Yard Dog

by A. G. Pasquella

  Tommy’s phone rang and rang and then rang some more. No answer.

  Eddie paced nervously across the floor. “What are you thinking?”

  “Does Eric’s car have a GPS?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then let’s go find them.”

  ________

  The GPS led us through the early morning streets, past joggers and dogs and baby carriages. We were heading north, away from the lake, up toward St. Clair and then into the twisty residential streets.

  “Slow down.”

  Eddie did. The car crawled past the police cars, the ambulance, the crime scene tape.

  “Oh no,” Eddie whispered. “No, no, no.”

  A policeman in a yellow windbreaker had stopped traffic. Paramedics lifted Eric’s body from the car and placed him on a gurney. A ponytailed paramedic with solemn dark eyes zipped up the body bag.

  “No, no, no.”

  There was a bullet hole in the car’s windshield. Blood filled the spidered cracks. The yellow-jacketed policeman waved us on.

  Eddie pulled over next to a nearby park. Golden retrievers romped through the grass. A young mother in a red sweater and tan slacks pushed her toddler on the swings. Eddie hunched over the steering wheel, his body wracked by silent sobs.

  I reached over and put my hand on his shoulder. “Eddie. I’m sorry.”

  Eddie straightened up, took off his sunglasses, and wiped his eyes. “I didn’t see Tommy. Did you?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Eddie whipped out his phone and rattled off rapid-fire Cantonese. He closed the phone and turned to me. He looked so sad, so tired. “He wanted action. I guess he got it.”

  “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

  Eddie nodded. “Me, too.”

  I borrowed Eddie’s phone and punched in Grover’s number. “There’s been a development. I need to see you.”

  Something in my voice put the kibosh on Grover’s usual bullshit. “All right. Come on down to the marina. I’ll take you on a tour of my new boat.”

  Wind whipped through Grover’s hair as he leaned over the boat rail.

  “Come on up.”

  I climbed up the ladder and stepped onto the new boat. It looked a lot like the last one, except shinier. I wondered if this one was also rigged to explode. “How’d you explain the new boat to your wife?”

  Grover didn’t look happy. He stood facing me with his arms folded. “I told her I traded in the old one. Early birthday present. What did you do, Jack?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Little Vito called me early this morning. He was furious.”

  “What now?”

  “Tommy and another guy were up all night running all over the city knocking over Little Vito’s businesses.”

  “WHAT?”

  “You didn’t know? No, don’t answer that. I can tell you’re surprised.”

  “Fucking Tommy.” Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Vito is seriously pissed. He says he has Tommy. He’s going to kill him unless you do what he says.”

  Just like that, the morning slid from bad to worse. I staggered over to the rail and looked back at the city.

  Grover stepped up behind me, his white suit rippling like a sail. “Tommy used you, Jack.”

  “No shit.” A gull flew by. A little motorboat putt-putted toward open water. “Those businesses … he said they were his. Said he invested in them and now he was cashing out.”

  “So you were there.”

  “I was at the first one. The pool hall. And then I got out.”

  “Who was the other guy?”

  I pictured Eric slumped over the steering wheel, his blood covering the windshield. “The other guy’s dead.”

  “Is that why you wanted to see me?”

  “Yeah. I needed some information.”

  “And now?”

  I flexed my arms. “I’ve got all the information I need.”

  I could see it now. Tommy and Eric, out on a spree. Knocking over gin joints and whorehouses all across town. Finally Little Vito’s guys caught up. Eric didn’t have a chance. It’s a miracle that Tommy was still alive.

  If he was still alive.

  Little Vito wanted a favour. Bullshit. Little Vito wanted me dead.

  Grover had a gun in his hand. I tensed, ready to charge, but the little man offered me the gun butt-first. “Here, Jack. You might need this.”

  “No thanks.”

  Grover scowled. “Go on, take it.”

  “I said no thanks.”

  “Little Vito is going to try and kill you, Jack.”

  “I know it.” I stared at the sunlight bouncing off the water. “Grover … you think Tommy is still alive?”

  “I do.”

  I nodded slowly. “Then I’d better go get him.”

