by Joan Mauch
“So whyn’t you tell me what it’s about, then we’ll decide if I’m up for it or not.”
When Leon didn’t respond to Zac’s suggestion, he added, “Look man, I’m desperate here. Got no money, no job, no place to stay. Don’t even have enough dough to go back home. If you’d let me in on the action—just till I get on my feet, it’d be a big help. Besides, seems like you could use someone to share the load.”
Scrutinizing Zac as he made his pitch, Leon became convinced the man was for real. But how did he know he could be trusted? What if he was an undercover cop? Then what? Hadn’t Seymour drilled into him time and time again that no one—absolutely no one—was to be trusted? Look what happened with Izzie.
As he deliberated, Leon chewed on a bothersome hangnail. What to do. What to do. On the one hand it was a huge risk, one that could cost him not only his freedom, but his life, if things went south. On the other, Zac appeared to be a savvy sorta guy who knew his way around the block. He wasn’t some choirboy who’d never been in trouble. Best of all, he needed Leon more than Leon needed him. And if it didn’t work out, Leon would take care of it. Taking care of problems was his specialty.
“Oh, what the hell. Why not?” he said at last. “But lemme warn you, this is a tough business. We help people get in the country and find them jobs, hence the import label. But ya gotta be careful; can’t trust anyone…see what I’m sayin’?” Leon saw Zac's forehead contract into a mass of wrinkles.
"What's illegal about that? Sounds like you provide a service."
"Right. That's exactly what it is…a service." Leon scratched the stubble on his chin and slapped the table. "Actually we should get an award for what we do, but," he heaved a sigh and gave an exaggerated shrug, "It is what it is. So…you on board?"
"Sure, man, count me in."
"But now, ya gotta understand, all this is on the QT. If word gets out, we could land in jail…or dead."
"I get the jail part," Zac said. "Authorities enforce laws even when they don't make sense, but who'd wanna kill us?"
"Competitors. We're not the only ones in this business, ya know. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. Just make sure you’re not the one that’s eaten."
Zac nodded and reached out to shake his hand. “Thanks for giving me a chance. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.”
“I better not be.” Leon reinforced the implied threat with a long, penetrating look. I really like this guy. Hope he doesn’t screw up. I’d hate to have to drop him off the Sunshine Bridge. “Here’s what we’ll do…”
Chapter 34
Jackson was glad his brother was gone. It relieved him of having to demand he leave. He’d no doubt go back home and resume sponging off their mother. It was unfortunate, but he’d done what he could and it hadn’t worked out. At least she’d had a little over a week of peace without him and that was something.
He sighed and locked the door behind him. Today would be another day of worrying about what happened to Izzie and dealing with a clueless intern. Oh what a glamorous life he led.
Jackson chuckled as he recalled the looks on people’s faces whenever he told them what he did for a living. A TV news cameraman? Or even better, when he used the word “photojournalist” he might as well have said he was an astronaut. They wanted to hear all about it and seemed surprised to learn all the education and training it took.
He was tired. The whole Zac-Izzie thing wore on him. God, what he’d give to go back in time a few weeks before Dad died, when Izzie was just his annoying reporter. If only he hadn’t noticed the girl on the balcony. That’s what really started it all. If he could manage to control his over-active imagination maybe he wouldn’t keep getting into these god-awful situations. Sure, and he might as well take an axe to his brain ’cause that what it’d take for him to stop.
As the day wore on, Jackson went about his assignments with the enthusiasm of a robot. Even his intern noticed. “So, Jackson, you have a fight with your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have one of those.” Jackson’s response was curt to the point of being rude, but really, he hardly knew the girl. What business of it was hers to ask a question like that?
“I didn’t mean to pry, it’s just that it seems like something’s bothering you. If you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener.”
