by Jeremy Brown
The closet had a dozen wire hangers with thin paper wrappers advertising a local laundromat. A light blue cloth bag hung on a hook. Connelly pulled one corner to spread it out and saw the same name printed on the side along with brief instructions—leave your dirty laundry in the bag outside the door and they’d handle it for you and add it to your motel bill.
Connelly thought about it for a moment and decided: If he stayed here long enough to need fresh laundry, things had either gone horribly wrong or shockingly well.
He stepped back into the main room.
The solid metal door between units was next to the bed, in the corner made by the main room and the bathroom. It was locked, and when opened would hinge toward the bathroom and take up zero real estate.
Connelly went back to the front of the room and lifted his gear, then closed and locked the door.
He put the duffel and guitar case on the bed. They sank about six inches into the mattress, not a good sign for sleeping or any other bed-centered activities he might engage in.
He went back to the adjoining door and unlocked it and pressed it against the wall, where it stayed.
He tapped on the door locked from unit one.
After some snapping and clicking the door opened and Rison was there, looking him up and down.
“You get laid yet?”
Rison sat on the edge of the bed and punched the Mute button on the remote, silencing the sports highlight show.
Connelly went into the room, a mirror image of his except for the print above the TV. This one showed a fish jumping out of a lake to catch a wily dragonfly.
Bruder was in the chair by the window. He had a cup of steaming coffee next to his arm on the small round table. He and Rison both wore suits with no ties, looking like road warrior salesmen or reps for a heavy machinery company.
Bruder said, “How’d you do?”
“I hit Len’s on the way out here,” Connelly said. “I might have something lined up for tomorrow night. I left my number with the waitress, she needs to check with Len about it. If she doesn’t call I’ll go back tomorrow, but something tells me she’s gonna call.”
He stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and grinned.
“Let me guess,” Rison said. “This waitress’s name is Marie.”
Connelly’s grin fell.
“You guys met her?”
It was Rison’s turn to smile.
“Oh, I imagine there isn’t a man who passes through this town who doesn’t get to meet Marie.”
“Son of a bitch,” Connelly said.
“Don’t let it get you down, sport. She’s a nice woman and I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”
“Yeah, shove it. And hey, it’s still a good lead. If she gets around like that, maybe she’s spent time with the Romanians. Who were at Len’s when I left, by the way.”
Rison looked over at Bruder, who said, “Just now?”
“Twenty minutes ago, maybe? They just sat down when I was walking out.”
“How many?”
“Four of them.”
Rison looked at Bruder again.
“What do you think?”
While Bruder thought about it, Rison told Connelly, “We went there for lunch yesterday and got the impression it’s pretty common for people to come into town just for the Lenburger.”
“Told you,” Connelly said. “And I got the same feeling. A couple farmers in there looked me over, but they weren’t hostile or alarmed or anything. I was just another new face passing through.”
“And you’re sure these were Romanians?” Bruder said.
“They were speaking Romanian.”
Bruder stood up.
“I want to get a look at them.”
“Both of us?” Rison said.
“Yeah. It’ll be familiar to the staff. Marie was still working when you left?”
Connelly nodded.
“The dinner rush was picking up and she was hustling around.”
Bruder grabbed a set of keys off the dresser and walked out the front door.
Rison followed, and before he got outside Connelly said, “What am I supposed to do?”
Rison shrugged and gave him a wolfish grin.
“Take a shower. Rest up. Marie’s gonna need a foot rub tonight.”
“Fuck you, buddy.”
Chapter Six
Bruder and Rison took the rental car down the road and backed into a spot in the dirt lot behind Len’s.
The car was rented under Bruder’s false set of identification and credit cards, which he’d also used for the motel. They walked in through the back door and started to wade through the tables to get to the front, where they could officially wait to be seated, but Marie cruised past them with a tray full of food and told them to sit wherever they liked.
Bruder picked the last booth along the wall, closest to the back exit, and sat facing the room. Rison sat across from him and could watch the back door and bar.
The place was already half full, and a blast of orange evening sunlight came through the front door when it opened and a group of six walked in. The conversation was loud and the speakers hung near the ceiling played classic rock about two steps too loud for the space.
Marie hustled past, going the other way.
“Be with you in a minute boys!”
They nodded at her, and Bruder scanned the room without lingering on anyone in particular.
“See them?” Rison asked.
Bruder nodded and looked down at his menu.
“Four of them, like Connelly said. They’re close to the front, first table you get to coming out of the corral up there.”
“Should I look?”
“No need. They’re all big with thick necks. I can see at least one tattoo coming up out of a collar, some kind of snake or serpent.”
One of the Romanians raised his voice, telling what seemed like the punchline to a joke or story, and the rest of the table burst into laughter.
Rison squinted.
“That’s them?”
“Yeah.”