  Eddie drove me over to Chinatown B to his Aunt Cecilia’s house. Grover’s words were ringing in my ears as we passed the shopping crowds, bumping and pushing, grabbing melons and leafy greens, grocers in long white coats with cigarettes dangling from their mouths pushing stacks of empty boxes to the curb.

  “Fuck Tommy,” Grover said. “Let him rot.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I replied. “I told him I’d protect him from Vito.”

  “Tommy used you. He lied to you.”

  “Yeah. Still, a deal’s a deal.”

  I went through a similar song and dance in Aunt Cecilia’s living room. Suzanne stood near the sofa with her arms folded, staring at me with disbelief. “Are you shitting me?”

  “Babe. I’ve got to take care of this.”

  “No. No. Forget it. Vito’s got what he wants. Don’t you get it? Let him kill Tommy and then we’re free.”

  I stared into Suzanne’s eyes. “I can’t let that happen.”

  Eddie walked into the living room with a mahogany box. Inside the box was a row of knives, glittering and sharp, resting on blue velvet. I started to strap them on. Suzanne stepped closer and put her hand over mine.

  “Jack. You don’t have to do this.”

  I yanked down my jacket, covering the knives. “Yeah. I do.”

  Suzanne looked sad. “This is crazy. You don’t owe him anything. This is your chance. Don’t you see that? You keep talking about retirement. This is it. Just walk away.”

  I rolled up my pants leg and strapped on another knife. “I can’t do it, Suzanne.”

  Suzanne’s shoulders slumped. “The house in the country … the kids, the tire swing … it was all bullshit. Wasn’t it? You’ll never quit. You can’t quit. You’re going to keep going until the day you die.”

  Eddie backed out, disappearing down the hallway. My gut turned sour. Cassandra and I had had this same conversation many years ago. We were in her apartment. Eddie was downstairs, waiting for me with the motor running. I was strapping on knives.

  “This is the last job, babe,” I’d told her. “I swear.”

  Cassandra smiled at me sadly. “Did you ever hear the story of the scorpion and the frog?”

  “Let me guess. They lived happily ever after.”

  “No. The scorpion sat on the bank of a river, staring over at the other side. A small green frog hopped by.

  “‘Hey frog,’ the scorpion said. ‘How about you carry me across the river?’

  “‘Nothing doing,’ said the frog. ‘You’re a scorpion. You’re going to sting me.’

  “‘No I won’t,’ said the scorpion. ‘Think about it. If we’re in the water and I sting you, we both drown. Why would I do that?’

  “‘Hmm. All right … hop on.’

  “The scorpion climbed onto the little green frog’s back and together they swam out into the river. Halfway across, the scorpion lashed out with his tail and stung the little green frog.

  “‘What the fuck,’ the frog said, his body becoming paralyzed with venom. ‘You stung me! Now we’re both going to drown! Why did you do it?’

  “The scorpion shrugged as the water rose all around him. ‘It’s my nature.’”

&n
bsp; “Great story, babe,” I said, grabbing my coat. “I’ll be back in a week. Stay safe.”

  “You, too.”

  When I got back a week later, Cassandra’s apartment was empty. She was gone. I never saw her again.

  Tears were rolling down Suzanne’s cheeks. I took her by the hand but she yanked away.

  “Suzanne. Look at me. It wasn’t bullshit. I meant every word.”

  “It’s a fantasy, Jack. This …” Suzanne pointed to the now-empty box. “This is reality.”

  “It’s all going to change.”

  Suzanne shook her head sadly. “No. It’s not. You think you’d be happy out in the country reading the newspaper by the fire? That’s not you, Jack. That’s not who you are.”

  “I can learn.”

  “Did you ever have a dog?”

  “What?”

  “A dog.”

  “No.”

  “I had a dog once. Missy. She was a sweet old black lab. I bought her from a farmer about two hours north of the city, near Collingwood. ‘I want a dog for protection,’ I told the farmer. He brought out Missy, but I wasn’t looking at her. I was looking past her, at her brother Boris. This huge snarling dog was penned up in a cage, barking and throwing himself against the wire mesh. ‘What about that one?’ I asked. The farmer just shook his head. ‘You don’t want that one,’ he said. ‘You can’t tame him. You can’t have him in the house. He’s a yard dog.’”

