The Other Side of Bad (The Tucker Novels)

by R. O. Barton

  I found it curious they didn’t ask what I was going to buy.

  “You better call and tell housekeeping to stay away,” I said, looking at all the hardware laying around.

  “Good idea.” Phil said reaching for the phone.

  “Where’s the sniper rifle and M-14?” I asked.

  Allen looked at me and Robby and said, “I told Phil with you around, I thought that might be a little overkill. Besides statistics show that most gunfights happen within 10 feet.”

  After a moment of sobering silence, Allen and I left to go get what I needed. It was good to be with family. We had a nice visit and caught up. We both felt sure marijuana was going to be legalized within the next year or two. They were lobbying for it in Washington, and some states, like Alaska, were going to legalize it for personal consumption. We were glad we were going to make some big money before it happened. He also told me he was only getting $7,500 for riding shotgun for the money and shipment. He knew I was getting ten grand, but it didn’t bother him. He said I was earning it, taking a greater risk, hauling it home.

  An hour and forty-five minutes later, Allen and I were back. We saw the Bronco parked with the trailer hooked up behind it. We walked up to room 158 carrying a number of bags and boxes. Allen knocked one time, softly, and Robby opened the door.

  Robby and Phil looked on confused as we dumped our bags on the floor.

  “We’re going fishing?” Phil asked.

  On the floor were over a hundred and fifty fishing corks, some fishing line, five cans of florescent orange spray paint, a roll of small diameter nylon cord, two newspapers, some masking tape, a 500,000 candlelight spotlight, a roll of clear plastic, and a light-weight mid-calf length cowboy duster.

  “What’s this shit for? I thought you were going to get some more ammo or something like that,” Robby said, looking down at the mess with his hands on his hips. “Looks like we’re going fish’n.”

  “This is going to give us the edge we need,” I said.

  “Listen to him,” Allen said. “It’s simple and makes sense. I like it.”

  I had explained my plan to Allen while buying the supplies.

  “Okay,” I said. “We’re going to take everything but the duster, the light, and nylon cord into the two outside rooms. We’ll split it up evenly. In the bathrooms, we’ll tape the clear plastic to the walls around the bathtub and shower. We’ll put the newspaper on the floors. We’ll string the corks up on the fishing line, say 20 or 30 at a time, depending on how many it takes to reach the floor from the shower rods. After we get that set up, we are going to spray all these corks with the orange paint. We’re using the outer two rooms so when Teemo gets here, it won’t smell like paint.”

  Allen was enjoying the baffled faces on Robby and Phil. But, I had to hand it to them, they hadn’t asked what the corks were for.

  “What’re the corks for?” they said in two-part harmony, Robby the high part, Phil the low.

  Allen and I started laughing.

  I said, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not looking forward to be led into the Mexican desert or wherever they’re taking us and not being able to find my way out, without their help.”

  I watched that sink in…it sank.

  “We may not need this, but I’d rather have it and not need it than, need it and not have it.”

  They were all familiar with this saying.

  I continued, “We’re going to cut the fishing line about every fourth or fifth cork, and put them back in the bags, stacked so they don’t get tangled. That will give us over 30 strings with 4 or 5 corks on each string. As soon as we get off the main road and think it’s time, we’ll toss a string out. We’ll toss a string out at turns, crossroads, Y’s, anywhere we think we’ll need them. We’ll only toss them out to the right side of the road, so we’ll know which way to turn on the way back. But, so as not to get confused, we’ll write down every turn on the way in. Like first turn, right, second turn, right, third turn left, and so on. We’ll just reverse the turns on the way back. Our headlights, or the spotlight if need be, will pick up the orange, make them easy to see, and the strings will keep them from rolling out of sight when we throw them out. Like I said, we may not need this. Whatta ya think?”

  Phil and Robby were both staring at the pile on the floor, nodding. The nodding became more active as their brains wrapped around it.

  “Fuck yeah,” said Phil, his grin grew with understanding.

  Robby just dropped down on one knee and started separating the corks and newspaper into two piles.

