by Lee Lamothe
“Jeez, Jerry. That’s fucking cold. Three guys. That’s a massacre.”
“No question here, Marko. Soon’s we get back we’ll give them a last breakfast. They’ll load up the cube for us and when they’re done … Phitttt. There’s some cold pieces in the van, got some homemade silencers screwed on them. Just watch me: when I pull out my piece I’ll take whoever’s on my right and in the centre, you have to get whoever’s on the left end. Just keep fucking firing, Marko. Don’t step up to finish your guy as long as the brass is flying; you’ll catch one of mine for sure. We clear? Just empty your piece into your guy, don’t think about my guys. I’ll take care of my guys. Just focus, okay?”
“Gherzanian. It’s his place. He’ll flip.”
“Fuck him. He can stick them in a drum of shit and dissolve them or something, put them in a landfill. I don’t give a fuck. If he needs help with this problem, hey, old Jerry’s always on standby, help with the heavy lifting.”
Marko nodded. Then he shook his head. “There’s gotta be some other way. Let’s send those guys out to do something; when they come back, we’re gone. Leave them a stack of dough. They’re fucking young guys, trying to come up.”
“We can’t take a chance, Marko. We have to strike first. I recognize their evil scene. Just put yourself in a bubble. One more day, right? One more day and we all go our own ways. It’s over, pal, and nothing ahead of us but the sweet life, the sweet ride.”
Cashman raised his eyes from a motorcycle magazine. “You got it?”
Djuna Brown gave him a small smile and went into his office. Ray Tate, juggling three coffees, followed her in. They arranged themselves around the desk.
“Where’s my dough, Ray? Outside? In your car?”
“We think it might be at the factory, out by the airport. Might not. Not one hundred percent, but maybe sure Preston’s moving it for Marko.” He took a sip, casual, careful. “Today, maybe. By tomorrow, we’ll know for sure.”
They’d spent some time trying to decide how to play the boss. If he knew the money was definitely in the factory, he’d send in a gang of SWAT gunmen and grab it up, and hope for the best for Zoe Preston. They’d decided to play him loose, that the dough was maybe in there, but maybe not.
Ray Tate said, “We’ve been booting around watching the mutts and talking to people and from what we’ve figured out, Gurr’s been legging around Market Street, carrying bags in and out of places. She’s got mutts with her all the time, tough boys, ponytails and Chinamen moustaches. We think she’s boiling.”
“That’s it? You think she’s boiling? But, Ray, is she boiling my money, or something from some other play she’s got going?”
“We’ve put out the word in that crowd, we’re waiting for a call, and I think we’re going to get it. There’s going to be a small window of opportunity, boss, and we’re going to have to go through it real quick.”
“We have to be sure it’s my money.”
“If it isn’t precursors or bootleg CDs or some fancy funny money, then it’s going to be the dough.” He pushed a little reverse psychology. “We could just go take the place off now. It’d be a good score. Three or four meatheads, Jerry and Marko’s guys, a couple of millions worth of something crooked.”
“No, no. No, let’s play it loose, you guys. We crack into the factory and it’s a circle jerk of machines printing bad money, we blow our chance. Word’ll get out and we’ll never see my dough.”
“Good enough, boss. Our plan is this: we’re going to head out to the factory, set up until we can get some help, maybe ISS guys. If it looks like they’re making a move, we’ll take ’em away. If it looks like they’re going to make the money move, we’ll give you a heads up. You’ll need to have some of the boys standing by, okay? Heavy boys.”
“Sounds okay. But the minute ISS calls you that they’re on the move, that you get a really, really strong sense that it’s my dough that’s on the move, you call me and I’ll make things happen here. For now I’ll tell the dep what I’m going to need, get it ready as much as I can. They’ve mastered the concept of piracy over there, I think I’ve told you.”