Jackson realized the intern meant well and hadn’t deserved his brusque treatment of her. “I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
Jackson shrugged. The girl was persistent, he’d give her that. They were on their way back to the station to edit footage. It was mostly VOSOTs, but that’s probably what he’d be doing till they hired a reporter to replace Izzie.
The thought of Izzie renewed the twin pain of fear and regret he felt at her ongoing absence. By now she’d been gone a little over a week. With no word as to her whereabouts, it was like she’d simply dropped off the face of the earth.
And the fight with his brother, how had that happened? The same way so many fights with Zac had over the years. He didn’t even remember who it started. Something set him off and he’d stalked out of the apartment. When he came back, that’s when they’d nearly come to blows over, oh yeah, Zac dropping the bomb that he was adopted.
The intern stared at him.
“Uh, no, it’s nothing. I’m just tired that’s all.” He gave her a weak smile and pulled into the parking lot.
Later at home, Jackson got to thinking. Maybe he should check to make sure Zac made it home or at least warn Mom he was on the way. He dreaded making the call. What if he ended up asking her about being adopted? The wound was still too fresh for him to be able to handle the subject in casual conversation: Oh, yeah, Mom, when were you going to tell me I’m not really part of the Taylor family? Didn’t you think maybe I had a right to know?
Threads of anger shot through his body; his sore shoulder tensed up. Without thinking he massaged it, trying to ease the pain. It helped, but not much. Maybe he’d put off calling for the time being. He flicked on the TV, grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled back on the sofa. It was good to have the place to himself again.
Chapter 35
Wow, that was easy. Zac put his feet on the bed, leaned back and reflected on the morning's accomplishment. He'd anticipated encountering resistance to his suggestion that Leon make him part of the operation. It was almost too easy. Was the man really that gullible? Or was he playing the lonely ol’ boy routine in order to find out what Zac was up to?
He’d have to be careful; his life may depend on it. It was a good thing he'd baited Jackson like that. At the time he'd felt guilty, but now he realized it’d been the right thing to do. Jackson was so angry he wouldn't give a damn whether Zac went back to Iowa or not so long as he didn't show his face at the apartment. And that was good for them both. It’d keep Jackson away from Leon’s house and prevent him from giving Zac away. He took a deep drag on his cigarette. But if it was so good, why did he feel like crap?
He glanced around the shabby room. It was barely more than a good-sized walk-in closet. The bed and dresser occupied the lion’s share of the space. He stood and looked out the grimy window to the scrubby front yard and street below. He remembered the decorative security bars from when he first saw the house. It gave him the creeps. While he was free to come and go, the former occupants of this room were not. Sweeping the windowsill with his finger, some kind of indentations drew his attention. Bending down to take a closer look, he realized graffiti was scratched into the woodwork. With great difficulty he made out what seemed to be part of a name: “HEST…, followed by numbers: 5633597 … He couldn’t make out all of them.
Getting out his wallet, he jotted down the information. Maybe Detective Anders could decipher it. He’d have to figure out a way to report in without getting caught.
How long would he be able to act as though he believed the bullshit about it being an import business? He’d had a hard time keeping a straight face whe
n Leon said that. It would've felt good to smash the asshole right in the face and make him admit he was not only not providing a "service", but forcing unsuspecting women and children into slavery. The very word made him shudder.
For a few minutes, Zac wavered, wondering what he’d gotten himself into and how—or if—he would manage to get out alive. Guilt seeped inside him on a number of levels: He regretted the shabby way he’d treated his family over the years—especially Jackson, who only ever wanted a big brother he could look up to; he felt remorse for never having made anything of his life; and now he began to wonder about the whole Leon business. It was probably the only unselfish thing he’d ever done and, as he sat back down on the uncomfortable bed in the tiny room, he began to try and conjure up ways to get out of this mess.