  He liked the strategy.

  “Ah, what’s the cord and big shirt for?” Phil asked.

  “That’s for you,” I said, which brought on more confused looks.

  “Go get that sawed-off double barrel you brought,” I said.

  While he went to get the gun, we finished splitting up the materials.

  He returned with the gun, broke open the breech to show me it was unloaded, and handed it to me.

  “Okay.” I said. “I figure when Teemo gets here, if there is anything funny going on, he’ll try and separate us from as much of our firepower as he can. Maybe all of it.”

  I could tell Robby and Phil hadn’t thought about this.

  “Have you done this before, Tucker?” Robby asked.

  “Done what?” I said.

  “This, a dope deal, in Mexico.”

  “No, why?”

  “You seem to be thinking of a lot of stuff I never even thought of.”

  “Gray, you’ve just been a cop too long. I’m not thinking like a cop. On one hand, I’m thinking like a Mexican that’s going to rip off some gringos, on the other hand, I’m thinking like that gringo that doesn’t want to get ripped off and killed by that Mexican.”

  “I fuckin’ told you, didn’t I,” Allen chirped.

  “Speaking of dope deals in Mexico, who speaks Spanish?” I asked.

  No one said a word.

  “Teemo speaks English good,” Robby said.

  Probably weller than you, I thought.

  I said, “That’ll be fine, if he’s the only one we’re dealing with. But, if he brings others in on it and they start jabbering between them, we’re screwed.”

  “How about you, you speak a little, don’t you?” Allen asked.

  I took three years of Spanish in high school.

  “I know enough to ask someone’s name, get something to eat and find the bathroom. I’m lost when they start talking fast.”

  The silence that followed was laced with trepidation.

  “Okay.” I said for the hundredth time today. Nothing was okay. “We’ll just make sure to never let Teemo out of our sight, and if any one of us thinks he’s messin’ with us, we stick a gun behind his ear.”

  “Jesus, Tucker,” Phil said. “We’ve never felt like we needed a gun around Teemo.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure the last two to come down here felt the same way.”

  Again, the silence was heavy.

  “Getting back to the cord and duster,” I said.

  “Duster?” Phil the fireman said.

  “The big shirt, asshole,” Robby laughed.

  The tension in the air started to subside, but I knew it wouldn’t last.

  I picked up the cord and made a makeshift sling for the shot gun.

  “Come over here, Phil,” I said.

  He came over, and I put the sling over his right shoulder hanging between his body and arm, with the barrel aimed at the ground. It wasn’t quite right, so I took it off and made an adjustment in the length.

  “Okay, now, practice sliding the sling off your shoulder with you left hand and bringing the gun up ready to shoot.”

  While he was practicing, I said, “When Teemo gets here, we’ll make sure my shotgun’s on the bed. How many handguns do we have?”

  Robby opened his overnight bag and pulled out two pistols. One was a .357 magnum revolver, and the other was a Llama 1911 .45 Colt copy. An adequate gun.

>   Allen went in the other room and came out with a couple of pistols. One was a Smith and Wesson .38 snub nose, and the other one was a Colt .45 like mine, without the fancy engraving.

  “Do you cops have any holsters?”

  “Yeah,” they said, in concert.

  “All right,” I said. “Here’s the plan. My shotgun will be on the bed. We’ll all have our pistols showing, either in a holster or tucked into our belts in plain view. Put the pistol you’re most comfortable with in the small of your back. Make sure your shirt covers it. When Teemo gets here, I’ll be the bad guy.”

  “Whatta ya mean, the bad guy?” Robby asked.

  “I’m the only new guy here. He doesn’t know me. If any of you were to act out of the ordinary, it would alert him that something was wrong. So, I’ll be the non-trusting asshole. I’ll make sure he doesn’t like me right off the bat. That way, we may be able to keep him off balance. If he is up to something, it may be easier to spot. You three know how he usually acts. If something’s amiss, you’ll know, and you can let me know.”

  “How?” Phil asked.

  “As soon as one of you thinks something’s not right . . . pick your nose.”

