Flood Abatement

by James Norton

  The cop on the ground next to Bernie got up on his hands and knees. “Jesus! You’re hit.”

  Bernie looked down at his leg. A dark red stain soaked his shorts. “Well, shit.” He tried to touch the leg with his right hand, but that side of his body was numb. Just before he lost consciousness on the ride to St. Mary’s Hospital, he wondered why Nick would lie about Rhonda.

  Chapter 98

  The smell of smoke woke Bernie from a restless sleep. Half-conscious, he realized that smoke in a hospital was a bad thing and bolted awake. In the dark he could make out the fuzzy, red glow of something burning across the room. He switched on the headboard light while fumbling for his glasses. “Who … who the hell are you?”

  The red glow moved from the head of the shadowed figure to the armrest of his chair. “Hello, Mr. Keagan. My name is Lucerio, a business associate of Mr. Smith’s.” The glow at the end of his cigar went to a red-orange as the visitor took a deep draw. “Sorry to disturb you, but this is an opportune time to talk.”

  “What do you want?” Bernie felt he should ask, but something inside him really didn’t care.

  “Let’s go for a short walk?”

  Bernie leaned forward to try and see into the darkness. “What?”

  “Mr. Mendez will help you.” A tall thin man in a black shirt and pants stepped out of the darkest corner of the room with a wheelchair. He tossed off the sheet covering Bernie’s wrecked body and began to lift him.

  “Hey, hey, what the hell …” Bernie tried to resist until his body responded with a stabbing pain. One good thing about pain, it cleared your mind.

  “Please Mr. Keagan, relax. We need your assistance. Mr. Mendez will not harm you unless he has to.”

  Bernie considered his options as he landed in the chair and decided to keep still. He took a close look at the man with the cigar when he opened the door onto the silent hall. From Bernie’s seated position, the smoker looked to be under six feet, slicked-back black hair, clean shaven, tan suit, white shirt, no tie.

  The hall was dimly lit while a strong light from the nurses’ station sixty or seventy feet away. His visitors rolled him into the dark, down to another room. Inside a figure lay on the bed with the green lights of monitors bouncing on small screens. At first Bernie thought it was a kid.

  Mendez pushed Bernie to the side of the bed where he could look at the face of Knickerbocker Smith. The little shit didn’t look good. As a machine made rhythmic breathing sounds, Bernie said so.

  Lucerio fingered the drip tube. “You’re right. What is more important, Nick is not much use to me just now.” He blew a benediction of fine Cuban smoke over Smith’s body. “And, you are.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, Mr. Keagan, you’re going to be a big help to me.”

  “How?”

  “I will explain.” He waved his cigar over Nick. “Friends of mine from South America backed one of Nick’s recent film productions. It seems to have been stolen.”

  “I’m sorry, but … “

  Lucerio held up his cigar for silence. “Nick was trying to recover it or provide us with an alternative reimbursement.”

  Bernie puzzled for a moment then the inference became clear. “The ’33 Double Eagle?”

  “Very astute.”

  “The feds have it now. It’s gone.” So’s Rhonda.

  “I know.” The tip of the cigar glowed orange. “Unfortunately so is Miss Lapinski. Now we must recover the movie.”

  Bernie looked at Smith comatose in the bed. “We?”

  “You and I and Mr. Mendez.”

  “What?” Bernie came six inches out of the chair before the pain pulled him back down. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what this film is or where to begin looking for it.”

  “Take it easy. Save your strength,” Lucerio said.

  While Bernie gasped for breath, his mind raced for a way out of this jam. “I can’t … I can’t even get around. It’ll be weeks, maybe months of rehab. What makes you think I can help you?”

  Lucerio walked over and stuck the index finger of his left hand into Bernie’s temple. “Your friend, Rhonda, took our property. You will think of something.”

  “She’s dead.” He didn’t know if he believed it. Or, maybe he just wanted to believe Nick. Believe Nick, there was a disturbing thought. But, if that story would get this guy off his ass that was okay, too.

