by Marcus Sakey
The next, from this morning. A hang-up.
Shit. Tom closed the phone, rubbed his jaw. They’d gotten so caught up in their plans last night he’d forgotten all about the cop. “I’ve got a couple of messages from Halden.”
“Don’t call him.” Anna wriggled to a sitting position, stuffed a pillow behind her back. “We can’t talk to him now. If you accidentally say something that tips him off about Jack or the mall…”
“I have to call him eventually.”
“Once this is over. You can just tell him you changed your mind. That we talked it over, and you don’t want to act as bait. He’ll believe that. It must happen all the time, people backing out on identifying criminals.”
He thought about it, nodded. Pulled his pants from the edge of the chair and stepped into them, then stretched with his arms above his head, first one side, then the other, wincing at the pain in his kidneys. “You have your cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.”
“Done?”
“Meeting the drug dealer.” Tom buckled his belt. “He wants to talk first.”
“I’m going with you.”
“Like hell you are.” He turned, stared at her. “You think I’m taking you into a meeting with a-”
“Jesus Christ.” She sat up, grabbed a pillow, and whipped it at him.
Tom ducked sideways, surprised. “What?”
“There you go again. Trying to protect me.”
“This isn’t me being a hero. I just don’t see any point in you being in this too.”
“I’m already in it, you arrogant shit. You think Jack or your drug dealer friend are going to cut me slack because I have breasts?” She shook her head. “The only one doing that is you.”
He opened his mouth, closed it. Stood with his hands spread. Finally he said, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t want either of us hurt. And we went through this already. Last night.”
Tom turned, stared. The horizon was draped in gray, fat-bellied clouds hanging low. The skyline was bleak and faded, the top third of the Aon Center lost in mist. The commuter rush wouldn’t start in earnest for another hour, but the streets were already thick with taxis, the sidewalks dotted with tiny figures in skirts and suits. A spring morning like any other. Her voice came soft and low from behind. “Partners in crime. All or nothing.”
“Better get dressed,” he said. “We’ve got a long morning.”
17
THEIR FIRST YEAR IN CHICAGO they’d rented a cookie-cutter apartment in a high-rise on Clark a couple of blocks south of Diversey. It had primer-white walls and carpet that smelled of cigarettes. The view was of the building opposite or, if they stood on the back of the couch and leaned all the way against the window, an inch-wide sliver of lake. But the neighborhood was great, full of bars and noodle shops and bookstores. There was a hot dog place across the street called the Weiner Circle, where the women behind the counter cursed at you. When he remembered that year, Tom usually found himself smiling.
Which made it all the stranger to be back in the neighborhood. He glanced in his rearview for the hundredth time. There was no sign of Jack, no car matching his turns, speeding to keep pace when he ran yellow lights. Best he could tell, they weren’t being followed.
They followed Clark north another half mile, then he swung down a residential block and got lucky with a parking place. The morning was cool and alive with the promise of rain, not a pounding storm, but a steady drencher. He put his arm around Anna’s back as they stepped onto the sidewalk, and she moved a half step closer, her shoulder nestling into the crook of his arm.
The restaurant wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d anticipated a diner, faux wood and the smell of bacon grease. But the space was airy and bright, with colorful canvases over exposed brick. The water glasses had a slice of cucumber in them. As they’d discussed on the phone, Tom requested a four-top in the front, by the windows. A perky waitress passed them menus, set down a carafe of coffee, and asked if they wanted fresh-squeezed juice. Tom shook his head, his eyes on the other diners. At a table by the back wall, Andre sat with his hands on either side of an untouched plate of eggs. He smiled, predatory, wet lips parting to white teeth.
“That guy in the back. That’s the bodyguard. The one with the gun.” Tom kept his gaze on the man, saw no point in pretending. “I don’t know where the dealer is.”