  They all three looked at each other.

  “Just make sure you blow your noses prior to Teemo’s arrival,” I laughed.

  I ‘d been watching Phil practice with the sling. He was getting better with it, for a fireman.

  I picked up the duster and said, “Now put this on over the gun.”

  He did, and you couldn’t tell he had a shotgun underneath.

  “Now practice doing it wearing the duster.”

  He looked like he just understood for the first time the severity of the situation.

  “Do you really think this is necessary?” he asked.

  “Probably not, but why don’t you do it anyway, just in case.” He was a fireman, it might be wise to downplay it.

  Robby and I made eye contact. Again I saw the hard, dangerous calm I saw the first time I met him. Then he nodded as if to say, ‘Phil’ll be fine.”

  While we were still looking at each other I said, “There’s something I’m curious about.”

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Does Teemo know you’ve brought an extra car to run interference?

  After a moment of thought, he said, “No, I just told him we would take precautions against another hijacking.”

  I looked around at everyone and said, “So, the extra two people could account for that.”

  Robby said, “Yeah, he’s met both Allen and Phil at different times with me. When one couldn’t get off work to come, the other did.”

  “Then we’d better move the Impala. Let him think we all came in the Bronco. It might end up being our ‘ace in the hole,’” I said.

  “Good idea,” Allen said.

  “I like it,” Robby said, moving towards the door.

  Phil was still practicing getting the shotgun up from under the duster.

  I said, “That can wait. Lets talk about these guns some more.”

  Again, everyone was looking at me.

  “My thinking is, if we have a lot of hardware visible when Teemo arrives and it makes him nervous, something’s sour. I mean, why wouldn’t we have guns, your partners were killed. He may try and separate us from the weapons. We let him, put him at ease.”

  “What?” Phil said, and stopped practicing.

  “You’re doing fine, Phil, keep it up,” I said.

  “As I was saying,” I continued, “if he wants us to leave the hardware behind, for whatever reason he comes up with, we take the visible pistols and leave them here. Phil you take the shotgun and hide it out of sight in the Bronco before he gets here, lay the duster over the back seat. The three of us will have a gun stashed behind our backs when we leave. We have enough pistols to do that. I’ll have my shotgun, that I’ll have to leave behind. You two cops each have two pistols. Leaving one behind leaves each of you with one, and Phil will have the shotgun in the car. If this Teemo character wants to frisk us, Phil, you let him frisk you first, and I will take care of the rest. He won’t want to frisk all of us, that would be too weird. When we get in the Bronco, make sure the doors are open long enough to give him a good look to satisfy him there are no guns in there. Just make sure the corks are well hidden in the back. We’ll put them in some grocery bags and put some chips and stuff on top of them.”

  Robby looked at me speculatively, “Damn, Tucker, you really think they’re going to make a run at us, don’t you?”

  “I hope not,” I said. “Now, lets get these corks strung and painted so we can rest before we have to leave.”

  I noticed there was no talk of smoking pot, drinking beer or Jack Daniels. Their easygoing, for sure, money-making drug runs had changed. Suddenly the danger of being busted by the cops or being hijacked by other American dealers seemed small. I hoped on the way home I was accused of spoiling their trip.

  Allen put his arm around my shoulder and said, “I’m glad you’re here, Tuck.”

  I couldn’t actually put my finger on the exact time I became the leader. I wasn’t unfamiliar with the sensation. But, that didn’t make it any less vexing.

  At 5:47 there was a knock on the door. Our stage was set. Phil was sitting on the bed closest to the door with the money next to him. Allen was sitting in the chair by the closed curtained window overlooking the parking lot, and me, I was in the bathroom. I wasn’t using it. It was part of the plan.

  Robby went to the door and opened it.

  “Hola, ey Rowbee, ow are jew doeen? Feel, you look good. Ilene ow are jew?”

  “Hey, Teemo, good to see you . . . Teemo . . . Teemo,” I heard from my throne position.

  I heard the door close, then Robby said, “You by yourself, Teemo?”