  The Lucerio remained placid and drew on the cigar. What did he care about the puta? With Nick out of action Bernie would have to be his man. Press him. “Then she will not need it.” He blew the smoke out. “But, we still have to recover our property. You are the one person who best knew how she thought.”

  “What about her sister and brother.” Mention Nana. No, protect her. Where was Nana?

  “They all said it was you. You were her soul mate.” He nodded to Mendez and the pair left the room.

  Bernie sat in the overheated room with Knickerbocker as his heartbeat bounced along on the monitors. What was this film? Why did Rhonda take it? More to the point, where was it? Soul mate? Was he her soul mate? Oh, man. On top of all that, no one but the greedy little twerp and he knew Rhonda’s secret. “Well.” Bernie rubbed his chin with his good hand. “How about that?”

  Chapter 99

  Bernie was jerked back into the antiseptic silence of Smith’s room. He must have dozed off. Someone spun his chair around. It came to an abrupt halt when two hands reached out of the dark and grabbed the arm rests.

  “Hey, how ya doin’?” Leon leaned forward and breathed in Bernie’s face.

  Startled and trapped, Bernie turned his head in a vain attempt to avoid the smell of garlic, onion and cheap beer that circled his head. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, do you ever brush your teeth?”

  Leon breathed on him again. Stan stood back in the shadow. His third-hand suit looked like the guy had slept in it.

  “Breathe on me again and I’ll puke on your shoes,” Bernie said. This parade of thugs was a real pain in the ass.

  Leon leaned back. “Well, ya don’t have to be insultin’.”

  Stan turned from Nick’s bed to Bernie. “Were’s the dough?”

  Bernie coughed. “What dough?”

  Stan reached down and squeezed Bernie’s injured leg. “Where’s the money from the auction, shit-for-brains?”

  Bernie dug his fingers into Stan’s wrist with his good hand until the stinking bum loosened his grip. “There isn’t any money, you idiot.”

  Stan poked Bernie’s chest with his right index finger. “What’d ya mean, no money?”

  Bernie slapped the offending hand again and noticed that Stan’s left arm was in a sling. He kicked it with his good foot. The grubby thug jumped away and howled.

  Leon clapped a hand over his son’s mouth to keep him quiet. “Shut up!” he hissed. “You want to get the nurse down here?”

  Tears glinted in Stan’s eyes as he struggled to bring his pain under control. He rushed at Bernie, who kicked a leg in the attacker’s general direction. Stan stopped and backed into the shadows.

  When everyone caught their breath, Stan asked again, “What’d ya mean, no money?”

  Bernie adjusted himself in his wheelchair. “Don’t you guys read the newspapers? We were busted by the feds just as the auction was ending.”

  “Then where’s the coin?” Leon asked.

  “The feds confiscated it, numb nuts,” Bernie said.

  “Bullshit,” Stan said as he rushed toward Bernie again.

  Bernie parried with his good leg in the direction of Stan’s bad arm. The injured thug danced away.

  “Where’s Rhonda?” Leon blocked his son’s next attempt to rush Bernie.

  “She’s dead.” It hurt him to say the words, even though he hoped it might not be true.

  That stopped the father and son for a moment. “Well, who the hell is goin’ ta pay us our cut?” Stan asked.

  “You dummy.” Bernie raised himself up in the chair. “Rhonda’s dead. The feds have the coin. There is
n’t any money. What part of that don’t you get?”

  “Somebody owes us,” Leon said.

  These guys were just too thick. Bernie reached for the nurse’s call button on Smith’s bed. “Who do you think owes you something? The feds?”

  The silence was refreshing to Bernie.

  Stan flapped his good arm. “I don’t know, but someone does.”

  “You are too dumb to live,” Bernie said.

  The door to the hospital room swung open on a large black woman in a starched nurse’s uniform. “What is goin’ on in here?”

  Bernie kicked Leon in the arm and dropped him to the floor. “These men came in to attack Mr. Smith. I’m trying to stop them.”

  The nurse clamped a hand on Leon’s neck and the other on Stan’s injured arm then dragged them out.

