Played!

by Michael A. Kahn

  “Knew what?”

  “That this is the perfect spot to meet Bledsoe.”

  “Here? On this overpass?”

  Milton laughs. “Up here? No way.”

  “Then where?”

  “Down there. Right at the entrance to that middle tunnel.”

  Hal turns toward the tunnels, stares at the opening, and then turns back to his big brother with a frown. “Huh?”

  “The perfect spot. The acoustics are excellent.”

  “Acoustics? What does that matter? We’re not taping a concert.”

  “I’m hoping we’re taping a confession.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Actually, you will be doing the taping. I shall be near the mouth of the tunnel and you shall be safely inside. Far enough back to be invisible but close enough to tape it.”

  “Bro, I’m like totally lost here.”

  “I will explain everything, Hal. I have been working on this since last night. I have it all mapped out.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  “I’ve been thinking, Bro. I don’t know about this plan of yours.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Mr. Pitt. I can’t believe he wants Bledsoe to just give you the money tonight. I bet he wants him to kill you.”

  “Perhaps.” Milton shrugs. “But not until Bledsoe finds out whether I have an accomplice. That is what should be of most concern to him. He needs to know the answer to that, and if I do have an accomplice, he needs to know that person’s name.”

  “Here you go, boys.”

  They look up at the waitress, a woman in her sixties with bright red lipstick and dyed black hair in a bun. She has two plates, each with a hamburger and fries.

  “Medium rare for you, honey,” she says to Hal as she sets down his plate.

  She turns to Milton with a big smile. “And medium well for you, darling.”

  They are seated in a booth near the back of O’Connell’s Pub. It’s nearly one-thirty, and the lunch crowd has largely dispersed.

  “Another beer, boys?” she asks.

  Milton shakes his head. “I’m good.”

  Hal nods. “Me, too.”

  Hal puts some ketchup on his burger and some more on his plate for the fries. He hands the bottle to Milton and frowns.

  “What?” Milton says.

  “So he wants to know if you have an accomplice? What are you going to tell him?”

  “I’ll string him along, get him talking.”

  “But what about the case against Pitt?”

  “That’s your job.”

  “My job? What do you mean?”

  “You’re going to have my cell phone. It can record a conversation, just like a Dictaphone. I’ll get him talking, and you’ll get it all on tape. Once he fingers Pitt, we’ve got him dead to rights.”

  “You really think he will?”

  “I hope so. But even if he doesn’t, we’ll get enough on tape for an arrest. As long as he shows up with money, I’ll get him to say something incriminating. The police can work him after they arrest him, maybe get a confession.”

  “The police? How are they involved?”

  Milton grins. “That’s going to be part of your job tonight.”

  “My job? Good grief, Milton.”

  “Well, boys?”

  The look up. It’s their waitress smiling down at them. “How is everything?”

  Hal forces a smile. “Delicious.”

  She nods her head. “Glad to hear.”

  After she leaves, Hal says, “How do we even get down there?”

  “To the tunnels? Easy. The railroad tracks run along the top of the culvert on the north side. You could climb down from there, but it’s easier on the other side. There is a gravel path on that side. There is a chain across the path at Macklind and a sign that says it’s for MSD employees only. But it is, I emphasize, just a chain. You can duck under it or skirt around it and then walk down the path until you are even with the tunnel openings. There is a stairway right there. It takes you down to the culvert.”

  “And that’s where we’ll be?”

  “We will be waiting for him inside the tunnel when he arrives. We’ll have placed a folding chair right at the entrance. Facing out. That is where I tell him to sit. To simply sit and wait.”

  “And then?”

  Milton grins. “And then it is show time.”

  “Show time?”

  Milton nods and takes a bit of his hamburger.

  Hal shakes his head. “I don’t know. This ain’t exactly Hollywood. We’re talking a sewer line in south St. Louis.”

  Chapter Forty-four

  Later that afternoon, Milton is standing on his backyard patio, the cell phone pressed against his ear.

  Peggy answers. “Hi.”

  Her voice is subdued.

  “Hi, honey,” Milton says, trying to sound upbeat and casual. “So how are you doing?”

  “We’re fine, Milton. Fine. Now what’s going on there?”

  “Not much. We are just in the process of wrapping things up here. I am thinking that you and the girls might be able to come home the day after tomorrow.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “As I said, we are just in the process of wrapping things up.”

  Peggy sighs. “Milton.”

  “What, honey?”

  “I’m going crazy. I can’t sleep. I am so worried.”

  “Don’t worry, Peggy. We will be fine. I promise. It will all be over tomorrow.”

  “What will all be over?”

  “This whole mess I got Hal into.”

  “Milton, you didn’t get Hal into this mess. Dammit, Milton. You’re blind. Your idiot brother got himself into that mess. All on his very own.”

  Hal is standing off to the side on the grass. He watches his older brother on the phone as he tosses the baseball in the air underhanded, catching it in his glove, tossing it up again, catching it.