Chapter 31
Julia Gurr was in her minivan just after noon, heading up the Eight to take her out past the airport. The black knapsack of Truong’s money was beside her on the floor on the passenger side. One of a bunch of cellphones chirped and she stole glances at them to determine which one was activated. The second she went to say Hello he began giving her instructions. Twice she said “Yes” as though he could hear her. She clicked off as she ramped out westbound. Once she was safely in the express lanes she took a cold phone and punched in Marko’s number. He answered on the first ring and at first she thought he sounded a little disappointed that it was her. “Hey, I’m on my way. Today’s going to be a beautiful day, okay, you got that? Today. Beautiful. Anybody with you?”
“Yeah. Our pal and his three pals. His pals are going to be leaving in a few minutes. It’ll just be me and you and our pal. He give you instructions, your guy, you know, to the end?”
“Nope. Just some moves in the right … ah, direction. What about … What about my kid. That’s on track, right?”
“We’ll see you when you get here, Jools. It’s coming together. She’ll be in here in a few hours, if all goes well.”
“She better be, Marko, or we’ve been wasting our time, this past couple of days.”
Marko disconnected and put the phone into his pocket. Jerry Kelly was mucking around in the back of the van, whistling a merry tune. His guys had eaten their breakfast around the bite marks in their donuts, drank the tepid coffee, and were loading the knapsacks into the cube. Marko looked for signs of treachery, but found none. They were just guys at work. One of them, the polite guy who acted respectful and seemed to be careful in word and deed, had laughed as he ate at a mangled donut and called out, “Jerry? Jerry? How does this one taste?” Then he’d popped it into his mouth and ate with gusto. “Mmmm.” The other two laughed: clearly the polite guy was the leader of the three. He made casual jokes with one of them, the one called Terry, Marko thought, about snakes. The polite guy was into his work and moved more knapsacks than any of them.
Marko asked him: “You know what this is about? The knapsacks?”
The polite guy shrugged. “Don’t really care, Mr. Markowitz. They were just things with stuff in them. A grand a day for two days, maybe three? I make a cool two grand a week off my bike repair shop, so this is like getting a week’s pay.”
“But you figure, right? You know.”
“Dough, I figure. Don’t care. You pay the freight, you ride the train.”
“What about your buddies, there? How are they with this.”
“They’re my guys, Mr. Markowitz. I’m one of Jerry’s guys right now, so that makes them Jerry’s guys too. Jerry’s your guy, so we’re your guys.” He looked at Markowitz closely. “You worried? About me and my guys? Don’t. We’ve been together since we were kids. You’re cool. Your product’s cool.”
“What’s your neighbourhood?”
“Tin Town. Zerba’s Grill.”
“Fuck,” Marko said, “I know Zerb’s. I know a lot of guys did a lot of things out of Zerbie’s. What’s your last name?”
“Sawchuk. Pollack. Like the old Canadian hockey goalie, guy who started them wearing face masks after they found his forehead up in the rafters. No relation, though.”
“Your old man’s Hell, right? Hijack guy, went down between two rigs?”
“Helmuth, my dad. He mentioned you lots, Mr. Markowitz. He told me, ‘Mikey, those boys in the Grid are a tough bunch of kids. Not a rat among them.’ He said you guys did the blood oath, cut your fingers. So we did too, me and Terry and Roger there. We’ve got two other guys, but they’re in lock-down for a while.”
“What are they getting for this, your buddies there?”
“I told you, grand a day each of us, plus a grand a day to split between Paulie and Mikey-Two’s family while they’re ins
ide.”
Marko loved the guy. An even split. Mixing blood. He glanced at Jerry Kelly, who was carrying a plastic garbage bag out of the van, giving him a look, like, Get ready, pal. An Uncle Jerry Cambodian Moment.
Marko turned to Sawchuk. “I need you to do something, okay, right fucking how. Don’t ask nothing, just do it. Can you do that?” He was staring at Jerry Kelly over Sawchuk’s shoulder. “No questions?”
