The Devil’s Share

by Wallace Stroby

  “It wouldn’t be any trouble, but it’s up to you. Now go on.”

  “I need a driver,” she said. “Someone good under pressure, who can think on his feet. You’re the first one came to mind.”

  “What kind of vehicle?”

  “A truck.”

  “Tractor-trailer?”

  “Smaller.”

  “A hijack?”

  “More like a give-up.”

  “What’s the exposure?”

  “Taking it? Five minutes at most. Then a short drive and a transfer to a clean truck. After the transfer, you drive the second truck a hundred miles or so to a designated spot, leave it, then you’re home free. We’ll work out picking you up, getting you on a plane. You could be back here that same night.”

  “That’s the risk, what’s the reward?”

  “A hundred K. Ten minutes’ work, then two hours, maybe, driving.”

  “You’re running this, I take it.”

  “I am. But there’s a money man behind it. Fifty K when you sign on, fifty when it’s done. And I make sure everybody gets paid.”

  “How many in the crew?”

  “You, me, two others I’ll pick. If you have suggestions after I’ve laid it all out for you, let me know. The banker will also have a couple people along.”

  “Not sure I like that idea.”

  “They’re ex-military,” she said. “Pros.”

  “What branch?”

  “Marines, like you.”

  He sat back, crossed his arms. “More brothers gone bad.”

  “They’ve been out for a while, working private. They know their stuff. And as far as the work goes, they’ll answer to me. They’re there for support, that’s all.”

  “How much are they getting?”

  “Not my bother. Employer’s taking care of that.”

  He rocked back on the chair legs, looked at the ceiling.

  “No pressure,” she said. “You say no, and that’s it. We have a nice visit, maybe the three of us have some dinner tomorrow. Then I’m on a flight back to New Jersey. No issues.”

  “Jersey, that where you’re living now?”

  “More or less. Think about it tonight, if you want to. And if you’re out, you’re out. I understand.”

  He set the chair back down, stirred his coffee. “What do you hear from Wayne?”

  She looked down at her mug. “Saw him a few days ago.”

  “How’s he making out?”

  “Hanging in. Like he always says, one day at a time.”

  “Larry Black told me what happened, about his sentence being extended. It was a fight?”

  “He had a beef with some Aryans. Decided to take it to them. It was stupid. His parole was coming up.”

  “He called his own play, I guess. How’s it look now?”

  “Not good. He’s lucky the other man lived. But he’ll max out his sentence now, maybe another five on top of that, before he gets out. There was nothing I could do.”

  “How was he when you saw him? How’d he seem?”

  “Like he’d given up.” She drank coffee.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “He made his choice.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Hell of a thing. So, this other gig, you’ve got it all worked out already?”

  “I will. There’s still some issues to deal with.”

  He exhaled. “One thing I have to say, you were always good with the details. Like Wayne used to say, ‘Fail to prepare…’”

  “‘… and prepare to fail.’ I haven’t forgotten that. I haven’t forgotten anything he taught me.”

  “Well,” he said, “if we do have dinner”—he nodded at the backpack—“it’s on me.”

  * * *

  Back at the motel, she put on sweats and T-shirt, stretched on the carpet. Right leg extended, she held the ankle with both hands, touched her head to her knee, feeling the tension in her lower back, the arthritic ache in her hip. Her own souvenir from Connecticut, when she’d been clipped by a car driven by the man who’d come to kill them.

  She stretched some more, then got slowly to her feet, legs sore. She was too tired to shower. With the lights off, she lay on the bed, used the remote to flip aimlessly through the channels for a few minutes, then turned off the set again.

  Her cell lay dark and silent on the nightstand. Without thinking, she picked it up, opened it, hit POWER. She was low on minutes, would need another burner soon.

  She found Hicks’s number, wondered where he was right then, what he was doing, who he was with. She remembered the feel of his hands on her, the heat of his touch.

  Her thumb hovered over the CALL button for a long moment. Then she closed the phone, pressed POWER again, watched the display fade to black.

  TEN

  Sandoval opened the back door of the Jaguar, threw in his duffel bag, then got in front with Hicks, said, “About fucking time.”

  Hicks pulled away from the curb, eased the car into the line of traffic leaving the airport.

  “I thought about waiting inside with the limo drivers,” Hicks said. “Holding up a sign that said ASSHOLE.”

  “You probably carry one all the time, right? In case you forget your name?”

  Hicks laughed. “It’s good to see you, partner, seriously. How’s it swinging?”

  “Same old, jefe. Working for the Man and getting paid. But right now, I need a drink, a meal, and a woman.”

  “In that order?”

  “Whatever. I’m flexible.”

  “I’ll cover the drink and the meal. You’re on your own with the woman.”

  They were almost at the airport exit, the traffic moving faster now. Hicks shifted and pulled ahead, changing lanes. Sandoval looked out the window.

  “Been a long time since I been out here, man. It looks the same.”

  “It always is. Where are you now?”

  “Dallas, most of the time. But I spent part of the year working for a mining firm up in Wisconsin, walking around in a balaclava and a boonie hat, carrying an M-16, scaring off the tree huggers. Colder than my ex-wife’s concha up there.”

