by Jeremy Mac
He lays it back down in the briefcase, unknowingly covering the letter that lay inside, a detrimental mistake leaving it in there, but if he’d thought about it he would have ripped it to shreds and burned the pieces. He will later regret not doing so.
53
James Grant sits in his comfortable couch and sips from a glass of watered down Jack to help dull the slight headache he woke up with this morning. He isn’t a big drinker, not like he once was, only on special occasions anymore, and last night had been a special one. Although he did not drink a drop of whiskey last night, he did have his fair share of wine and wine always gives him a morning-after headache. He took two aspirins from his personal stash and soon after half of his glass of watered down whiskey was gone so was the headache and now the headache has been replaced with deep curiosity.
When he first met Lathan he sensed something suspicious about him, but nothing as identifiable of good or bad. He definitely portrays himself as being a man of many secrets; secrets not easily shared. James isn’t leery of Lathan, at least not in the sense that he is fearful of him. No, nothing so drastic. He just feels that there is something there that he can’t quite put his finger on. Suspicions. So for his own peace of mind he assigned one of his men to follow him wherever he went outside the building, paying close attention to what he did and who he spoke to, even if he, James himself, was with him. But nothing even mildly interesting or suspicious ever turned up. Not long after Lathan made his heroic move outside the gate James came close to calling off his spy (and for the record he does not like to call it “spying”) but something urged him on so after Lathan was well enough to get around again the spy continued his spying.
In this day and age nothing can be rightly labeled as normal. Lathan came out of nowhere driving what is one of the last model SUV’s ever manufactured, in pristine condition save for a crack across the windshield, loaded down with weapons galore (and for some personal reason he is now transforming into some kind of war machine) and saves his niece from being raped and possibly murdered by slicing up the two would-be rapist/murders with a katana sword. He is unwilling to talk about where he came from, where he’s been, and where he intends to go.
And now this.
A briefcase.
A briefcase that he was not in possession of while entering the old Harrington International building but he had possession of coming out and was in quite a hurry coming back to his building.
Now that is unusual and suspicious.
Does Lathan know someone in that building? And if so, what business can they have? His spy says that he stayed outside and waited for him to come back out, thinking that Lathan might have spotted him and he did not want to risk further discovery.
“You did the right thing,” James assured him. “The last thing I want him to think is that he’s being followed. What did you say the briefcase looked like?”
“Black in color, and like any kind you’d see most business men carrying around back in the day.” He waits for James to respond but when he doesn’t he says, “Do you want me to go inside his place and check it out? Shouldn’t be a problem as long as he’s gone.”
James falls into deep thought. It is none of his business what is inside that briefcase but he is so damn curious. Is that what Lathan is here for? That briefcase and whatever is inside? It has to be very important for a man of his caliber to be hurrying back with it. A man like him will kill for something he wants or believes in, that much is obvious. Intuition tells him that Lathan will surely seriously hurt, if not kill, someone who invades his personal space and belongings, won’t even think twice about it, pure instinct. James does not want that. Lathan is a friend, and an ally, this is his home now and James has made that clearly and publicly understood.
Yet he has him followed and spied on as if he is not to be trusted.
“No,” James finally answers. “Just keep doing what you’ve been doing and nothing more. You’ve done well. Just make sure . . .” Make sure of what? He isn’t quite sure. Yet something is there, just below the surface. But what? “Just make sure no one gives him any trouble.”
After he hears himself say that he realizes how ridicules it sounds and he wishes he could take it back. Someone, anyone, giving Lathan trouble is an unlikely occurrence. Even the most malevolent of people will be forced to keep themselves in check when dealing with Lathan for fear of what he is capable of and no one wants an up-close and personal altercation with the man’s blade. It’s obvious by the way people treat Lathan, they respect him for what he has done for everyone thus far, but they also fear him because of it as well.
Either way, James lets it go at that. His spy leaves to go on with his spying while James relaxes on his comfortable couch, sipping his watered down drink and letting his thoughts wonder into the many different avenues of his mind.
54
“Everything is in order, sir,” the general tells his superior.
A sickle shaped smile touched with wicked delight forms on Vincent’s face. “Excellent,” he says.
“My only concern is the boy. What if he doesn’t hold up his end of the deal? He could have told them what our plans are. We could be walking right into a trap.” The general’s scarred face twists with anger. The plan is perfect but he doesn’t trust the boy. He never did trust the boy, not since the first time he saw him.
“Oh, he’ll do what’s expected of him,” Vincent assures his general with such confidence that it smooths the creases in the general’s face. “If he ever wants to see his precious Jizell and his BFF, Tank, in one piece again.”
With that said, Jacko, pleased with his current assignment, brings the madam-doctor into the room, handling her roughly by the arms. Her clothes are disheveled as if she’s worn them and slept in them for several days. Her face is pale with dark hollows pooled under her bloodshot eyes. Another henchman comes in after them, hauling in a distraught Tank with a fresh black eye and busted lip.
