sidearm out of its holster without being conspicuous, inserting it into her jacket pocket. With its presence undetectable, she’d moved in close behind Mack to make her point vividly clear.

  “Outside.” Her tone was sharp. “Now.”

  “Okay okay…no need to get all feisty on – ouch!” The gun dug deeper into his spinal column. He accelerated his waddle and within seconds, all three were free from the mania and standing on the sidewalk, just in time to catch the setting sun disappearing into the horizon. Both detectives took a deep breath of fresh air as the tightness in their chests subsided.

  Aided by the pain of the barrel driving a wedge between two vertebrae, Mack waddled to a nearby bench, plunking himself on its wooden slabs. They bent and creaked as his weight descended, crying out little pleas for mercy. The two detectives settled in on either side, surrounding him for their little “talk.”

  ***

  Coffee was one of the few guilty pleasures in which Michael Krieger allowed himself to partake. He suspected the blessed bean concoction was a principle cause of his stomach ulcers three or four years ago, but he couldn’t help himself. At his ever-advancing age, he needed the stimulation and improved cognitive abilities caffeine provided, especially later in the day. Arriving early allowed him to consume a full cup before his contact arrived.

  He’d chosen a small, quaint café for the evening, one of his favorite hidden gems. The restaurant was busy and louder than normal –a cacophony of bantering patrons and clinking silverware more common at the big-name chain across the street. Business had picked up after that reporter published a glowing review in the local paper. People had flocked to the small, family-run store ever since. The popularity rush would undoubtedly die down as time passed, but tonight, Krieger enjoyed blending into the hustle and bustle.

  The General always made sure he arrived first at any meeting. In addition to using the time to survey the area—studying entrances, exits, blind spots, etc.—he could also enjoy first choice of a seat that provided the best view. He wanted to see his target coming long in advance, as well as possessing all tactical advantages the location provided in case things went sour. Nothing of that nature was expected today; he was simply having coffee with an old friend. But old habits die hard and you can never be too careful with sensitive materials and information.

  In fact, he’d spotted his contact already, across the street about a block away. Dressed in a suit jacket a size too small, collared shirt, and topped with a bow tie, the man approached the café slowly, making sure to pause and window shop at every store along the sidewalk. He stopped at a small flower stand to buy a small white orchid, a covert sign to Krieger that there were no problems.

  Despite the general’s claim that such secrecy wasn’t necessary, his contact insisted on this one act. So Michael swallowed his tongue. He understood his old friend’s struggle to break deep-rooted habits, but he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Another five minutes passed before the contact finished maneuvering down the street and joined Krieger at the table.

  “Nice bow tie.” Krieger chuckled as he set down his cup of coffee and extended an arm to shake hands. “Took you long enough.”

  “Can’t be too careful.” His friend shook Krieger’s hand as he flashed a glare much too serious. “And bow ties are in right now.”

  “That they are, old friend.” Krieger laughed. “How have you been, Kaz? I see you’ve gotten old.”

  “I always did hate you. You aren’t so young yourself anymore.” Krieger had known Leonard Kaczmarek since they attended the academy together many years ago. Kaz dropped out to pursue a less legal, but more lucrative, career. Despite landing on opposite sides of the law, their friendship persisted. “Everything’s great, though. The wife just got a big promotion at the office and Jenna’s graduating high scho
ol this year.”

  “You two must be so proud of her. Any post-graduation plans yet?” He chuckled and took a sip from his coffee. “She’s not going into the family business, I hope?”

  “Definitely not.” Kaczmarek smirked, though the lines and wrinkles in his face hid a hint of pride. “She’s actually considering joining the enemy, law school and the whole nine yards.” He rolled his eyes and turned up his lip in mock disgust before dissolving into a wide grin.

  “A lawyer? In your family?” Krieger joked, “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  Kaczmarek raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you call me, Mike?”

  “Straight to business, huh?” He shifted in his chair. Deftly deflecting the question, he offered, “You want a cup of coffee? This place makes a mean brew.” He pushed an extra cup across the table.

