Later, in the early evening hours, he dressed to go out to dinner. On the way to his car he took the plastic bag with the clothing, shoes and cover to a trash dumpster located at the rear of the motel parking lot. The early evening news made no mention of finding a body at the park; he surmised the body would be found in a week or so. Cooter’s mother would file a missing persons report and her car would be found at the park. A search of the trail might find the body then, or if the police didn’t expend too much effort looking for the corpse of a child molester it might lay there until spring.
The next morning Clay checked out of the motel at a few minutes before eleven o’clock. During the five hour drive to St. Louis, Missouri he was calm and relaxed. In his mind he began to examine the financial aspects of his new career. In the nine days he had devoted to his Memphis job he had earned fifteen thousand dollars. Hell it was almost what he earned working as a laborer the entire year. He had slept well the previous night. No bouts of anxiety, no nightmares, nothing. Occasionally there were sudden feelings of incredibility about actually doing this “thing” society abhorred. It would strike him like the blow from his own brass knuckle; suddenly coming over him; interrupting his thoughts; stopping him in his tracks. The feeling started in his head as a purely mental awareness and quickly moved to the pit of his stomach. He had trouble describing the feelings even to himself in his own thoughts. There was a vague uneasiness to it all; but not to such an extent he would change his actions to avoid it. Overall, he found what he had just done exciting and he actually reveled in the danger inherent to the act he had committed. He experienced a great sense of pride in his ability to plan and execute intricately detailed and complicated elements of a plan. He realized the target would not always behave as expected and could react unpredictably. Also his plans would of necessity need to be flexible, to allow for deviation due to actions initiated by forces outside of his control. The police could make an appearance merely due to routine patrols; an uninvolved pedestrian could innocently stumble into his plan; the target could sense his presence and attack first or disappear out of his reach.
At four thirty in the afternoon Clay arrived in St. Louis. He made his way downtown to a large high dollar hotel. Pulling into the parking area in front of the hotel's main entrance, he exited his car and walked into the lobby. The concierge on duty was at his station across from the check in counter. Following several minutes of discussion, Clay settled on one of the restaurants suggested by the man. After thanking the concierge and taking several brochures on nearby attractions, he left the hotel and drove to an old court house open to tourists.
Later in the evening he found the recommended steakhouse and enjoyed a fine steak dinner along with an expensive bottle of red wine. He couldn’t pronounce the name of the wine, but enjoyed it none the less.
This was his celebration dinner commemorating his first paid professional hit. Two weeks ago he was unemployed, his resources were dwindling, and he had no immediate options. Tonight he was flush with money and success. He had seized an opportunity to take control of his future, and at the same time eliminated the laborer Business Agent's power over him. The B.A. only had as much power as he would allow him to have. What a revelation he thought, others can exercise control over my actions only if I agree to enter into or remain in a situation where I accept a subordinate role. Cut the strings and the puppet no longer dances to the whim of the puppet master.
After driving to an inner city residential neighborhood and stealing two sets of license plates, he left St. Louis and headed back to Chicago, feeling very pleased with himself.
Before midnight he was in Joliet, about twenty miles from home. Instead of waking everyone at the house with his unexpected arrival he decided to spend the remaining hours until dawn at a motel.
Wednesday morning at nine o’clock he walked in the back door at his parent’s home. Margaret was surprised to see him at the early hour and was more than a little put out he had not called her during the ten days he had been gone. She grabbed him and encircled him in a hug and kissed him on the cheek.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you. Where have you been, and why didn’t you call?”
“Mom, I was only gone ten days. I didn’t see any need to call in such a short time.”
“Well I worry about you when you’re away. You never know what can happen. You might get mugged, or be in a car wreck or something.”
“Quit worrying about me Mom; I can take care of myself just fine. Nothing is going to happen to me. I’m a careful driver and I stay out of bad areas. Quit worrying.”
“O.K. Mr. tough guy, I’ll quit worrying. Now, how was your trip? Did you relax and have a good time?”
“Yeah Mom, I had a good time. I just bummed around; went to St. Louis Missouri, Little Rock Arkansas, and Jackson Mississippi. Ate lots of good food, saw a few of the sights, slept a lot and chased a girl or two.”
“You and your girl chasing. When are you going to settle down and find a nice young lady to marry and start raising a family? You need some stability in your life, someone to work with to build a future for yourself.”
“Some day Mom. Right now I need to unpack and pay a visit to the Union Hall.” He kissed his Mother on the cheek and headed to his room to put his things away. “It’s good to be home Mom,” he said over his shoulder as he struggled with his suitcases to get through the doorway to the basement stairs.
Later, before lunch time he visited the Union Hall and again got the cold shoulder as he approached the desk of the Business Agent's hairy legged secretary. Eight or ten men were lounging around the hiring area just killing time until they were assigned a job. Looking up, the man gave a toothy grin and said “Well, well, if it isn’t Albrecht. We’ve got men who want to work full time on the bench due to the cold weather. It’s going to be a long time before your turn comes up.”
Not stopping to argue with the fat flunky, Clay walked over to the closed door to the Business Agents office. The door opened when he turned the knob, while fatso yelled “Hey, you can’t go in there.”
