by Todd Morgan
The driver was in front as they climbed the steps, Trey behind him with the AK. I raised my arms in a two handed grip, slowing my breathing. It was far from an easy shot. The night, the rain, the distance. I had made much tougher shots, a lifetime ago on the other side of the planet. I squeezed the trigger.
Q fell, blocking their retreat. Trey and the driver froze. I fired again, catching the driver in the chest. He fell. Q jerked the rifle in my direction, looking for me, moving to my left. I tried to line up the shot, but he was everywhere. I really didn’t want to empty the rest of my clip, waking the neighbors, bringing the law and all that entailed. One shot in the middle of the night, you would dismiss. Two, you might question. Seven? No way.
Q had the gun up, ready to let loose and I was out of choices.
His head exploded and he dropped. I winced at the rifle shot that came from behind me and to my right.
A whistle.
I whistled back.
Nero came into the yard.
“Why are you wearing a hat?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“We gotta move and we gotta move now.”
“Hang on.”
“Beason, if we wait, we’ll never get him.”
Nero and I stood over the three bodies. Trey had a small hole in the front, a big hole in the back. The driver had a small hole in the back and a big hole in the front. The top of Q’s head was simply missing. My leg buzzed. I ignored it. “Hang on.”
“Once he goes underground, it’s war.”
“Shh.” I put my finger to my lips. “Five minutes of thinking won’t change anything.”
“It will if the police show up in four.”
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and rocked my head back. The rain fell on my face. My leg buzzed. Rashness on a battlefield got people killed. I thought about crossing the Rubicon, what it meant, the danger it held for me. And for Sarah. I looked, but I didn’t see another option. “My way.”
“My man.” Nero grabbed the driver and threw him over a shoulder, Q went over the other. I struggled to get Trey onto mine. Of course, Trey was much bigger. My leg buzzed.
***
“What is going on over there? I heard shots!”
“Nothing. False alarm.”
“Bullshit. What about the shots?”
“Must have been thunder.”
“I know thunder, Beason. I’m not stupid. What happened?”
“It’s over. That’s all that matters.”
“Beason, I swear to—“
“Madison, I need you to do me a favor.”
“What? Kill somebody?”
“Nothing that dramatic. I need you to stay at Steven’s and watch Sarah for a couple of hours.”
“You want us to stay here?”
“Yes. For a little while.”
“What am I supposed to do if she wakes up? We’ve never met.”
“She won’t. She sleeps like a log.”
“What if she does?”
“Lollapalooza.”
“Lollapalooza? Are you insane?”
“It’s our code word. She won’t go with anyone aside from family without that code word.”
“Lollapalooza?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Tie up a loose end.”
***
He stepped outside and that damn wind cut right through him. Raining, too, probably going to leave spots on his hat. He shoved his right hand deeper into the overstuffed Starter jacket, with his left he gave a not so gentle tug on the leash. The bitch was strong, she could take it.
He’d had way more tequila than he should have. More bud, too, and they always kept a cut off the top shit before it got stepped on. The world blurred around him, zoning in and zoning out. That dope was an asskicker. For sure.
A crack of thunder, real close, and he stumbled to a stop. In. Out. He took another step, jerked the chain, but nothing happened. He looked down and the dog lay still. That didn’t make sense. He had never known a pit bull to like the rain—much less lay down in a puddle.
Something hard slammed him in the back, between his shoulder blades and he was face down in the mud. Cold metal dug deep into one of his ears. “Do not move.”
The voice was familiar, yet he couldn’t place it, not in his current state. An unbelievable weight pressed down on his neck, one hand yanked behind his back and the bracelets slapped on, then the same with the other. He thought, Shit, this is the law.
He was pulled to his feet, a hand grabbing him by the neck, a gun pushing against the back of his skull, his hat gone. He was pushed forward, following two forms, one’s scalp gleaming and glistening, the other no more than a huge shadow. He was marched through the muck and mire to a waiting SUV. The boss disappeared into the trunk and he went in after. They both scrambled, trying to separate themselves, the boss swearing and threatening to no avail.
He was on top of a tarp, something loose and flexible and stinking beneath him. He felt it and then another and knew what it was. An arm and a leg.
Suddenly, Jajuan wished he were under arrest.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The clouds had just begun to turn grey when we pulled into the sock factory lot. I jumped out of the Suburban and ran up the metal stairs slick with ice. I opened the outer door with my key, and went down the hall instead of going into my office. The factory had gone to the bank when the business had gone to South America and then bought by a local real estate investor on the cheap, hoping to cash in with a shopping center. It didn’t work out and I rented the space for a pittance, the developer looking for somebody to keep an eye on the property.
I pulled back the plywood that covered the door to downstairs. I had removed the nails a week after moving in, wanting to see what was below me. Recon. I made my way carefully down the rickety wooden stairs. It was dark as a tomb and I banged into several of the abandoned machines before coming to the loading dock in back. I found the lock, released it, and rolled back the heavy door. The Suburban was waiting for me.
Nero popped the hatch and I reached in for Jeremiah. His face was livid. “You a dead man.”
