by Ray Daniel
“Okay.”
I positioned myself in the middle of the Dalton Street bridge and leaned against the railing. The sun dropped toward the horizon over Framingham, Pittsfield, and all things west. Clouds scuttled red and low across the sky. Cars slid past in the waning rush hour, their tart fumes irritating my nose. I felt Jael’s presence over my shoulder, imagined the sniper rifle at the ready. Wondered what was in her crosshairs.
A black Lincoln Town Car glided past me and stopped in front of Bukowski, out of Jael’s line of sight. Dammit!
“They’ve parked in front of the bar,” I said into my headset.
“Do not approach them,” said Jael.
Talevi stuck his head out of the front passenger window.
“Do you have what I want?” he called.
I pulled the Paladin plans from under my jacket and waved them. “Right here.”
“Bring them!”
“I want to see Lucy.”
“You will see her when you bring the plans here, or you will never see her again.”
I said into the headset, “They’re going to bolt.”
“Let them go,” said Jael.
Talevi pulled his head back into the car. The red brake light dimmed as the car started to roll forward.
“Wait!” I yelled. I ran for the car.
“No!” said Jael.
I stopped at the car and the back door opened. A brown-skinned man pointed a machine gun at me. Lucy was behind him on the floor, duct tape covering her mouth, her arms pinned behind her back. She looked at me, her eyes wet and pleading.
“Get in the car,” said Talevi, “or we will kill you in the street.”
Jael heard the command over the headset. She barked, “Do not get in the car! Run!”
I heard a skittering sound overhead. Jael must have shifted positions and climbed the concrete railing. Talevi looked up and saw something.
“The Jew! Kill him and go,” he said.
The man with the machine gun pointed the barrel at my chest. I was going to die in the street. I jumped off the curb and, pushing the gun up, slid into the car.
I heard Jael yell, “No!” It wasn’t coming from my headset. A rifle shot cracked and a hole appeared in the Lincoln’s hood.
Talevi shouted, “Drive!” and the driver punched the accelerator. The car leapt away from the curb and shot down the street.
Talevi turned and pointed a pistol at my forehead. He motioned to the guy with the machine gun who was sitting between Lucy and me. He said something in a Middle Eastern language. Mr. Machine Gun ripped the headset from my ear and threw it out the window.
Talevi waved the gun at me. “Give him your phone.”
I handed the Droid to Mr. Machine Gun. He threw it out the window as well. I heard it clatter, skid, and fall out of earshot.
Talevi placed the muzzle of the gun against my forehead. “Put your hands behind your back.”
I did as I was told and Mr. Machine Gun ensnared my wrists in a zip tie. Then he slapped a piece of duct tape over my mouth.
Talevi sat back in his seat, facing forward. He said to the driver, “Take us somewhere we can dispose of them.”
As the car’s driver pulled away from the curb he said, “I know a good spot.”
I knew the driver’s voice. It was my cousin Sal.
Seventy-Two
The hard plastic of the zip tie cut into the flesh of my wrist as I slouched on the floor of the Town Car. It was rush hour, and we were stuck in traffic heading out of Boston. Talevi, not wanting us to attract attention with our taped mouths, had told Mr. Machine Gun to force us to the floor.
Lucy looked at me and then looked away. Her eyes were distant and slack. She had given up hope. She struggled to get comfortable, inching away from me. I tested my ties and wondered how long she had been trapped like this.
Sal had lurched the car through traffic and, judging by the signs I could see from the floor, was now bumping along Storrow Drive. Talevi was not happy. “Why are you going this way?”
“It’s the fucking rush hour, Talevi. What did you expect?”
“Why are you leaving the city?”
“Because I don’t shit where I eat.”
Don’t shit where you eat. I shifted my shoulder against the car door and remembered when Sal had given me that advice. We were at Auntie Rosa’s for Christmas Eve dinner. Steam rose off of lobsters in a pot in the middle of the table. We had laid into the arthropods with nutcrackers and melted butter.
