Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy

by R. E. Schobernd

  Day One - Friday

  The long drive had worn him out so he didn’t get out of bed until eight the next morning. The entire day was spent driving all the streets within a half mile radius of the Allegheny Inn. He kept a notebook of promising sites he saw for further consideration and checking out. While driving around the area, he located the used car lot for which Tony had given him the address and phone number. After a late supper he drove around the Allegheny, parked three blocks away and watched the lights in the building until after midnight.

  Day Two - Saturday

  The next morning he was up at six for a jog around the A. I., as he had taken to thinking of the Allegheny Inn. He would jog for a short distance and then find a place to sit and watch the area while massaging a thigh or calf muscle. By taking his time and watching carefully he spotted six people standing in front of stores on the street, sitting in restaurants not eating, and in a car and a truck just sitting there. After two and a half hours he went back to his car and drove to a park on a small hill ten blocks from the A.I. Sitting in the driver’s seat he had positioned the car so he could look through the passenger side window and see the top of the motel. With a pair of army surplus binoculars he could clearly see two men moving around the top of the building. Each had binoculars and a radio, or one of the new portable telephones he had heard about. He prayed his assumption was correct and staying on the opposite side of the car in the shadows, they should not be able to see him watching them. The fact sheet he had received about the job was right. There was indeed a small army of guards assigned to protect Trezzini. There surely are at least two guards in the room at all times with him plus another one or two out in the hallway he thought. They must open two connecting units at a time so Trezzini can sleep while the guards talk or watch TV or do something to pass the time.

  His next stop was at a phone booth where he called the number at the car lot. A woman answered, “Franks used car lot, this is Sally, what’cha need?”

  “How late are you open tonight?”

  “Franks gonna be here till seven tonight.”

  “This is Joseph; I want to speak to Frank.”

  “Hang on a sec; he’s out side, he’s been expecting you to call.”

  After a few minutes a man spoke, “Hey! Joseph. I understand you need some wheels. I got just the thing for you, nice late model sedans. You’ll like them. Come by and pick them up at your convenience.”

  “I want them delivered. The first one goes to the Princess Theater on Euclid Street. There’s a parking…”

  “Hey, pal. I don’t deliver. You come here and pick it up or go somewhere else.”

  “Did the people who lined this up agree to pay you?”

  “Yeah, they did. They paid me for the use of two cars for a month.”

  “Then quit fucking around wasting my time and do what I’m telling you or the deals off. Of course you understand the goons won’t be happy if they have to visit you again, asshole.”

  “Hey fella, listen to me, I don’t have to take any crap from you.”

  Very calmly Clay told Frank, “You can either do as I’m asking or die if I have to come down there. Make up your mind quick; I don’t have time to play your silly fucking games. A deal was made to get two cars to me and you had better make good on it damn fast.”

  “O.K., O.K. I get the picture, where do you want them.”

  “Thank you. There’s a parking lot beside the Princess theater on Euclid off of the one way street in front of it. Park there at three forty five, leave the keys on the floor, buy a ticket for the four o’clock matinee and go inside for at least fifteen minutes. What kind of car is it, and what color shirt or jacket will you be wearing?”

  “I’ll send Sally with a 71 Oldsmobile; a gray four door sedan. She’s thirtyish, brunette, plump, and wears a red coat. Where do you want the other car?”

  Clay replied, “I’ll call you,” and ended the conversation.

  By then it was a quarter of three so he found a local deli where he grabbed a poorboy and a Coke and then drove to Euclid Street. He left his car on the parking lot of a grocery store two blocks away and devoured the sandwich as he walked toward the theater. When he placed the moustache on his lip he must have gotten it a little low because it kept getting in his food. As he neared the street in front of the theater, he donned dark sunglasses, slapped a long billed cap on his head and pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt. Standing on the corner of the “T” intersection he watched for the gray Oldsmobile with a brunette in a red coat, to come down the through street and turn into the one way side street. After twelve minutes he spotted her. She was in the right lane, slowing to make the turn around the corner. Maneuvering to the edge of the curb he stepped off just as she started to turn and walked in front of the car as she jammed on the brakes.

