For Nothing

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For Nothing Page 20

by Nicholas Denmon


  Hambone gave a little grunt and said, “Yeah he filled us in.” Then the man turned around and walked back inside.

  “What’s his problem?” Alex Vaughn could feel the ice come off of Hambone’s shoulder as he shut the door behind him and went back inside.

  “I’d guess he was jealous or something. I think he is just sympathizing with Hi-Def a bit. You should have let him know about what you found. He thinks you left him out to get the credit.” Ryan gave him a shrug of his shoulders.

  “Oh, well, I didn’t do it to leave him out. Just wanted to be careful.”

  “So where did you stash the money anyway?”

  “Somewhere safe. Just until I know who I should turn it into. Maybe I should drive it down to the station.” Alex watched Ryan shift from foot to foot. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with the topic.

  “You think it will make Jack look dirty?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know what to think. But I do know that the less people who know about a mountain of cash, the better.” Alex let out a little chuckle that was joined in by Slate.

  “Alright, well I have to go. Big night tonight. I’m driving Don Ciancetta’s son to a sit down. I’ll check in with you later.”

  Ryan walked down the sidewalk and Alex watched him for a second before going into the safe house where Hambone was sitting on one of the chairs wrapping up a phone conversation. The brute abruptly ended the call and clicked his cell phone shut as Alex took a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair that faced Hambone from across the tiny room.

  Hambone cast a stare on Alex and moved a hand to scratch at the stubble lining his cheeks. He was reclined back, his feet stretched out far in front of him. He looked tired, Alex thought. Vaughn could identify with that feeling. The past few nights he slept uneasy at best. But there was something more to the look that Hambone was casting his way, almost as if it were laced with enmity. Alex thought to disregard the feeling but Hambone just kept on staring.

  Vaughn was feeling ever more unnerved and could feel his body begin to fidget. Long moments passed and Vaughn got the feeling that the two were sizing each other up. Or at least, he was being sized up. The quiet tick of the clock in the entryway grew loud, a loudness that was muffled by the sound of Alex’s heart beating in his ears. Finally, it became unbearable.

  Alex opened his mouth to ask, “What’s your problem?”

  But he was interrupted when Hambone leaned forward in his chair and spit out, “Where’s the money?”

  Alex, relieved to have the insufferable silence broken, almost told him. But he stopped short of divulging the location.

  What is with these people, he wondered.

  That was three times in the span of three conversations that Elliot and his crew asked him where the money was. Once from Elliot, once from Slate, and now in his usual subtle way, Hambone.

  “What’s it to you?” he said instead.

  “It’s evidence,” he said.

  Alex was tired of the games. “My friend, my find, my time frame.”

  Hambone sat there, his eyes were fixed on Alex and his hands were clasped together. The muscles in his arms chorded as he pressed his palms together. This was not a man used to be told to kindly go fuck himself. Alex stood up. Hambone stood up also and blocked Alex’s path.

  “I’m going to go get some air,” Vaughn said, looking square into the chest of the large man. Hambone paused for a moment, and then stepped aside.

  “You go do that.”

  Alex didn’t like how he was given permission to go outside, but let it slide in an effort to deescalate whatever bothered Hambone. He took a few steps and cast a wary glance over his shoulder before stepping outside and closing the door behind him.

  Vaughn took a look around as he took a deep breath and felt the warm sunlight hit his face. At the same time, a chill from the snow below crept up his legs, creating an odd contrast. Alex thought that it was a somewhat accurate physical representation of what he felt at that moment. He was a jumble of emotions. He couldn’t believe he went and saw Charlotte, no matter how brief, the night before. He hadn’t the courage to face her, and he guessed, probably still didn’t. Last night was an accident of circumstance. The weather, lack of sleep, worry about Jack; all led his feet to her front door.

  He didn’t have to jet out as fast as he did this morning, perhaps. Charlotte would have told him he was using work to avoid having to deal with his own personal issues. He knew that she would have been right too.

