by Ben Follows
Dimitri stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“My mother and I made it and eventually made our way to America. We weren’t welcome here either, but at least they weren’t trying to kill us. I only found out later—after the Soviet Union had fallen—that my father had been labeled an assassin and spy for the Americans. They had used my and my mother’s desertion as proof of his devotion to America and capitalism. So here’s my question to you, Chief. My father was a murderer, but does that make him a bad person?”
The chief felt weak at the knees and took a few moments to respond.
“No. He was protecting you.”
“Exactly!” said Dimitri. “Why is Dirk’s situation any different? He was protecting himself. The teachers hadn’t done anything to help, so he had to take matters into his own hands, no matter the cost. And I’d hazard a guess that that bully would never have messed with him again if Dirk had stayed in Crescent Point.”
The chief cleared his throat. “Dirk told me he had changed. I don’t know if I believe him, but I’m willing to give him a second chance. I will be keeping an eye on this place. If you need anything, let me know.”
The chief handed Dimitri a card with his phone number on it, and Dimitri slid it into his pocket.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” said the chief, “how did you get the money to buy this place? That’s quite a feat to turn from being a refugee to owning a place like this in the space of a few decades. And why, for that matter.”
Dimitri smiled, looking up at the factory. “My father was an assembly line worker his entire life, and he would have wanted me to help those like him. My mother worked herself near to death—only stopping when the doctors ordered her to—in order for me to get the best education I could get. I owe everything to her. I got a degree in business administration from Boston College and worked my way up in an office job. I worked until I had enough money to make a difference in the world that my father would be proud of. This place—the location and the price, allowed me to make the biggest difference.”
The chief nodded. “I respect that. Your mother sounds like a great woman.”
“She was. She died four years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She lived a long and happy life.”
“Let’s go back to the other guys,” said the chief after a momentary pause.
They walked back to where Paul and Dirk were standing among the unloading trucks. The chief gave his blessing, giving both of them the same card he had given Dimitri and instructions to let him know if they needed anything. They agreed, and Dirk held the card with a big, childish grin on his face.
"What will you be making?" said the chief.
"Steel, primarily for use in other factories," said Dimitri. "You won't have to worry about pollution. We've got that all under control."
“When will this place be operational?” asked the chief, looking around.
Dirk and Dimitri turned to Paul. He shrugged. “Best-case scenario would be this fall. There’s a lot of work to be done.”
The chief nodded. “Am I allowed to tell the people that if they ask?”
Paul hesitated. “If anyone asks, say next spring, just to be safe. It’s hard to tell with these things.”
“Good enough for me. I’d like to welcome you all to Crescent Point, and I wish you the best of luck, for all of us. Dirk, will I see you at the bar tonight?”
Dirk smiled. “I’ll be there, Chief.”
The chief said the rest of his goodbyes and walked back to his car. Dirk walked ahead to open the gate.
Sitting in his car, Williams let his nerves get the better of him and pushed out a long breath. He couldn’t stop thinking about Dimitri’s story. He understood all the man’s logic—he wanted everything out in the open from the start—but it made the chief uneasy. He had never met or dealt with anyone who had a history like that.
He drove through the gate and onto the street. He watched the factory recede in the rear-view mirror, looking at the buildings amidst the forest and the river, wondering if the fortunes of Crescent Point might finally be changing.
Chapter 9
Jake watched the chief drive out of the gate and turn toward town. He was lying prone on the roofs of one of the decrepit houses across from the factory. The chief hadn’t so much as glanced at him, even though his gaze had passed over the hiding spot while he was waiting for the trucks to arrive.
In one hand Jake held a camera that followed the chief as he went down the road, his car bouncing as it drove through potholes. In the other he held a receiver that amplified the sounds coming from the unloading trucks. Due to the sounds of the running engines, he had only gotten bits and pieces of the conversation until the chief had taken Dimitri to one side. He’d heard all of Dimitri’s story and made a mental note to check up on it later.
He continued to listen to the bits and pieces of conversation he was able to glean from the laborers and the small executive group, but he wasn’t able to hear much. He was just about to leave and meet Harold for lunch at the diner when he heard his own name mentioned and jerked his focus back. He looked through the viewfinder of the camera, scanning the crowd until he came to Dirk, speaking with Dimitri and Paul. They were standing a ways off from the rest of the workers, near the main entrance to the factory. Dirk kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening.
“—this guy at the bar last night who I think we should check," Dirk was saying. "Name was Jake La—something. French last name or some shit. Just ask around about the guy who came into town super-drunk and spent the night in prison.”
Paul said, “Dirk, get on with it. Why should we check him out?”
“I don’t know if anyone else saw it. There was this huge fight last night between these biker dudes and a bunch of dudes in ugly sweaters. Weird fight. Anyway, Jake comes out of nowhere and takes out like seven people in the span of a few seconds. Then he left the bar with this huge biker dude, Carl Magnusson. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, but I don’t think anyone else saw it.”
