by Glenn Trust
Traffic in the city was cumbersome and slow. A digital clock on a bank building read twelve minutes after nine, local time. He had hit the tail end of rush hour.
He cruised slowly through the streets, watching people going to work, living their lives normally. That would have been him just a day earlier, before the call from Albert Stinson. He shook his head at that thought. No, that wasn’t true.
Life had not been normal since the day he met Lyn at the I-95 Diner. Things had changed then. He wondered how that happened. How did one person change everything in your life…forever? What had seemed so simple had become complicated.
And now, he cruised the streets of Mobile, Alabama, a city he knew, not at all, waiting for a phone call from a man determined to kill him. Clay had no doubt of that. How the hell had that happened?
It didn’t matter. He only knew one thing for certain. The one undeniable truth in his life was his feeling for Lyn. He would go with the flow. He had no choice.
He slowed the pickup. A sign pointed to Highway 42, the Old Spanish Trail. That led to Battleship Parkway. Alabama seemed to have an unusually large number of Parkways, he thought, smiling for the first time since leaving home in the early morning hours.
Off Battleship Parkway was the USS Alabama, a World War II battleship that had been turned into a major tourist attraction. Clay followed the signs to the parking lot, picked a space in a far corner and killed the truck’s engine. Even at a distance, the battleship loomed up out of the bay, towering over the docks. He stared at its gray hulking form, afloat but not at sea, riding its moorings, waiting.
He nodded. This was as good a place as any. He would wait with the battleship. The Stinsons would call. The battleship would remain behind, still waiting, while Clay Purcell rushed on to the conclusion with the Stinsons…matter and anti-matter colliding, destroying each other in one blinding flash. He hoped that he could find a way to avoid the collision.
54. I Ain’t That Dumb
“Where are you?”
“Where you told me to be. Where are you?”
“Who’s with you?”
“No one. I haven’t told anyone. There’s no law around.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Where the hell are you?”
“Somewhere where we can keep an eye on things…make sure you do like I said.”
Clay’s eyes scanned the parking lot. It was a hundred feet to the nearest parked cars. None looked occupied.
“Where are you?”
“I’m the one askin’ questions. Tell me what you see.”
“Big ship…a battleship. Parking lot…cars.”
“What else?”
“Nothing. Just a big ship.”
“You got ten seconds to tell me what else or we hang up and you never see the girl again.”
Clay’s eyes darted around the lot and pier. “Off to one side. A smaller boat of some kind…an old submarine…next to the big ship.”
“Right. Tell me how much it costs to get in.”
“What?”
“Do it!”
Clay pushed the pickup door open and then slammed it violently behind with one hand, the other holding the phone to his ear. “It’ll take a minute. I parked at the back end of the lot.”
“Keep the phone to your ear and walk to the gate. Best not take too long. Hurry up and jog over there. Now.”
Clay’s breathing was audible over the phone as he jogged to the admission gate. Albert nodded at Bain.
“Okay…I’m here.” Clay inhaled deeply to catch his breath. He read the sign. “Ages twelve and up $15.00…ages six through eleven $6.00…under age six free.”
“Buy a ticket. Go in.”
“What?”
“Buy a goddamned ticket! Do it now!”
Clay walked to the window and bought an entry ticket. “Now what?”
Albert laughed. “Go inside. Take the tour.”
“I’m not doing shit unless you tell me what is going on. Where is Lyn?”
“Go inside. Take the tour.”
“Put her on the phone.”
“You arguin’ with me boy?”
“I’m saying that unless I know she’s all right, I’m not doing any of this bullshit.”
“You talk mighty big for a man without any cards.” Albert laughed. “But all right. I’ll let you hear her…know she’s all right and alive…for now.”
Albert walked to the chair where Lyn was bound. “Talk to him.” He held the phone to her face.
She glared, shaking her head silently.
Albert motioned Bain over. “Hold the phone.
Bain took the phone. Albert took the lock blade knife from his pocket and knelt beside Danny, still taped to the bedframe. Opening the blade, he held it to her throat. She did not resist. Her eyes dimmed and retreated even farther to the other place.
“All right!” Lyn turned her face to the phone. “It’s me. I’m all right.”
“Lyn! Where are you?”
“I’m…”
Albert’s hand caught her in the face. The dull smack of the blow sped across the wireless connection at the speed of light.
“Lyn!” Clay panicked. “Lyn, where are you? What are they doing to you?”
Albert took the phone from Bain. “Okay. You heard her. She’s all right, for now.”
“If you hurt her.”
The laugh surged up from Albert’s belly, dark, thick, and rumbling. “You’ll do what? You ain’t gonna do anything you little pissant. Now get your ass inside on that tour.”
Clay fought to control his breathing. “Why?” The word came out between gritted teeth.
Albert sighed theatrically, enjoying the moment. “Okay, I’ll tell you. We’re watching. If anyone is with you…hangin’ around…following…we’ll know it. Now you get your ass on that boat. Do the tour. When you’re done, we’ll call you and tell you what to do next.”