  Alex puffed out a cloud of white breath and breathed in deep, letting his thoughts go back to the scene inside and the chaos of the last few days. What was that tension inside all about? Things were much more tranquil out here. He could see how being cooped up inside might start to wear on someone. Still, there was something more to the animosity that Hambone was directing his way and Alex couldn’t help but wonder how he offended the man.

  As he stood there, his gaze fell over the detached garage and his memory shot to the first time he drove to the safe house just after the explosion that killed Sal. He began to make his way towards the detached garage. It was about twenty feet removed from the house and about fifty feet removed from the road. He stopped and glanced at the windows and at the door to make sure no one was watching him, and then jogged to the garage. With another glance around to make sure the coast was clear, he disappeared inside between the barn-like double doors.

  The first thing that Alex noticed was the smell. It was dank in there and smelled more like a musty basement than a garage. There was a hint of oil and gasoline, but the place in general smelled musty. A large rusty pipe lined the roof of the structure and a few shelves that housed various tools lined one of the walls. There was an empty parking space on the left side and some sort of vehicle under a tarp on the right.

  Alex remembered the first time he came here and the tarp being pulled over the vehicle before Alex could get a look. He meant to get that look now. Something called at him to look. Knowing time was an issue Alex hurried over to the tarp and knelt down next to the rear of the vehicle. He pulled the edge of the canvas back; he lifted it just above the license plate where he stopped.

  Vaughn could hardly breathe. He knew this car.

  Why was Jack’s car in this garage?

  Alex put his hand gently on the license plate. Touching it made it feel more real. This, all of this, was so surreal. Jack was dead, but his car was here. There was a bag of cash in his basement. Were they working together? If so, then why wouldn’t they have known where the money was? After all, Jack said that Elliot could be trusted. Something was not making sense.

  When in doubt follow the money, he thought.

  He was taught that soon after he earned his shield. The money came from the Bonanno crew. It was intercepted by Jack. Alex reached towards his gun as he worked out the scenario. Elliot and his friends wanted the money. The money Jack confiscated. There was a sound behind him.

  Still hunched over the license plate all Alex Vaughn could say was, “Mother Fu-” before he felt the explosion in the back of his head.

  He fell to the side of the car, almost blacked out from the pain. He tried to lift his head up off the pavement in the garage, but his body just twitched in response. The blackness started to drift away and his vision came back into focus, just in time to see the laces of a black leather boot swing in and catch him full in the face.

  He heard his skin rip just before his old friend, the oblivion, met him somewhere in the recesses of his mind.

  *

  Fifteen minutes across town, The Pope received a phone call. He listened to the voice on the other line, and then he hung up. He waited a few moments and weighed his options. The consigliore looked at the scotch glass on his desk, then walked over to the bottle and took a swig directly from it. The Pope picked the phone back up and made a call.

  His southern accent coming out more with more force, he said to the man who answered, “I need you two to come here right now.”

  He li
stened to the voice coming through on the other line. Then he interrupted.

  “I know it’s going to be hard. But get here anyway. Something’s come up.”

  Again the voice on the line pushed back.

  The Pope, irritated, screamed into the phone, “I don’t give a fuck! Get your asses over here!”

  He slammed the phone down. Just once, he’d like somebody, anybody, to just do what the fuck they were told without questioning every little detail. The Pope felt his blood pressure at a dangerous high level and took a deep breath, holding it in and allowing himself to calm. When he exhaled he didn’t feel any different. It did however spur him into another coughing frenzy that left him feeling weak.

  He cast a glance at the bottle and opted to cheat in order to bring things back into perspective. The Pope took another drink and then put the top back on the bottle. Taking his suit jacket off of the chair, he put one arm through at a time.

  Those bastards better not take too long, he thought.