  As the intruders whined down the hall, Bernie considered that it was time to wheel himself back to his own room. The procession of after-hours guests was tiring, but he didn’t think he’d seen the last of either pair.

  Chapter 100

  The moment Rhonda saw the second coin, she recognized that there wasn’t anything to be gained by revealing its existence to Bernie. The situation required that he see just one, because showing him the other would give away an edge she wanted to keep for herself. She knew it wasn’t fair to him. She felt bad about that, but she knew that feeling would pass in a few days.

  At the time she snapped the hidden drawer closed she didn’t know what that benefit might be. Still, it was something she didn’t need to blab around. She would determine how to turn it to her advantage at some point. As the idea of the auction crystallized she understood how to use that knowledge.

  Because a 1933 Double Eagle was the biggest of deals to coin collectors, Rhonda knew Hiram Standish was the man to buy it. He wasn’t a coin collector, but he itched to have what others couldn’t. Also, he was incredibly hot to get into her pants. She could sell him anything. The question always was what price he would pay for the coin? Though Hiram might be in serious heat over her, he was one hard bargainer.

  The Puerto Rican kid had cut the ambulance off perfectly so that the crash blocked all three inner lanes of the O’Hare Airport terminal drive. With the drivers and the firemen distracted, Rhonda pulled the IV out of her arm and bolted out the backdoors of the truck. Traffic was already at a standstill. In stocking feet, she climbed between cars and on the bumpers of cabs to reach the parking lot, then dashed inside. Up one floor and turn left. The van was parked within one lane of the spot she told Nana to use.

  One quick look around and she was inside. Strip off the clothing soiled with the red dye. Put on the clean outfit - skin tight jeans, padded bra, low cut tank top, blonde wig that needed the roots touched-up, and running shoes. Jam the old clothing in a gym bag and go. Two spots to the right was the white Chevy for the getaway.

  One of the medics from her ambulance walked past her as she paid for parking. Though he gave her a second look, he went on without recognition. As she drove toward the Tri-State tollway, Rhonda appreciated the low level of traffic merging from the airport terminal. That accident must be driving the cops nuts. Next, the seven hour drive to Minneapolis to meet Nana for the flight to Vegas. The only fly in the ointment was the headline Rhonda saw as she waited to board the plane late that night - Double Driveby in Milwaukee.

  Agent Darone wasn’t going to be happy. On the other hand, she couldn’t work the deal with the second coin from witness protection in nowhere, Iowa. Even if she testified, the case against Pelegraso was weak. His high priced lawyers would get him off. So, screw it.

  The plane ride to Vegas gave Rhonda time to mull over the meaning of the shooting. It was too bad about Bernie, but the article said he was in stable condition. There wasn’t anything she could do for him at the moment. Foremost, was it possible that her plan to sell the second Double Eagle to Hiram was compromised? She didn’t think so, but the first coin was the only link between Bernie and Smith. Well crap, she’d have to watch Hiram closely to see if she could pick up any signals.

  “Champagne?”

  Rhonda looked up from her aisle seat to see a smiling stewardess. “No thanks.”

  “I’ll have some,” Nana piped in from the window seat. Glass in hand, she eyed her granddaughter. “Never knew you to pass up this stuff before.”

  “I need to be sharp for Hiram. I want to get this sale concluded right away.”

  Nana drank the flute dry. “An impudent little wine, dry with just a hint of the sweetness of the grape.” She belched and rested the glass on the tray in front of her. “Well, look, he’s gonna put off the negotiation, especially if you appear too anxious. He’ll hope to let your nervous energy wear you down.”

  The stew came by and re-filled Nana’s glass.

  “Oh, one thing,” the old girl chimed in. “Alice mentioned that the cops found a cigar butt on her front lawn.” She drained half her drink. “The unusual part is that the cop said it was Cuban.”

  “Really?” Rhonda asked.

  “You betcha.”

  Rhonda smiled. Lucerio. The movie, not the coin. She felt her shoulders relax.

  On the third champagne pass by the stewardess Rhonda asked, “Do you have any gin?” The woman smiled and returned shortly with a tiny bottle of Beefeaters and a cup of ice.