Sawchuk read the look of dread on Marko’s face but misunderstood. He glanced back at Jerry Kelly. “No. No, Mr. Markowitz. Don’t go there, okay? People start doing people in the middle of something, it’ll go bad real fast, for everybody. If you have a thing with Jerry, that’s another day, requires a different attitude. You come by Zerb’s and leave a message in a week or so, we’ll do what you need done. But today? Unh-uh.”
“No, no, not that. Not now. Not tomorrow. Fuck, Mikey. I just want you to go outside, take your guys with you. Have a smoke or something. The good-looking chick’s gonna show up. She’ll have a bag. I want you to tell her Marko said to give you a bundle from the bag. Tell her I said … Ah, fuck. I said, ‘Not of one heart.’ She’ll get it and give you your payday. And tell her not to come inside, okay? I’ll come out, and if I don’t come out, you all should split, just walk away and hope for the best. Can you do that?”
“I should check with Jerry.”
Marko put his hand on Sawchuk’s shoulder and spoke softly. “Don’t, okay? You’ll be here, still, but you’ll be outside, you can make your own decision, whether you want to come back in.” He steered him toward his guys. “You know the way your dad said our guys were? Jerry’s not like that. Jerry never mixed blood with nobody.”
Sawchuk stared at Jerry Kelly, who was shifting his weight from foot to foot in an ecstatic dance, fussing his hands inside a plastic bag in the back of the van. “Jerry’s strange?”
“Get your blood brothers, Mike, and go outside. If you want to come back in, that’s your business, but you better come in loud and heavy. Yeah, Jerry’s very fucking strange.”
Sawchuk went to his guys and spoke quietly. Instantly and without question, they followed him out.
“Fuck you guys going?” Jerry Kelly called as they passed through the door. “Mikey, fuck? What?” The door closed. He held the plastic bag up to Marko. “What the fuck did you do, Marko? Fuck, man, those guys, they can’t be trusted. You crazy or what?”
“Jerry, Jerry. Take it light. Guys’re just going outside, get some air. They’re okay guys, don’t worry about it. They’re tight.”
“Right, Marko, you fucking goof, you fucking walked them.” His eyes, inflated with anticipation, seemed to narrow in his disappointment, but he quickly got past it. “Okay. Fuck it. Too late for them to do anything now, right? Let’s finish the load-up ourselves. They leave us any donuts?”
When Julia Gurr drove the minivan to the front of the warehouse she saw the polite guy and his two buddies standing near the doorway. The polite guy saw her and waved her over. She climbed out, shouldered the bag, and gave him a bright smile.
“Mr. Markowitz said to get a bundle from you. To tell you something like, Not of one heart?”
Wordlessly she screened the bag from the street and handed him a bundle.
“He said you shouldn’t go inside, he’ll come out. He said we should walk away.”
“If Marko said that, then I would,” she said. “I definitely would. Things are, I think, going to get funny before the day’s out.”
He nodded. “You want, we can hang around, make sure you get clear okay.”
She gave him a fond smile. “I appreciate that, I really do. But I’ve got to ride it out. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He took a small automatic from under his jacket and showed it to her. “There’s seven teeth in there and it’s ready to go. Just, if you have to do what you have to do, just start squeezing the trigger.”
“Thanks. But I don’t need it. Jerry’s not a monster, he’s just some fucking goof.”
He smiled. “Okay. Keep it anyway. I hope you make out okay, miss.”
When Sawchuk and his guys left, she tucked the gun into her back belt and dialed Marko on the phone. He told her not to come in, he’d come out.
She looked around. A busted black Cutlass pulled in and parked, and a big bearded white guy with a small Asian woman got out. They went hand-in-hand down the line of factories. Across the street a dark blue van with bubble windows on the side caught her interest as it pulled into the drive-thru of the donut place. Two men in a pickup truck passed through the lot, looking for an address. They pulled into a handicapped spot and began unloading long sheets of aluminum, carrying them into the warehouse next door. A trim-looking black woman with spiky hair, in red running shorts and top with white piping, ran down the opposite side of the street.
Marko was behind her. “What’s new from Bobby? We working?”
She turned. “What’s with the guys? I gave them a bundle, right?”
