The Big Bad II

by John G. Hartness

  “It’s all good, Stone.” He pointed across the way. “Just doing a little window shopping.”

  “Anything good?”

  “Lots. This cat’s got some coin and he ain’t afraid to spend it. Your man should have no trouble fetching top dollar for this haul.”

  “Music to my ears, Stick, ol’ boy,” Stone said, rubbing his gloved hands together.

  Unlike Tommy, Stone had been on the street for a couple decades, which was amazing considering how young he looked. The years, if not the mileage, had been good to him. He couldn’t recall a life before this one; therefore, he couldn’t miss it. On the street, he was something of an elder statesman. He was known to take the newbies under his protection, keeping them safe while they learned the lay of the land and how to survive in their harsh new surroundings. He had done as much for Tommy Greenway and countless others.

  Stone had also taught him the art of the steal. “Oh, sure, any old idiot can break and enter,” he was fond of saying. “Being a thief, on the other hand, that take finesse, planning, skill. Do you want that skill?”

  Tommy answered yes, of course. Most of them did. Not all of them had what it took to make it, but Tommy thrived under the pressure and his skills grew and matured until he became the Stick to Stone’s, well, you know.

  “When do we move?” Stone asked.

  Tommy gave him a look. It wasn’t like the man to defer to others. Stone was more of a hands-on, take-charge kind of guy. For the briefest of moments, Tommy wondered if this was a set up...or a test. His confusion was obviously apparent.

  “This is your show, kid,” Stone said with a grin. “You tagged him. You did the legwork. I’m following your lead.”

  Tommy couldn’t help but smile. This was the first time Stone had let him call the shots. He was ready. He didn’t need the safety net, but he was glad that his friend was with him to watch his back.

  “He’s on the move,” Tommy said, pointing toward the apartment.

  Sure enough, they watched Mason Perry walk down the hall, tucking in the white button-down shirt that cost more than a week’s rent at his favorite flophouse. Once the shirt was in place, he tied the tie without having to look in a mirror, although he did stop in front of the one at the end of the hall to check his hair, which elicited a snort of derision from both Tommy and Stone.

  Mason poured a couple of fingers of something golden from a tumbler set on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area. He downed the drink in one shot, refilled the glass, and repeated the process. He left the glass on the counter, grabbed his jacket, and headed up the steps to the door, where he set the alarm before turning out the lights, save for a few nightlights scattered around the apartment, and left.

  Tommy waited, counting off the time it took for the mark to reach the front stoop. “Forty-three seconds,” he said aloud. The time was consistent with the other times he’d clocked the mark’s movements.

  A town car sat parked at the curb, waiting for him. Whatever function Mason Perry was heading off to this evening, he planned to arrive in style.

  “Coast is clear,” Tommy said once the taillights were gone from view.

  “Then let’s do this thing, kid,” Stone said with a barked laugh.

  Gaining entry to the building was surprisingly simple. A doorman guarded the front entrance, but a simple wire snip silenced the alarm and a crowbar took care of jimmying the door. In just a matter of seconds they were inside.

  “If I was a tenant here I would be pissed,” Tommy joked.

  Stone laughed and clapped his partner on the back.

  “Stairs,” Tommy said once he saw the sign above the door. It was unlocked so he eased it open. In a building with rent as high as this one, they kept up with maintenance, which thankfully included keeping the hinges oiled. It opened without so much as a squeak. A far cry from the last place he’d lived before hitting the road.

  As he picked the lock on Mason Perry’s door, a tiny voice in the back of Tommy’s brain proffered a simple question—doesn’t this seem a bit too easy to you?

  It was a valid question.

  He paused mid-pick.

  “You okay, kid?” Stone asked. “There are times when thinking’s a good thing, Stick.” He laughed. “This ain’t one o’ them moments so let’s pick up the pace, huh?”

  A wide grin split Tommy’s face. “Bingo.”

  He turned the door handle and with an ever-so-gentle push, eased the door open.

  “You’re an artist, kid,” Stone said with another slap on the back.

  Buoyed by the praise of his mentor, Tommy was all smiles as he stepped inside the luxurious apartment. He whistled once Stone closed and locked the door behind them and they were alone inside.

  “This place is amazing!”

  “I gotta say, you sure know how to pick ‘em, kid.”

  “This Perry fucker is loaded, so there ought to be a lot of good stuff in here,” Tommy said.

  “Let’s get to work,” Stone said with a smile.

  ***

  By the time they had cleaned out the living room and Perry’s office, Tommy and Stone sneaked back out the same way they had come in, only this time they were weighted down with their mark’s belongings.

  “This oughtta fetch us an easy five hundred,” Stone said once they were in the alley where they had boxes stashed to put the goodies inside. “Not a bad night’s work, Stick, me boy.”

  “There’s still a lot of good stuff up there, Stone. What do you think? Want to make one more run?”

