Thrilling Thirteen

by Ponzo, Gary

  Was he the Keeper?

  Was he a Fed? A local cop?

  Larson motioned toward the chair again. “Please. Sit.”

  Sandy didn’t move. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  Larson pursed his lips and shrugged. “I guess you don’t know for sure. But how else would I even know that title? The Keeper?”

  “Maybe you’re a cop.”

  “I am a cop. Just like you used to be.”

  Sandy shook his head. “No, not like that. I mean a fed. FBI or Justice, working some kind of rogue police case.”

  “I see your point,” Larson conceded. “So what kind of proof do you want to show that I am who I say I am?”

  Sandy remained standing. He considered all of the questions he could ask. Every single one incriminated him. And if this guy was planning to arrest him at the end of this conversation, he didn’t want to add any ammunition to their case.

  Larson smiled again. “Tough position to be in, huh? If I am a fed trying to bust you, pretty much anything you say jams you up.”

  Sandy listened for the crackle of distant police radios or the stamp of boots. He heard nothing.

  “And if I am the Keeper, you have to be wondering why I am even here. So you’re in a real tight spot right now, Mr. Sandy Banks.” Larson leaned back in his chair. “So why don’t you sit down and we’ll solve a few mysteries, you and I.”

  Sandy shook his head. “I’ll stand. You speak.”

  Larson shrugged. “All right. I can’t blame you for being cautious. I’d let you frisk me for a wire, but I’m pretty sure you’d use the opportunity to take my gun from me. And until I’m sure that you’re sure about who I am—” He shrugged and smiled coldly. “Well, that’s just not a chance I’m willing to take.”

  “What are you doing here?” Sandy asked him.

  “Looking for you.”

  “Why here?”

  “Because I knew this is where you’d be.”

  Sandy wanted to ask him how he knew that, but he felt that the knowledge balance of power was already too skewed in Larson’s favor. He didn’t want to make that fact even clearer.

  “What do you want?” he asked instead.

  Larson regarded Sandy. His eyes seemed as friendly as they’d been in the Wal-mart parking lot, but now Sandy could see an edge to his gaze. That cop edge. He should have spotted it before.

  “It’s simple,” Larson said. “I want you to finish the job you started.”

  Sandy shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  A patronizing smile crossed Larson’s lips. “Okay. Don’t admit to anything. That’s smart. But you asked what I wanted, and that’s what I want.”

  “I’m not going on any more fishing trips,” Sandy said. “I’m done.”

  Larson chuckled. “Fishing trips? That’s a clever little euphemism. I like it.”

  “I mean it,” Sandy said. “Brian’s done, and so am I.”

  Larson stopped chuckling. “Brian, huh? That’s why you’re quitting?”

  “I’m not quitting anything. I’m just saying I can’t help you with whatever you’re talking about.”

  Larson sighed. “Jesus. This code-talking is getting old already.”

  Sandy didn’t reply.

  Larson stared at him for a long while. Finally, he said, “You have a job to finish, Sandy. You want to bail after that, well I guess you did your duty. But don’t leave me hanging.”

  “It never ends,” Sandy said, choosing his words carefully.

  “I know,” Larson said. “One shitbag replaces another. I realize that. But don’t take off after all the time I spent researching these specific shitbags. If I’m going to have to see what they did every night in my dreams, at least let me know when I wake up that they’re fucking dead.”

  Sandy looked at the man carefully. His suspicion and doubt wasn’t as strong as it had been when Larson first called himself the Keeper. With every word the man said, more of it slipped away.

  “They found Troy Collins, by the way,” Larson said.

  Sandy raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

  Larson smiled. “Mailman smelled something funny. Fire Department did a little B and E and found him in his living room. Homicide dicks are pretty sure it was a drug rip.”

  Sandy didn’t reply.

  “I don’t know if that was you or Brian,” Larson said, “but it was a good job, either way.”