“Yeah. They’re good guys and Jerry was going to …” He shrugged.
“Jerry was going to off them?”
“Jerry. What can I say?” He looked incredibly sad. “Jools, we have to be careful of Jerry.”
“I’m always careful of Jerry.” She was matter of fact about it and exhibited no formless terror, just an awareness that Jerry Kelly was a mean dog and not some cosmic force of evil. “End of the day, though, he’s just a fucking goof.”
“What about Bobby? What’s the variation?”
She closed her eyes and started to talk. “He said —”
He interrupted her. “Jools. I think I found somebody. It’s early days yet, but … Maybe.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I figured. I figured there was something up with you, Marko. A chick, a cool chick for Marko. She cool?”
“Very cool. Very cool. There’s odd stuff I’ll tell you about, later, when this thing’s over. Not bad stuff, but, well, different.”
“Somebody I know? She in the life, our life?”
“No, she’s from outside. You’ll dig her. After this, I’m done. I’m gonna work on her, show her the Marko.”
“I know, though, don’t I, Marko? I’ve seen that Marko. It’s a good one.”
“This thing ends, give me a couple of weeks and we’ll get together, all of us.”
“How come I feel sad, Marko?”
“You blew your chance at me, Jools.” He laughed, amazed he could laugh about not having her. “You had your shot.”
“You know I’m going to be with Bobby now, right after this? Get Zoe back, give it another chance. We both been in the bad shit, but we’re gonna try. You okay with that? Bobby said he wants to talk to you, after. He made a mistake, how he let things go between you guys. He said he forgot the blood.”
“He said that? Fuck. Bobby. Fucking guy.”
“He never stopped loving you, Marko. Neither did I. But, end of day, Zoe’s got to be okay. Something happens to her, well, I don’t know what Bobby’s going to do, but it’ll be really bad.” She looked into his eyes. “She’s okay, right? She in yet?”
“Almost. A problem at the border. Tell Bobby we’re straightening it out. She’ll be there, maybe last minute. What’s the next move?” He didn’t want to lie to her. He’d shared his secret with her, showed her his heart. And now he had to lie to her and hope for the best.
“The variation goes at nine o’clock. A half-hour before, he wants everybody at the river, down the access road past the pier, before the span bridge. All the dough in the knapsacks, as many as it takes.”
“The river? Seriously?”
“So far. We’ll see. So, how many we going to be?”
“Three. You, me, and Jerry.”
“And Zoe, right? Zoe’s got to be there or nothing happens. He’s says he’s got a truck on the Canada side. He’ll stash up there.”
“Okay. Okay. Tell him getting Zoe there might be tight, time-wise.”
“I can’t tell him nothing, Marko. I
t’s a dead-end phone.”
“I’ll give him my word: she’ll be okay, we just have a problem to work out. Nothing he needs to worry about. He’s got my word.”
“You tell him, Marko. But I don’t see how you’re going to do that.”
“This might be complicated, you know?” He bit his lip. “Fuck it. We’ll make it work.”
She patted his hand. “You’ll do fine, Marko. Just get her here.” Her phone rang and she turned away to answer it, catching a flash of Jerry Kelly’s grinning face in the window of the door.
Chapter 32
Ray Tate jammed the bubble van between two buildings three blocks away. He handed a coffee back to Bobby Preston, sitting on a box in the bed. Djuna Brown’s panting voice came over the freddy. He told her where they were plugged and a few minutes later she rounded the block and jogged up to the van and pounded on the side as she opened the passenger door.
“Why didn’t you park, like, another ten blocks away, Ray? Give me a fucking heart attack?” She turned her head and asked Preston if he had any water back there. He offered her his cup of coffee. She took a small sip. “Switch with me, Presto. Ray, kill the air, man. I got to get something warm over me before the sweat chills.” They changed positions and she saw Ray Tate ogle her as she pulled a sweater and a pair of loose jeans over her running gear. He had a look on his face and she regretted Bobby Preston was there.