  “Sí, Rowbee, eets jus mee. We have pleenty time, you wan to smoke, you know to try the marywhanna? ”

  “You mean this is a sample of what we’re buying, from this new source of yours?” Allen asked.

  “Si, have a look at theese.”

  After a moment, I heard Phil say, “Man, this looks great. A lot of buds in this and not much seeds.”

  “I’ll twist one up,” Robby said.

  “Eets a good night for theese deal, eese no moon, eet be very how you say . . . negro?”

  “Dark,” Phil said, sounding less enthused than Teemo.

  “Jew goeeng to like deese shit, I promeese jew.”

  If I stayed in here much longer, I was going to have to use the bathroom. The power of suggestion was starting to take hold, and flushing the toilet before I made my grand entrance wasn’t part of the plan.

  I heard some coughing, then Phil said, “Shit . . . this is great. This is what we’re buying, all of it?”

  “Si, theese eez from thee sheepment. Wee jus have to go geet eet.”

  More coughing coming from Allen and Robby. I needed to get out there before they got too stoned to straighten up before we crossed the border.

  I opened the door and walked out, quiet like.

  Allen was still sitting in the chair by the window, Phil was standing next to the bed, Robby and Teemo were standing in the doorway to the adjoining room. Teemo was facing the doorway, his right side to me.

  I stood there in plain sight for maybe five or six seconds before Teemo became aware of another presence in the room. He turned slowly and faced me.

  I wasn’t smiling. I was giving him my best hard ass look, which for me is easy, another genetic trait.

  Teemo was about Robby’s height, maybe a little shorter, but thicker with the start of a beer gut. He had an agreeable face, which had been smiling when he started turning. The smile faded and his pleasant brown eyes suddenly lost their amusing gleam.

  “Who eese theese?” he slowly asked.

  “That’s our body guard,” Allen said.

  That was an ad lib. Then I realized that everything from here on out was going to be just that. We hadn’t really gone over much dialo
g.

  My shotgun was out of their sight, leaning against the wall to my left. I reached over and picked it up and held it in the crook of my right arm, in a relaxed, ‘bird hunting’ position.

  “Bodyguard?” Teemo said.

  It may have been my imagination, but his English seemed to be getting better.

  “This is Tucker,” Robby said. “I told you we had to make arrangements because of what happened.

  “Tucker?” Teemo said.

  I watched him as he tried to absorb this new development.

  “Yeah, Tucker,” Allen said. “You know, rhymes with bad mother-fucker?”

  I was beginning to regret not having worked on dialog.

  Teemo looked at each of them and said, “I no like theese, I do na know deese man, deese Tucker.”

  “I know him,” Robby said.

  “How jew know heem?”

  I thought, ‘this ought to be good’.

  “I arrested him seven years ago, and put him in Angola. He’s only been out a couple of weeks.”

  Oh, boy, it was all I could do not to look at Robby like he was loco. Angola, the worst prison in the U. S., where we all feared going. Feared enough that we’d rather shoot it out with the cops, than go.

  Allen almost laughed.

  “Angola?” said Teemo, looking at me with new respect. They’d heard of Angola, even down here.

  “Wha jew do, Tucker?” he said to me.

  It’s about time, now I could get in on the ad-libbing.

  “I killed two men that raped my sister.”

  Let’s see what Robby does with that.

  “Yeah, he was only 15 when he did that. The judge gave him time for manslaughter because he beat them to death,” said Robby.

  Damn, I am a bad mother-fucker.

  “Yeah, and he killed two more men while in prison,” said Allen.

  And getting badder by the second. I’d better put a stop to this before I became a serial killer.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I said to no one in particular. “It’s none of his fuckin’ business who I am.”

  I hoped I sounded as tough as a guy who had killed four men before he was 22.

  Teemo didn’t like this at all. He backed towards the door.

  “Theese no good,” he said, looking at Robby. Then looking at each one of us, he said, “All deese gun, Rowbee, eets no good, you an me amigos. Deese man, he look… peligroso. I don wan heem.”