“When do I get to see Lyn?”
“When I say you can! I wouldn’t be too goddamned anxious. Seeing her is probably gonna be the last thing you ever see.”
“Just tell me what to do. I’ll do it.” Resigned to the fact that they held all the cards, Clay tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound as if he were pleading. “Just don’t hurt her. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
Albert ended the call without any comment.
Bain standing between Lyn, taped to the chair, and Albert, sitting on the bed beside Danny, didn’t know whether to get a rag to stop the blood flowing from Lyn’s nose, or ask the questions bubbling in his confused head. He opted for the questions.
“Albert…I don’t…I mean…what…”
“You don’t what. Spit it out and quit stammerin’ like a baby.”
“What are we doin’? We’re here and you’re sending him on a boat tour?”
“That’s why I’m heading things up here, little brother. I got things figured out.” Albert leaned back putting his hands under the pillow to prop up his head, speaking like a teacher to a dull student. “We run him around to make sure he’s alone…make him scurry…do things like the boat tour…some other things I been thinkin’ of…we set the trap. We keep him scurryin’ enough and we’ll pick up somethin’…some sign…if he has someone with him or the law’s around. When we’re sure…when he’s wore out and we know he’s alone and we had our fun with him, we bring him in where we want him… settle things up then.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all the fuck you got to say, you dumb son of a bitch?”
“Well…I…just…”
“Just shut up. Told you…I got things figured out.”
Behind Bain’s open-mouthed stare, resentment boiled. “I ain’t that dumb,” he managed to squeak out through is constricted throat. When it was said, his mouth closed and his eyes opened wide in surprise at himself. He wondered what the penalty would be for his daring.
Albert was feeling generous. Hands still behind his head, he regarded his brother with amused intere
st and then nodded. “Yes…you are.”
55. A Favor
The deep-throated air horn increasing, then decreasing, in volume as the truck moved past the diner caused Cy Purcell to look up from the uneaten plate of scrambled eggs he had been stirring around with his fork. The semi’s aggravated driver gave two more blasts on the horn as it sped by an old Buick driven by an elderly man, exiting off I-10 near Pensacola.
The Buick turned right at the top of the exit ramp and then right again into the diner’s parking lot. Distracted from his thoughts, George watched the man help his equally elderly wife from the car and make their way slowly into the diner. She clung to his arm and he to hers as they shuffled across the asphalt. He wondered if he and Sharon would ever be like that…a couple with a lifetime of years and experiences behind them, clinging to each other at the end.
The memory of the moments with Sharon that morning flooded back. He sensed her touch. Her fragrance surrounded him. Her voice whispered softly in his ear. He smiled.
“Glad you’re happy.” Cy regarded the smile with annoyance.
Roused from his reverie, George looked at his companion. “Huh? Oh, sorry. Just remembering.” He lifted a fork full of eggs.
Cy shook his head. “No…I’m sorry. I got no cause to be aggravated. You’re here helping. I’m just worried.”
“Understandable.” George nodded, chewing his breakfast slowly. “You should be. These are dangerous men. I’ve known a good many of them over the years. Some, like the Stinsons, might seem ignorant, live like trash, but don’t underestimate them. They’re predators…think of themselves at the top of the food chain when it comes to people and getting what they want. Smart like predators too. They know how to get what they want.”
“What they want is Clay. Not very encouraging.”
“That’s right. They want your brother.” George figured it was time to lay out all of the cards. “You should understand something…prepare yourself for it.”
“What?”
“They will probably get to your brother, or at least bring him to them.” George looked him in the eyes. “We have a chance to be there when that happens. Try to prevent the worst from happening.”
“How come whenever we talk, I get depressed?” He dropped his fork in his eggs. “I thought we had an edge…knowing where they probably plan to do it. I know, you said it’s a longshot, but it’s still an edge…right?” Cy’s voice rose, so that heads turned at the nearby tables. “Now you start up with this ‘prepare yourself’ bullshit!”
“You want the truth, or you want me to sugarcoat things?” George looked down at his plate sopping up egg yolk with his toast.
Cy exhaled letting out a long sigh. “The truth…sorry.”
“No need to be sorry.” George nodded. “We do have an edge…not a certainty. A lot of things can happen…bad things…and I need to know something.”
Cy turned to watch the traffic flowing by on the interstate wishing he could turn the clock back twenty-four hours…hell, that wasn’t enough…he wished he could turn it back years…all the way to when he and Clay used to help their father in the fields. God, things were simple then.
“What do you need to know?” he sighed.
“You trust me?”
“What?” Cy turned back to stare at George.
“Do you trust me?”
What the hell kind of question was that? He thought about it for a second then nodded. “Wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t.”
George nodded. “I want to make a call. Get some help that might make our small edge an actual advantage.”
“Who?”
“The sheriff and his chief deputy…Sandy Davies and Mike Darlington.”
“No law.” Cy shook his head. “That’s why I came to you.”
