The Double Man (Jack Widow Book 15)

by Scott Blade

  Peter passed Liddy and walked straight up to Widow and stopped three feet out in front of him. He reached one of those toaster-gripping hands out to him, with a big reach. His palm was open. He offered it to Widow for a handshake, a peace offering.

  Widow nodded and took it. They shook.

  Peter said, “Thank you, Mr. Widow for bringing Liddy back home in one piece for us. I’m in your debt.”

  Widow didn’t know what to think. Not really. Peter’s behavior was off-putting. It would’ve only made sense if there was an emotional connection between them like a father and son, but Liddy didn’t introduce Peter as a son or any other type of relative. The best Widow could figure it was that they had a father-son bond. Maybe they had worked together for years. A father-son relationship had formed. It happens.

  There was a certain quality, a certain attitude in Peter’s voice. It was his attempt at an apology for jumping to conclusions with the whole "He hurt you?" thing.

  It reminded Widow of when he was a kid, and his mom made him apologize to one of the neighborhood kids for breaking the kid’s Louisville Slugger in half over his knee. Widow broke the kid’s bat out of anger. The truth was the kid deserved it. He was picking on other kids, threatening them with the bat. Widow hated bullies. He took the kid’s favorite bat and broke it right in front of him. It was all for dramatic effect. He wasn’t really going to hurt the kid. He meant it as a sample of what he would do to the kid if he didn’t stop picking on weaker kids. It was symbolic, like a warning shot. Of course, that’s not how the kid told it to his parents. He told them that Widow was the bully, as bullies often do. Projection and blaming others are the key weapons of a bully.

  The kid’s parents called Widow’s mother, who was the town sheriff at the time. She forced Widow to march over to the kid's house and apologize to his face, which was embarrassing enough. Then she forced him to work all summer to pay her back for a replacement bat that she bought the kid. To this day, he wasn’t sure what was worse: giving up his entire summer or apologizing to a bully who didn’t deserve it. The whole time he apologized, he could see the look in the kid’s eyes. The kid mocked him, all while keeping that look of innocent victim in front of his parents. It was a sham.

  Peter’s apology might’ve been a little fake, but his thanks seemed sincere. He was grateful that Widow was there to save his boss’s life.

  Widow said, “Not a problem.”

  Widow broke free of the handshake with Peter, who turned back to Liddy.

  Peter said, “I’m grateful that Mr. Widow saved you, but you really shouldn’t be talking to total strangers out in the wilderness.”

  Peter shot Widow a glance. He said, “No offense. It’s just that there’s no telling who you might run into out there.”

  Widow nodded and stayed quiet.

  Liddy said, “Widow’s not a stranger. Not now. He’s our friend.”

  Peter nodded and said nothing.

  Liddy said, “Widow, you’re invited to stay with us. Free of charge, of course.”

  “No. I should really get back to Kodiak, turn in my gear, and be on my way.”

  “Okay. Let me buy you a beer first. Peter can get the plane ready. It’s the least I can do. We have a bar inside. What kind of beer you like?”

  “I’ll take a coffee. Got any coffee?”

  “Of course. The best on the island.”

  Widow smiled, and the two men went up the stairs to the lodge. They rounded some railing. Liddy led the way, and Peter headed off to the plane. They stopped at a pair of double doors. Liddy pulled one open and entered. Widow stayed behind him.

  The inside of the lodge had high ceilings. There was expensive leather furniture in the lobby near a large rock fireplace. There was a stuffed grizzly bear in one corner. It was posed to look furious and intimidating.

  Liddy pointed at it and said, “That one’s smaller than the one we saw today.”

  Widow said, “I don’t think so.”

  “Looked that way to me.”

  Liddy led Widow past the lobby furniture and over to a long countertop bar with a wall of liquors behind it. Widow slipped off his rented rucksack and set it down in a bar chair next to him. They both took seats in empty leather chairs and sat up to the bar. Widow had plenty of space between his head and the bar top, but Liddy was chest-high to it. He couldn’t set his elbows on it, not without it being awkward.

  An employee in a white sweater with a name tag smiled at them.

  Liddy said, “Tom, get me a Bud and my friend a fresh coffee.”

  The bartender named Tom asked, “Want sugar or cream?”

  Widow shook his head before Tom finished the question. “Black is fine,” he said.

  Tom nodded and shuffled off to get the drinks. He returned pretty quick, a seasoned employee. He had a smile on his face and a cold beer already poured into a pint glass for Liddy, like it was a common occurrence. He put a hot black coffee down in front of Widow.

  Tom’s eyes expanded wide, as did Liddy’s, like two people who had been slapped in the face by something they saw. What they saw was the expression on Widow’s face.

  The moment the coffee hit the bar top, Widow slid two large fingers into the handle. They slid in with no space left between them. And this was no tiny, princess coffee mug. It was a large, white hole-in-the-wall-diner coffee mug.

  Widow stared at the coffee steaming in the cup like a drug addict stares at a newfound bag of his favorite drugs.

  Widow pulled the coffee mug to his lips. He didn’t blow on it. He just took a pull from it. The heat. The stares. Strangers with him. Nothing was going to stop him from drinking the coffee.