  Suzanne looked away. I stood in the middle of Aunt Cecilia’s living room with knives strapped all over my body. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of Aunt Cecilia’s flat-screen television. My face was scarred, twisted and hard. Suzanne was right. I couldn’t deny it any longer. This is who I am.

  Eddie walked back into the living room, his cellphone pressed against his ear. He looked grim. “Jack. We’ve gotta go.”

  “Eddie … that twenty grand Tommy paid me.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Give it to her.”

  Suzanne shook her head. “I don’t want your money.”

  “But —”

  “Forget it. You want to give your money away, give it to Sick Kids Hospital or a shelter or something. I’m a grown woman, Jack. I make my own money.”

  I stepped over to Suzanne. She kissed me, hard.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Suzanne shook her head. She grinned through her tears. “It was fun while it lasted, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  We broke apart. Suzanne reached forward and traced the scar on my cheek with her fingertip. “Take care of yourself, Jack.”

  As the house receded in the rear-view mirror, I jutted out my jaw and stared straight ahead. Reflections of trees bounced off the windshield.

  Somewhere out there, Little Vito was waiting.

  CHAPTER 53

  Bits of styrofoam bobbed on the dirty water lapping against the pier. Grover, Eddie, and I stood among the rusty shipping crates. The moon hung over us, close enough to touch.

  Grover’s white coat flapped softly in the breeze. He looked like the maddest scientist there ever was. “Okay. Vito’s holding Tommy in one of his warehouses. He wants you to come meet him, Jack. It’s a set-up for sure. I’m coming with you.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “I’m coming with you, but you’ll be walking in alone. I’ll be set up on the roof across from the warehouse. Here.” Grover passed me a listening device that looked like a button. “When things get hairy, I’ll start shooting.”

  Eddie shuffled his feet and coughed. “What about me?”

  “You’ll be waiting for us.”

  Eddie shook his head. “That’s bullshit.”

  Grover frowned. “That’s the way it is. If you come galloping in with us, you’ll be a marked man for the rest of your life.”

  My eyes met Eddie’s. “I’m going to make this right.”

  Eddie looked away. Fog rolled across the lake. A horn sounded, deep and low.

  Eddie drove us to the warehouse. In the back seat Grover hummed as he flipped open a long black case and checked his sniper rifle. My stomach churned. I felt like I’d swallowed a bucketful of ball bearings.

  Willie The Driver met us on Cherry Street. He was standing beneath a streetlight, leaning against his car. Eddie and I stepped out onto the street.

  “Thanks, Eddie. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Let me come with you.”

  “We’ll see you later, Eddie. This is all going to work out. I promise.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  I grinned. “Then it was nice knowing you.”

  Eddie and I shook hands. Then the big man wrapped me up in a bear hug. Eddie turned and walked toward Willie’s car.

  I climbed back inside the first car. Grover was still in the back seat. “You coming up to the front?”

  “What?”

  “What am I, Driving Miss Daisy? Come on up to the front.”

  Musical chairs. Grover slid into the passenger seat with his case of equipment. Across the road Willie The Driver pulled a U-turn. Eddie’s eyes met mine as their car passed us and disappeared beneath the bridge.

  Grover pointed straight ahead. “Let’s hit it.”

  Warehouses loomed all around us. Grover continued rummaging through his case. “We’re outnumbered. Count on that. The one thing we’ve got going for us is the element of surprise. Stealth Ops. This is a delicate operation, Jack. One wrong move and Tommy is dead. Hell, one wrong move and we’re all dead. You want a coffee?”

  “No thanks.”

  Grover put his Thermos away. “Me neither.” He pointed. “Pull in behind that building. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”

  I steered the car past a trash-strewn loading dock and pulled in next to a green Dumpster with peeling paint. We stepped out of the car and Grover popped the trunk. Inside were racks and racks of gear. Grover shrugged off his white coat and pulled on solid black coveralls. He instantly blended into the nighttime sky. He shot me a Cheshire Cat grin. “Let’s load up.”