“Man, I hate loudmouths. If I sit down at a table in Vegas and some asshole sounds like that, putting on a display, I’m moving on. It’s not worth the headache. The guy making the others laugh—he’s in charge?”
Bruder looked up at one of the TVs and risked another glance at the table of Romanians. The four-top was a cluttered landscape of empty burger baskets and wax paper and wadded napkins and beer bottles.
“Hard to tell. None of them look like upper management. I’d say they’re muscle. But that guy might be in charge of them, or at least the alpha. He’s the largest.”
He checked the tables around the Romanians, looking mostly at the food like he was trying to decide what to get, but scanning faces and posture as well.
“Nobody appreciates the show they’re putting on.”
“Anybody look scared?”
Bruder went back to his menu.
“There’s a family right next to them and nobody is looking over, even though one of the Romanians is pushed back and practically bumping into their table. An older couple, at your nine o’clock, you can see the man’s jaw muscles working while he stares down at his beer. Go ahead.”
Rison turned, casual, just looking around.
“Oh yeah. That guy’s seething about something. But his wife’s playing a game on her phone while they’re at dinner, so that might be it.”
Bruder didn’t see any benefit in further speculation.
Marie slapped a palm on their table and shooed Rison toward the wall.
“Slide over, I gotta sit for a minute.”
She bumped in next to him and blew a strand of hair out of her face.
“How are my drug dealers doing this evening?”
Bruder gave her a smile of acknowledgment and Rison barked a laugh.
“Drug dealers, that’s good. I tell you what—we’d make a helluva lot more money, that’s for sure.”
At lunch the
day before they’d told Marie they were in the pharmaceutical business, and when she broke the news that they were too ugly to be drug reps they had to come clean and admit they were on the packaging side, selling boring stuff for the production lines like fillers and cappers and torquers and shrink wrappers.
They’d flown from New Jersey to Omaha for a site installation and the equipment was delayed, so they were driving around the heartland for a few days, seeing the sights, and couldn’t resist trying the Lenburger.
Now Marie said, “You guys doing the Len again?”
Bruder nodded. “With a beer, please.”
“Same kind?”
“Sure.”
She nudged Rison in the ribs.
“What about you?”
Rison made a turtle face at the menu.
“How’s the New York strip?”
“Better than anything you’ll get in New Jersey.”
“That’s outrageous. Now I have to try it.”
“Rare? And any other answer is wrong, by the way.”
Rison gave Bruder a look of fear.
“Rare it is, then. With whatever beer you think goes best with it.”
Marie approved the trust.
“It comes with broccoli and the loaded baked potato. I’ll put extra bacon on it for you.”
“I’m in love,” Rison said.
She laughed and pulled herself out of the booth.
“I’m impressed, by the way. Most folks who try the Lenburger are too scared to try anything else.”
She shot a judging look at Bruder and said, “But when you come all the way from New Jersey, you gotta try the steak. See what you’re missing.”
Bruder suspected they weren’t just talking about steak anymore, but he said, “What’s the furthest anyone’s come for the burger?”
Marie looked at a blank spot on the wall.
“I had a couple from Australia once. They were cycling across the country and had us marked on their map as one of the spots to try. Some folks from China, but I think they were living in the U.S. already. And I’m not sure what’s farther, China or Australia…”
“And they all just stop in for the burger and head back home? Or wherever they were going?”
“Pretty much,” Marie said with a smile, but her eyes had lost the mischief of flirting with Rison.
Bruder was trying to get her to mention something about the Romanians, and he figured that was the closest he was going to get without pushing too far.
“I’ll be right back with those beers.”
She turned and left, and Rison said, “She’s scared.”
Bruder nodded.
He checked the room again and saw the table of Romanians looking back at him, all four men, each of them with the sort of flat eyes that wouldn’t change whether they were tickling or stabbing you.
Bruder didn’t let his gaze linger, but he didn’t rush his eyes away either.
He didn’t want to challenge them with a stare-down.
It could be equally troublesome, though, to seem like an easy mark, somebody they could brace and shake down.
He looked at Rison and said, “They’re scoping me, so let’s talk about work or sports or something.”
Rison caught on right away and started droning about conveyor belts and barcode scanners and whatever else he’d learned in his research about pharmaceutical packaging equipment.
Bruder nodded along and commented here and there and kept tabs on the Romanians in his periphery.
The four of them finished their beers and turned to look at the booth a few times, possibly discussing plans about who was going to do what when the time came.
Then the loudest one, the one Bruder thought might be the alpha, reached into a pocket and pulled out a cell phone and looked at the screen. He stood up and the others followed suit, then trailed him out the front door without looking back.
A family of four waiting near the pedestal clustered into the corner by the gumball machines to get out of their way.
“They’re out,” Bruder said.
“We gonna have any trouble when we leave?”
