The man quickly left by the back door and Frankie silently cursed him for putting Dominick in a foul mood. Frankie nodded at Dominick and waited for him to gesture it was okay to sit at the table with him.
Dominick nodded and waved his arm toward a chair. “We go way back, Frankie. They don’t make ‘em like you anymore. Never had worries with you. Now I pay through the ass for these hired gorillas. New York decides who I can trust. New York!”
Frankie wasn’t sure where the conversation was going to go. He didn’t realize that Dominick didn’t pick his own crew anymore. This might be good news. Dominick had been found guilty, had a sentencing hearing next month, and everyone expected him to get a long gig.
Frankie decided to test the water. “I know things are going to change next month. Dominick, I bought a small house in New Buffalo, Michigan. My knees are giving out and the stink of the city gives me migraines.”
Dominick leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Ain’t nothin’ going to happen next month. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You keep that to yourself.”
Frankie was shocked. Dominick had just been convicted in the largest FBI mob case in history. How could he possibly believe he wasn’t going to prison?
Dominick chuckled at Frankie’s expression. “You think I’m mad, don’t you? I’ve got a big ace I’m tradin’ the FBI. That’s all I can say.”
Fear shot through Frankie’s mind. The biggest ace Dominick had was when he announced to the family that Frankie had killed Jimmy Hoffa on his orders. That fact had insulated Dominick from trouble within the family and given him unchallenged power. Did Dominick also know he had kept Hoffa’s head frozen all of these years? Frankie had no doubt that Dominick would trade Hoffa’s killer for his own release.
He instantly regretted telling Dominick he had bought a house in New Buffalo. He cleared his throat and said, “I am happy to hear your freedom will not be compromised, my friend. I asked for this meeting to get your blessing on my retirement.”
Dominick frowned, and then smiled. “Of course, Frankie. You have served the family well over the years. Have you the resources to retire?”
Frankie was stunned that Dominick didn’t protest his retirement. Something was off. Frankie answered, “I’ve put away most of my earnings over the years. If I’m careful, I should be fine without any further donations from the family.”
Dominick stood and opened his arms to hug Frankie. After the hearty hug, Dominick said, “Go. Enjoy your pasture years in peace. You’ve always been smart, Frankie. Keep your head about you and you’ll be fine.”
Frankie felt himself slightly wet his pants. ‘Keep your head?’ Was Dominick admitting he knew about Hoffa’s head?
Frankie rode the bus back to his apartment and sighed at the piles of belongings that still had to be moved. His eyes came to rest on his pile of guns. If Dominick was going to trade him to the FBI, he had to hide those guns and his collection of trophies from forty years. Frankie walked into his kitchen and opened his freezer door. The large, brown, frozen mass wrapped in cellophane bore little resemblance to what it really was. “Don’t worry. I have a special place for you.”
Frankie dialed Lenny. “I’ve got one more job for you today.”
*****
Lenny and Travis worked steady to finish up the work at Frankie Mullen’s house. The floor of the cavity had to be reinforced to hold the weight of the freezer and Lenny had to install dead bolt locks on all of the doors and windows.
Lenny wiped his forehead and carefully placed his drill on the floor. “That’s the last lock. Crazy old coot puts a dead bolt on a pantry? Worried somebody gonna take that can of peas?” Lenny looked over at Travis who had been very quiet all afternoon. “You okay, man? I can take you to the airport now.”
Travis had to decide what he was going to do. Leaving Chicago had been a mistake. He needed the protection and advice of Agent Phillips. “I think I want to go back to Chicago.”
Lenny wrapped his index finger around his chin in thought. “You in a big hurry? I’m meetin’ a couple of guys at the casino. I don’t plan on headin’ back to Chicago ‘til late tonight. Got no problem you comin’ with.”
Travis was sure the casino was a bad idea. “Are you sure Mr. Mullen isn’t coming back here tonight? I can just wait here if you’ll pick me up. I’ll pay you for your trouble.”
Lenny got a wide grin. “No trouble! Pay me in advance so I’ve got some gamblin’ money.”
