“Talking to the coroner and the cops about her husband’s body.” I motioned for him to follow me, and we walked toward the courthouse parking lot. It was the end of the day and the lot was nearly empty.
“She’s been a rock. All this shit, and now Wayne’s dead. I need to see her.”
I stopped behind the Dodge. Abruptly enough that Leo nearly ran into me.
“We’re going to talk first,” I said. “About John Fain. And HaverCorp.”
His face dropped. He sat on the Dodge’s bumper.
“You’ve had a hell of a year, Leo,” I said.
“It’s not what you think.”
“That’s funny. When I tell people you’ve got a sense of humor, they never believe me.”
“Van.”
“There were too many overlaps. Too much weird voodoo. The Rally giving you a job with Erle, right when he was playing double agent for Fain’s crew. Then Fain getting in a twist about your welfare. Fain is Macomber’s boy. I doubt he gets a vitamin shot without the general initialing his ass first. But suddenly he’s granted approval to visit a murder suspect in jail. That got me wondering why Macomber would give a damn.”
Leo wouldn’t meet my eye.
“A buddy of mine in Army Intelligence clued me to your first assignment after you rotated out of our unit,” I said.
“Captain Fain’s company.”
“That may be the first true thing out of your mouth since I got to town. How much does Dez know about your side hustle?”
“We talked it over before I agreed to join Fain’s crew,” Leo said. “She supported it. Dez and I don’t have secrets like that.”
So Dez had been playing me, too. A laugh leapt unbidden out of my throat. “Right.”
“Telling you would make you an accessory, man. And I knew how you felt about—about shit like bank robberies.”
“That it’s for morons.”
“Fain and his fire team, they were already rolling when I came on board,” he said, standing up. “They’d done the first job, smooth as anything. I know these guys. They’re solid. And General Macomber, he’s committed to keeping civilians safe. He and Fain drill us on it every time.”
A knot of muscle in my neck jolted. “It wasn’t Dez you were worried about. You didn’t want the cops looking hard at Erle, because that might lead them back to your gang.”
“Not at first,” Leo said. “I really thought it could have been Dez who killed Erle. She was planning to see him that day anyway. If he’d attacked her . . .”
“What about after? Did Fain order you to take the fall? Promise you an extra share of the cash if you wound up doing time?”
“I’m not a fucking stooge, Van. Staying in jail was my idea. If I acted like my head was on loose, I could keep the heat off the team until they caught up with Jaeger. Then Fain would spring me. He said he had evidence that could prove it.”
“Christ, Leo.”
“Don’t spit on what the Rally’s doing. We gave two hundred grand to a burn unit last month. You’ve seen that kind of horrible shit.”
“Whatever serves the cause, right?” I said.
“It means something.”
“More than either of us. Fain had me dancing like a puppet. He said he’d only hand over the evidence to clear you if I helped them find Jaeger.”
Leo froze.
“Well, the captain must have been bluffing,” Leo said. “Fain would have cleared me anyway if you refused.”
“We’ll never know.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” He paced up the length of the truck and back. “I wasn’t told. I swear. When Fain came to see me at the jail, he asked how I knew you from the 75th. He didn’t mention your name again.”
“They couldn’t be sure you’d go free, evidence or not. They used us both. How good is your Rally if they’re willing to sacrifice you, Leo?”
“The guys wouldn’t let that happen.”
“But they wouldn’t care if Jaeger burned me, if it got them what they wanted.”
“I never knew they were using you. I would have kicked at it.”
“You could have trusted me.”
“I wanted you to go back to Seattle, remember?”
“Another manipulation.”
“I told you to stay out of it—”
I hit him. One solid straight left. He dropped to one knee.
“Go to hell,” I said.
He didn’t move to get up, just stayed down and scowled. I left him there. My truck, too. Walking away, feeling like I could hike all the way back to Seattle if it would put Leo and the whole damn town in my dust.