I told Sal, “Hey, I met this hot girl. I think she likes me.”
Sal pushed a finger through his lobster’s tail, expelling the meat from the other end. “Yeah? What’s her name?”
“Carol.”
“How did you meet her?”
“We work together.”
Sal dunked his lobster meat into the butter and pointed it at me. “Don’t shit where you eat.” He took a bite of the green tomalley-laden flesh, and the conversation had moved to the Bruins.
I moved my shoulders to relieve the pressure and looked up through the back window of the car. The yellow tiles of the Callahan Tunnel sped past. We were heading to the North Shore.
Lucy was scrunched into the side of the Town Car. Her eyes were closed, and her head rocked back and forth. She was gone. Lost in whatever comfort she could find in oblivion.
God reached into my mind and took his customary place in a doomed man’s thoughts. I had completely rejected the Catholicism that Sal celebrated on Easter and Christmas, weddings and funerals. I imagine Sal would never confess to a priest that he had killed his cousin, or helped spies from Iran steal his country’s secrets. For the sin of treason and murder, I give you 50,000 Our Fathers and 28,000 Hail Marys. I had bailed on Catholicism. What good was it when it would let your cousin shoot you in the head? I hoped I was right about there being no Jesus, because if I was wrong I was going to spend a long time in Hell.
I stretched my legs and waited, watching the darkening sky through the windows. Sal made a series of turns and then the car started bumping along an unpaved road. There were no trees in the windows and I saw a seagull fly overhead. It was probably going to get a tasty brain treat in a few minutes.
Sal stopped the car and said, “Let’s do it here.”
Seventy-Three
Mr. Machine Gun hadn’t tied our ankles. I considered the option of kicking him in the face. But then what? It wouldn’t knock him out, and he’d either kick me in the face or shoot me with the machine gun. Didn’t seem like a win. Rage coursed through me. Then again, it might be a good way to go.
Sal and Talevi climbed out of the car and opened our doors.
My head and shoulders lurched into space as the door’s support disappeared.
Sal looked into the car and said to Machine Gun, “You didn’t tie their fucking feet? What’s wrong with you? If one of them starts running we’ll be out here all fucking night.”
Machine Gun took two more sets of plastic zip ties and slipped one set over Lucy’s ankles. He cinched them up, running his hand up her thigh as he did so. Lucy ignored him, but I didn’t. I slipped past reason.
Machine Gun slipped a loop over one of my ankles. As he reached for the other ankle I kicked him square in the nose with the heel of my shoe, catching him at the bridge. Blood spurted across the car. Machine Gun’s eyes rolled back in his head. He let out a shuddering sigh and fell to his side.
Sal, standing outside the car, said, “Goddammit, Tucker, now look what you did.” He reached over me, putting a knee into my chest and wrestled my second ankle into the restraint. He zipped the tie, then put his ear next to Machine Gun’s mouth. He backed out of the car, crunching my chest.
Lucy was out of the car. Talevi had dragged her away. I was left lying on my back, looking up at Sal through the door.
Sal called out, “
Hey, Talevi! Your fucking idiot back here just got himself killed.”
Talevi appeared. He climbed over me and felt Machine Gun’s neck. Machine Gun wasn’t moving. He slapped at him. “Sami? Sami! How did this happen?”
“Tucker kicked him right in the fucking nose.”
“Sami is dead!”
“I told you he was dead. Tucker killed him.” Sal tapped me lightly on the cheek with open fingers. “You popped your cherry, little cousin.”
Talevi let off a string of what must have been Persian expletives and dragged me from the car next to where Lucy was kneeling. He dropped me and I fell to my side. “Kneel next to her.”
I lay on my side and said, “Fuck you,” through the tape. It came out as two grunts.
Talevi kicked me in the stomach. “Kneel!”
Sal said, “What the fuck, Talevi, we’re not making some fucking snuff film. Let’s just do it and get out of here.”