Travis couldn’t believe he was going to be hiding from the mob at Frankie Mullen’s house. “Look, let’s exchange phone numbers in case anything goes wrong, okay? I’m running a little low on cash. Why don’t I give you a hundred bucks now and another hundred when we get back to Chicago?”
Lenny shrugged. “Works for me. You realize you’ll be giving me a total of $450, including that impound fee and gas money, to take you somewhere you didn’t want to go?” Lenny grabbed his truck keys and waved, “And people say I’m a little slow. Ha!”
Lenny’s phone rang. “This here is Mr. Mullen.”
Travis watched Lenny’s facial expression turn sour as he listened to the call. Lenny put his phone back in his pocket and declared, “Crazy old man wants me to dig him a big hole out back. Wants me to pick up a dozen small bags of concrete mix. Seems he can’t lift anything heavy with his knees.” Lenny smiled, “I got two shovels.”
Travis nearly fainted. Now he was probably going to dig his own grave. The longer he dug the madder he got. Sweat rolled from his forehead and stung his eyes. He could hear the waves of Lake Michigan crashing onto the beach. He took some comfort that there were certainly worse places to come to your final rest. Travis finished the digging while Lenny went to town to purchase the concrete. When Lenny returned, they stacked the twenty pound bags of concrete mix next to the hole.
Lenny exclaimed, “That’s it for me today. I’ll call you when I leave the casino, so you can meet me at the street.”
Travis watched Lenny’s truck turn around in the driveway. He could hear the empty beer cans rolling in the truck bed. Lenny was already half drunk. A few hours at the casino guaranteed it would be an interesting ride back to Chicago. Travis decided he was probably going to drive.
He walked through the silence of Frankie’s house and decided he would nap on the carpeted floor of the bedroom. He stunk from digging the hole in the afternoon sun. He grabbed the dish soap from the kitchen and used Frankie’s shower. He threw his clothes in Frankie’s washing machine even though he didn’t have any laundry soap. Naked, he stood looking into the pantry. While his clothes washed he hooked up the television and watched Jerry Springer. It occurred to him that if Frankie burst through the door at that moment he would not have a plausible explanation.
When the dryer finally signaled his clothes were dry, he got dressed, used a rolled up tarp for a pillow and slipped into a parade of nightmares. Jerry Springer was leading a group of people chasing him with machetes.
Chapter Seven
Angel had pushed the cot from the wall and used her steel reinforced heels to break into the drywall and pry open a hole. She had argued with Chris that six hundred dollars for a pair of good heels was a bargain. Now she would find out. The noise she was making didn’t bring anyone to the door. Even if they were watching her through the mirror, what else could they do? She was already a prisoner.
She pulled off a large piece of drywall and tossed it behind her. Using her heels, she dug the insulation from the cavity and tried to determine what the outside wall was made of. Long slats of horizontal planks stood between her prison and freedom. She braced herself and gave it a strong kick. Nails groaned as they pried from the studs. Another kick and a push broke open a small streak of daylight. The daylight and fresh air fueled her strength. She kicked like a mad woman until she had an opening large enough to squeeze through. A nail sliced her shoulder and warm blood ran down her arm.
Outside at last, her eyes scanned the area for some means of escape. A black pickup truck was
parked fifty feet from her. A thick wooded area was directly to her right. Angel darted to the truck. Her eyes scanned the bed of the truck for a tool to hotwire the ignition. A screwdriver handle peeked out from an old jacket pocket. She had no idea how to start a truck without a key, but on TV they always used a screwdriver. She grabbed it and slid into the driver’s seat. Angel closed her eyes in a brief prayer of thanks. The keys were in the ignition.
She turned the key, floored the accelerator, and headed toward the street. In her excitement she giggled out loud. She had escaped!
Her kidnapper snapped upright on the couch. He reached for the remote and turned down the volume. He thought he had heard something. He glanced at his watch and realized he had fallen asleep. Shit. Three beers cans rested on the floor next to the couch; two more empties were on the coffee table. He carried them to the kitchen garbage bag to dispose of them before Becky returned. He walked down the hall and looked through the one-way glass to Dr. Sanchez’s detention room. Daylight flooded the corner of the room from the outside wall. His heart skipped a beat. This couldn’t be happening.