Thirty-Three
I had to talk to someone. Luce was out of the question, for all kinds of reasons. My old neighbor Addy Proctor would give the smartest advice. I imagined calling her and telling her about Mercy River and everything that went with it, and finally balked. Addy could handle tough news, but I wanted to keep at least one of my friendships unsullied by my bad choices.
Someone who knew my grandfather would be the next best thing. I was near the empty field where the bonfires had been lit three nights before. The Rally’s cleaning crews hadn’t yet hauled away the piles of charred wood and ash that remained. Someone had left behind a folding camp chair, fallen on its side. I righted it and sat down with my phone.
“Hollis?” I said when the line opened.
“. . . hear me?” he said, voice shouting over the low unbroken howl of diesel engines churning. “I’m just off the marina.”
“If you’re headed out . . .” Hollis’s own line of work was usually done at night, meeting ships far offshore and swapping all manner of valuable contraband. He drew the line at smuggling anything the DEA or ATF would take an interest in. Mostly. Twelve-bottle cases of A and cigar boxes of T sometimes found a temporary home in the hidden compartments of his fifty-foot Carver.
“I’m headed into port,” he said. “Are you still wandering the wilderness?”
“I am,” I said. “And I need—I guess I need to figure some shit out. If you’ve got time.”
Hollis eased the throttle back until the diesels settled into a slow thud. I imagined the Francesca bobbing on the waves of the Sound.
“All right, then,” Hollis said. “What kind of manure are we talking about?”
I rewound to my first arrival in Oregon and gave Hollis a blow-by-blow account of everything that had happened since. He had to stop me twice, explaining he didn’t want to miss anything, as he corrected the Francesca’s course to keep it from drifting in to shore. The sun had set in Mercy River by the time I finished. On the night breeze, I smelled the ash of the dowsed firepits.
“I’ll tell you this,” Hollis said. “If a man’s judged by his enemies, you’re a mean bastard.”
“Yeah. Having a team of Rangers assessing me as a threat doesn’t put me at ease.”
“Them, too, but I meant this Nazi of yours. Jaeger. He’s the real problem.”
“I’m less worried for me than for the guards he’s going to kill, the next chance he gets.”
“That’s because you’re you, Van. Don’t take this for an insult, but self-preservation isn’t your strongest suit. Jaeger wants to kill you. I’ve not been in that situation much myself, but I hope I would treat a zealot out for my blood a little more seriously.” Hollis grunted. “Or maybe it’s a confidence thing. An overabundance on your part.”
“So, what? I hide in a hole until the cops bust him?”
“Maybe you do. That would be a sane response. If he goes to prison for long enough, you wouldn’t have to look behind you every time you turned a corner.”
There was the seed of an idea there, but it wasn’t sprouting yet. I set it aside.
“Plus,” Hollis said, “if your fellow Rangers are anything like you, they’ll do a fine job of defending the general’s son and his wife all on their own.”
“Fain’s team will protect Aaron and Schuyler,” I said. “And Leo’s a grown-ass man. If he wants to run with that crew, that�
��s his fool choice.”
“Until the FBI finds them.”
“It will happen. Fain and his crew are thinking of armed robbery like a raid, like the mission is over after they get away with the money. Understanding how the cops run down evidence isn’t part of Ranger School. They’ll leave a trail eventually, if they haven’t already. But that’s not the worst possible outcome.”
“Worse than arrest?”
“If they’re confronted, they won’t run. They’ll fight. It’s hardwired into us: turn and burn until the threat is eliminated. People could die.”
“You said they use rubber grenades and such.”
“They have assault rifles, too. The cops will be firing real bullets. I’m not convinced Fain’s team won’t dial it up if shit gets real.”
“Might as well try to weigh their souls,” Hollis agreed. “Speaking of. This Federal Reserve truck. I notice you didn’t mention a number.”
“Eleven million.”
Hollis inhaled, audible even over the engines. “That doesn’t come along every day, does it?”