  There was nothing for Sandy to say. He remained standing, silent.

  Larson nodded as if Sandy had spoken. “I know, you aren’t going to talk about it. I might be a fed or be wired or whatever. But it’s long past time I thanked you for your service, and told you that you’ve done well. Take the compliment in goddamn silence if you want to, but at least take it.”

  Sandy remained impassive. Finally, he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Larson laughed. “I figure that’s about as close as I’ll get to a ‘you’re welcome’ from you,” he said, “so I’ll take it.” He leaned forward. “But, Sandy, I need you to close out these last two files. Once you do that, you want to quit, go ahead.”

  Sandy shook his head. “No.”

  Larson sighed and leaned back. “Why not?”

  Sandy didn’t reply.

  Larson chewed on his lip, considering. “All right, let’s try this. Hypothetically, let’s say a guy was being asked to finish a long term job. His boss wants him to do a couple more things before he retires. Why would a guy refuse to do that?”

  Sandy bristled slightly at the word ‘boss,’ but he didn’t respond.

  “This is all just hypothetical,” Larson said. “Not real.” He waved his hand around in a circle. “Let’s say we’re talking about plumbers or something. A couple more leaks before the guy retires. Why not plug those leaks?”

  Sandy considered. His mind ran through all of the possibilities. He reached back into his memories of criminal procedures and wondered if this was a safe avenue for him. His instincts were still singing out a danger song to him, but he couldn’t pin down exactly why. Larson definitely knew a great deal about the Horsemen. He could be the Keeper. Sandy’s mind was beginning to accept the possibility. But something was still not quite right.

  “Hypothetically?” he finally asked.

  Larson nodded. “Yeah. Story time.”

  Sandy considered his words before he spoke. “Maybe that plumber is just tired of plugging leaks. Maybe it is just time to retire.”

  Larson nodded again. “Fair enough. What could that boss say or do to get the plumber to finish out the last two leaks before he retired, though?”

  “Hypothetically?”

  “Of course.”

  “Nothing,” Sandy answered.

  Larson looked disappointed.

  Brian is gone, Sandy wanted to shout. They are all gone. I’m the last one and I don’t want to do this anymore.

  Instead, he stood in the kitchen without a word.

  Larson sighed. “It’s not like that plumber hasn’t done his part,” he said. “He has. But he can’t just leave with the job unfinished.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s like a soldier,” Larson said. “He has a duty.”

  “A plumber with a duty?” Sandy asked.

  Larson shrugged. “As long as we’re weaving tales here, sure. Why not? He has a duty to finish the job.”

  “Maybe he’s already finished,” Sandy said.

  “Well, hypothetically, maybe his boss tells him he needs to finish things completely.”

  “Hypothetically,” Sandy said, “maybe he tells his boss to go fuck himself.”

  Larson’s eyebrows shot up. Anger flashed momentarily in his eyes. For some reason, Sandy felt a sense of satisfaction in the display. The flash was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a look of resignation, tinged with sorrow.

  “Don’t make this difficult, Sandy,” Larson said.

  “I don’t plan
on making it anything at all,” Sandy said. “Either I’m going to walk out of here or you’re going to arrest me, but in either case, I don’t know about any of the things you’re talking about.”

  Larson sighed. “I wish there was a way to make this easier.”

  Sandy shook his head. “Nothing’s easy.”

  “You’re right,” Larson agreed. “But see, here’s the deal. I know Brian’s not in the game anymore. I know he handed off his last file to you.”

  “You’re making things up,” Sandy said.

  “No, I’m not. I know you’ve got the Odoms file. And I know you picked up the latest file. I followed you. From the little factory where Odoms works to post office to the Wal-mart parking lot. I saw you leave the building with the file. I saw it on your front seat in the parking lot.”

  “You sound like a fed with all that surveillance talk,” Sandy said, but his mind raced. So that’s who’s been following me all along.