  “That pay?”

  “Not as righteous as a PSD, but it kept me going. What’s this deal you’ve got?”

  “Crowd control,” Hicks said. “Fifteen minutes’ work, tops.”

  “It legal?”

  Hicks looked straight ahead, didn’t answer.

  “Ha,” Sandoval said. “I should have known. That three grand you sent got me on the plane, though. So keep talking, jefe. Tell me what you need.”

  * * *

  They were at a taco stand in East L.A., food in red plastic baskets lined with waxed paper, beer in plastic mugs. They’d taken the farthest table from the takeout window, on the edge of the parking lot. On the stucco wall behind them was a mural of the Virgin Mary, looking up, arms outstretched. Her bare feet pinned a fanged snake to the earth.

  “You hear from any of the others?” Sandoval said. “Doctor Shock? Cochise?” He’d left his jacket in the car, wore a black linen shirt open at the throat, showing a white V-neck T-shirt and gold cross beneath.

  Hicks shook his head. “Not for a long time.”

  “Durell and I kept in touch for awhile, e-mail mostly,” Sandoval said. “I tried to get him up with me for that mine gig, but he had something else going on. Nobody’s hurting for work. I tell you, man, I was scared to death first time I got deployed. Just a kid, you know? Turns out it was the best thing ever happened to me.”

  Hicks sipped beer, looked across the parking lot.

  “You keep watching that car,” Sandoval said. “I don’t blame you. I’m surprised no one’s tried to boost it while we’re sitting here. Cholos down here probably have that thing chopped for parts in ten minutes. You carrying?”

  “In the car.”

  “You got a CCP?”

  “Yeah. Easier than you’d think out here, as long as you have good cause. My last few job descriptions, that hasn’t been a problem.” />
  “You hear anything from Greggs?”

  Hicks shrugged, pushed his basket away.

  “I heard he went off the reservation,” Sandoval said.

  “Big time. But I saw him awhile back, got it straightened out. Last I heard, he was out in the Midwest somewhere, contemplating his sins.”

  “He still married?”

  “Far as I know.”

  “He called me up one night when I was in Dallas, drunk, bitching about money that was owed him. I told him if he was smart, he’d keep his mouth shut.”

  “He had his issues,” Hicks said. “But it’s all in the past now.”

  “Hate to see a brother lose it like that, though. You still working for the old man?”

  “Yeah. Now and then he finds shit for me to do. It’s mostly low stress.”

  “So tell it. What’s the job?”

  Hicks’s cell began to buzz in his jeans pocket. He took it out, looked at the number. Crissa. He hit QUIET, then turned off the phone, set it on the table.

  “For a man with your skill set,” he said, “it’ll be like once around the park getting a hand job. Trust me.”

  “Just the two of us?”

  “There’s some others involved. Independents.”

  “Contractors?”

  “Civilians.”

  “Fuck that, man. You want real hombres, some trigger pullers know their shit, say the word. I make a phone call, get all the guys you want.”

  “We’ll keep it the way it is for now,” Hicks said. “See how it goes. I got you a hotel downtown. You get settled today, we’ll go over the whole thing tomorrow.”

  “How soon is this thing happening?”

  “About three weeks, but there’s a lot to do.”

  “What about equipment? Ordnance?”

  “I’ve got that taken care of.”

  “No shit? Good stuff?”

  “The best. HK-416s. M-4A’s, anything we need.”

  “Sounds like you’re living large out here, Sarge.”

  “You got enough money to spend,” Hicks said, “you can always find a seller, whatever it is you want.”

  “Why I love this country. So what exactly are we doing?”

  “Look at it this way,” Hicks said. “Nothing we haven’t done before.”

  * * *

  Crissa watched Chance’s pickup pull into the motel parking lot, put down her phone. Hicks’s line had rung twice. When it went to voice mail, she’d hung up.

  She was sitting at a concrete table near the closed pool. A sunny day, but a chill in the air, no one else around. The closeness of the room had started to get to her. Restless, she’d taken the phone outside to make her calls.

  Chance parked, came over, sat across from her without a word.

  “You look tired,” she said.

  “I am.”

  “I caused you trouble last night.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “How’d it go with Lynette?”

  “About as expected. Pretended to be asleep when I got into bed. Lit into me today. Hard to blame her.”

  “So I guess dinner’s off.”

  He smiled, pulled a bent pack of Kents from his shirt pocket, lit one with a plastic lighter.

  “Since when?” she said.

  “These? Since last night. I mean, I quit for a while. Got started a while back, when I got out of the hospital. Nerves. Thought I’d kicked it, though.”

  “You never told me what happened,” she said. “After that night.”

  He blew out smoke.

  “They kept me in the hospital a couple weeks. Police questioned me. A Connecticut statie named Gaitano did most of the talking. I told them I was walking through the woods, got shot. Never saw who did it. Hunters all over the place up there, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch. Eventually they bought it. Nothing tied me to what happened at the house, what they found there.”

  “That’s good.”