“No. Jaeger will make a run at it. So will the general, once he has his son pull the same information and realizes what he’s sitting on. It’ll be a slaughterhouse if they both converge at the same time.”
Hollis was humming tunelessly. “A shame we can’t steal the money ourselves first. What I could do with eleven million.”
“Never mind.”
“I was listening, truly. Merely dreaming over the possibilities.”
I was, too, I realized. Not about pirating the cash. About getting there first.
“Hollis,” I said, “can you clear your calendar for a couple of days to run some errands? A shopping trip?”
“Wait, now. I was joking. This sort of job really isn’t my trade. Your grandfather in his youth, his wild days before I knew him, he was supposedly something to see. But he smartened up.”
“You’d be in a support role, away from the action. Very low-risk for you.”
“And for you? Or are we back to talking about overconfidence?”
I didn’t reply.
Hollis sighed. “I suppose I could tear myself away.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you later tonight.”
“Just remember what I said about your grandfather living long enough to get wiser.” He hung up.
Tales grew taller over time, but even accounting for exaggeration, young Dono Shaw had cut a swath across Northern Ireland, New England, and parts of the contiguous U.S. before a federal rap earned him a stretch on McNeil Island. He’d settled nearby in Seattle afterward, and gradually changed his MO to become the cautious professional thief and burglar who had raised me.
Still, maybe direct action was in the blood. The more I thought about my idea, the more it turned into a plan. And the more it became a plan, the more it quickened my pulse.
Hours later, after I’d read through the armored car schedules taken from Conlee and considered every option for the tenth time, I reached a decision. John Fain’s business card was still in my pocket.
“I want to talk to you and the general,” I said when he answered.
Fain grunted. “He’s here now.”
A moment passed. The basso voice of Macomber came through from a distance; Fain had put me on speaker.
“Shaw?”
“You said you owed me a great debt. Is it enough to buy a place on the team?”
“I thought you didn’t approve of our methods. Or did you see a number in those armored car deliveries large enough to change your mind?”
At least Macomber wasn’t going to play dumb. He’d wasted no time in having his son pull the truck routes again, and he’d zeroed in on the same eleven-million-dollar prize that I had.
“Jaeger’s my priority, General. What’s yours?”
“Jaeger is a danger to my family. Everything else comes second.”
“Does that mean you aim to go all the way?”
He was silent for a moment. Asking Macomber if he planned to order another man’s death must have given him pause, no matter what euphemisms I used on the open line.
“Do you have an alternative?” he said finally.
“I do. But it’s high-risk.”
“So is living. What do you propose?”
“Meet me at the town hall in an hour. Bring the team if you want. They’ll have to get on board with the plan.”
“Why the hall?” Fain said.
“Seems like a suitable place to call a cease-fire with each other,” I said, “and declare war on someone else.”
Thirty-Four
Late at night and with the Rally over, the town hall looked forlorn. Both glass-fronted bulletin boards outside had been emptied of notices, and a padlocked chain connected the twin ten-foot doors. I leaned against the wooden rail that bordered the hall’s veranda. Soon I saw the headlights of Daryll’s GMC Yukon approaching. It double-parked in the angled spaces on the far side of the lawn. Daryll and Rigoberto got out and made their way along the flagstone path. Daryll’s limp had improved. He wore layers of flannel shirts over jeans, and heavy work boots with steel caps to protect his toes.
Rigo was more streamlined in Nike gel-soles and running gear, a black compression shirt, and shorts, as if it weren’t fifty degrees out. His short sleeves revealed a mural of tattoos, including a faded blue one on his forearm. The outline of a badge. He also wore a wedding ring, which hadn’t been on his hand at the card game.
“You two the advance guard?” I said.
“We’re early,” Rigo said, stopping at the bottom of the veranda stairs. “Captain Fain told us you let the skinheads get away.”
“Captain Fain needs to get his head clear. He said he wanted the drugs secured. They’re secured.”