Vincent goes to Jizell and carries a hand up to her face (his right hand. His left hand is practically healed and he now wears a glove with the last two fingers cut off and sewn together) and brushes the back of his fingers across her cheek.
She snaps her head away as if touched by something filthy, which to her is exactly what happened.
“Easy there, sweets. You have nothing to worry about as long as your little Mongoose honors his end of the deal. And then the two of you,” Vincent then regards the old man barely able to stand on his own two feet next to her, “well, the three of you, can run off and live happily ever after just as I’ve promised.” Vincent snatches Jizell by the face, his voice lowers and deepens with dread as he says, “But if he doesn’t honor his end of the deal then he can scrape little pieces of your body off the floor. Starting with those pretty titties.”
“Go to hell!” Jizell manages to hiss out between clinched teeth.
Vincent laughs. “Yes indeed. Yes indeed I will. And you better hope to have the privilege of licking the fire at my feet when I arrive.”
Vincent turns back to his general and the few others who are there. “The boy knows what’s at stake, he’ll not renege. He loves this little whore too much not to do it.” He returns his attention back to Jizell. “You must’ve thrown it on him pretty damn good, huh.”
Jizell struggles against the hold Jacko has on her, cursing Vincent, desperate to claw his face.
“Ooo, feisty, aren’t we?” Vincent jests. “Jacko, take her to my room and tie her to my bed. She’s talked me into it, I’m suddenly in the mood. Keep it up, sweets, I’ll be there in a bit. Hell, you might get lucky and I’ll invite everyone here to run a train on you.”
Everyone laughs and nods their approval.
Before leaving the room, Vincent says to his general, “Tell everyone to prepare. We leave at dawn.”
55
The vehicle is finished. It now looks like a stronger version of its original model. An SUV on steroids. And even though Lathan is aware of what exactly has been done to the SUV and wha
t power the engine holds within and its capabilities, Loak still finds it necessary to explain everything in detail anyway. More so that he can hear his own self-praise for the creation he has expertly built into existence. As he goes on with the oration he regards the SUV in such awe as if it is the greatest thing he’s ever built. Everyone humors him with his starry eyed moment.
After a moment of silence Lathan says, “I brought something for everyone.” He reaches into a big bag and pulls out a huge bottle of champagne.
“Ah, some bubbly,” Nick says with a toothy smile.
“For starters,” Lathan says.
Loak retrieves five cups and gives one to each man. When he hands one to his son the boy looks up at his dad as if to say, Really?
“Do not tell your mother. She will have my hide if she finds out. This is just between us men, okay?”
A broad smile sprouts on Matthew’s face. “Okay dad.”
Lathan pops the cork and a sharp tongue of vapor licks the air outside the bottles mouth. Each is poured half a cup and then Lathan raises his up in a toast. “To life.”
“To life,” the other four say in unison. They down their cups. Matthew makes a weird face and his dad laughs at him.
“What’s wrong son? Got a bite to it?”
“Tingles,” Matthew replies.
Loak puts his cup out to Lathan and says, “One more. But just a drop for you,” he says to his son. “I can’t be bringing you home tipsy.”
Lathan replenishes each cup except for Matthew’s, he fills his only a tenth of the way.
Loak raises his cup and the others follow suit. Loak’s gaze encompasses Lathan.
“To Lathan. For giving me, us, an opportunity to remember what it was once like. Thank you.”
They drank.
Afterward, Lathan goes back into his big bag and pulls out a gift for each man; a pint of good bourbon for each, but for Matthew he gives a pocket knife.
“Wow!” Matthew’s eyes light up.
“Be careful with it,” Lathan cautions the boy. “It’s very sharp.”
“What do you say, son, “Loak says.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Matthew says as he throws his arms around his idol’s waist.
“I wish I could do more, but . . .”
“More?” Kent says, perplexed. “For what? I’ve enjoyed every single minute of this. For me, the reward was being able to be a part of it.”
Lathan puts down the huge bottle of champagne on a table and each man shakes Lathan’s hand followed by a hug. On the sly Nick seizes the bottle. He plugs its top with his thumb and shakes it vigorously. Aiming it toward Lathan and Loak, he moves his thumb slightly and sprays the two with fizzy jets of champagne.
They nearly stumble over each other trying to run from the champagne assault, taking turns shuffling behind one another, blocking the spray with their hands, until Loak grabs hold of little Matthew, lifts him up and uses him as a human shield, and Matthew is only too happy to oblige, holding his mouth wide open to try and catch as much of the champagne’s jet stream as he can.
Having enough, both men team up on Nick, yanking the bottle from his grasp and pouring it on top of his head, drenching him. Kent and Matthew get in on the action by helping to hold Nick down while the other two execute their revenge. Everyone laughs until it hurts.
The goodbyes are the hardest. Not only is it goodbye to the grease and the tools and the nuts and the bolts, knowing there may never be another time like this, but, it is also goodbye to Lathan. Even though he’s never mentioned it everyone suspects that Lathan will leave soon after the completion of the vehicle. Why else does a man want something like this done, because it surely isn’t something he will be cruising around town in.
And so they bid their first farewells.