“Wait,” said Dimitri, “you’re saying he was a trained fighter?”
“More than that,” said Dirk, “It was like he already knew what was going to happen before it happened. And then he disappeared right after. It doesn’t seem right.”
“Anything to do with your side project?” asked Dimitri.
Dirk shrugged. “Not that I know of, but it’s possible.”
“I’ll check it out, and if necessary, deal with this newcomer.”
“I can do it.”
“No. You need to be completely innocent of anything outside the factory. You need to be the face of the factory to Crescent Point. Understood?”
Dirk paused for a moment. “Understood.”
“I will deal with this. Get back to your project.”
Dirk walked away, leaving Dimitri alone with Paul, who stepped forward and said, “Are you sure that’s the best way to deal with him? Shouldn’t we be letting him investigate? If he’s the one who gets this guy out of Crescent Point, he could be a hero.”
“No,” said Dimitri. “He can’t be involved. He needs to be Gandhi in the eyes of the public, or else his connections aren’t worth shit. I’ll deal with it.”
Dimitri turned and walked back to the factory, Paul trailing him, until their voices descended into an argument over a poker hand and who had won it, Paul maintaining that Dimitri had only had two pair while Dimitri argued he had a straight, until their voices disappeared.
Jake did a scan of the laborers unloading the machines out of the trucks, zooming in as close as he could get on the boxes and trying to find any anything about the "side project.” He found nothing other than normal gossip among coworkers and a few shouts as boxes were dropped or mishandled.
He packed up and slid from the outside of the house into the backyard, which was filled with cigarette butts, half-dug holes, and weeds. He had to be careful on
his landing not to sprain his ankle in one of the holes.
Jake retrieved his bag from behind a bush and slipped the surveillance equipment into the bag’s side pockets, knowing it was being uploaded to the Compound Central Database via satellite. He walked into town and passed the house he knew belonged to Carl Magnusson. A dog barked inside, and a woman shouted threats to euthanize the dog if it didn’t shut up. The dog obliged, and the house went silent. Jake grinned and kept walking, thinking that visiting Carl wouldn’t help his appearance of innocence.
It was almost one in the afternoon, the sun hiding between a thin band of clouds that cut the sky in half by the time he made it to the diner. He had dropped off his bag at the hotel but held on to the camera to show some footage to Harold. Harold was seated in his car, parked just to the right of the entrance. Harold stepped out as though he was the stiff senior he pretended to be. He was wearing a plaid shirt over a white t-shirt and a mangy baseball cap. He nodded at Jake as he approached and entered the diner, once again taking up the charade that they were uncle and nephew.
Janet once again seemed to be the only one working. The restaurant was filled with people dressed like Harold. He nodded to Janet and didn't wait to be seated—ignoring the clearly posted sign—and walked to the table they’d used the day before. He readjusted the table and the seats in order to better see the entire restaurant before sitting down.
“Hey, darlin’,” said Janet as she approached. “How are you two doing today? Usual for you, Harry?”
Harold nodded and gave her a crooked smile.
“And you, sweetheart?”
Jake gave a quick glance at the menu. “Glass of water and a burger, please.”
“Just one burger?” said Janet. “Nothing like the mountain of food your uncle gets?”
Jake laughed and pointed his thumb at Harold. “Just one burger. I’m not a human vacuum like this guy.”
Harold and Janet both laughed, and Janet said she’d be back with their drinks. The moment she turned her back, Harold’s smile fell off his face. He didn’t seem irritated at Jake, just the world in general. They didn’t speak until Janet returned with their drinks.
Once she was gone again, Harold said, “What have you got? You visited the video store?”
“Zeke is a very interesting fellow.”
“That’s one way to put it. Seems to think that he’s in the center of some big spy movie and he’s the brains behind the operation. He can think whatever he wants as long as he keeps his mouth shut.”
“There’s something going on at the factory on the north shore.”
“Does it relate to Frank Tanners? That’s your only concern.”
“It might not, but I overheard them talking about a side project they had, and Dirk seemed worried about what the chief would say. Not to mention that they mentioned my name—Dirk did, actually—in connection with the fight last night.”
“You were involved in that?” asked Harold.
Jake grinned.
“You kept your name out of it. I haven’t heard a whisper about you in connection with that. How did Dirk know?”
“He was there. Might have been watching me.”
Harold shrugged. “Nothing you can do about that. Just don’t do anything else that will get you on their radar. You got pictures of the others?”
Jake pulled out the camera and showed him the pictures he had taken of Dirk, Dimitri, and Paul. Harold flicked through the photos then handed them back, shaking his head.
“Keep going with that, but follow other leads as well. Feed their pictures into the computer in the bunker, see if facial recognition picks up anything,” said Harold. “Have you visited Frank’s family yet?”
“I was going to this afternoon.”
“Go and explain that you’re a private detective hired by a bank looking for some money Frank owed. It also gives you a witness if this thing goes south and you have to explain why you’re here.”