Talevi pulled my jacket open and saw the Paladin plans. He smiled, reached in, and grabbed the plans by the binding. I tried to pin them with my arm, but he gave a hard yank and they slid out. My breath wheezed through my nose. Lucy shuffled on her knees and whimpered, the gravel digging into her skin.
I rolled to a sitting position and then to a kneeling position next to Lucy. I had gotten her killed. The least I could do was kneel next to her. The gravel dug into my knees.
Sal crunched behind us and waited. I heard metal on leather as he slid his gun out of his holster, then a double metallic click as he jacked a bullet into the chamber. Blood’s supposed to be thicker than water. What bullshit.
They say you see your dead relatives when you go to Heaven. If I went to Heaven, I didn’t want to see anyone except my mother. I wanted to meet the beautiful young woman who had borne me before she was twisted by rage and betrayal.
Talevi stood in the headlight, flipping through the stolen plans. He started reading slowly, then flipped pages faster and faster. He stormed over to me. Kicked me in the leg, and shook the book in my face. “I have this version, you idiot! I’ve had it ever since your father gave it to me twenty years ago!”
My father? My father? In the preternatural slowness of my last moments, the shattered jigsaw picture of the mystery coalesced in my mind like a movie played backward. Talevi had provided the final, unimaginable clue. All the pieces fell into place. JT’s murder became the inevitable result of desperation and betrayal played out over twenty years ago. I saw it all, and I was grateful to have the gift of this epiphany just before I died.
I reached out with my bound hand and touched Lucy. She would not die alone.
Talevi yelled, “Fool!” and threw the book into the gravel. He waved his hand at Sal. “Shoot them. Shoot them both.”
Sal said, “Right.”
He pulled the trigger twice, putting two bullets into Talevi’s chest. Talevi looked at his chest, looked at Sal, and reached for a gun. Sal put four more bullets into him, ranging from Talevi’s navel to his forehead. Talevi stumbled in front of me and fell into the gravel. His head hit the stones with a sickening crunch as he emitted a rattling final breath.
Seventy-Four
Sal ripped the duct tape from my mouth in a single searing swipe. “Didn’t I tell you to mind your own fucking business? Where am I going to get another heroin connection?”
He knelt in front of Lucy and worked the tape loose. Lucy whimpered as he pulled at the adhesive. Once the gag was gone, Sal pulled out a Leatherman and snipped the ties at Lucy’s wrists and ankles. She wrapped her arms around herself and sank lower into the gravel. Sal snipped my ties and I grabbed Lucy and pulled her close. She dug her fists into my back, as her sobs broke through. Tears splashed across my cheek.
She said, “They grabbed me when I was sitting next to Walt.”
I just held her close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Sal crouched next to us. He touched Lucy on the shoulder and said, “I needed to get Talevi out here to finish him. I’m really sorry you had to be scared for so long.”
“I heard Talevi talking to you on the speakerphone about killing us,” said Lucy.
“I know,” said Sal. “I know you were scared. You did great. I know guys who have sh—Well, never mind. You did great. I was hoping Tucker would figure out a way to let you know.”
I said, “Let her know what? I was scared too.”
Sal turned to me, his gorilla brows knit close. “You? Why were you scared?”
“Why was I scared? I thought you were going to shoot me in the back of the head.”
Sal stood. “Why?”
I stood. “Why? What do you mean why? You were working for Talevi, you drove us out here, you said you would kill us.”
“You asshole!” Sal slapped me across the face. Pain exploded through my cheek.
I stumbled and fell to one knee. Lucy screamed.
I said, “Jesus, Sal. What the fuck?”
Sal loomed forward over me. “What the fuck? What the fuck? What kind of an animal do you think I am? You thought that I would really fucking kill you? My cousin? My mother’s nephew?”
I said, “What was I supposed to think?”
Sal raised his fist. I flinched. He lowered it. “You were supposed to think that we were fucking tricking Talevi. You were supposed to know, fucking know, that I wouldn’t kill you. That I would rather die than kill anyone in my family.”