He unlocked the door and burst in only to find the room empty. He ran outside and saw that his truck was gone. He could still smell the diesel fuel. She hadn’t been gone long. He knew a motorcycle was in the garage; he just hoped it had gas. As he ran to the garage, he dialed Becky. “She escaped.” He pulled the phone away from his ear; Becky’s screaming was clearly heard from an arm’s length away.
He shouted back, “I’m taking the motorcycle. I’ll get her.” He found a half-filled gas can in the garage and poured it in the motorcycle’s tank. It wouldn’t start. He cursed the old Harley for having a Linkert carburetor and adjusted the high and low speed needles counterclockwise for a richer mix. He advanced the spark and waited for the engine to warm. Every minute increased his tension and temper. The penalty for failure in his job was death. He was not going to fail. Finally, the old beast roared that it was ready.
Angel’s glee from escaping was quickly replaced with panic. She realized the kidnappers could trace her location with the truck’s GPS. Maybe they would even take over the vehicle like they had done to her car. Her mind was spinning as she pushed the accelerator as far as she dared on the gravel road. Finally, an intersection with a paved road loomed ahead. Maybe at least she could figure out where she was. She wished she had her phone.
A mile down the road a teenager stood with his thumb out begging a ride. Angel slammed on the brakes and reached over to open the passenger door. The kid jumped in. Angel looked at him. “I’m not giving you a ride. I need your phone. Give me your phone. Hurry!”
The kid shook his head. “I don’t have a phone, but I sure need a ride.” The kid had a pouty expression on his face and Angel didn’t have time to argue.
Angel raised her voice. “I’ve got all kinds of problems right now that can’t involve a kid. I just need a phone. I’m sorry, but you have to get out.” Angel glanced in her rearview mirror to make sure no one was coming for her.
The boy shook his head. “Lady, you’re the first car I’ve seen in half an hour. Please?”
“You’re going to regret this. What teenager doesn’t have a phone? Buckle up!” Angel pressed the accelerator to the floor and yelled to be heard over the engine. “Where are we?”
The kid noticed the blood stains on Angel’s suit. He was getting scared. “Lady, I don’t know where we are. I’ve been hitchhiking for two days.”
Angel shouted, “God, I need a break!” She glanced over at the kid. “Fine. Get in the glove box and find the owner’s manual to this truck. See if we have ONSTAR or something. I was kidnapped this morning and I have escaped. This is the kidnapper’s truck and I know they’ll be coming for me.” Angel kept looking in her rear view mirror. The kid was right, there was no traffic. “How old are you? What’s your name?”
The kid’s hands were shaking as he flipped through the pages of the manual. “Jeremy. I’m fifteen. You were really kidnapped?”
“Jeremy, why aren’t you in school?”
“I quit school. I don’t need all the bullshit.”
Angel caught the glint of the sun reflecting off from a car ahead. “Yes! There’s a car up ahead of us. When we get next to them, roll your window down, and have them call the police.”
Jeremy just stared at her. “Lady, are you serious?”
Angel turned to him and spoke softer. “My name is Angel Sanchez. This is serious, Jeremy. I need you to do this for me, please.”
Jeremy saw softness in Angel’s face and realized she was terrified. Who wouldn’t be after being kidnapped? She was also very pretty. This was his chance to be a hero. How bad could she be? Her name was Angel.
Angel caught up with the car and pulled into the opposite lane for Jeremy to talk to the driver. Jeremy waved his arms and screamed for the driver to roll down his window. Finally, the driver did and Jeremy yelled, “Call the cops! We need help!”
A car came out of nowhere and was heading directly for them. Jeremy screamed. Angel slammed on the brakes, twisting the steering wheel back towards her lane. More cars could be seen some distance ahead. A highway sign announced Rapid City, 40 miles. Angel and Jeremy both shouted with joy.
A motorcycle was quickly gaining on them from behind. Angel said, “That motorcycle behind us looks like trouble.”