“It looked like they got summoned via text. But who knows. A couple of them might think it would be fun to have a chat with us.”
Marie and another server hurried over and cleared the mess on the four-top, putting everything in brown plastic bins. Bruder could see the thin line of Marie’s mouth, and when the other woman said something to her Marie just shook her head.
A skinny kid wearing an apron carried the bins into the back while Marie wiped the table down and reset the condiments, then waved the family of four over.
“They didn’t pay,” Bruder said.
Rison risked a glance over his left shoulder.
“The Romanians?”
“Yeah.”
“So maybe they left in a hurry because of that? The good ol’ dine and dash. Hey, like the show, but flipped.”
“No. It looks like the staff here is used to it.”
Rison took a drink from his beer.
“So people are scared. And pissed.”
Bruder nodded.
“The question is, who’s ready to do something about it?”
They ate and chatted with Marie, who never got back into her rhythm after the Romanians left.
Rison agreed the steak was better than anything he’d had in Jersey, and he did a good job not mentioning the ones he’d had in Vegas and Rio and Monte Carlo.
They paid in cash with a tip big enough to put them solidly in Marie’s corner—but not big enough to let on they knew she’d been stiffed—then walked into the back hallway and stopped at the door.
Bruder adjusted the FN 509 Compact 9mm just to the right of his belt buckle. It was in an inside-the-waistband holster with just the grip peeking out above his belt, ideal for concealment.
Rison carried the same handgun over his right kidney, preferring that placement for comfort, and that’s how he practiced drawing and firing.
“If any of them are out here,” Bruder said, “don’t shoot them unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
Rison grinned at him.
“Ain’t no bullet worth fourteen million dollars.”
The sky was dark and pressing down on the single sodium light buzzing over the dirt lot.
The parking lot was full of cars and trucks, but it was quiet and still, all the noise and movement trapped inside Len’s.
Bruder checked between the vehicles as they passed and listened for footsteps and vehicle doors popping open. When they got to their car, he slid into the passenger seat and checked the windows and mirrors for anyone coming to brace them in the car, sitting ducks, but then Rison had them moving in a tight turn out of the spot and into the narrow road behind the restaurant.
Other vehicles moved on the streets and looking left at the first intersection they could see a steady flow of traffic on the four lanes running through town, but nobody pulled out behind them or followed them through a series of turns and cutbacks.
“My sense of self-importance is taking a hit,” Rison said. “I don’t think those Romanians give two shits about us.”
“That’s their problem,” Bruder said.
He pulled a small notepad out of his jacket pocket with notes and sketches that would only make sense to him.
“Let’s take another tour around the outskirts. I want to check these places at night, see if they have any lights showing through the trees.”
“Want me to swing by and grab Connelly?”
Bruder shook his head.
“I’ve had enough racket for one night.”
They got back to the motel just before nine o’clock. Connelly was waiting for them in the connecting doorway, wearing shorts and a t-shirt.
“What, did you guys get the seven-course meal or something? I’ve been waiting here all goddam night.”
Rison locked the room door behind him.
“We got a look at some local spots, for afterward. In case we have to
lay low.”
Connelly waited for a moment, then said, “And?”
“We found some good candidates, but ideally we scoot right out of town before anybody knows what happened.”
Bruder was watching Connelly.
He asked him, “Can you handle sitting still for a few days if you have to?”
“Me? Sure, of course. Why?”
“Because you seem to have trouble with it right now, and you’ve got a hot shower and cable TV here. The places we looked at don’t even have electricity.”
Connelly put his hands up.
“Don’t worry about me, man. I’m just riled up because this is all coming together around me, and I’m here with my thumb up my ass, looking for something to do. After a job, I’m all about chilling out.”
Rison put his jacket on a hanger and left it in the closet, then set his gun on the nightstand.
“You want something to do? Marie might need some cheering up.”
Connelly looked back and forth between them, suddenly betrayed.
“What did you guys do?”
Rison said, “Us? Nothing.”
Connelly frowned, then, “The Romanians? They were still there?”
Rison filled him in with Bruder adding details when necessary, since he’d had the best vantage point.
When they were done Connelly said, “So you guys think Marie can be our inside source?”
“She knows things,” Rison said. “Whether they’ll be helpful, or if she’ll be willing to talk about them…she seemed pretty shaken up after that crew left.”
Connelly crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. He frowned at the floor, working through something.
“What is it?” Bruder said.
“It’s just…I don’t know anymore. Marie’s a nice lady. If she talks to us, and we do our thing, and it somehow comes back on her…”
“It won’t,” Bruder said.
“But if it does.”
The look he gave Bruder was full of dire consequences for Marie.
Bruder shrugged.
“Then she deals with it, or she doesn’t. She can move. She can start a revolt. But she won’t know who we are, or how to find us, so whatever happens stops at her.”