  “They didn’t want to let me go at first. But I got my lawyer on the phone. He came up and got me. After they cut me loose, I went back to Ohio, did some private rehab there, PT. That’s when this started.” He raised the cigarette.

  “I feel like I’m screwing things up for you again,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. I owe you.”

  “No. It’s the other way around.”

  He looked away. “When are you leaving?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Then I guess we’re down to it.”

  “We are.”

  “And you’re waiting on me.”

  She didn’t answer.

  He dropped the cigarette on the concrete, ground it out with a heel. “Where’s your base for this thing?”

  “Outside Vegas. That’s where I’m headed.”

  “Even if I come along,” he said, “you still need a couple more people, right? You have anyone in mind?”

  “Not yet. I was going to reach out to Sladden, see who’s up.”

  “Any special skills you’re looking for?”

  “Just a cool head, and the ability to follow directions.”

  “Ever work with a guy named Keegan, out of Boston?”

  “No.”

  “Irish, a few years older than us.”

  “I thought you were out of the Game.”

  “I am. But he and I did something together a few years back, up in Rhode Island. Before that mess in Lauderdale.”

  “He good?”

  “Yeah, he was. Things got crazy, but he kept his end together. We all got paid. Quiet, doesn’t talk much, but a good guy to have around if things start going sideways.”

  “You know how to reach him?”

  “Sladden would. I don’t know that Keegan’s still around, but if he is, Sladden can find him.”

  “I’ll check with him.”

  “Then I guess I better make up my mind, right?” He got out the cigarettes again.

  “You can say no.”

  “I could.”

  “If things are going well here, why take the chance?”

  “The truth? Kitty’s getting low. I pay the mortgage on that farm, taxes, insurance, whatever, even though my name’s not on it. Take care of Lynette, too, whatever she needs. Sooner or later, it’s gonna be a forced call, I’ll need to do something.” He lit the cigarette. “What kind of time frame are you looking at?”

  “Three weeks, give or take. But if you do drive that truck, once you get it where it’s going, you’re done. There won’t be anybody looking for you. Nothing that connects you to what happened.”

  “How’s the money work?”

  “The banker moves the cash into an offshore account I keep. I’ll pay you out of that, however you want it. Fifty K when you’re on board, another fifty when we’re done. I’m the buffer between the money man and the crew. He pays me, I pay you.”

  “Can you trust him?”

  “So far. He’s already put up my half. But it’ll be my responsibility to make sure everyone gets paid. One way or another, it’ll happen.”

  “How soon could I get that fifty?”

  “A few days, I’d think.”

  He rubbed his tattooed forearm. “It would soften the blow for Lynette, have a check for fifty grand show up.”

  “More like six separate checks, all under ten thousand. Better that way. Spread it out, maybe different accounts. Keep a low profile.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll have a new cell tomorrow. I’ll call you. You can give me your answer when you’re ready.”

  He looked at the ground, shook his head.

  “What?” she said. She’d never seen him like this before. Wondered what it was he’d lost that night in Connecticut, those long weeks in rehab.

  “I think I’d rather leave tonight, “he said. “With you. I’ll call Lynette tomorrow from wherever I am.”

  “Isn’t that a little harsh?”

  “It’ll eliminate some drama, maybe. And to be honest, if I wait until
tomorrow, I might change my mind.”

  “I understand.”

  He stood. “I’m going to head back now, get my things together.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. What about iron? I have that .38. A shottie upstairs, too.”

  “No need,” she said. “Someone else is taking care of all that.”

  He dropped the cigarette, ground it out. “I’ll hit you on your cell tonight. Let you know when I’ll be ready.”

  “You don’t need to do this.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m thinking maybe I do.”

  * * *

  She was having dinner in a coffee shop on the highway when her phone buzzed. Hicks’s number. She looked at it, let it ring six times before she answered.

  “I called you earlier,” she said.

  “I know. I’m sorry, got tied up. How are things going?”

  “Making progress. You?”

  “Same. I’m looking over the equipment list you gave me. There’s some things we’ll need to talk about. You getting your people together?”

  “Working on it.”

  “My other man’s here. He’s good to go.”

  “Once my people commit, we’ll need to see those advances,” she said. “Sooner rather than later.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  Silence on the line.

  What?” she said.

  “It’s just … Hell, I was thinking about the other night.”

  “What about it?”

  “Things are a little awkward, I know. And you have that situation down in Texas…”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It’s just … It felt pretty special, you know. But at the same time, I don’t want it to cause any problems.”

  “That’s not your responsibility. But don’t worry about it. It won’t.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Listen, Randall. What happened happened. We’re adults. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t. Doesn’t matter. All that matters now is the work.”

  “I know.”

  “So let’s focus on that, and leave the rest for later.”

  “I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”

  “There aren’t. I’ll call you when I’m in place.”

  “All right,” he said, and she ended the call.

  * * *

  Hicks closed his phone, left the balcony and went back through the French doors. Cota was in a chair by the fireplace, cane across his lap, glass in his hand. The drinks tray was on the table. He looked up when Hicks came in, raised an eyebrow.