  Chapter 28

  Vaughn woke up with a dull ache in his shoulders and a very vivid pain somewhere on his face. As he came to consciousness, he was aware that it hurt most under his eye and pretty much radiated around the back of this head. His ears didn’t hurt, though, that was good.

  He tried to bring his hand to his face so he could feel the wound and that’s when he noticed he was hanging off of the ground with his hands stretched over his head. Alex groaned as he felt the pain throb outward from his eye and he pulled his head back to look at his hands.

  There was a rope tied around his hands in a figure-eight twist. The makeshift cuffs were thrown over a hook that hung from a thick steel chain wrapped around the rusty pipe that ran the length of the garage roof.

  In a panic, he tried to look around the room, but his eye was almost swollen shut. His breath came out in labored wheezes due to the stretch and weight of his body hanging two feet off of the ground. Catching his attention was a slight scraping sound coming from his left. Unfortunately, Alex couldn’t see what was making the noise.

  Scrape.

  Whatever it was, it was just out of the range of his right eye. He lolled his head as far to his right as he could, and cocked his head at an odd ninety degree angle.

  Scrape.

  The blood from the wound under his left eye dripped across his lips and Alex could taste the iron of his own blood.

  Scrape.

  He just registered the taste as he picked up the source of the sound. Hambone was sitting in an old wooden chair in the garage. He held a piece of wood in his hand and a long, curved knife in the other. He was absently shaving pieces off of what looked to be a thick piece of wood that was being pared down. Hambone shot a quick look Alex’s way, noticing he regained consciousness.

  “Welcome back,” he said.

  His voice was even and thick. It was apparent that he’d waited there for some time.

  Alex decided to get right to the point. “Coward”. The blood from his mouth sprayed out with his spittle. “You killed Jack for the money.”

  He declared it as if it were truth. Vaughn hoped to get whatever information he could now that the gloves were off.

  Hambone stood up, tucked his blade into his belt, and stood right in front of Alex, hanging on the hook helpless. Instead of seeing a hint of irritation on the man’s face, Alex was surprised when he let out a laugh.

  “You really don’t get it, do you? I thought you were supposed to be a detective.” Hambone turned around as if to go back to his whittling.

  Alex didn’t know what to make of the situation. He was frustrated and the enormity of his helplessness fell upon him. He began to thrash back and forth on the hook, not knowing what else to do. As he swayed on the hook, Hambone turned around to regard him.

  “Calm down,” he said. “You’ll just make matters worse.”

  Through bloody teeth and ripped lips Alex’s voice came out in a coarse bark. “Cop killer.”

  Hambone walked back towards Alex. “I have not killed a cop in my life…yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you pulled the trigger. You’re no better than the rest. At least they can admit what they did, you pussy.”

  Hambone’s face turned red as the sting of Alex’s words took hold. The man stood there and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. Glaring at Alex, he rolled each sleeve up and stood less than a foot away from Alex.

  “Seems I tagged your face pretty good.”

  “I wasn’t even looking.”

  The brute scratched his nose with his thumb and gave a little snicker as he looked out at Alex from beneath his furrowed brow.

  “Are you looking now, detective?”

  With that, Hambone exploded into a burst of action delivering a bruising blow to Alex’s exposed rib.

  The large fist buried itself into Vaughn’s side and sent his air out in a burst. The air rushing out of Alex’s mouth brought more blood from Vaughn’s throat and sprayed Hambone across his face.

  Alex let out another groan and hung there, his lungs gasped for air for his battered body. Hambone walked to a shelf and grabbed a hand towel. He wiped Alex’s blood from his face and talked.

  “Elliot told me to leave you intact. So unfortunately, we can’t keep playing this game.”

  Vaughn sucked in some air and gathered a bit of his pride as he swayed back and forth, the momentum of the hit still shaking through his body and articulating itself in the momentum of his swing.

  “I’m still here, you pussy.”

  His cracked lips and bloody smile mocked Hambone, who tossed the rag to the floor. “You really think you’re a tough guy, don’t you? Well, I guess I can go one more round before Elliot gets here.”