  “In a minute. Seriously man, what’s going on?”

  “Fine,” Krieger groaned. “I need your help. I’ve got this situation…” he explained.

  “Aww, come on,” Kaz interrupted. “You know I don’t do that anymore. Haven’t in years. I’ve gotten out of the business.”

  “Not that, Kaz. I just need some information.” He sighed again before lowering his voice and divulging, “I’m working with local law enforcement. Something big is going down.” He reached into his bag, and pulled out a handful of photographs, one for each victim. Asking around about Nichols had been unfruitful so far, so he needed to explore a different route, through the victims.

  “Hardboiled detective work now? Aren’t you a regular Philip Marlowe?” Kaczmarek raised a skeptical eyebrow. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small set of bifocals to examine the photographs. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “We have reason to think these individuals are connected, but can’t find the link.”

  “Why? Who are they?” he inquired.

  “I can’t get into too many details, but they were all murdered recently. Same M.O., but no known connection between them. I thought you might be able to shed some light.” He went through the list, pointing to each of the victims as he described them.

  “These people all come from different walks of life…”

  “…but they each got entangled in the wrong mess. The same wrong mess.” Kaczmarek finished his old friend’s sentence.

  “Exactly.” Both men fell silent as Krieger gave Leo time to examine the photos. He waited a full two minutes before disrupting the silence. “Do you think you’ll be able to help?”

  “I might. Let me ask around a bit. I’m not as connected as I used to be, but there’s a few of the old gang I’m still in contact with who might be some help.”

  “Thanks, Kaz. I knew I could count on you.” Krieger grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the nearest table. He pulled a pen out of his breast pocket and scribbled his home number down before sliding it across to his friend. “When you find out something—anything at all—give me a call.” Krieger packed his bag and stood to leave, but Kaczmarek stopped him.

  “Why are you doing this, Mike?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. “This isn’t your job. Solving this case won’t make you feel any better about the past.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean, brother. Guilt can be a powerful motivator and you’ve never forgiven yourself for…” He paused and furrowed his brow. “Well, you know. I just want to make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

  Krieger hesitated and glanced away before patting his buddy on the shoulder. “Enjoy your drink.” He worked his way across the café patio, weaving between tables and other patrons to reach the sidewalk. As he re-entered the street, he walked along the railing until he passed his friend again.

  “Hey, Kaz.” He captured the old man’s attention once more and cautioned, “Be careful. If this is as big as I think, you don’t want to poke the sleeping bear.” With that final warning, he turned away from Kaczmarek and marched down the street.

  Krieger’s mind once again drifted to that young child overseas and his stomach twisted. If his old friend found the connection they needed, he would move one step closer to atonement for his past sins.

  Chapter 26

  As the sun faded from view behind the trees and the beautiful colors of the sunset faded toward darkness, Randal and Faye grilled Anthony Mack. They started with the museum break-in, but soon transitioned into more pertinent topics. But it was soon apparent he wasn’t going to be much help.

  A low-level thug, he wasn’t deeply connected with anyone in particular. He’d never heard of Amadi and only knew Roth peripherally through mutual acquaintances and partners. They were about to let the man return to his fun inside when an offhand comment piqued their interest.

  “Okay, Anthony…” Dominic grunted. “We’re sorry to have taken up your valuable time. You can return to your ‘friends’.”

  Mack sighed and struggled to his feet. “Finally. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever gonna let me go. I’m tellin’ ya, I ain’t involved in anything right now. Not in no break-ins, murders, arms deals, nothing.”

  Shannon started to interrupt, “Yes, we kno--” before the last part of that comment registered.

  Mack didn’t seem to notice her interruption and continued his current train of thought. He rambled on, a freight train yet to realize its brakes were out, “I ain’t even gonna be here this weekend to do anything wrong. Y’all are barking up the wrong…” He trailed off. Mack realized he’d ranted one line too far.