  He reached the drivers side of the car while she was still cussing him and leaned close to the window to say, “I’m Joseph, open the door Sally.”

  The door opened and Sally said, “But I’m supposed to park and go in the theater.”

  “Change of plans sweetie, here’s twenty dollars, take a cab home. Bye.”

  Cars behind him were honking and people on the sidewalk had curious looks on their faces as they observed the scene in front of them. Clay slid behind the wheel and quickly drove away. In the rear view mirror he saw Sally standing in the middle of the street, still clutching a twenty in her hand and still wearing a dumbfounded look on her face.

  Not knowing the players involved in the arrangements made for him, he had decided not to take any chances with his identity being revealed. If the other hitters had also requested cars he could easily be set up if one of them made a deal with the car lot owner; assuming all the cars had been furnished by Frank. Tony was correct in assuming the other hitters may be as big a challenge as the Feds. After parking the Oldsmobile at the motel parking lot he took a taxi back to the grocery store where his own car was parked. Inside the store he went to the deli and bought hot food, and cold beer to take back to his room. As he ate a roasted chicken and drank two beers he considered his next move. This one also could be tricky.

  Leaving the motel he walked to a phone booth and called a local cab for a ride to Frank’s car lot. Before the ride arrived he donned the moustache and glasses again.

  The cabbie was directed to let him out at a corner with a phone booth one block away from the car lot. As the cab pulled away he was making another call to Frank.

  “Frank’s used cars,” answered a voice Clay recognized from the earlier call.

  “This is Joseph. I’m ready for my other car.”

  “Hey Joseph, what the hell was the switch about? Poor Sally was all confused. Of course it don’t take much to confuse her. Anyway, she already left for the day so you’ll have to get the other car tomorrow.”

  “Sorry Frank, but I’m ready for it tonight. Drop it off at the bus station parking lot over on twenty second street when you leave tonight.”

  “Hey, wise guy, this is Saturday and I’ve got a hot date.”

  “Then you had better close up and leave now so you won’t be late.”

  Clay hung up the phone and quickly started jogging to the car lot in the next block. As he approached the lot he saw a man inside the office gesturing with his left arm before hanging up the phone. Next the lights in the office went out and the man stepped outside the door and locked it. He carried a set of license plates in his right hand and walked to the nearest exit where he stretched the chain across the entry and snapped a padlock on it. Turning around he began walking toward the other end of the lot. Clay jumped the low slung chain at the edge of the lot and ran toward the tall heavyset man who appeared to be about thirty eight. The man heard him running and turned toward him.

  “I’ll take the keys Frank, I’m Joseph,” Clay said.

  “God damn it, don’t you ever follow through with any arrangements you make? What the fuck kind of deal is this?”

  “Go cry to somebody who gives a
shit, I’m in a hurry.” Shoving the man up against the side of a car he put the pistol, still in his right pocket, against the man’s stomach where he could feel the barrel poking into him.

  Frank carefully pulled keys from his jacket pocket and said, “Here pal, the green New Yorker is yours.”

  “Who were you talking to on the phone a minute ago?”

  “I wasn’t on the phone I was out here locking up.”

  Clay pushed the pistol harder into the man’s stomach to distract him and at the same time removed his left hand from his jacket pocket and hit the bigger man with an uppercut to the jaw with a brass knuckle. The man went down, falling to Clay’s right, cursing and raising both arms to protect his head from the additional blows he anticipated. Squatting down between the cars and over Frank, he put the gun to Frank’s forehead and said,” You’ll tell me or I’ll kill you right here, make up your mind. You have two seconds.”

  “Alright, you crazy son of a bitch. It was some gal. She picked up a car too. Said I was to call her if anybody else got one. She was pissed because she missed you yesterday and said if I didn’t call her again she’d kill me. What’s with all you fucking wackos wanting to kill everybody?”