The B.A. was stretched out in a high backed black leather desk chair with both legs up on the corner of a large mahogany executive desk, talking on the phone. He was a portly, middle aged man, with the cocky self assurance one in a position of power assumes over others. As Clay entered the room and flung the door shut behind him, the man stood up, put one palm over the speaker end of the phone and yelled, “Get the hell out of here.” in a demeaning voice. Once in front of the desk, Clay reached over to the phone set and ended the call.
“You stupid son of a bitch; do you know who I was talking to? You just cut off the president of our international union in Washington.”
“I don’t care if it was President Jimmy Carter in Washington. I’ve let you screw me over too long and I just wanted to tell you in person to go fuck yourself. I don’t need the God damn crumbs you throw out to your suck ass cronies. I’m leaving the union for a real job; a business of my own.”
The man had slammed the receiver back down on the desk phone and stood glaring at Clay, cursing him.
By then the assistant B.A. and three union members had entered the room and arranged themselves around and behind Clay.
It suddenly occurred to Clay he was surrounded and on unfriendly ground; He might be lucky to escape with just an ass whipping.
And then the beautiful black desk phone rang!
Everyone in the room was jolted by the shrill sound. The Business Agent reacted first by picking up the hand set and saying, “Yeah; yeah everything is O.K.; just a minor disturbance. It’s being taken care of; hang on a second.” After covering the speaker end he addressed Clay, “You need to get the fuck out of my office while you can still walk! And don’t ever try to get a job in any union because you’re barred for life after this stunt, Mr. Smart Ass.”
On the way to the exit, going through the hall’s main waiting room, Clay was cursed and shoved from behind several times, but not actually punched or k
icked; just a couple of the B.A.'s ass kissers trying to make points.
Once outside the door he relaxed and headed for his car, never looking back and vowing to never again let anybody crap on him.
Chapter 15
Earlier in the morning the temperature had been in the mid thirties. Now, at half past noon it was up to forty four degrees. Leaving the Union Hall, Clay decided to stop and have lunch and a beer with Tony.
Mickey saw him first as he entered through the back way. “Welcome back, man of leisure” he said loudly as he waved to Clay.
After getting a beer from Mickey, Clay pulled one of the captains chairs back from the table, lifted the beer glass toward Tony, and said “Thanks.”
Tony nodded his head in silent acknowledgement, “So how’s everything?”
“Good, in fact very good. I’ve got some improving to do, but I’m satisfied with things in general. How are things with you?”
“Good, things are running well. Joey’s got all the operations lined out and everyone we deal with is more cooperative than ever before. Seems like hitting those bastards trying to take over got every body's attention and they’re all staying in line now, thanks to you.”
“Now,” Tony continued as he rose from his chair, “let’s go upstairs. Want to bring some lunch along?”
After both men had carried a large bowl of steaming hot Chili, a paper cup of oyster crackers and a beer to the upstairs card room, they sat down to talk.
“Before you left last week I said I’d have a surprise for you when you got back. Are you ready for this?” Tony asked.
“Yeah, I’m ready, but you don’t owe me anything more, Tony.”
“I know you don’t expect anything else Kid, and I respect it. I think I’ve found something I can do to put you far ahead of the competition. It may even ensure your success. There’s this guy I heard about who trains private soldiers; paramilitary or mercenaries they’re called. Through a friend, of a friend, of a friend I finally made contact with this guy. He normally takes groups of up to six men at a time and trains them in covert warfare; sniper training, assassinations, hand to hand combat, small arms, explosives, urban warfare, escaping from prison camps, you know, war crap. I’ve got it lined up, if you’re interested, for you to take a full month of training with this guy, all by yourself. He’ll devote his attention solely to you so you get the maximum benefit of everything he knows.”
Clay didn’t need to think more than a split second before he responded, “Sure I’d like to do it, but I don’t have the kind of money this guy would want, so I…”
Tony cut him off in mid sentence “I told you this was a surprise from me; a gift Kid, you don’t get to pay anything. But understand; this is no picnic you’re going on. You’ll have to go to a gym and work out every day for the next month and get in top shape before he’ll even start with you. You’ll live at this guy’s place and do the training there. This AIN’T no picnic Kid. When I talked to this guy he impressed the hell out of me; he knows more about stalking and killing people than anybody I've ever talked to. He sounds like one bad son of a bitch. O.K?”
Clay looked at Tony and nodded his head in acceptance, “Yeah Tony, it’s O.K. Hell, it’s more than O.K. it’s great. Thank you. I really appreciate all you’re doing for me.”
Clay used the phone book to find listings of gyms in the area and selected one before leaving the bar. After driving there, he went inside and took a tour of the facility with the manager; a tall muscular man named Dan Farrow. He decided to enroll with a long term membership. In his line of work being in good physical shape had to be a good thing. The manager also served as a personal trainer. If he could get even close to the physical condition of the manager he would be as fit as his body could stand to endure. He told Dan he wanted to get in better shape because he was just tired of looking soft, and wanted to look better. He added he was self employed and could adjust his work schedule to make time to work out. Dan simply nodded when Clay said he was going on a month long vacation in thirty days and wanted to make the maximum improvements he could by working out every day.