  Dominic pounced. “What do you mean ‘arms deal?’”

  Both agents rounded on him, eyes brimming with fierce anticipation, questions itching to cross their lips. They struggled to avoid talking over each other.

  “And what about this weekend? Is there something going on?”

  “What do you know?”

  Mack’s complexion went ashen as blood rushed out of his cheeks. His eyes widened and he shrank back to his seat as best his large body would allow. “L-l-l-ook,” he stuttered, “I-I-I don’t know m-much. There are just a few rumors on the street.”

  “Tell us what you know,” Shannon’s voice remained steady.

  “Well…” Mack stammered, “l-like I said…I don’t know much.” He swallowed hard. “There’s this guy, I don’t know his name…rumor is he’s running something big this weekend, but that’s it.”

  Dominic blurted, “What does he look like?”

  “Ummm…black, thin, looks straight outta Africa,” he stuttered. “I’ve never met him though, only saw a photo.”

  Amadi! It had to be! Shannon and Dominic hadn’t been partners long, but she recognized the change in his eyes. He was so desperate for a lead, any lead, and this might be his chance. Their recent confirmation of Amadi’s presence here in town, confirmed Dominic’s worst fears. If Mack meant what he implied, Dominic might have found his probable cause for mounting a real manhunt.

  He leapt to his feet and lunged toward Mack, his voice rising in both volume and pitch. “Where is he? What is he planning??” he demanded, a wild gleam in his eyes.

  Mack’s eyes widened and he recoiled. Shannon frowned. “Dom!” He flinched and his head spun toward her. “Why don’t you let me handle this one?”

  For a split second, she thought he might snap at her. After all, he’d been waiting for this kind of a lead on the man who betrayed him. But he must have recognized the need to calm down, and the almost-violent gleam that glowed in his eyes faded. A scared witness is an unhelpful witness and he didn’t want to drive Mack back into his shell. Keeping his eyes fiercely locked on Shannon’s, he nodded.

  “I’ll handle this, partner.” Shannon’s words were reassuring. His body, which he now realized had gone tense and rigid, began to unwind. A quiet poise in her voice gave him confidence she’d be able to handle the situation alone. She’d always remained impassive in their investigations. He’d never witnessed her fury take charge like this.

  “I’ll take a short w
alk, clear my head.” He turned in the direction of the car. Maybe a bit of music would settle the nerves. Shannon was capable. She’d get the info they needed. “I’m sticking within eyeshot and earshot though, just in case.”

  “I’ll be fine. Just relax.” He gave Mack one last glare, and then turned away, his shoes dragging and scraping over the pavement as he fought to put one foot in front of the other.

  He stared down at those feet, adorned with a set of fancy Italian snakeskin shoes, a gift from his mother when he made detective at the agency. She’d always ensured he looked his best. A small raindrop splashed on the toe of his left shoe. And as he strode away in the direction of the car, those drops began to accumulate, one tiny splash at a time.

  ***

  Dominic trudged to the car, parked across the street, and slid into the front seat. He turned the key in the ignition one click backwards and searched for a decent radio station, but his focus wasn’t on the music. He settled on an oldies station, but his mind barely registered the tunes. Shannon had assuaged his initial excitement, but he still found himself unable to look away from her conversation with Mack for more than a few seconds at a time. He remained within earshot if she called out, but not near enough to hear what they were saying. The conversation appeared animated though.

  Looking for something…anything to draw his attention, he flicked on the windshield wipers. The blades leapt into action and squeaked their way across the window and sweeping away most of the raindrops onto the frame of the car. The drops the arms were unable to remove instead smeared across the pane. Toying with the wipers’ speed and intensity did nothing except make the smearing worse and the squeaking more piercing. He cursed and flipped the switch again, shutting them off, leaving him with nothing to hold his mind captive.

  Dominic couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to hear what they were saying. His clumsy fingers yanked the keys from the ignition, dropping them. He lurched forward, swung his arm wildly out and nabbed them just before they hit the mat.