He could tell Leon he’d changed his mind, that his mother was sick and needed him. Yeah, that’d go over big; especially since the man practically admitted he was a criminal and more or less threatened him with serious bodily harm if he ever crossed him. Well, he hadn’t come right out and said as much, but Zac assumed that’s what he meant. Or he could simply leave without telling the miserable bastard anything; maybe go back to Jackson’s place and apologize. After the things he’d said though, he very much doubted that was an option. But Jackson tended to be softhearted and had that live- and let-live philosophy going for him, so maybe he would take him back, who knew?
Then Zac thought about Izzie. Jackson had shown him a photograph of the young woman in an unguarded moment. She was a real looker in a vulnerable sort of way. He obviously cared about her, probably more than he even realized.
She must’ve gotten in over her head with Leon. Whatever it was, she must’ve paid a very high price for it. Realizing he’d just referred to Izzie in the past tense, he corrected himself. She was probably alive. He just didn’t know if they would find her in time—or what would be left of her when they did.
The little Zac knew of Leon told him the man had a mean streak and could be vicious if crossed. Maybe he’d discovered Izzie was stringing him along, doing her “investigative reporter” thing. According to Jackson, she was almost obsessed with breaking a big story so it’d end up on the networks and make her famous. He said being an anchor on one of the major news shows was her dream and that she was determined to make it happen.
If that was the case, and Jackson, who had worked with her for nearly a year, would surely know—then he was probably right—she was in serious trouble.
The question confronting Zac was whether she was worth risking his life for. Maybe she was, maybe not—but he knew one thing for damned sure: Jackson was willing to stick his neck out to save her, and that being the case maybe it was time he stepped up. Regardless how things turned out: whether Izzie was dead or alive, whether he managed to rescue her from some trafficker or died trying, at least he will have done something worthwhile for a change.
Having made what was the biggest decision of his life and hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be fatal, Zac stretched, got up and went downstairs to see if Leon wanted to go out for a Cuban.
Chapter 36
Jackson’s hand hovered over his cellphone. He needed to find out if Zac had gone home but wanted to neither disturb his mother’s newfound peace nor speak to his brother. He was still angry and hurt by what had transpired. The more he thought about it, the more baffled he became.
He couldn’t recall having done anything to set Zac off like that. Maybe it was Jackson’s surprised expression when he’d announced his plans to work with the police that did it.
Jackson tapped his mouth as he realized that must have been it. Zac always could read him and must’ve become offended when he saw Jackson’s astonishment at his generosity. It was a momentary flash of doubt, but obviously long enough for Zac to have seen it.
No wonder he was upset. Here he’d arranged to work with the police at his peril to locate a woman he’d never met and cared nothing about and how was his decision received by the one person who should’ve been thrilled? By skepticism, that’s how. He must’ve felt insulted, maybe even humiliated.
As he slowly worked out the reason for Zac’s sudden explosion, Jackson realized it was all his fault. But then there was the thing about him being adopted. What was that all about? Was it even true? Had Zac, in his drunken stupor, made it up out of spite—or had the alcohol lowered his inhibitions to the point of revealing a secret he’d kept far too long?
Jackson shrugged. There was no way to find out without confronting his brother, his mother—or them both. And right now locating Zac was uppermost in his mind. The adoption thing would have to wait.
He pressed number “one: on his speed dial and listened: It rang once, twice, three times. At the fourth, he was about to hang up when his dead father’s voice came over the wire: “You’ve reached the Taylor residence. We’re not available to answer your call…”
Jackson was so startled he dropped the phone. The recording continued while he picked it up and then snapped it closed. He felt sick with grief. Even in death the old man had managed to insert himself into his affairs. Brushing away several tears that overran his eyelids, Jackson realized for the first time how sorely he missed and loved his father in spite of his monumental failings.
His mother must be out with friends—or maybe she’d gone to the airport to pick up Zac. He’d call back later. Maybe by then Jackson would be in a better frame of mind and willing to let bygones be bygones.