“I won’t tell them anything specific. I just want to see if we can narrow the odds a bit…get some more eyes out there.” He leaned forward across the table. “I won’t do it if you say no. I promised no law, and I’ll keep my word, but trust me on this. We could use the help.”
Cy’s trust was in short supply. A whirlpool of events churned around him that he could not control, and at the same time, he could not abandon his brother. He studied the face of the man who had once been the hero of the county…hell…of the whole state. He nodded. “Okay.”
“Good.” George took out his phone and punched the numbers in.
Sandy Davies was in his office. His assistant put George through without hesitation. George was one of the people who always had immediate access to the sheriff.
“Hello, George. What’s up?”
George was direct. “I need a favor. A quiet one.”
Sandy swiveled in his chair to look out the window away from the administrative bustle and listening ears outside his office. “What is it?”
“Is Mike around?”
“He is. Wait one.” Sandy put George on hold and punched the intercom button for the chief deputy’s office. When Mike Darlington answered, Sandy said, “George is on the line. Can you come to my office, please?”
“Be right there.”
A few seconds later, Mike walked in and at the sheriff’s nod, pulled the door closed. Sandy put the phone on speaker and turned the volume down so that only the two men huddled close around it would hear what was said. “Okay, George. Mike is here.”
George began with a question. “Any noise from the Stinsons?
“Nope,” Mike said. “You know about Carl Stinson…killed at Pete’s Place?”
“I know.”
Mike wondered about that and why George, no longer a deputy, would want information about the behavior of the Stinson brothers. “All quiet. Kind of surprised really. Thought they’d be pounding the doors down around here, wanting us to arrest the Purcell boy.”
George nodded. If they weren’t’ pounding the doors down it was because they had other plans. “I need a favor.”
“Anything…as long as it’s legal.”
The sheriff and chief deputy exchanged glances. A request from George Mackey for a favor was a rare thing…rare enough that it received their undivided attention.
“It’s legal…pretty much at least. Just drive by their place. Let me know if they are around.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see them around.”
“Okay. I’ll do that, but I can tell you that I went by yesterday, just to follow up and see what they wanted done with their brother…with Carl’s body.” Mike looked up at the sheriff as he spoke. “No one was around.”
Shit. That was not the news George wanted. He thought it over. “Okay, Mike. Thanks. If you do see them around, give me a call. Okay?”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You got it, George.”
“Thanks.” George started to disconnect when Sandy spoke.
“George, is there anything you want to tell us?”
“No. Nothing.” George looked at Cy, who was listening with interest to one side of the conversation.
“Are you in trouble?”
“No.” He sighed. “Look, I just need this favor. No questions asked. Will you do it for me?”
Sandy Davies nodded at the phone. “We’ll do it.”
“Thanks.” George disconnected.
“Well?” Cy waited impatiently.
“Mike Darlington went by to check on them. They were gone. Hasn’t seen them around.”
“That means…”
“Right…lots of possibilities. They are out and about somewhere. Maybe following Clay, or maybe already where we think they will be, or planning to meet up with Clay somewhere else, or just holed up somewhere until they are sure they can get away with what they want to do.”
“That’s a hell of a lot of possibilities.” Cy was annoyed.
“It is.” George nodded.
“They might not ever go to the place Ruby thought, so we might not have an edge, like you
say.”
“We might not.” George shook his head. “But we keep working it…checking things…build it until we do have that edge.” He nodded at Cy’s phone on the table. “Maybe you should give your brother a call. Check in.”
56. Exactly What He Wanted
“How’s the tour? That’s a big ass boat, ain’t it?”
“What next?” Clay’s voice terse. He fought back the urge to tell Albert to fuck off. He was not in the mood for taunts.
“You in a hurry?” Albert laughed. “You shouldn’t be. You should be suckin’ up every last bit of that air off the Gulf. Never know when it might be your last.”
“Just tell me where. You want me and…” He spoke in quiet earnest. “I want you.”
“You do, do you? You want me?”
“Yes.”
Clay wondered where they were…where Lyn was. He listened for sounds in the background that might give away the location. There was none.
He looked at his screen at the number of the phone Albert had used. As he had promised, it was not Lyn’s. Every call came from a different number. Probably a cheap prepaid from a discount store…a throw away with a limited number of minutes.
A thought occurred to him and he pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the number on the screen. His mouth opened and then closed again…son of a bitch. The area code showed as 912…south Georgia. Did that mean they were still in Georgia?
“I wouldn’t be too anxious to find me,” Albert continued. “Not gonna be a good day for you when you do.”
Clay heard Albert’s voice, tinny and distant, jeering at him over the distance. He put the phone back up to his ear.
“Where are you? Still in Georgia?”
“What?” For the first time, Albert seemed surprised…maybe even nervous.
“Are you still in Georgia?” Clay shook his head and laughed. “You’re not following me…watching me. You don’t have any damned idea where I’m at.”
“You just…” Albert took a deep breath to regain control of the conversation. “I know this. You best be careful or you ain’t never gonna see that little bitch again. And when I’ve done for her, I’ll still find you.”