  Larson shook his head. “No. I’m the man that Cal Ridley trusted with you guys. But now you’re the last one. And I need you to finish the job.”

  Sandy almost winced at Cal’s name. He considered asking Larson about his visit to Gail Ridley, but resisted the temptation. He’d probably already said too much if this guy was planning on arresting him in the next few minutes.

  “I know a little about your history, you know,” Larson said.

  Sandy eyed him carefully, saying nothing.

  “I pulled your personnel jacket down at headquarters,” Larson went on. “I read all about your career with us.”

  Sandy set his jaw. “You may have read some facts in a file,” he said. “But you don’t anything about me.”

  Larson smiled slightly. “Oh, I don’t agree. I know quite a bit about you. I know why you resigned from the police department. I know about that case. The one with the DV victim? I know that.”

  Sandy didn’t reply. He gave Larson a hard look.

  Larson seemed unfazed. “And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the reason you took Cal up on his offer to kill bad guys. I mean, if I left a battered woman alone in the house with some wife-beating piece of shit like you did, I’d probably want some redemption, too.”

  I didn’t know he was there! Sandy raged inside.

  The obvious answer echoed through his head.

  You should have.

  You failed her.

  And she wasn’t the first.

  “So how many scumbags does it take to equal out to one innocent victim?” Larson asked.

  “Fuck you,” Sandy said, the tension in his voice electric and wavering with anger. “I’m leaving now, so arrest me if you’re going to.”

  “I’m not going to arrest you,” Larson said coldly. “But if you walk out that door without agreeing to finish the job, I will kill Brian Moore. That’d be one more victim you could add to your list of fuck ups.”

  Sandy felt his jaw drop slightly. With an effort, he clenched it shut.

  Kill Brian?

  Every thought of Larson being a fed or any kind of cop trying to set him up melted away. The realization had a calming effect on Sandy and spurred him to action.

  Without hesitating, he burst forward, scrambling around the kitchen table toward Larson.

  Larson showed no surprise. In one smooth motion, he brought up a handgun and leveled it at Sandy’s chest.

  Sandy stopped.

  Larson smiled, but this time there was no warmth to the expression. “Sit the fuck down,” he growled. He motioned to the far chair with the muzzle of his gun. “Right there.”

  Sandy obeyed, sliding the chair out from the table and settling into it.

  Larson’s cold smile disappeared. He set the Glock on the kitchen table in front of him. He met Sandy’s eyes.

  “There,” he said. “Now we can talk.”

  FOURTEEN

  Sandy stared at Larson for a long while, his mind whirring through possibilities. The black gun on the table in front of Larson sent his thoughts in entirely new directions.

  Finally, he asked, “Where’s Brian?”

  Larson sighed. “You know, Sandy, if you’d just stayed a good soldier, things would have been just fine. You would have handled these last two files and then rode off into the sunset a hero or whatever. Why’d you have to make this difficult?”

  “I asked you where Brian was.”

  Larson shrugged. “In a basement with a couple of my cousins, complaining about the quality of programming on basic cable.”

  “You kidnapped him?”

  “Oh, don’t get holier than thou on me now, Sandy,” Larson said. “Not after what you’ve been doing for the past decade.”

  “What I did was different.”

  “Yeah, it is. You murdered those people.”

  Sandy clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. “They earned their fate,” he gritted.

  “Yes, they did,” Larson agreed. “And as soon as you’re done with your work, Brian will be released from the basement he’s in, free to go wherever he pleases. You, too, for that matter.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I already told you why,” Larson said. “I need you to finish the job. This seems to be the only way to make sure that happens.”

  Sandy shook his head. “I don’t buy it.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you buy, as long as you finish the –”

  “No,” Sandy interrupted. “This isn’t about closure or some kind of emotional baggage for you. There’s more to it than that.”

  Larson paused, a small smile playing on his lips. “Always the smart one, huh?” He scratched his cheek and watched Sandy. Then he said, “Put it this way. This isn’t just about you and I any more. Sometimes outside interests get involved. And I made some promises that you—“ he pointed at Sandy, “—are going to keep.”