As if in answer to his question, the front door opened in a jingle of bells. The man looked smaller than Tom remembered, slighter. A trim guy wearing an air of authority and a good suit. “Mr. and Mrs. Reed.” He sat opposite them, crossed his legs and smoothed the crease of his pant leg. “Good of you to come.”
Tom nodded.
“So. The situation. What time are you meeting him?”
“Ten.”
“Where?”
“Century Mall.”
The man tapped at his chin with one finger. His eyes were locked on Tom’s, seemed like they’d hardly blinked. “Why?”
“Because the mall is public. He said that way-”
“No, Mr. Reed.” The man leaned forward, spoke the syllable with great clarity and emphasis. “Why?”
“I don’t understand. Why what?”
“Why does Jack Witkowski want to meet? Day before last, you said you’d never heard of him. Fact, as I recall, you swore it.” A tiny tightening of the muscles around his eyes. “Were you lying to me, Mr. Reed?”
Tom felt a shiver of panic, but tried not to show it. “You know what? All this ‘Mr. Reed’ stuff is getting on my nerves. I feel like I’m in a Bond film. My name is Tom. This is Anna. What do we call you?”
The man cocked his head. Stared at Tom for a long moment. Then shrugged. “Don’t suppose it makes much difference. Malachi. Ain’t a name going to be of any use.”
“I’m just tired of thinking of you as ‘the man in the suit.’ ” Tom shook his head. “And no, I wasn’t lying to you.” He lifted his left hand from his lap, set it on the table. The exposed flesh was purple and hot. “Jack came to our house yesterday. He was looking for something, kept asking where it was, where had we put it. When I couldn’t answer…”
“What was he looking for?” Malachi asked it like it was a casual thing, like he couldn’t really care less.
“He never said. He just kept asking where ‘it’ was.”
The perky waitress came back. “You folks ready to order?”
The drug dealer spoke without looking. “You know, honey, I think we’ll just stick with the coffee. My friends here are a little off their stomach.”
A lot of her perkiness vanished, but she nodded, walked away. Malachi said, “How’d you get away? I don’t imagine Jack just let you be.”
“No.” Tom nodded sideways. “Anna set off our burglar alarm. After he ran, we left. Slept in a hotel.”
“I see. So y’all are afraid he’s coming back.”
“Sure.” Tom pushed his silverware around.
“Which does make me wonder.” Malachi glanced over his shoulder at Andre, who’d been staring the whole time like a pit bull straining the end of his chain. “If Jack hadn’t come at you, if y’all didn’t need my help, would you still be saying you’re on my side? Would we still be having this conversation?”
Anna said, “That would have been up to you.”
He turned. “How’s that?”
“If Jack hadn’t come after us, we wouldn’t have anything to offer.” She shrugged. “You told Tom you’d be willing to kill us just for having a tenant. So whether we’d be having this conversation would depend on whether or not you were serious.”
Malachi nodded slowly. “Fair answer. For the record, best you never doubt that. You hadn’t come through…” He glanced over his shoulder again, then raised an eyebrow.
Tom fought to keep from clenching his right hand into a fist.
“So.” Malachi turned back. “Jack wants something from you. Something
he thinks you have.”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t have it.”
“Don’t even know what it is.”
“So then, if he was looking for something, and you don’t have it” – the man spoke slowly – “why is he meeting you at ten o’clock?”
Tom fought to keep cool, forced a smile. “Well, I’ll tell you the truth.” He took a sip of coffee, set it down, moved his hand back to his lap, hoping the man hadn’t caught the shake in his fingers. “I figured the only way was to get him somewhere I could tell you about. So…” He paused, shrugged. “I lied to him.”
The man in the suit stared, eyes locked. The moment stretched thin and tense. Tom kept his gaze forward, a shit-eating grin on his lips. Thinking that this was it. Wondering if the guy would try anything here, whether he and Anna were about to get blasted right out of the breakfast nook.