  “That’s the spirit,” Nana said and drained the glass. “Drink up.”

  “Actually, I’m going to gargle with it just before I meet with Hiram.”

  Chapter 101

  In Vegas they took a suite in Hiram’s hotel to get some beauty sleep and prepare for the big sales pitch. With the empty gin bottle in her purse Rhonda emerged from her bathroom, winked at Nana and picked up her Chicago newspapers. “Time to see the man.” The afternoon shadows were lengthening quickly as she rode the glass elevator up to the highest floor in Las Vegas.

  Just before Rhonda was ushered into Hiram’s office she took a moment to consider the difference in her costume from the last time. Today she wore a tailored blue business suit and Chanel. Then it had been a blue thong accentuated by the glitter and feathers glued to her body. It was a different game. When she entered, Hiram stood in front of his desk while Elizabeth, his mother, sat next to him in a client’s chair.

  Rhonda went up to Hiram and kissed him chastely on his left cheek, then shook his mother’s hand. In each case, she made sure she let them smell the gin on her breath. She could tell she was successful by the quick look exchanged between mother and son. At that point, Rhonda dropped the newspapers with the screaming headlines about the coin’s price on the coffee table and took a seat in the chair opposite them. “Well, how’ve you been?”

  “Good,” Hiram said.

  “Are you still interested in the Double Eagle?” Rhonda asked.

  “I thought the government took it?” Elizabeth asked.

  Rhonda smiled. “There is another.”

  “It is illegal to have it,” Hiram said.

  “Only in this country.”

  Elizabeth pointed to the newspapers. “You can’t expect us to pay that ridiculous price.”

  “That’s what its worth.”

  “Not in this country,” Hiram said.

  “Consider it an opportunity to give added value by providing a logistical enhancement,” Rhonda replied.

  “Moving it is risky,” Hiram said.

  “Consider it a bet.”

  He kept silent, but twisted his mouth into a sour face.

  Rhonda shook her head. “Come on. Where are we, Peoria?”

  “We’re not paying that amount of money for the thing,” Elizabeth said.

  “The thing, as you say, is a genuine, un-circulated 1933 Double Eagle.” Rhonda re-crossed her legs. “If you’re not willing to pay that price, then you are not interested.”

  Everyone was quiet for very near to a full minute.

  “We would need to see it.” Hiram folded his arms.

  “Certainly. It will require a trip out of the country.�
��

  “Half,” Elizabeth said.

  Rhonda suppressed her smile. They would go back and forth a bit more because Elizabeth liked to haggle, but they would have a deal. “For a million, I’ll sell it out of the country.” How’s that for a first volley?

  Ten minutes later Elizabeth said, “If you’ll throw in the hotel and airfare, then we have a deal at $1.6 million.”

  “We have to see it,” Hiram added.

  Rhonda wanted to say that for $1.6 mill he could see what ever he liked, but resisted and said, “Of course.”

  Chapter 102

  Later that evening Rhonda called Hiram to talk about the movie. “There’s a problem with my film.” She touched the cold martini to her lips.

  There was silence on the other end of the phone.

  “I didn’t have any idea until a few weeks ago, but I may have to cut a deal with Nick and his Colombian backers.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I want it.”

  “Great, you’ll get a cut for recovering the property.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t keep it, Hiram. This is business.”

  “But, Rhonda, please.”

  “No, these people are serious. Someone can get hurt or we can get a piece of the action. Get with it.”

  Hiram was silent on the other end of the phone.

  Rhonda rolled out the big gun. “I’ll tell Elizabeth.”

  More silence.

  “This is business, Hiram. If you hang up on me I’ll call Elizabeth, tell the whole story, and we’ll do it anyway.” Rhonda extracted the olive from the gin, put it between her front teeth and bit into it.

  “No.”

  “No, what?” She sipped the gin.

  “Don’t tell my mother.”

  “I won’t, sweetie, but I need the original.”

  “I’m keeping a copy for myself.”

  “There isn’t any time.” Rhonda smiled and winked at Nana. “Well, maybe. Get two first class copies made and send me the original. Will you do that?”