Lucy stood, slid a little behind me, supporting me as I faced Sal’s rage.
Sal continued, “You were supposed to know that you’re my fucking cousin and that this motherfucker”—he kicked at Talevi’s corpse—“would never come between us. You were supposed to fucking know what it means when I come to your mother’s funeral, or that we spent Christmases together. You were supposed to fucking know what family means.”
“I’m sorry, Sal,” I said.
“Did I ever do anything to hurt you? I mean, when you weren’t calling me a fucking liar and stealing pictures that could get me sent up for twenty years? When you weren’t being a complete fucking know-it-all South End shit who’s ashamed of his family, ashamed of his roots?”
“No, Sal. You never did anything to hurt me.”
“Did I ever give you one fucking piece of bad advice? I told you fucking weeks ago, weeks ago, not to dig into this fucking thing. I told you to leave it alone. I told you to stay away from Talevi. I told you to ignore the whole fucking mess. You think I did that for my health, because I had something to hide? I did it because I didn’t want you to get hurt. Now look at you. Your mother is dead. Lucy got taken. You made me shoot Talevi, and none of this fucking stuff would have happened if you had listened to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
I stared into the dark stones before me, unable to meet Sal’s eyes. Lucy hugged me and I put my arm around her. Shame crowded my face. I wished with everything I had that she hadn’t seen this, that I had understood my cousin.
I said, “I’m so sorry, Sal. Can we go home?”
Seventy-Five
We drove back to Boston in silence. Sal had taken us to a long marshy road in Revere, where the rushes did their intended job and concealed the corpses we left behind. Talevi and Sami were seagull food. Lucy curled against me in the back seat, her bare foot tucked up under her with a bandage over the spot where Talevi had cut off her toe. As we drove over the Tobin bridge, I borrowed Sal’s phone and texted Jael.
I’m safe.
How?
Sal saved me. Long story. Meet us at my house.
I called out, “Hey, could you take us to Follen Street?”
Sal said, “Whatever.”
We lapsed back into silence as the sun set and we slipped into night.
Sal pulled into a spot in front of my house. Jael’s MDX was parked down the street. She got out, walk
ed toward us.
Sal saw Jael and said, “None of this ever gets mentioned again, capisce?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Sal turned to face Lucy. “You too, honey. Please. Don’t tell anyone. If you say anything, Tucker and I will go down for it.”
“Why would I go to prison?” I asked.
“Because you fucking deserve to, you shit. I’d see to it.”
Lucy said, “I promise. I won’t say anything.”
Jael stood next to the car. She ran her finger around the bullet hole she had created in the hood. She rapped on the tinted window and peered in. We opened the car doors and climbed out, standing in a small circle over the memory of JT’s chalk outline.
Jael said to Sal, “Thank you for saving Tucker.”
Sal said, “Yeah. No problem.”
Jael asked, “How did you know?”
“Lyla works for me. I heard that she shot up the Commons garage and I asked her about it. She told me that she was working for Talevi.”
I said, “She tried to kill me.”
“No, shithead, she did not try to kill you. If she’d tried to kill you, you would be dead.”
Jael said, “This is true.”
Sal said, “She told me that she was supposed to be a distraction.”
“A distraction? She nearly shot me.”
“You pissed her off when you hit her in the face with those keys. She kinda loses her shit sometimes.”
Another piece fell into place.
“By the way,” said Sal, “she’s really sorry. She didn’t know you were my cousin. She’s sorry she shot at you.”
“Well, that’s comforting,” I said. “Tell her no hard feelings.”
“Good,” said Sal. “You don’t want her mad at you. She’s fucking nuts.”
“Really.”
Jael said, “She is not well.”
Sal said, “Talevi had tried to hire Lyla to drive the car and kill you two. She called me and I told Talevi that she was busy. I volunteered to be Talevi’s gun.”
I tried again. “You can’t believe how sorry I am for doubting you.”