  Sandy considered Larson’s words. “You sold our services?”

  “Why not? Plenty of wronged family members with cash out there, Sandy. We needed the money for the slush fund.”

  Sandy shook his head. “We’re not mercenaries.”

  “Don’t get so noble. You killed for money. By definition, that makes you a mercenary.”

  “No,” Sandy said. “We killed for a cause.”

  “Well, then by definition that makes you a terrorist.” Larson smiled. “Or a patriot, depending on which side eventually wins.”

  “I didn’t sign on to make anyone rich,” Sandy said.

  “Rich?” Larson snorted. “It’s not about getting rich. It’s about keeping the project afloat. You think that it’s easy to divert seizure money anymore?”

  Sandy shrugged.

  Larson shook his head. “Trust me, it’s not. Fucking drug unit used to be a gold mine. Two for you, one for me, all that shit. Now they don’t send the unit commander to DEA school. They send ‘em to an accountant’s school. That unit is tighter than a crab’s ass now. Where else am I supposed to skim from? There’s no money in busting burglars or dope fiends, just dealers. And forget white collar crime. You never even touch the actual money arresting those guys.”

  Larson leaned forward and met Sandy’s eyes with his own. “So, you see, shutting down this whole operation is probably a good idea for everyone involved. It isn’t sustainable any more. Hell, the world we live in, even the great silent majority out there wouldn’t be in support of it. There’s no stomach anymore for the dirty part of doing what needs done. It’s time to put it to rest. But not until the entire job is finished.”

  “And if I don’t finish it, you’ll kill Brian?” Sandy asked, still not believing it.

  Larson nodded. “It’s a matter of survival.”

  “How’s that?”

  “If I don’t carry through on this deal, the client goes to the press or the prosecutor’s office,” Larson explained. “Then all the cards come tumbling down.”

  “Don’t tell me that. You should have insulated yourself better than that.”

  Larson sh
rugged. “Shoulda, coulda, woulda. It is what it is.”

  “You’d kill Brian to avoid prison?”

  Larson raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “You know what happens to cops in prison?”

  Sandy shook his head in disbelief. “You’re a traitor.”

  “Sticks and stones, Sandy. Sticks and stones.” Larson gave him an expectant look. “Now, are we clear on where things stand?”

  Reluctantly, Sandy nodded. “We’re clear.”

  “Good,” Larson said. “Now go do what you do best.”

  Sandy rose from his chair, turned and left without a word.

  FIFTEEN

  “Victor-32?” the radio squawked.

  He glanced over at his partner, then back at the radio. “I think it’s your turn,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I’m driving. You’re the radio man.”

  “I answered up last time,” he complained.

  “Them’s the rules,” she told him.

  He sighed and reached for the portable radio. “The rules suck,” he said. “And so does your grammar.” Then he depressed the transmit button and answered dutifully. “Victor-32, go ahead.”

  “Any sign of him?”

  “None.”

  “Did you change cars?”

  He looked at his partner, who rolled her eyes.

  “You believe this asshole?” he asked her. He held the radio to his mouth but didn’t push the transmit button. “Yes, you fucking derelict. We changed goddamn cars, just like you told us to. We’re not idiots like you.”

  She smiled. “Like you have the balls to ever say that.”

  He smirked, depressed the button and snapped, “Affirmative.”

  “Copy. I’m sending Victor-68 out to your twenty with the van. When he gets there, I want you to change over to the secondary site and assist Victor-44 at that location.”

  She groaned. “Babysitting a witness. That’s worse than tailing.”

  He raised his eyebrows in agreement. “Copy,” he transmitted, then dropped the radio on the seat between them. “You’re answering that thing next time he calls,” he told her.

  “Not if I’m driving.”

  “Fine. Let’s switch right now.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t trust your driving.”