Jeremy turned in time to see the motorcycle driver level a pistol at the truck.
“Shit! He’s got a gun! He’s shooting at us!”
Angel tightened her grip on the steering wheel and felt the truck violently pull to the left. She struggled to keep control as loose gravel on the road’s shoulder whipped them back into their own lane. She knew she had to reduce speed or she would lose control. Another shot rang out.
Jeremy ducked down and screamed, “He’s still shooting!”
Huge chunks of tire littered the road behind them. Angel felt the rear tire on the driver’s side blow. She was now driving on two flat tires. Sparks were flying from the wheels grinding on the pavement. Jeremy saw tears running down Angel’s cheeks.
He reached over and touched her shoulder. “You can do this. We’re going to be okay.”
Angel nodded and said, “You just stay down. I can’t believe I got you involved in this.”
Angel’s fingers were white from gripping the steering wheel and the motorcycle was pulling up beside them in the opposite lane. Angel glanced quickly at the driver’s black helmet. He slowly raised his pistol. Unless an oncoming car showed up soon, he was going to have a clear shot at her through the driver’s window.
Angel screamed, “Hang on!”
She slammed on the brakes; the motorcycle sped passed her. It slowed, circled around and stopped. Angel and Jeremy stared at the driver in horror. The motorcycle’s driver twisted his throttle and the bike’s engine roared.
Angel looked at Jeremy and calmly said, “Get down on the floorboard and don’t move until everything is clear. I’m getting out. They want me.”
Jeremy grabbed her arm. “No way are you getting out! Run him over!”
Just then a parade of red and blue lights cleared the horizon in front of them. Distant siren screams were becoming louder.
The motorcycle driver glanced behind him and twisted his accelerator. He passed her and disappeared in her rearview mirror. Angel and Jeremy looked at each other and smiled.
Angel said, “I’m so, so sorry you went through that. I could have gotten you killed.”
Jeremy smiled, “Are you kidding? This was awesome! I was leaving here ‘cause nothin’ ever happens.”
As the first state trooper vehicle pulled to the shoulder to stop, Angel and Jeremy got out to greet him. Angel stated, “I am an astrophysicist at the Lead, South Dakota, lab. I’m under the protection of the CIA. Please contact the Lead, South Dakota, CIA and provide me a phone immediately. This is a matter of national security.”
The trooper handed her his cell phone. Jeremy listened in awe. Angel heard the tr
ooper give the CIA the information on their location from his vehicle radio. Angel walked away to place a call to Chris. She had to warn him that something was very wrong.
The trooper looked at Jeremy, “Are you sure you’re alright?”
Jeremy nodded as if in a trance. It all seemed like it had been a dream. Angel walked back to stand next to him. “The police will take you to their station to answer some questions. I’ll be leaving with the CIA agents. You need to call your parents, stay in school, and make something of yourself. We’ll trade numbers and keep in touch, okay?”
Jeremy was mesmerized. “You’re really an astrophysicist for the CIA?”
“Yes. You’re really a teenager without a phone?”
*****
Nick sat across from Chris and said, “I’m going to see if I can find out who our friend from the bar is. You can watch from the observation room if you want.”
Chris didn’t watch much TV, but the shows he did watch were always mysteries and always had a detective interrogating a suspect.
“Awesome!”
Nick added, “I’m going to have my partner, Jen, in there with you. She can keep you safe while you’re out of my sight.”
Nick took two cans of soda into the interrogation room and slid one across the table towards the man. Nick popped his open and took a big swallow. “So what’s your name?”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“For what? I haven’t charged you with anything yet. Your buddy’s the one that assaulted a cop, not you.” Nick took another gulp.
The man gingerly reached for the soda and took a drink.
Nick shrugged and then leaned his chair back while he studied the man’s face. “Sorry about that goose egg on your head, man. I don’t need another police brutality mark on my record, you know? Damn force expects us to take shit like robots or something. You sure you’re okay?”
Zero Margin: Nick Stryker, Book Three The Shallow End Gals (Nick Stryker Series 3) Page 6