“Uh huh.” I spun him around and carefully searched him, pockets and belts, looking for a weapon or handcuff keys. We already had his pistol and the only thing I found was a switchblade stiletto. I unlocked the cuffs. Nero had finished doing the same with Jajuan, holding a Glock on the two gangsters. “Go ahead.”
“What?”
“Soon as you get inside,” I said, “you’re going to tell me you gotta take a piss. So go ahead.”
He grunted, fixing me with that hateful glare. He unzipped slowly, relieving himself on the ground.
Nero said, “Best not get any of that on my sled.”
Another grunt.
Jeremiah finished and I re-cuffed him, then went through the same process with his bodyguard before shoving them up the concrete stairs and into the factory. Nero took Jajuan across the crowded floor and I put Jeremiah in a corner. I undid the handcuffs again, wrapped his arms around a wooden beam and locked him up.
“Dead man, muthafucka.”
“I got that.” I took a bandana from the pocket of the jacket I had found in Nero’s truck and wrapped it around Jeremiah’s mouth. “We’ll be right back.”
I met Nero on the loading dock and rolled the door shut. “You want to drop me at the house and meet me back here in two hours?” I asked. “I’ve got something I need to take care of.”
Nero looked at the Suburban holding the three corpses. “Me, too.”
***
The sun was up, but with the heavy cloud cover I doubted anyone was going to see it today. I wouldn’t say the rain had stopped, more like it had…paused. My front door was still unlocked.
The house was empty, more empty than I could remember it ever being. At least in the last four years. No Blondie, no Erin, and no Sarah. Without them, it was only a collection of walls and floors, wood and stone. I went into the ki
tchen, opened the cabinet beneath the sink and took out a garbage bag. I undressed, the sweatshirt, jeans, sneakers—even the hat—going into the bag and padded naked up the stairs to the bathroom I shared with my daughter. The quick shower did nothing to make me feel cleaner.
In the bedroom, I popped the clip and reloaded it from the box in the dresser, rammed it back into the .45. I dressed in faded Levis and another sweatshirt, socks, and my worn boots. Downstairs, I pulled on my leather jacket, dropping another clip into the inside pocket.
I scrolled through the directory of the cell. “I’m on my way.”
***
She was waiting for me on the front porch, smoking a cigarette. Her jeans were tucked into knee high boots, the fur collared jacket pulled close. “What the hell?”
“Later,” I lied. “I promise.”
Madison shook her head and followed me into her sister’s house. Steven was in pajama pants, no shirt. His hand was still wrapped, no sling.
“Camp,” he said, “I don’t know what you’ve gotten us into, but—“
“Later,” I lied. “Let me get my daughter home.”
Steven shook his head.
Blondie’s tail thumped the floor as I entered, still laying next to the bed. Sarah had both hands over her head, the blankets tossed aside. I gathered her in my arms, wrapping her in the blankets. She mumbled, snuggling into my chest, but did not awaken. The greatest treasure in the world weighed less than forty pounds.
We went through the house, the front door and across the yards. Blondie bounded off, did her business and rejoined us. She did not tear off across the neighborhood. Somehow, Madison remained silent. I had left the door ajar, pushed it open with my foot, and carried my bundle upstairs to her room. Eyes closed, she draped an arm around one of her stuffed animals, Nemo, I think, and lay still. Blondie circled the floor twice and took her position.
Madison was pacing in the front room, a fresh cigarette going. Her jacket was off, her makeup washed away, her body pressing against the white t-shirt and her tight jeans. I have to admit, she looked sexy as hell.
“Beason, you better tell me right now what happened?”
She was mad, too. “Madison, do you want me to lie to you?”
She stopped pacing. “What kind of question is that? Who says, ‘Yes, lie to me’?”
“Then you know I can’t tell you what happened.”
“You can’t tell me? I’m already—what’s the word—an accessory? You have to tell me.”
I shook my head. “All you did was go to your brother-in-laws house in the middle of the night. You are not an accessory. Yet.”
“Yet?”
“That changes if I tell you.”
She sucked at the cigarette. “I can keep my mouth shut.”
“No need,” I explained, “if you don’t know anything.”
She thought about it, resumed her pacing, stopped. “Some date, huh?”
“You bet.”
She blew out smoke, stepping close to me. “I have to admit,” she said, “all this excitement has gotten me turned on.”
“You want a bourbon?”
***
I dropped Sarah off at her preschool before proceeding to the sock factory. Sarah, apparently no worse for wear, had come down the stairs an hour after I had laid her in the bed. Blondie, however, looked haggard, her unbound energy strangely bound. Madison had left a little earlier. For once in my life, I had been able to resist a beautiful, willing, woman.
I left my Jeep in the handicapped space and circled the factory. Nero had beaten me back, though, all he had to do was take care of three bodies while I had to work with a four year old.
He was standing on the loading dock, unmoving, the Suburban in the same place. “We good?”
“As far as I can tell.” I slid the door back far enough for us to enter. “Let’s get this over with.”