Chapter 37
Furtively looking around to make certain his new “roomy” hadn’t come downstairs, Leon headed down the hall toward the back of the house, where a built-in bookcase took up part of the wall. He pressed a hidden latch, then pulled causing it to rotate forward, revealing a staircase which descended into a bunker. Designed to keep the home’s original occupants safe in case of a nuclear attack or a violent hurricane, it was perfect for Leon’s purpose.
The bottom of the stairs melted into a space around twelve feet wide by twenty feet long. It smelled musty, but the product was generally only held there a short time. He looked around. There were several beds, a table with two chairs and a bookshelf. Product down there no doubt got bored, but the way he looked at it, that was the least of their problems.
He noticed mice droppings in the corner. He’d sprinkle some D-Con around later. He glanced at the bucket they used to do their business. Damn, using this room would be like having to remember to let Tiny out. It was easier before he took Zac in.
Other than the product coming and departing, he’d always been alone in the house, so he’d only used the bunker to discipline rebellious ones. It was amazing how fast their attitudes changed after a few hours in the “hole”.
Leon sighed. Better get upstairs; don’t want his “trainee” to discover the secret room. For now, he’d be limited to contact with the “imports”. They couldn’t speak English and had no idea what was happening. He’d tell him about the “domestic” product later—after he was sure the man was onboard and could be trusted.
He chuckled. If this worked out, life would be a whole lot easier. Zac could do the stuff he was tired of doing—which was most everything. To keep him happy, he’d even throw a few bucks his way. The guy wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. He obviously had no idea how lucrative this business could be.
He’d just made it up the stairs and closed the bookcase when Zac appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Leon, I’m starving. Wanna go get a Cuban?”
Chapter 38
”Hi Mom, how’re you doing?” Jackson finally made the call he’d been putting off for several days.
As his mother caught him up on the latest problems at work, he wondered when she’d ask why Zac had returned home so soon. After several minutes of small talk, Jackson said, “So, Zac make it home all right?”
“Home? Zac? Why no, isn’t he with you?”
The news that his brother hadn’t gone back to Iowa hit Jackson like a blow to the back of the head. He didn’t know how to res
pond. Should he tell his mother the truth or make up a story to keep her from getting all worked up. He chose the latter. There was no point upsetting her when Zac would probably come back in a day or so, his tail between his legs.
“No, I mean, yes, he’s here, he just took off for a few days. Probably wanted to do some sightseeing while he’s down here. You know Zac, he’ll show up in a couple days with some real whoppers; probably say he was hangin’ with Brad Pitt or something.”
Even as he soothed his mother with lies, Jackson’s heart sank. Since Zac hadn’t gone home, where was he?
After exchanging pleasantries for a few more minutes, his mom ended the conversation with, “Well, dear, I love talking to you but I have to run. The church ladies have a meeting tonight to plan the bazaar and I promised to attend. Give Zac a kiss for me when he gets back. I’m glad the two of you are spending time together. I love you, Sweetie. Stay safe.”
“I love you too, Mom.” There was a lump in Jackson’s throat the size of a grapefruit. He could scarcely breathe, let alone swallow as he put his cellphone down. He’d just led his mother to believe all was well, that he and Zac were actually getting along like brothers should when nothing could be farther from the truth.
Then Jackson remembered something that made his earlier concern seem almost silly. The night they’d fought Zac said he’d volunteered to get closer to Leon so he could find out what happened to Izzie and that police had agreed to let him become an informant. That’s probably where he’d gone.
Jackson’s heart sank. Volunteering to partner up with the worst kind of criminals put a target on Zac’s back if they discovered what he was doing. Plus he had no experience with this type of thing. Yes, he’d done stupid things that got him in trouble from time to time, but something of this magnitude? He couldn’t possibly realize the danger he was in. Somehow Jackson had to find him, warn him, extricate him. It was his fault Zac had taken an interest in Izzie’s welfare and he’d have to do something—anything—to get him out before it was too late.