  Stone clucked. “It’s risky, kid.” He glanced skyward. “But this is your deal so it’s your call. You want to go back in, I’ll go back in with ya. You game?”

  “Okay, then. One more time.”

  Getting inside a second time was easier than the first since they hadn’t locked any doors behind them on their way out. Mason Perry’s living room and office had been cleaned out. This time they checked out the kitchen. There were some silver pieces there, which would net them a few dollar bills, but nothing major. Tommy was a bit depressed by that. He couldn’t help but wonder if coming back up to the apartment was such a good idea or not. It certainly wasn’t something he usually did. Get in, get out was the way to do things. He wondered why he had picked this as the time to press his luck.

  “I’m going to check the bedroom,” he told Stone, who had just cracked open a bottle of expensive wine he had pulled from a shelf above the kitchen cabinets.

  “Don’t fiddle-fart around, kid. We’re skirtin’ dangerous territory here.”

  “Just give me a minute,” Tommy said as he crept up the stairs toward the bedroom loft.

  The bedroom overlooked the open floor plan of the rest of the apartment and not for the first time, Tommy Greenway wondered what it must be like to live in a place like this. Instead of robbing Mason Perry of his trinkets, he wondered what it would be like to live the man’s life for awhile.

  “Clock’s tickin’, kid!”

  “Hold on,” Tommy said and moved over to rummage through the drawers. He didn’t find anything of value except for a watch that might pawn for a twenty spot.

  Once he finished there he moved on to the closet. Calling it a walk-in would have been an understatement. Tommy had seen apartments downtown smaller than this place. Suits lined one side, hung there carefully with nary a wrinkle in sight. The shine on the shoes on the shelf beneath the suits was enough to blind a man when the closet light came on.

  He whistled.

  The suits and clothes were nice, top dollar brands, but they might as well have been dust rags for all he was concerned. Clothes did not fence well. He looked around for a jewelry box, but came up empty.

  “Time to go, kid!” Stone yelled from below.

  “Another minute!”

  He flipped off the light switch and was about to close the
door when something caught his eye.

  He pulled the door open again. It was faint in the light blanketing the room from outside. The large open windows really allowed natural light to light up the entire house. He stepped back into the closet and pulled the door closed behind him until he heard the soft clatch as the thumb fell into place.

  The red light came from the other side of the wall and formed a rectangle along the far wall. It looked like the seams around a door. That little voice in the back of Tommy Greenway’s mind was screaming at him now. It told him to get the hell out of there, but once again, he ignored that sage advice.

  He pushed against the wall and felt it give slightly.

  As he pushed harder, the door gave way and opened.

  Tommy stepped through.

  The room was almost the same size as the bedroom except it did not look out over anything below. There were no windows and no outside light pouring into this space. Red overhead lights bathed the room in a hard crimson that hurt his eyes when he looked at it.

  “What the hell is this?” he said softly.

  That little voice urged him to turn around and head back the way he had come, but once again he ignored it. Oh, I bet there’s all kinds of goodies hidden in here, he decided instead as he started searching through the furniture.

  ***

  Stone polished off the wine quickly.

  It was good, although not his favorite vintage. For a man who slept beneath a bridge most nights, he was mighty finicky when it came to his wine. Beggars couldn’t be choosy, though so he took what he could get. After downing a bottle solo, he set another couple on the bar to take with him for later.

  “Time to go, kid!” he yelled toward the ceiling.

  “Another minute!” the kid replied.

  Stone sighed. He liked Stick, but the boy hadn’t learned when to cut his losses and run. It was going to get him into trouble. Stone preached it into all of his kids—get in, grab what you can, then get out. It was simple. It was easy. It was clean.

  This job was anything but.

  “Guess you’re going to have to learn the hard way, ain’t cha, kid?” Stone muttered. He checked his watch. “Too late.”

  He let another minute or two pass before he sighed. “Fuck,” Stone said. The hard way it is.

  He grabbed another bottle, popped the cork, and pulled a swig straight from the bottle as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

  “Kid?”

  The bedroom was empty.

  Stone shook his head.

  ***

  “Nothing!”

  Tommy Greenway had grown frustrated. He had searched every inch of the red room and found absolutely nothing of value. What’s the purpose of having a secret room if you don’t put stuff in it? He wondered.

  The room was obviously used for sex. The weird red light, bed in the center of the room, mirrored ceiling, bolts in the walls. It wasn’t his kind of kink, and since there weren’t any valuables there, he decided it was best to get on out of there.

  He turned back toward the entrance and gasped.

  Stone stood there, a smile on his face and a bottle of the good stuff in his hand.

  “I see you’ve been busy, kid,” Stone said.

  “Nothing in here worth taking though. You were right. We need to get out of here before Perry comes back.”