Then Malachi slapped the table, threw back his head, and barked a laugh. Tom let himself breathe again. He felt Anna’s fingers slide into his under the table. He laughed too.
“You lied to him.” Malachi smiled, wiped at his mouth with one hand. “Well, good for you, Tom. You’re turning into a regular gangster.” He turned and inclined his head at Andre, who rose and walked over. For a moment Tom had a flash of panic, but the bodyguard only pulled out the fourth chair and sat down. “Now,” Malachi said, “let’s talk this thing out. He say where he wanted to meet specifically?”
“Just the mall.”
“You got a cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“Jack know the number?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Wherever you are, he’s going to want you to go somewhere else.”
“No way. We’re doing this in the mall because it’s public. We’re not going to agree to-”
“Cool out. You don’t have to leave the mall. Fact, he knows you won’t. He’ll just move you around some. You standing by one store, he’s going to call, tell you to go to another. Simple good sense. What that means, though, I can’t have my people just waiting around the corner. So you gonna have to stall.”
Tom felt a faint sickness. Anna said, “How long?”
Malachi looked at Andre. The big man shrugged, said, “Minute or two.”
“Wait. You want us to stall him for a couple of minutes while ‘your people’ sneak up on him?” Tom snorted. “No offense, but Century Mall is in the heart of Lincoln Park. A bunch of gangsters are going to stand out.”
“You mean a bunch of niggers are going to stand out.” Malachi smiled.
Tom felt his face go hot. “No, I-”
“I got a couple of white boys I use for situations like these. And I think even Lincoln Park can handle one black man wandering free,” he said, inclining his head toward Andre. “Now, like I said, my people will be there. But Jack’s got some savvy on him. So they going to have to be laying low. They won’t come out till you give the signal.”
“What’s that?”
Andre rattled off a string of digits. Tom stared at him blankly.
“Program that shit into your phone,” Andre said. “Once you got the dude distracted, you press Send.”
“What if he sees me do it?”
“Make sure he don’t.”
“Also,” Malachi said, “you need a bag.”
“A bag? What for?” Anna’s look of confusion was so perfect Tom fought an urge to kiss her right there. She hadn’t given even a hint that she knew exactly why they’d need a bag.
“I have an idea what Jack is after,” Malachi said. “You get yourself a decent size bag. Carry it like it’s heavy.”
“What if Jack wants to look inside?”
Malachi shrugged. Tom’s stomachache grew worse.
“How are you going to grab him in the middle of a mall?” Anna asked.
“Now, that’s a fine question. But I don’t see you needing the answer.”
“Here’s one we do need the answer to.” Tom looked the man in the eye. “After we do this, we’re square, right? We’re done with you?”
“You do this,” the man said, “you prove what I need proved.” He leaned back in his chair, shot his cuffs. “Long as everything goes the way you say, yeah, we square.”
“And what about Jack? What are you going to do to him?”
Malachi shook his wrist to straighten the loose Rolex, then glanced at it. “I’m going to give him a history lesson. Genghis Khan style.” He stood. “Now. You two best be on your way. You got a few details to attend before ten.”
“Wait a second,” Tom said. “Where are you going?”
The drug dealer laughed. “Son, I won’t be inside five miles of that mall. And I’ll have witnesses to back me. This thing, it’s on you two. It goes wrong, you screwed it up.” He raised his eyebrows. “We clear?”
“Clear that you’re leaving us dangling.” Tom was unable to stop himself from glaring, to keep the tone out of his voice.
Malachi just smiled again. “Pay to play, gangster. You got to pay to play.”
“WELL, THAT WENT GREAT.” Anna leaned back in the passenger seat, balanced the arch of her feet against the glove box. She had the window cracked to let cool spring air in. “Just great.”
Tom shook his head. Pressed his lips together hard.
“What if Jack wants to look in the bag first thing? Not like there’s a reason for us to chat. All he wants is the money. He’s probably planning to just walk up, look in the bag, say something threatening, and then walk off.”