Harold took a long swig of Coke, finishing half the glass.
Jake paused before speaking. “Aren’t I still being tested? Why are you helping me?”
Harold smirked. “Thought maybe you had forgotten you were being tested. Frank ran off with a woman to Vegas. Follow that lead first, it’s the most likely. If—and only if—that doesn’t bear any fruit, then you may continue the investigation into these others.”
“Everything I’ve found so far indicates you’re wrong.”
“Jake,” said Harold. “Let me help you.”
Jake smiled. “All right.”
“Ah,” said Harold. “Here it is.”
Jake looked up. Janet was carrying the immense platter of food that was Harold’s regular meal, as well as the single hamburger and fries for Jake. He finished well before Harold and wondered again how Harold managed to keep the weight off.
Maybe he wasn’t, Jake realized. If Jake succeeded, he would replace Harold. Then Harold’s fitness wouldn’t matter.
Between bites, Harold said, “Tell me everything else about the case.”
Jake brought him up to speed, mostly his conversation with Chief Williams in the car on the way to the bar and the events at the bar itself. Harold nodded as he told it. Jake gave a shortened version of what had happened at the video store and what had happened at the factory. When he explained what Dimitri had told the chief about his past, Harold’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He left out anything about Karen or his plan to ask her on a date. Harold didn’t need to know that.
When he had finished his story—almost at the same time Harold finished his food— Harold nodded and told him to continue the investigation.
“I think Obrasey went to the club last night,” said Jake. “The chief seemed hesitant to tell me where she was.
Harold looked over his glass mid-sip, then nodded.
Jake said, “What happened? Did she find anything that would lead her to find something she shouldn’t have?”
“You focus on your part of the investigation. I’ll work on mine,” said Harold, waving down Janet and making a check in the air. “I’ll tell The Compound to keep an eye on this Dimitri fellow. I doubt he’s connected to Frank, but we’ll keep an eye on him.”
“What did Obrasey find?”
“You can’t know that,” said Harold. “If you know that, when she questions you, she’ll know.”
“What the hell happened?” said Jake, his whisper carrying across the restaurant.
Janet came, and Harold grabbed the check out of her hands. He dumped a handful of bills on the table before turning back to Jake and whispering so Janet couldn’t hear. “Come up with a different story for where you were that night and why you had to lie about being at the club. Mention something about being a private detective if you can.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
But Harold was already gone, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and stalking out of the restaurant, leaving Janet standing beside their table. She gave Jake a sympathetic smile and gathered up the money before leaving Jake at the table.
Jake ran his hands through his hair and stood, grabbing the camera, and walking through the crowd of customers who had seem Harold barge out of the restaurant. He kept his head down until he was outside.
Harold’s station wagon was gone. Jake sighed, walking back toward the hotel, deciding that for now he would listen to his advice.
He had to admit the private detective angle was a good idea. He stopped off at the hotel to leaf through the identifications that were inside the hidden flaps of his luggage and found the private detective license with his name on it.
He fished out the picture he and Doug had taken together just before their graduation ceremony, wearing the typical graduation caps and gowns, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Jake smiled at the memory—the last one he had with Doug— before sliding it back inside the flap and grabbing a silent alarm.
He spent the next hour or so setting up silent alarms and cameras t
hroughout his room, connecting them to the untraceable phone he had taken from the bunker. If anyone came into his room or even so much as tried to check whether the door was locked, he would know.
He left the suitcase filled with case documents and his changes of clothes in the closet, knowing there was nowhere in the room to hide it that someone coming into the room wouldn’t find if they wanted to. It was set to destroy everything inside if the code was entered wrong three times. Trying to cut into the suitcase would trigger the same process.
Once he was certain there would be no unwelcome visitors to his hotel room, he left with nothing but a jacket, his wallet with his detective license inside it, and the same weapons hidden under his clothing he'd been wearing all day. Their cold sheen against his skin made him feel comfortable. Without weapons he had felt naked.
The Fredericksons lived a few streets away, just past the downtown. It was a peaceful walk, and Jake could imagine that in another life, as another person, he would have loved to come and visit the stores, small amusement park, ice cream parlors, and beach of Crescent Point.
Chapter 10
Edward Stamper sipped on the enormous cup of Coke, trying to stay focused. He had driven nonstop from Boston since getting off the phone with Nicholas Cuminskey and receiving the orders to find and kill Frank Tanners at any cost.
When he got into Crescent Point, he had to find Frank Tanners before Frank’s survival became common knowledge. Nicholas Cuminskey had come into power by taking over Tanners’s connections and claiming he was the chosen successor. The claim was dubious, since no one else had seen the supposed declaration and nothing was written down, but Cuminskey was skilled in his own right, and no one had dared to denounce his claim. Cuminskey had come in with little support but had managed to gain the respect and admiration of those around him through his successes, earning more respect that Frank Tanners ever had.