by Mike Ryan
“I know. Time’s running out, though. You able to turn up anything else?”
“Not so far.”
Ten more minutes went by, Recker contemplating their options. He had an idea that might work. He’d need the cooperation of some unlikely people who might not be all that willing to help.
“If the Ridley’s don’t come up with that tomorrow by tomorrow, what do you think will happen?” Jones wondered.
“Depends on the kidnappers. If they’re greedy and want all of it, they might be willing to wait an extra day or two for Ridley to get it. Or, if they’re getting jumpy and just want to move on, they might just tell him to bring what he’s got and be done with it. Or, there’s a third option.”
“Which is?”
“They could not bother with it anymore and cut bait,” Recker said.
“You mean they could kill Mara?”
Recker nodded. “It’s a possibility.”
“We can’t let that happen.”
“Or there’s another option,” Recker mentioned.
“Which is?”
“Even if Ridley doesn’t have the money, we tell him to tell them that he does. Then when he makes the exchange, I take out whoever’s there.”
“That could be risky also,” Jones noted.
“Could be. They might not bring Mara to the exchange site in case they expect funny business. If she’s at another location, and the cash doesn’t show up, they might cut their losses and go.”
“Which do you think would be the best way to go?”
“To find her before any of that has to take place,” Recker replied.
“Then we’ll have to bear down.”
Then, Recker decided to blurt out what he was thinking. “There’s one other thing we can try.”
“What’s that?”
“Remember what I told you before? All this computer stuff is great, but sometimes it doesn’t beat intelligence on the street and having contacts.”
“How does that come into play now?”
“I’ll use the contacts I have to find her.”
“Are you referring to Mr. Gibson and Jeremiah?” Jones asked, a tone of disbelief in his voice.
“They know the streets. They might know something. That’s not all. Tyrell also knows Vincent, he’s a major player in the northeast. If they’re in his territory, he might know something about it or where they’re at.”
“You’re taking a very big leap of faith, don’t you think?”
“No. Not a leap of faith. A leap of desperation,” Recker answered. “We’re running out of leads and we’re running out of time. So is Mara. I’m willing to do just about anything at this point to find out where she is. Even if that means conversing with the underworld.”
“You actually think they’d be willing to help?”
Recker shrugged. “Only one way to know…ask.”
Chapter 11
Recker and Jones deliberated the merits of asking the gang leaders to assist in their search of Mara Ridley. They would almost certainly want something in return for their help, assuming they would be willing to begin with. If they did, they’d have to deal with that when the time came. Deanna Ambersome, her boyfriend, Derrick, and her brother, Marcus, had effectively disappeared. They had to utilize all available options that they had at their disposal. Recker took out his phone and called Gibson.
“Hey, need you to do me a favor,” Recker stated.
“What? You need a tank? A bazooka?” Gibson sarcastically responded. “How bout an F-15?”
“Could you get me one?”
“No, I can’t get you a plane!”
“Never hurts to ask.”
“So whatcha want?” Gibson asked.
“I need to meet with Jeremiah and Vincent,” Recker told him.
“At the same time?!” Gibson replied, shocked at the request.
“Doesn’t have to be. Separate will work.”
“What do you want them for?”
“Business.”
“You’re gonna have to do better than that, man. They’re gonna ask me and I’m gonna have to tell them something. Me saying “business” ain’t gonna get it done,” Gibson said. “They’re not gonna meet unless they got a legit reason to.”
“OK, fine. There’s a little girl that’s been kidnapped and being held for ransom. Her life may be in danger. The exchange is supposed to go down tomorrow at five. I’d like to get to them before that.”
“So what exactly do you want them to do?”
“I just wanna know if they might have any intel on what’s going on or if they’ve heard any rumblings. If they’re the kings of their turf, maybe they know something.”
“I’m not sure they’re gonna give two hoots about some kid missing,” Gibson said.
“She’s an innocent four year old child, Tyrell. Imagine if that was your brother missing.”
“All right, man, all right. I’ll put the word out. I can’t guarantee anything though.”
“All you can do is try.”
“What time you looking for?”
“As soon as possible,” Recker replied.
“All right. I’ll get back to you if I hear anything.”
Recker put his phone down on the desk and stared at the wall, thinking about his upcoming meetings with the two crime bosses. Though he didn’t know how it’d turn out, he was fairly certain the two of them would at least meet with him and hear what he had to say. Jones finished up what he was doing on the laptop before inquiring about Recker’s conversation.
“What did Mr. Gibson have to say?” Jones wondered.
“He’ll put the word out and get back to me if he hears something.”
“What do you think?”
“They’ll agree to meet,” Recker confidently stated.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Curiosity. Plus I haven’t met Vincent yet, and if he’s heard about me, which I’m assuming he has, he’ll want to finally meet face to face.”
“You think they’ll help?”
“Maybe.”