Dan seemed to be satisfied. He provided information on nutrition and proper diet and made a standing appointment to work with Clay every morning at eight Monday through Friday.
Clay had never worked out seriously and was amazed as the fat disappeared from all parts of his body and was replaced with lean hard muscle. To increase his cardio vascular endurance, and improve flexibility while bulking up with muscle, he began to run more, both on the machines at the club, and outdoors when the weather was decent. One morning, after his session with Dan, they walked by one of the rooms where exercise classes were held. An instructor was leading a small group, mostly women, through stretching routines. Dan said “You should give some thought to enrolling in one of these classes and possibly consider a Yoga routine also. They help keep you flexible and also help your mental attitude.” Seeing a dubious expression form on Clay’s face he continued, “I’m serious. I try to do at least three classes a week and recommend it highly. In fact, I’ll give you a free trial membership in each of these classes for a month and you can form your own opinion.”
Clay soon found himself spending half of every day at the gym and enjoying it immensely. He was enjoying it so much he lost track of the day’s and didn’t realize his next thirty day training period was almost at hand. Soon he would be going to ‘war camp’ as Tony was calling it.
Tony reminded him of the encroaching date one afternoon over a glass of beer. “I got a call from your instructor this morning. He wanted to know if you’re still serious, afraid you might be having second thoughts and want to back out. I told him you’re starting to look like a statue of one of those Greek Gods, all muscled out and all.” Tony grinned and started laughing and said loudly enough for Mickey and several patrons at the bar to hear, “I can just see Clay posing nude up there on a table with his pecker hanging out.” Mickey yelled, “Come on Clay, get naked and climb up on the table. I’ll call Joan the hooker to come up and be the judge.” When the group had stopped laughing and Tony had regained his composure, he said “Come on, we need to go upstairs.” After putting a fresh head on their mugs, they both headed up the stairs to the card room.
After settling in at the table, Tony began to read from a lined pad of paper, “This guy you’re going to train with, he said to call him Joe, had me write down these things to tell you. First, you’ll take the money for the training with you in cash. You’re to carry it in a large blue gym bag. I’ll have it when you’re ready to leave. Second, you’re to drive to Knoxville Tennessee and arrive by seven o’clock next Tuesday morning. Don’t stay in Knoxville the night before; drive into town in the morning. You’re to park your car at the long term parking area near the airport. Then take a cab to the bus station and buy a ticket for Asheville North Carolina, the bus leaves at ten a.m. It’s important you’re on the ten o'clock bus. You’ll be contacted by someone there. Next, you’re to wear a pair of Army surplus combat boots, make sure they fit you good. Buy the boots today and wear them until they’re broken in. Also, wear a worn pair of Levi’s, a light weight red jacket and a St. Louis Cardinals cap. Nothing is to be new, except for the boots. He’s going to call me again the day after tomorrow to get your clothing sizes; here write them down on this paper. He said to bring two changes of your regular clothing and he’ll furnish everything else you’ll need. Now, listen closely to this. When you’re contacted at the bus station the person will say, ‘Well, hi there stranger, I haven’t seen you for a long time’ and you’re to reply, ‘I’ll be damned, it was in Miami, wasn’t it’. Got all of this, or do you want to go over it again?”
“Let me have the paper to read” Clay said to Tony. “I’ll write down the two code sentences and put it in my billfold.”
Tony left to go to the bathroom, and refill their beers.
Clay read the simple instructions again and again until he was sure he had all of the details memorized. He copied the
recognition sentences on to a scrap of paper and put it in his billfold. He would have them memorized and dispose of the paper before reaching Knoxville.
When Tony returned with the beer, they finished their drinks while Tony filled Clay in on the recent happenings in his business, something he continued to do every time they got together.
It took stops at two Army Surplus stores before he found a pair of combat boots in his size. Many stops were made at second hand clothing stores looking for the other items he was directed to wear. Finding a used Cardinals cap in Chicago was going to take some doing. He went home with the boots and a red jacket, but no cap. However, he knew with determination he would find it too.
Margaret was in the kitchen fixing supper when he entered the back door. He had left the red jacket in his car trunk and had the new boots in a bag.
“Have you been shopping” his mother asked as he laid the bag on the floor while taking off his coat. “Yeah, I bought a new pair of work boots. I’m getting low on money, so I’m going to look for some other line of work.”
“Clay, you’re not planning to work for Tony Giliano, are you?”
“No Mom, I don’t want to do what Tony and his guys do.” Clay winced internally at the half truth he had just told.
“Clay, I’m worried about you spending so much time with him. It’s because of him you got in trouble with the Union for quitting your job. Can’t you see what trouble he brings on you just by being associated with his kind of trashy people? Believe me, I know what trouble people like him can cause.”
“Look Mom, I know how you feel about the Giliano’s, and what they represent to you, but they’re not all bad. They have standards they live by too just like you do; only they’re different standards. I’m not condoning some of the things they’ve done, but I’m not a part of Tony’s business and won’t be.”
Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy Page 15