  “What does she look like? Quick, talk.”

  “She must be about thirty two, medium height, a little bit chubby, black hair, lots of makeup, dressed real nice, had on a business suit with pants, and she wore wire rim glasses.”

  “What kind of car did she get?”

  “A new red Monte Carlo.”

  “Were arrangements made for anyone besides her to be provided with a car?”

  “No. You two were the only ones.”

  “You’d better not be lying to me. If you see her or hear from her again, tell her you didn’t see me, I knocked you out and took the keys as you stepped out of the office. If you tell anybody about me I’ll come back and personally beat you to death; one punch at a time. Do you believe me?”

  Frank was nodding his head affirmatively, his wide open eyes fixed on Clay’s face when Clay stood up, turned slightly away while Frank lowered his arms, and then hit him on the side of the head, knocking him out. He pulled Frank behind the line of cars and left him lying on the ground, then clipped the dealer plates to his car. Driving the Chrysler through the remaining unchained exit, he drove off the lot in the direction of the bus station.

  Two blocks from the station he parked on a side street and walked to his destination warily. Knowing Sally may have described his appearance to Frank earlier, before his competitor called, he pitched the sweatshirt and removed the moustache and glasses. When he was approaching the station he pulled a can of beer from his pocket, opened it and took a hefty swallow. Walking erratically he imitated the stumbling drunk patrons he had seen many times leaving the Twelfth Street Saloon. The red Monte Carlo wasn’t parked on the street or at the small bus station parking lot reserved for drop-offs, pickups and ticket buyers. He really didn't expect to see one but looked anyway. Stopping often to lean against a support or to sit on the sidewalk he slowly make his way down the street. Clay surveyed the businesses across the street as well as the activity around the station but didn’t see the woman he was searching for.

  Since Frank had been used to provide cars to at least one of the other hitters competing for the grand prize Clay decided to ditch both of Franks cars after three or four days and start stealing his own. It was impossible to tell how much information had been passed to the woman driving the red Monte Carlo, or to anyone else.

  For the next hour Clay played the homeless drunk; pan handling for change to buy his supper and a beer. All of the people on the street were of interest to him, but the women held special interest, especially those of medium height who were a little overweight. Down the street a police cruiser with two officers in it pulled up to the curb near where he had been accosting people for hand outs. Across the street from him a slender blond of medium height, wearing a dark blue skirt and a yellow blazer, had just stepped out of a small diner. She stood on the sidewalk for several minutes watching the activity in front of the bus station. She began crossing the street at an angle to take her past the main entrance to the bus station; she too was casting her glance in several directions, as if looking for something or someone. Her pace was quick, and as she reached the sidewalk she continued to walk past and away from Clay. He began to follow her, but was approached by the two policemen.

  “Hey fella, you weren’t mooching money from people outside the bus station just now, were you?”

  “Yeah officer I was. I’m out of work and down on my luck and just need some change to buy a meal.” Clay spoke softly and hesitantly, keeping his head lowered.

  “I ought to run you in for being a public nuisance.”

  “Please don’t officer, I want to work but times are just rough for me right now.”

  “Well, you can’t beg here or I’ll run you in for vagrancy. I haven’t seen you here before and don’t want to see you again. Get away from here and go find a job. There’s a homeless shelter over on George Street, two blocks over and down two blocks where you can get a meal and spend the night for a quarter. Here’s the quarter. Now get out of my sight before I lose my good Irish nature and change my mind. And get rid of the beer can. You know you can’t drink on the street in public view.”