“You may have to sweeten the pot for them,” Jones said.
“We’ll see.”
An hour went by and Recker had just returned to the office with a couple of sandwiches for the two of them for lunch. They ate while they worked and quickly downed the turkey club sandwiches. As the last bite of the sandwich went down Recker’s throat, he took a sip of his soda to wash it down. His phone started ringing and he wiped his hands off before answering.
“What’s up, Tyrell?” Recker answered.
“You owe me for this one, you know that right?”
“I’ll make it good.”
“All right, Jeremiah said he’ll meet with you in an hour,” Gibson told him.
“Where at?”
“Same place as before. You remember it?”
“I’ll be there. What about Vincent?”
“I’m still waiting to hear back from him. I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.”
Recker hung up and immediately informed Jones that the meeting with Jeremiah was all set. Though he wasn’t yet sure exactly what he was going to say to him, Recker went through a couple different scenarios in his mind. Both positive and negative ones. Though he was accustomed to high leverage situations, Recker was still a little anxious for the hour to pass. Most of the times when he was looking for someone, it was to kill them. This time was different. This time, it was to save a life. One that he had no personal connection to, but one that he felt a certain responsibility for. Even though the Ridley’s didn’t initially ask for his help, with his skills and his past history, he felt he should be able to handle these types of situations.
After a few minutes, Recker left the office to drive to the meeting. He wanted to get there a few minutes early, just in case there was traffic. He got to the house about five minutes early, and saw the red bandana on the boarded up window. He started walking up the concrete path toward the door when he noticed it opening
slightly. A large man appeared in the doorway, waiting for him to arrive. Once he got there, the man put his arm out, directing Recker into the living room. There, Recker saw the same table and chairs they did business at before. He took a quick look around the room and noticed Gibson was absent. Surrounded by five of Jeremiah’s men, scattered throughout the room, Jeremiah was seated at the end of the table, waiting for his visitor.
“So what do I owe this pleasure?” Jeremiah asked. “Tyrell said something about a missing kid.”
Recker pulled a chair out and sat down across from him. “A four year old girl was kidnapped. I’m trying to find her and bring her home.”
“What’s in it for you? Why do you care?”
“Let’s just say I have a rooting interest in it,” Recker replied.
“The family hire you to get her?”
“Uhh, let’s just say I’m working with them.”
“So is that what you’re doing here? Working for the highest bidder? Mercenary? Gun for hire?”
“I’m not for hire.”
Jeremiah grinned at the seemingly always coy man across from him. “Tell me about this girl you’re looking for.”
“Parents live on Spruce Street. Suspects are Deanna Ambersome, Derrick Ianetta, and Marcus Ambersome. All have lengthy rap sheets.”
“So you can’t find them and you want my help?”
“That’s pretty much the size of it,” Recker answered.
“What makes you think I know?”
Recker shrugged. “I don’t. If you’ve done business with them, if you know of them, if you know what happened, I just thought maybe you’d heard something.”
“What makes you think I care about some high rollers on the other part of town?” Jeremiah wondered.
“Cause it’s not about her parents, or you, or me,” Recker said, stating his case. “The only thing it’s about…is the life of a four year old child. That should go beyond anything. Race doesn’t matter, wealth doesn’t matter, location doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters, is that the life of an innocent little girl is in danger. That should take precedence over anything. Now, I know you got your code that you live by, just like I’ve got mine. But when a child’s life is in danger, any child, any bravado that we imply should go right out the window.”
Jeremiah was silent as he let Recker speak his mind. He put his index finger on his mouth and rubbed his lip as he listened, not taking his eyes off the former military man. “You should’ve went into politics. That was a nice speech.”
“Only difference is I meant every word.”
Jeremiah glanced around the room as he thought about it. “Only problem is that I don’t know them.”
“It was worth a shot.”
“I’ll do one for you though,” Jeremiah said. “I don’t know these cats, but I’ll have my boys put the word out on the streets.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Recker said.
Jeremiah nodded to one of his men to come over. “Start putting the word out to the boys and see if they know anything about a missing kid from Spruce. What were the names again?”
“Deanna and Marcus Ambersome, and Derrick Ianetta,” Recker said.
“See if anyone knows them,” Jeremiah told one of his soldiers. “If any of my boys know them or know where they’re at, then I’ll let you know.”
“Good enough for me.”
“I want something in return though.”
Recker was starting to get up, but sat back down, anticipating a favor request might be coming. “What do you want?”
“Information.”
“About what?”
“You,” Jeremiah told him. “You played sly with me before about what you were doing here. I wanna know why you’re here. You do that, I’ll consider us even.”
“There’s only so much I can say.”
“Tell me what you can.”
“I’ve been hired by a private security firm to provide protection to certain individuals that they feel need it,” Recker explained.
“Like this kid?”
Recker shrugged. “They tell me the assignment, I go do it.”