“Assuming he doesn’t plan to kill us anyway.”
“Assuming that.”
Tom sighed. “I don’t know. We can stall him, I think. He’ll feel safe. What scares me is that at the same time, we have to signal Andre. One thing we know about Jack, he’s smart. He’ll be watching for any sign something is wrong.”
“He doesn’t know about Malachi, does he?”
“No. He won’t be expecting this. If he’s expecting anything, it will probably be police. He’ll have his eyes tuned for cops.”
“That will work for us,” she said. “He won’t be looking for gangsters.”
“Gangsters. Jesus.” Tom shook his head. “What the hell are we doing?”
She looked over at him. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and his posture rigid. She could almost hear the whir and clank of his thoughts colliding. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Why did you ask what they were going to do to Jack?”
He was silent for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess just to make it real.”
“Is it going to bother you?”
He shook his head. “I wanted to see if it would. Whether planning something like this was going too far. But when Malachi said what he said, I didn’t feel a thing. The truth is, I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to Jack. After what he’s done…” He shrugged. “Fuck him.”
“So we’re going ahead.”
“I don’t see any choice. You?”
She shook her head. They rode in silence, Anna looking at a familiar world gone strange. A guy on a bike, a woman walking a couple of dogs, a kid at the bus stop wearing a T-shirt that read “You looked better on MySpace.” It felt like one of those ant farms, a pane of glass that let you stare into something that was supposed to be hidden. Only, the world was normal, and it was her eyes that had changed. “You sure about stowing the money?”
“Yes.” His voice was firm. “We’ve been careless. What if the car got stolen or towed? What if Jack happened on it? What we’re about to walk into, as exposed as we’re going to be, that money may be our lifeline. We need to protect it.”
“Things could go right too, you know.” She turned to look at him. “Don’t forget that. If we pull this off, it’s all over. Malachi will be done with us, and Jack will be gone. No one will know we have the money. We’ll be able to go back to our life. Only better.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything.
They’d rented a sp
ace at the storage facility off Belmont years ago. In D.C. they’d kept separate apartments, so when they moved in together, they’d had twice as much furniture as space. Tom’s had been garage-sale crap, but he’d been sentimental about it – or hedging his bets, something Anna had wondered at the time – and so they’d rented a ten-by-ten and piled stuff to the ceiling. Eventuallythey’d hauled most of it to the garbage and surrendered the lease, but when, leaving the restaurant, Tom had suggested that they needed to move the money, the place had jumped to Anna’s mind.
He went inside to rent a unit while she walked to a Sun-Times machine. Dropped coins into the slot, then opened the front and pulled out the whole stack of papers, including the one in the display. By the time she’d returned to the car, he was waiting, the duffel bag in one hand, cell phone in the other. He shook his head, closed it. “Detective Halden again.”
“You check the message?”
“No. I’m nervous enough. Let’s get on with it.”
He’d gotten the smallest available unit, a five-foot cube on the third floor. The hallway was fluorescent and concrete, marked by roll doors. Their footsteps echoed. Tom bent to fit the key into the lock and haul the door clattering upward.
The space was clean and blank. The two of them stepped inside, then dragged the door closed behind. Tom unzipped the bag and upended it. Bundles of ragged hundreds tumbled out, and Anna had the same surreal feeling as when they first found the money, that same breathless skipped heartbeat. All that freedom piled up on a concrete floor. In the confined space, she could smell it, a dank, unpleasant odor of humanity.
Tom shook the last straggling bundles from the bag, then set it on the floor and held it open. Anna piled the stack of newspapers inside. They bulged against the side much like the money had. Tom hefted it, testing the weight. “It’s close enough.”
Anna tore the band off one bundle, then dumped the money on top of the newspaper and smeared it around. At a glance – a quick glance – it might look like they had undone all the money and were carrying it loose. Thin, but better than nothing.