  He strode forward and curled his arm back to deliver another hit to the rib. But Alex was ready this time, and using his momentum on the return swing, curled his foot behind his leg and snapped his knee up, bashing it square into Hambone’s nose just as the large man swung his own momentum forward to hit the detective.

  It resulted in a satisfying POP. It was Hambone’s turn to gasp for air as his normal means for breathing was temporarily caved in. He stumbled backward with a shout of surprise and bent over about four feet from Alex, whose momentum carried him back and forth yet again.

  For a moment, Hambone stayed there, doubled over, watching his blood speckle the garage floor and felt his smashed nasal cavity. After a moment, he pulled the blade from his side and ran at Alex. Before Vaughn could react, the man pressed the blade against his throat and was pressing it forward.

  The two were eye to eye and the anger in Hambone’s eyes was apparent as the glare bore into Alex’s resigned eyes.

  Hambone pressed the knife against his throat a bit hard and Alex felt its ridges bite into his flesh. Vaughn felt like this was the end. He wasn’t going to give Hambone the satisfaction of seeing even a moment of fear or regret in his eyes. He locked into a stare with the man and dared him to do it.

  “Fucking do it, you coward.”

  At that moment, the door to the garage swung open and Elliot and Hi-Def walked in. Elliot, gathering a sense of the scene before him, held up a hand as Hi-Def came in behind him. Hi-Def stopped and looked in and a mask of horror crossed his face as he looked at the two men nose to nose in the garage.

  “Go into the house and wait there,” Elliot said.

  Hi-Def, not needing to be told twice, walked out of the garage and shut the door behind him.

  Elliot came forward into the room and laid a hand on Hambone’s arm pressing the knife into Alex’s throat and said, “Go sit down.”

  Hambone sent a glare at Elliot, but retracted the blade.

  “Sit down,” Elliot repeated.

  With a frustrated shout, Hambone hurled the knife at the corner of the room and walked out of the garage snapping, “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  Elliot walked back to the garage door and pulled it shut. He then grabbed the chair that Hambone sat on and put it under Alex’s fe
et. Backing up, he stood between Alex Vaughn and the exit. He pulled his pistol and held it out as a reminder to Alex to not do anything rash.

  Vaughn caught his footing on the chair and asked, “Do you mind if I pull my hands off of this hook and sit down?”

  “Not at all, just remember who has the gun.”

  Alex nodded his head and brought his hands forward off of the hook. At once, he felt the relief in his stretch joints and felt the cartilage release from his overextended shoulders. Elliot watched him with his lips pursed together as if contemplating what to do.

  Alex faced the man and accused him, “You killed Jack.”

  He jumped off of the chair and stood in front of it.

  Elliot looked shocked by the accusation. “I most certainly did not.”

  Vaughn couldn’t believe that the man had the gall to lie to him. Face to face, he still wouldn’t tell the truth.

  “Enough of the games!”

  Elliot rolled back from the force of the shout and held the gun up again to remind Alex who was in charge here.

  Regaining his composure, the detective sat down on the chair, and asked point blank, “What the hell is going on here?”

  He stood there a moment, as if he were deciding what to do. Elliot said, “Fair enough Alex. I’m going to level with you here. You’re a dead man and there is nothing I can do about it. Jack’s dead, and there isn’t anything I can do about that either.”

  Alex wasn’t as surprised to hear that he was a dead man as he would have supposed he might. It wasn’t often that one got his face kicked in and hung on a hook and had a knife put to his throat and the intent was not to sooner or later kill the guy being abused in such a way. But he was confused.

  “So why tell me, if all you’re going to do is kill me anyway.”

  “Because Alex, I am not a dead man, yet. I need that money.”

  Alex brushed his bloody and matted hair away from his face. “Well, I’m not going to tell you where the money is unless you tell me why.”

 

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