I expected to be met with curses and threats, but the building was quiet. The gags probably helped. Jeremiah was silent, his eyes shooting daggers as Nero and I looked down on him.
“You do a lot of this when you were in-country?”
“What?”
“Snatches.”
“About half of what we did,” Nero said. “This was a lot easier than sneaking into a village of men carrying AK’s.”
“Yeah.”
“You do much of this or did they leave it for contractors?”
“Enough.” I found a rickety chair, set it up next to Jeremiah and un-cuffed him. “Sit.”
He yanked the bandana from his mouth, standing arrogantly beside the chair. “I’m going to kill you, Camp.”
I held up my hand. “Jeremiah, you are already dead. This is your one opportunity to talk your way back into the land of the living. Now, sit down before we kneecap you.”
“Fuck you.” But he took the chair.
“See if you can talk some sense into him.”
Nero said, “No.”
I picked my way through the junk, easier with the weak daylight seeping through the cracks of the boarded up windows. I pulled back the gag of my other prisoner. “You all right, Jajuan?”
Jajaun shrugged, resigned to his fate. “You shot my dog.”
Technically, Nero had shot the dog. I didn’t think Jajuan would see the distinction. “How many people have you killed?”
Another shrug. “I don’t know. Twelve, thirteen.”
“Twelve or thirteen human beings. Sons, fathers, brothers. I do regret the dog, but I don’t want to hear you bellyaching about the loss of an animal—an animal you trained to hurt people.”
Jajuan thought about it, but not for long enough. “You gonna unhook me?”
“Not now.”
“Why not? You did Jeremiah?”
“You’re a threat. He isn’t,” I said. “No matter what happens, you’re going to be okay.”
“Sure.”
Jeremiah was still in the chair, Nero staring down at him with his arms crossed. Jeremiah looked up from the floor as I approached. “Don’t matter what you do to me, you still going to die.”
“Uh huh, we’ve covered that,” I said. “Tell me why you sent Q across the Rubicon for me?”
His face twisted in confusion. “What?”
“Q, Trey, and the boy in the Cutlass. You sent them to my house.”
He opened his mouth, considered answering, and closed it. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Fuck you.” He looked up and smiled. “You ain’t going to do nothing. Nero would, but not you. And you won’t let Nero.”
I nodded. “I know when you see me, you see an ex-cop. The worst I’ll do is maybe slap you around.”
Jeremiah grinned.
“What you don’t see is the man who yanked Taliban and Al Qaeda out of their homes and got what he needed from them. You remember, a few years back, all those stories about water boarding and torture?”
For the first time, fear crossed his face, sweat popping out on his bald head.
“I was trained to do that. That was my job. And I was pretty damn good at it.” I paused, the cold filling my soul. “You’re right, though, I won’t be doing that.”
Jeremiah raised a cautious eyebrow.
“The reason is, people will tell you anything in those circumstances. They will do anything to get out of that pain. You, me—even Nero. When the pain gets bad enough—and it will—you can’t get them to shut up. And unless you have some way to verify the intelligence, you can’t sift the wheat from the chaff.” A partial truth. The whole truth was that I was unwilling to trade my soul for another man’s. Not again. “Tell me about Trey.”
Jeremiah shook his head. “Man, I didn’t send Trey after you.”
“No?’
“Fuck no. That boy couldn’t find his ass with both hands. If I was coming after you, I would be coming after you.”
I had to admit, it held the ring of truth. Jeremiah would have come. And he wouldn’t have come alone. “Maybe you can explain it to me.”
“Word
is, ya’ll had some problems at the gas station. He came to me for the green light and I told him you would light his ass up.”
“What about four years ago?”
“What?”
“My partner. You have anything to do with him missing?”
“You back on that? I done told you I’m not stupid enough to go after police.”
I turned and started across the factory floor.
“Where you going?”
“Verifying the intelligence.”
Jajuan gave me the same dead stare.
“You know Trey and two of his boys came at me last night?”
“What?” Sincere surprise. “That’s what this is about?”
“My house,” I said. “The home I share with my daughter.”
His head was shaking before I finished. “No way. If we was gonna get at you, it wouldn’t be in some white bread neighborhood. And it wouldn’t be Trey. You really think you could’ve grabbed us so easy if we had declared war on you? We know you. And we know Nero.”
“You remember when I came and talked with Jeremiah?”
“Yeah?”
“He take out my partner?”
“No. We don’t know nothing about that.”
I watched him, waiting.
“What?”
“If Jeremiah gets gone,” I said, “you’ll take over.”
“Fuck that shit.” Jajuan smiled. “I’m having too much fun to be the man.”
“Are we going to have a problem?”
“Naw, man. We cool. Matter of fact, I appreciate you grabbing us like this,” he said. “If it had been me, I would’ve just dropped your ass.”
“You’re welcome,” I said and walked back to Jeremiah. Nero didn’t seem to have moved. “What are we going to do?”
“About what?”
“Us,” I said. “You.”
I could see Jeremiah going through the options in his head. He chose to talk his way back into the living. “You grabbed me and my boy because you thought we put Trey on you?”