  On the roof opposite Vito’s warehouse, Grover and I hugged the gravel and scanned the perimeter with our night-vision goggles. Outside the warehouse two toughs were patrolling a narrow stretch of dead grass. One of them was smoking a cigarette, a shotgun slung across his shoulder. The other one was talking animatedly, miming stabbing a guy in the back. The guy with the shotgun laughed.

  Through my goggles I peered through the warehouse window. Four heat signatures. No, wait … six. Red and orange human-shaped blobs moved together and broke apart like lava lamps. Two of the blobs were sitting down. One of them was probably Tommy.

  The roof gravel crunched slightly as Grover rolled toward me. “Six inside, two in the front. Maybe more in the back. You got that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right. I’ll cause a distraction. You go in through the side window. You see it? The one that’s slightly open. Be as quiet as you can. When you see Tommy, give me the signal and I’ll start shooting. We’ll take ’em all out. Every last one of them. Any questions?”

  “Yeah. What’s the signal?”

  “Code Four.”

  “Code Four?”

  “That’s right. Say ‘Code Four’ and I’ll start shooting.” Grover grinned. “Good luck.”

  Adrenalin pumped through my body. Each individual brick in the warehouse wall stood out sharp and clear. I slipped from shadow to shadow, heading for the window.

  I was close enough to smell the guy with the shotgun’s aftershave. The man smelled like saddle leather and cigarettes. His short little buddy was still blabbing. “So I said, bitch, if you don’t get back into that kitchen and fix me an egg I’m going to kill your dog. You better believe that got her off her ass.”

  Shotgun cocked his head. “Shut up a minute. You hear something?”

  I froze. Time slowed to a molasses crawl.

  Shorty peered into the darkness. “You’re paranoid, man. I don’t hear shit.”

  Grover’s
voice boomed out, “Hey! Any of you motherfuckers got a light?”

  Shorty almost jumped out of his skin. Shotgun snarled and levelled his weapon. “What the fuck?”

  Shorty pointed. “Over there! C’mon!”

  I let out a breath as the two guards stomped off. With a knife in my hand, I slipped through the warehouse window.

  Inside was dusty, musty, and dark. It smelled like the inside of a canvas army surplus tent. Ancient machinery sat abandoned, gathering dust. I heard rats scuttling in the shadows. My hand tightened around my knife as I stepped deeper into the darkness.

  I heard voices coming from somewhere above me. A crack of yellow light filtered down through the floor. The rickety stairs creaked as I crept cautiously upward, hugging the damp warehouse wall.

  Upstairs was a hallway lit by a single bulb. All doors were closed. Behind one of the doors Vito and his men were waiting.

  Muffled voices. A door creaked open and I froze. A hawk-nosed man with jet-black hair was looking over his shoulder, back into the room.

  “I gotta take a whiz. Be right back.”

  While he was still looking over his shoulder I slid past the doorway and got behind him. The floorboards cracked. Hawknose turned and his eyes went wide. His hand jerked toward the gun in his jacket.

  He didn’t have time to shout. He tried to step back but it was too late. My blade flicked like a cobra’s tongue. Hawknose gurgled as he went down, blood pumping from his neck.

  All right, Jack. This was it. With knives in both hands, I barrelled through the door.

  Little Vito was sitting behind a desk against the far wall near the window. Next to him, tied to a chair, was Tommy, beaten black and blue. Two goons in bloodstained suits stood over him, pointing guns directly at Tommy’s battered face. Where was the sixth man?

  “Don’t you fucking move.” Breath like sour milk whispered inches from my ear. I waited for the press of the gun barrel to my back that would pinpoint the location of the man behind me, but it never came. The gunman kept his distance.

  Little Vito and the others were staring at me. Tommy gurgled through swollen lips. Vito smiled and stood up. “We were wondering when you’d get here, Jack. Tommy over there was getting hungry. I was starting to think we might have to send out for pizza. Come on in. Don’t be shy.”