  “Oh, I think we’re a little too late for that,” Stone said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Stone lifted his eyes to look across the room. Tommy turned and followed his gaze until he too saw that they were not alone.

  Mason Perry stood at the far end of the room.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said simply.

  Tommy had no idea how he had gotten in there. He’d searched the room from one end to the other and hadn’t seen anything that resembled another entrance.

  “Look, man. There’s no need for this to escalate, okay?” Tommy said, backpedaling toward Stone and the entrance. “Me and my friend here are just going to go, okay? Ain’t nothing missing here that insurance won’t replace, okay?”

  “Do I look like a man worried about insurance?” Perry said, taking a step forward.

  “Then we’re cool here.”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Greenway,” Perry said. “What do you think, Stone? Are Mr. Greenway and I cool here?”

  Tommy felt his heart fall into his feet. He spun around to see Stone smiling at him. “You sonuva—” he snarled and took a step forward. He didn’t get to take a second step before Stone brought the half-filled bottle around like a club. Tommy felt the impact on the side of his head before he even saw his friend move.

  Tommy Greenway was barely conscious when he hit the floor. Black and red swirls of color filled his vision as he tried to get away, but he couldn’t run, couldn’t move. He looked up as Stone and Mason Perry stood over him, looking down.

  They were both smiling.

  Those smiles were the last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him whole.

  ***

  Tommy Greenway had never hurt so much in his entire life.

  He had taken beatings from his old man, from street gangs, and even from the cops on a couple of occasions. None of them had caused quite as much pain as one smack from Stone. He tried to open his eyes and instantly regretted it as the room began to swim around him until he thought he was going to throw up.

  “Where am I?” he managed to choke out, although he couldn’t guarantee that it had come out as anything more than a jumbled mess.

  “You’re in my home, Mr. Greenway.”

  “Who?”

  “Come now,” Mason Perry said. “Surely, you haven’t forgotten me by now, have you?”

  “P-perry, right?”

  “Good boy. I knew you could do it.”

  Tommy tried to move and felt the tug against his arms. Chains held him firmly to the wall, arms above his head. His clothes had been removed while he was unconscious.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Self-defense.”

  “Bullshit,” Tommy gasped. “What did I do to you to deserve this?”

  Perry laughed. “You mean besides break into my home and steal my valuables?”

  “Yeah. Besides that. You’ve got insurance, man. They would have replaced all that stuff.”

  “It’s so sad that you don’t realize how stupid that sounds.”

  “You can have it all back,” Tommy said. “It’s just downstairs. I can...”

  “Your friend, Stone, is already taking care of that.”

  “He is?” Now Tommy was really confused.

  “Did you really think you found me by accident, Mr. Greenway?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Think it through. Who taught you where to find a good mark? Who told you where to look for one? Who told you what to look for?”

  “Stone.”

  “Indeed,” Perry said. “Your friend Stone is also my friend Stone.”

  “That son of a bitch!”

  “At your service, kid,” Stone said as he stepped back into the room. “Nothin’ personal, I promise ya, but a man’s gotta eat.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I should think that would be obvious,” Perry said.

  Tommy managed to raise his head enough to look the man in the eye. “You some kind of vampire or something?”

  “Vampire?” Mason Perry laughed. “Vampires are pussies. They drink blood and are afraid of a little sunshine. Give me a break. They are so wasteful. Think about it. They throw away all that tender meat. Wasteful.”

  “Wasteful,” Stone parroted.

  “I hate waste, Mr. Greenway,” Perry said. “Don’t you hate waste?”

  “I know I do,” Stone joked.

  “What are you, man?” Tommy Gre
enway asked.

  “Hungry.”

  Tommy didn’t even have a chance to scream.

  ***

  Jake Willis shivered against the cold.

  It had been a week since the argument with his father, the same fight that had ended with a fist to the face and the nasty purple bruise around his left eye. He had grabbed whatever he could carry and was out the door. He didn’t so much as look back as he heard his mother’s cries and his father’s shouts and name-calling.

  He knew he was better off without them.

  Life couldn’t be any worse on his own, could it?

  Then he ran out of food and money.

  He had been sitting at the water’s edge, wondering what to do next. Should he suck it up and go back home, proving the old man right—that he truly was a waste like he’d always said—or should he just step off into the river and let the grim hand of fate figure it all out?

  Then he received a third option.

  “Name’s Stone,” the man said with a friendly smile.

  They talked for a bit and Stone invited Jake back to the small community that lived near one of the bridges. “It’s not much, but it’s home,” Stone said.

  “Why are you doing this?” Jake asked. “Helping me, I mean.”

  “We all have to stick together in this city, kid. You want to eat, you have to learn how to take what you need.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.” Jake said.

  “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure thing. Now come on, let’s get you settled.”

  “Will there be food?” Jake asked, hopeful.

  “I think we can scrape something together for you,” Stone said. “After all, we’ve all gotta eat.”