“So you say.” Daryll crossed the veranda to sit on the railing opposite me. “How do we know you won’t sell them yourself?”
“You don’t. Just like I don’t know whether all the money you guys rip off from HaverCorp ends up with the Rally or in your own pockets.”
“Check that,” said Rigoberto, raising his chin. “You damn near accusing us of stealing from brothers. That’ll get your ass kicked all over this yard.”
“A crusader.” I turned to Daryll. “You, too?”
“You know it. The general’s righteous.”
The righteous fight. Protect the Ranger at your side, defend those who can’t defend themselves. An ethos founded far more on the people you loved than on abstract concepts like patriotism or democracy. That attitude made the job—the direct and calculated killing of the enemy—possible. Believe in it, and you stood a better chance of returning home mentally and morally intact. I had believed.
Rigo and Daryll and maybe the rest of them bought into that same philosophy for the Rally. If it served the mission and the men, their actions were justified.
I pointed at Rigo’s badge tattoo. “Cop?”
“I was, before the Army. Maybe again someday.” He cocked his head to one side. “What’s your job?”
“Still figuring that out,” I said.
“Don’t throw in with us expecting to get rich,” Daryll said. “The general gives us a cut to pay our bills, but that ain’t what this game’s about.”
“So what’s in it for you, besides charity? Do you miss the action?”
“Some,” Rigoberto said. “How can you not miss what you’re the best at?”
I almost laughed. Way to turn the question around, Rigo. I’d been wrestling with that same question ever since I’d returned to Seattle, even if it was a different kind of action that tempted me.
A Lincoln Town Car pulled in next to the parked Yukon. Fain was driving, Leo and Zeke Caton and General Macomber along for the ride. I didn’t think their team had any hostile inclinations. But my skin prickled at the potential danger anyway.
“Shaw,” Fain said. He took a set of keys from his pocket to remove the padlock and chain, opening the doors into the cavernous space. Leo’s lip was swollen. Dam
age I’d inflicted, even as his older bruises were finally healing up. I felt a twinge at the sight of the new scab hiding the corner of his mouth.
“I assumed we wouldn’t require Aaron,” the general said to me as our group entered. “I’ve sent him and Schuyler to stay with relatives until we can be assured they’re safe.” He flipped the row of light switches with one hand. The chandeliers high above our heads sparked to dim life, energy-saving bulbs brightening slowly.
“Pulling more information from HaverCorp’s databases won’t change things,” I said, crossing to one of the large tables that had been pushed against the wall. “Help me move this.”
Rigo acted first. He and I carried the table to the center of the floor. The men gathered around it.
“Let’s talk objectives, General,” I said. “Jaeger’s seen me. He knows your son and his wife, and he can probably trace Aaron’s relation to you, given time. We know he’s killed before and he’s promised to do so again.”
Macomber frowned. “I’ve already told you stopping Jaeger is my concern. Or don’t you believe me, Shaw?”
“I believe you. But I also think eleven million dollars is enough to dazzle anybody. Enough to prop up your Rally for years.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t give a shit if you get the money or not. My priority is stopping Jaeger before he murders the guards or anyone else. I think we can do that. Maybe the Rally gets rich, too. But if you want my help you’ll have to put Jaeger first, even if it means losing a chance at the cash.”
Macomber met my gaze for a long moment, then looked around the table at Fain and the others. “I want your opinions, men. Jaeger’s a threat, but Aaron and Schuyler are safe from him now. Don’t let that influence you.”
“Eleven million could do a lot of good, sir,” Fain said.
“My thought exactly,” Zeke Caton said. “Can’t we hit the truck and track Jaeger down after?”
Rigo was already shaking his head. “Then the Nazi fucks will pick another cash truck from the list. We can’t guess which. Those guards will be just as dead.”
“That could work for us, too,” Daryll said. “Picking another truck, I mean, not killing guards. We nail Jaeger. If we miss out on the money this time, we’ve got a lot of other trucks on that list.”
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