  Milton glances over at Hal and takes a few steps toward the far side of the patio. “We’ll be fine,” he whispers. And then, “Can I talk to the girls?”

  “They’re with my mom. She took them shopping.”

  “Oh. Well, maybe I can talk to them later.”

  “I didn’t mean to yell at you, Milton.”

  “That’s okay, honey.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.”

  “It’s just I’m so worried for you. You’re not Dirty Harry, Milton, and you’re not Rambo.”

  “I am fully cognizant of those facts.”

  “This isn’t a movie, honey. Just be careful.”

  “That is my middle name.”

  “Oh?” Peggy laughs. “I thought it was Isadore.” A pause, and then, “I love you, Milton.”

  “I love you, Peggy.”

  Silence.

  Milton finally says, “Goodbye, lover.”

  “Goodbye, honey. Be careful.”

  Milton puts the cell phone back in his pants pocket and turns toward his brother.

  “Everything good?” Hal asks.

  Milton smiles and nods. “Couldn’t be better.”

  “She’s worried, isn’t she?”

  “A little.”

  “I don’t blame her. I’m worried, too.”

  “No need to. The plan is working. Bledsoe has the money. He’s waiting for the call, and we shall be waiting for him at the drop point. I will all be over tonight, Hal.”

  “I hope so.”

  Milton grinned. “I know so.”

  Hal sighed. “Oh, boy. I’m nervous. Hey, want to play some catch?”

  “Again?”

  “Come on, Bro. Maybe it’ll calm me down. We can do a pretend game.”


  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll pitch, you catch. Balls and strikes. You can call them. It’ll be fun.”

  “Really?” Milton rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

  “Awesome. I’ll get your catcher’s mitt.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  Hal hands Milton the folding chair. He watches Milton set it even with the mouth of the middle tunnel, facing out into the culvert.

  Milton steps back, looks at the chair admiringly, and nods. “That should do it.”

  “You’re going to have him sit there?”

  “I am, indeed. Until I come out of the tunnel. We’ll switch then.”

  “It’s going to be nighttime, Milton. How are you going see what’s going on?”

  Milton pointed up. “See that spotlight above the tunnels? It goes on at night. We’ll have plenty of light.”

  A gust of wind rattles the folding chair. The temperature has been dropping. It’s now around forty-five degrees. The forecast has it dropping to into the upper thirties that evening.

  Hal zips up his windbreaker and takes a few steps into the tunnel. “So I’m, like, in here?”

  “We both are until he arrives. You will stay back to record our conversation, and then you will call the police.”

  Hal looks up, scanning the arched ceiling. “When do I make that call?”

  “As soon I get him to say something incriminating. I will give you a signal.”

  “With your hand?”

  Milton thinks it over. “No. Too risky. We’ll use a code word.”

  “What’s the code word?”

  Milton looks around as he ponders the question. He smiles. “Sewage.”

  “Sewage?”

  “Fits the location nicely. As soon as I say it, you’ll dial 9-1-1.”

  “Not Detective Moran?”

  “No. He’s out in the county. Too far away. We can’t wait that long. We’ll need St. Louis cops. We can call Moran once the local cops arrive.”

  Hal takes out his cell phone. “How far back am I going to be?”

  Milton studies the chair and then the tunnel and then the chair again. “About twenty yards.”

  Hal walks further into the tunnel and turns. “About here?”

  Milton nods. “That’s good.”

  Hal stares down at his cell phone. “Uh, we got a problem.”

  “What?”

  “Got no reception in here.”

  Milton grimaces. “Shit.”

  “Oh, Jeez, Milton, are we screwed? What are we going to do?”

  “No big deal. We’ll use my phone.”

  “I don’t think you’ll get reception either.”

  “I’ll have the phone with me out front. I’ll have reception out there. You’ll use my Bluetooth device. It’s good up to ninety feet.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll punch in 9-1-1 before he arrives. Then I’ll set the phone to record the conversation. It’ll be clearer out here anyway. You’ll be able to hear it on the Bluetooth, too. When it’s time, I’ll say the code word and you can press the Dial button on the device. The only place the phone will ring is in your earbud. When the police answer, you’ll cover your mouth and quietly tell them where we are and that it’s an emergency.”

  “They’ll know how to get here?”

  “Oh, definitely. Crazy stuff goes on down here all the time. Mostly drug deals. I found that out when I worked on that matter for the Sewer District. Cops are down here at least one a month.”

  Hal looks around the tunnel and shakes his head. “Man, this place is unreal.”

  “It certainly is unique.” Milton smiles. “And if everything goes off as planned, you’ll be a free man by tomorrow.”

  “Boy, I sure hope it works.”

  Hal walks back out of the tunnel to where Milton is standing by the chair. He gestures toward the gym bag at Milton’s feet. “So where’d you get all that stuff?”

  “Online.”

  “Really? You can buy a bulletproof vest online?”

  Milton nods. “Amazon sells them.”

  “And that mask?”

  “Amazon.”

  “Wow. And it’s bulletproof, too?”