After everyone is gone Lathan loads his bags into his newly modified Battle Durango, as everyone has dubbed it. There is a secret compartment within the inside floor of the truck that Loak made. It is done exactly how Lathan asked him to do it. Lathan opens it and slips the briefcase inside and closes it back up.
He will leave tomorrow.
As for tonight, he will spend it with only one person, who is now waiting for him upstairs.
56
He watches. He watches as they finish the final touches on the vehicle.
He watches as they spray each other with champagne and laugh and have a good ole time like a bunch of blithering idiots.
He watches as everyone but Lathan leaves.
He watches as Lathan loads bag after bag into the vehicle, and then he watches as Lathan puts the briefcase into the floor of the vehicle, inside a secret compartment.
Interesting.
He followed Lathan to the old bank building and watched with fascination as he came back out with that briefcase, carrying it as though whatever it contained was something of great importance as he made a beeline back to his own building. He also noticed something else very interesting that day; someone else followed him too. He recognized him as one of Grant’s goons. But why is he having him followed? Does Grant suspect something?
Damn, it killed him not to know!
It has to have something to do with what’s inside that briefcase. It holds some kind of great significance in all of this.
It is clear what he needs to do; he needs to take whatever is in that briefcase, and he intends to get it.
57
Little Matthew Bosman is feeling pretty good. In fact, he’s never felt so good before. Carefree and lightheaded, feeling like he can float straight up into the sky. He drank more champagne than he was supposed to. After things had calmed down and the champagne bottle was unattended and no one was looking, he snuck a few more swallows, and boy is it doing something to him now. Everything is so much more enjoyable. Everybody is so much more enjoyable, coming and going, to and from the markets or work or wherever. Happy people, just like he is. He resists the urge to hug the people he passes but he will like to hug his dad. So he does.
In mid-stride Matthew turns to his dad, throws his arms around him, and says, “I love you, dad.”
It takes Loak by surprise, but as soon as he sees his son’s grinning, sleepy slow eyed face gazing up at him he realizes what’s up.
“Son, are you drunk?”
Matthew casts a bewildered look up at his father and says, “Wha’?”
Loak sighs. “Nothing. I love you, too, son. But your mother won’t be loving me too much if we go home right now with you looking like this.”
“Why not? I love momma, too. I’ma gonna give ‘er a big hug an’ kiss when I see ‘er. And ya know what else? I’ma gonna show ‘er m’ knife Lathan gave me too.” Matthew tries to slide a hand into his pants pocket, feeling a powerful need to pull out his knife, but misses his pocket. He tries again but this time he uses one hand to pull the pocket outward to provide an opening to shove his other hand into. His tongue juts and twists outside his mouth as if it takes much work and concentration to accomplish the task at hand.
Loak rolls his eyes and puffs out his cheeks as he blows air through pursed lips. “Christ almighty, we surely cannot go home right now.”
“Dad!” Matthew yells with urgency. “M’ knife! I don’t have it! I musta left it back at the shop!”
Loak holds up a hand to calm down his drunken eleven year old son. “Don’t panic. It’s no big deal. We’ll just go back and get it.” And then he mutters under his breath, “Which will give us a little more time to sober your little drunk ass up.”
58
That damn guard gives him a little more trouble each time he asks for something. Always complaining that he may get caught. He’s entertained the idea of setting up a theater size canvas in the middle of town to provide the public with a filmed performance of the guard and the guard’s friend in action. But what good would that do? He would no longer have him or the other one in his pocket and it is good to have people in your pocket. Blackmail. Yes, it is good. Powerful. Even with all his complain
ing, in the end, he acted accordingly.
He goes down to the parking garage and quietly stands in the doorway of the stairwell for a few ticks, carefully listening to make sure the coast is clear. Although the guard assured him that no one was down here, and the last thing he did before coming to the building was check the spycam, he’s still cautious. He hears not a sound. He walks out onto the parking garage and toward the war machine.
59
Loak is in no hurry to find his son’s knife and then get back home to his wife so they both walk leisurely to the building and down to the parking garage.
The sentry allows them through like so many times before without a problem, after all, the sentry doesn’t know that they are finished with their project. He, the sentry, like everyone else not involved in the secret project, is not allowed into that area without proper verification. Although the thought of sneaking down there and taking a quick peek has crossed his mind a time or two he is afraid that he may be found absent from his post without relief and perhaps caught down there and will then lose his job. It is a good job with fine benefits, and though very strict, he doesn’t want to risk it.
Matthew doesn’t notice anything unusual as they approach the Battle Durango, he is paying more attention to the music in his head, but being that Loak’s brain isn’t clouded with alcohol he is more in tune with his surroundings. He thought Lathan would have already gone upstairs but when he comes about ten yards away Loak hears a commotion coming from the vehicle. As they get closer he sees movement between the front seats through the windshield and he guesses that Lathan is still doing something in his newly improved vehicle.
Loak hollers out, “Hey, Lathan! We couldn’t stand it, we just had to come back to spend the whole night with ya!” Loak chuckles.