“That’s all there is to it?”
“That’s it.”
“So how do I contact this security firm? Maybe I’d like additional protection,” Jeremiah said.
Recker smiled. “Not quite how it works. You don’t hire them. They find their own clients.”
“Or clients with criminal records?”
“That too,” Recker grinned. “We good now?”
Jeremiah nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good. For now.”
Recker left the house and went back to his truck. He called Jones to let him know how the meeting went. After his conversation with the professor was over, he started driving back to the office. He’d only driven for a couple minutes when his phone rang again. Stopped at a red light, he answered it.
“Tyrell?” he greeted. “Missed you at Jeremiah’s.”
“Yeah, well, I was busy setting other things up for you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Vincent agreed to meet with you,” Gibson confirmed.
“Well that’s good news.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll find out whether it’s good or not when you’re finished.”
“Where and when?” Recker asked.
“There’s a diner in the northeast in Mayfair called Pete’s Place.”
“Do all the diners in this city have first names?”
“What?”
“Nothing. What time?”
“They said now.”
“I’m on my way.”
“I’ll give ‘em the heads up,” Gibson said.
Recker changed his course and drove the half hour to the diner. It wasn’t a big place and it didn’t appear to be that busy since the parking lot was half empty. As Recker walked toward the entrance, it appeared that one of Vincent’s men was standing guard at the door. If not, it’d be the first time he ever recalled a guard at the door of a diner. He certainly had the scowl of a mob henchman.
“You the man meeting Vincent?” the man asked.
“Maybe,” Recker responded.
The man put his hand out. “Need your iron.”
Recker balked at the request and took a step back, ready for action if that’s how the guy wanted to play it. “I don’t hand my guns over to anybody.”
“You’ll get them back when you’re finished.”
Recker contemplated whether he wanted to comply with the request.
“Nobody sees the boss who’s packing,” the man said.
After a minute of deliberating, Recker thought it was best to agree. If time wasn’t of the essence, and it wasn’t regarding the life of a child, he might’ve just decided to take off. But now wasn’t the time to balk and run. Recker reached inside his coat and handed his Sig over.
“And the other one,” the man said, holding his hand out.
Recker grinned. “What makes you think there’s another one?”
The man looked at him funny, like he thought he was some kind of sucker or something. “The other one.”
Recker reached back into his coat and pulled out his Glock, handing it to the burly man.
“They’ll be here when you come out,” the guard told him.
As soon as Recker entered the diner, he was met by another man. This time it was Jimmy Malloy, Vincent’s right hand man and second in command. He didn’t say a word to Recker, instead, just holding his arm out to guide Recker along. Malloy led him down to Vincent’s table, a booth in the corner by the window. Vincent was about what Recker expected. He appeared to be in his mid-forties with short brown hair, and starting to go bald in front. Dressed in a suit, sans the tie, he looked the part of an organized crime leader. He was having a plate of spaghetti, soup on the side, as Recker sat down across from him. Vincent continued eating for a minute, looking at his companion as he did so.
Vincent wiped his mouth with a napkin before starting to talk. “So you’re
the man I’ve been hearing about,” he said, smiling as if he just opened a present at Christmas.
“Could be.”
“So you’re Recker. I have the feeling you know more about me than I do of you.”
“Possible.”
“What’s your first name?”
“Michael.”
“ Which nickname do you prefer? The man with the trench coat, trench coat man, or the latest one I read about, what was it…The Silencer?”
Recker smiled.
“I prefer The Silencer,” Vincent said. “It’s catchy, has a good ring to it.” Vincent put his hand up and looked disgusted about something. “Where are my manners? Here I am eating in front of you and I didn’t even offer you something. Would you like something? Soup, sandwich, some pasta?”
“I’m good. I’ve already eaten.”
“Are you sure? They do serve a very good soup here.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sorry about having to take your guns, but it’s for my own protection. I always do that when I’m meeting people I don’t know for the first time.”
“It’s OK. I don’t need them to kill,” Recker said. “Just makes it easier and quicker.”
Vincent grinned at his confidence and ate another forkful of his spaghetti before continuing. “So what brings you here to me?”
Recker cleared his throat before answering. “There’s a four year old girl that was kidnapped a couple days ago. I’m trying to find the people who took her before something bad happens.”
Vincent nodded as he chewed his food. “Admirable of you. Why? What are the circumstances?”
“Kidnappers are looking for a million dollars by tomorrow at five o’clock.”
“Do the parents have the capability of paying?”
“Not in the timeframe they’re looking for,” Recker replied. “In any case, even if they can, I’m not sure they’ll hand the girl over.”
“So you think they might kill the girl either way?”
“I think it’s possible. And I’d rather find them before we have the chance of finding out.”
“Considering I haven’t heard of this, I’m assuming the authorities have been left out of this arrangement?”
“Yes.”