  “Thanks officer, you won’t regret letting me off. I’ll go there tonight, I promise.” Clay pocketed the quarter and kept his head down as he moved around the cops heading in the same direction the blond had taken. He had taken about fifty steps when he saw a red Monte Carlo pull up to the stop sign at the corner two hundred feet away. Only the car was driven by a red head wearing a yellow jacket. As he suspected, Frank had been on the phone setting him up. “Damn it, I wonder if she spotted me and knows what I look like now? Surely not,” he answered himself, “or she wouldn’t have continued to look around the area as if searching for someone.” He still didn’t know exactly what she looked like, but had learned she could change her appearance at will. The broad certainly wasn’t plump and could prove to be a real danger.

  It was almost eight thirty and fully dark, so he drove over to the A.I. again. He parked three blocks away and observed the top floor of the motel on the east side until after eleven o’clock. He made a note that the drapes on all of the windows were closed, but he could see light through slight openings at the ends of the curtains in about half the rooms. They were leaving lights on in some of the unoccupied rooms. A clever way to prevent anyone from knowing which room was currently being used.

  Day Three - Sunday

  The next morning he was up at six thirty and at the A.I. before seven thirty. He parked under the top floor of a four story parking garage two blocks away on the West side of the motel. Sitting in the passenger seat he was able to scrunch low in the seat and use the binoculars to observe the top floors of the building. At five minutes past eight the drapes of a room near the north end of the building opened fully. At eight sixteen the curtains of the window to the right were opened. Clay watched a woman in a service uniform walk away from the window each time. At eight thirty eight the curtains on the window to the right were closed and two minutes later the same woman closed the coverings on the other window. Clay felt he had learned a major piece of information until he realized he didn’t know if the rooms were being cleaned before or after being occupied.

  Day Four - Monday

  At seven thirty the next morning he was again observing the A.I., this time from an outdoor restaurant located to the East of the motel. At three minutes past eight and again at nineteen minutes past eight he watched as the drapes opened at adjoining rooms near the south end of the twelfth floor. At eighteen minutes of nine the drapes were closed again. The windows had been uncovered a total of thirty eight minutes.

  Day Five - Tuesday

  Clay was at the parking garage on the West side of the motel at what had become his usual morning starting time. At one minute before eight the first of the drapes on
two windows were opened. On a hunch Clay quickly started the car, left the garage and drove through heavy early morning traffic to a spot on the east side of the motel where he had a clear view. Crawling over the seat into the back seat he again scrunched down and hoped the guards or passersby’s wouldn’t notice him in the unlit interior of the car. He had barely gotten in position when the curtains on a room near the middle of the top floor were opened. They remained open for approximately fifty eight minutes before closing again. Now he had something to ponder. What did the timing of the curtain openings indicate?

  After dark he noticed shadows flash across light seeping around the window coverings in one of the rooms on the West side where curtains were opened and closed the previous morning.

  Day Six - Wednesday

  At sixteen minutes before nine the next morning, Clay observed the drapes open on the same room he had observed shadows breaking the slivers of light the previous night. Both windows were hidden again at nine forty two. He figured there was a total open time of fifty two minutes.

  After finding a small restaurant he ordered coffee and breakfast. Copying the times and duration’s of the curtain movements from his notes he tested a developing theory.

  He drove back to the area of the A.I. and again drove the streets around the motel, within a radius of a half mile, stopping several times to take notes. At a spot inside the perimeter of his search area he parked the car, sat looking at the motel, and pondered his ability to make a killing shot at the distance. There was no other choice, he had to make the shot and be successful on the first and only attempt.

  The man he wanted was in there. How could he get Trezzini to show himself? What would it take to cause him to do something dumb? They’ve been in there for almost seven weeks; even the FBI gets complacent and sloppy after a long period; it’s human nature. But what will it take to make something happen now? Think, Clay, think. Clay wrestled with himself to come up with an answer; a key to the situation facing him. I can’t shoot what I can’t see. How do I make him visible? Having seen enough for the day, he went back to his motel, pulled the license plates from both loaner cars, drank a few beers and cleaned up. Looking spiffy in dress slacks and a blue summer weight sport coat, he felt like going to a good steak house for a quiet dinner where he could relax and forget his work problems, even if only for a few hours.