  “Army grade. The same brand the police SWAT teams use.”

  Hal smiles. “Awesome. He’s going freak out when he sees you. Especially with that mask. Like he’s stepped into a remake of that Halloween movie.”

  Milton nods. “That certainly is one of the strategies. Throw him off balance.”

  Hal looks around—the culvert, the tunnels, the overpass in the distance.

  Another gust of wind.

  He turns to his older brother. “So what’s next?”

  “I call him. Set up the meeting.”

  “When do you do that?”

  Milton checks his watch. “We want him to get here when it’s dark. It’ll be dark by seven. We don’t want to give him too much advance warning. His apartment is maybe fifteen minutes from here. I’ll call him around six-thirty.”

  Clang!

  Clang!

  Clang!

  “What’s that?” Hal says.

  The clanging continues.

  “Freight train.” Milton points toward the overpass. “See those flashing red lights?”

  Clang!

  Clang!

  Hal squints. He sees the flashing lights and the railroad crossing bars lowering on either side of the railroad tracks on the northern edge of the overpass.

  The clanging continues.

  Approaching from the west is a yellow locomotive with a Union Pacific logo along its side. Actually two locomotives, moving maybe fifteen miles an hour. They are pulling a line of flat cars and box cars that stretches behind out of sight. A pickup truck waits behind the crossing bar on the south side of the tracks, smoky vapors curling out of its exhaust pipe.

  The lead locomotive blasts its horn as it passes the overpass above the north side of the culvert. The two locomotives rumble past Hal and Milton, who watch from below.

  The clanging continues, now joined by the squeaking and grinding of flat cars and the box cars. The queue of idling automobiles on the south side of the tracks—the side barely visible from where they are standing—is starting to grow. Now three. Then a fourth. And then a brown UPS truck.

  “How often do these trains come?” Hal asks.

  “Several times a day.”

  “I hope we don’t get one tonight.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “What if the engineer looks down here?”

  Milton smiles. “He will just see two guys talking.”

  “Let’s hope that’s all he sees.”

  Chapter Forty-six

  Bledsoe turns off the TV, lights another Tiparillo, stands, checks his watch, shakes his head, and walks into the kitchen. He opens the refrigerator, takes out a can of Busch, pops the tab, takes a big sip, closes the refrigerator, walks over to the sink, and stares out the window. It’s starting to get dark.

  The telephone rings. He waits until the third ring and lifts the receiver.

  “Yeah?”

  “Got the money?”

  “I got it.”

  “Then listen careful, Billy. This is going to happen thirty minutes from now. You’re not there by seven and I go to the cops. Understand?”

  Bledsoe checks his wristwatch. six-twenty-seven p.m.

  “Yeah.”

  “You got a pencil and paper?”

  “Uh, just a second.” A pause. “Okay.”

  “Listen careful. Get onto Macklind from Oakland. Just south of Manchester you’ll pass over some railroad tracks and then an overpass. Look east down that culvert. You’ll see three tunnel openings—two big ones and one small one to the right. Park your car. Wa
lk down that gravel path toward those tunnels. You will come to a stairway. Go down it. When you get to the bottom, you will see a chair right in front of the middle tunnel. That is where you will sit. Understand?”

  Bledsoe is scribbling notes. “In front of the middle tunnel. Yeah.”

  What’s the money in?”

  “A briefcase.”

  “Good. Sit your butt in that chair. Put the briefcase on the ground on your left side. Make sure you are in that chair by seven sharp. That’s where I will meet you. Got it?”

  “A gravel path?”

  “You can’t miss it. There is a waist-high chain across the path. Just walk around it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Seven, Billy. Don’t be late and you won’t be sorry.”

  There’s a click, and then a dial tone.

  Bledsoe stares at the receiver and then hangs up.

  “Fuck you, you fucking fuck. Fuck you.”

  He looks at the directions he scribbled on the notepad, reads through them. He checks his watch, lifts the receiver, and dials a number.

  Pitt answers. “Well?”

  “He just called, Mr. Pitt.”

  “When and where?”

  “Seven.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s kind of weird.”

  “Where, Billy?”

  “Okay. You got a pencil and paper?”

  Stage 5: The Release

  Chapter Forty-seven

  The folding chair is right where that asshole said it would be: sitting in front of the big middle tunnel opening. Bledsoe spots it when he’s halfway along the gravel path that runs parallel above the culvert. A dim spotlight atop the tunnel illuminates the chair in a dull, yellowish light. Bledsoe stops, looks around, and then leans over to peer down the gravel embankment to the culvert.

  No one else in sight. He reaches inside his jacket again to touch the shoulder holster.

  Bastard’s probably waiting inside one of the fucking tunnels.

  Bledsoe continues down the path, the briefcase in his right hand. The path ends above the tunnels. A concrete stairway leads down to the culvert. A waist-high chain, connected on either side to a metal pole, hangs across the top of the stairway. He steps around the chain and starts down, moving carefully, the stairs faintly lit by the moon above.