  Tom and Liddy stared for a long minute as Widow gulped down the entire cup, shards of coffee beans that spilled into the cup and all.

  He put the cup back down and raised his eyes and stared back at Tom, then at Liddy. He realized they were staring at him.

  He asked, “What?”

  Liddy said, “You must really like coffee.”

  “I haven't had a cup in weeks. I ran out when I was out there.”

  Tom gestured at the cup and asked, “Want another?”

  “Please.”

  Liddy said, “Wow. I never seen anyone down coffee so fast.”

  Widow smiled and said, “It’s my addiction. Some men deal in drugs, alcohol, sex, or gambling. I live for coffee. Can’t help it. It’s a genetic thing. Probably.”

  “Probably?”

  “Never met my father. Think he might be patient zero.”

  Liddy was quiet a moment, and then he asked, “You got any kids?”

  “No kids. You?”

  Liddy stared off for a second. The smile on his face vanished. He said, “No kids. No family either. Not really. You?”

  “I had a mom once. But she’s gone.”

  “Me too. I had a mom once, but we had a falling out.”

  Widow said, “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Sorry yours died.”

  Widow said nothing to that.

  Tom returned with a piping hot coffee refill and set it down in front of Widow.

  Liddy asked, “Where are you from?”

  “Mississippi.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have one of those accents.”

  “Not everyone from Mississippi talks like they’re out of a Margaret Mitchell novel.”

  Liddy asked, “Who?”

  “She wrote Gone with the Wind.”

  “I never saw it.”

  Widow said, “It’s a book too. Movie’s not far off.”

  Liddy drank his beer. They continued talking small talk over four full beers for Liddy and one more cup of coffee for Widow, which turned into three large mugs total for Widow.

  Liddy seemed to hold his liquor like a champion. Widow couldn’t help but notice.

  He said, “I was in the Navy.”

  Liddy said, “Thank you for your service.”

  “Thanks. It was a lo
ng time ago. I’ve seen a lot of sailors drink. We’re sort of known for it. I’d say you’re doing good. Right up there with them. You must have an incredible metabolism.”

  Liddy put his glass down on the bar top. He stared at it for a long moment. Then he said, “No. It’s nothing like that. The beer is nonalcoholic.”

  “Nonalcoholic?”

  “Yeah. I used to have a drinking problem. It was a very long time ago,” Liddy said, and he lifted the glass and took another pull. “I don’t drink anymore. Not real beer. I only drink this crap.”

  “If you don’t drink anymore, why drink nonalcoholic beer?”

  “It quenches the need,” Liddy said.

  Widow nodded. He didn’t ask any more about it. He didn’t need to.

  Liddy said, “I bet you think I’m a hot mess? What reason would a guy like me have to be drinking so much?”

  Widow stayed quiet.

  Liddy said, “It was a long time ago.”

  Widow said, “I think nothing of it. What I said about there being a lot of drinking among sailors is true. It’s an unspoken thing, but many service members turn into full-blown alcoholics by the time they get out. I’ve known some who have. Lives are ruined from addiction. No doubt about that.”

  Liddy asked, “Really?”

  “Yep. Statistically, twenty-two American veterans take their own lives every day in this country. I can only imagine the percentage of those that have a problem with drugs or alcohol.”

  Liddy added, “Or both.”

  Widow said, “Or both.”

  “It’s probably ninety percent.”

  Widow said, “Maybe higher.”

  They went quiet for a long time after that. Widow drank another cup of coffee and got another refill. Liddy nursed the fifth beer a long time. People came in through the double doors to escape the weather. It was a trickle at first, but after the rain pounded for another hour, and the thunder rumbled every few minutes and lightning crackled, lit up the sky outside, Liddy’s guests entered through the double doors every few minutes until the bar was full. The leather furniture and tables filled up. More staff that Widow hadn’t seen before appeared from the bowels of the lodge. They served guests here and there. Tom, the bartender, got so busy, another staff member hopped behind the bar to take care of guests.

  Peter was nowhere to be seen. Liddy continued to sip his fifth beer. He didn’t seem phased by the busy lodge. Liddy seemed to only play the part of the owner and didn’t seem to get involved in the operation side of things. Widow had known plenty of chiefs in the Navy who managed their commands the same way. "Let the underlings run around like a chicken with their heads cut off" had been the attitude.

  Sometimes this kind of management worked, and sometimes it didn’t.

  None of the staff bothered Liddy, and he didn’t seem to want to be involved with them.

  Widow broke the silence. “I gotta ask you. Have we ever met before?”

  Liddy looked at him. He said, “We met today.”

  “No, I mean ever before? In the past? I feel like I’ve seen you before. You serve in the military?”

  Liddy shook his head.

  “Nope. No military on my résumé. I told you. I’ve been here most of my life. I’ve run these lodges for damn near thirty years now.”

  Widow nodded and said, “You’ve been here most of your life?”

  “I told you. I haven’t left Alaska in decades. Basically, I’ve always been here.”

  Widow nodded. He said, “Sorry. I just get that feeling that we’ve met before.”

  “Nope. Never met before. I don’t think. Ever been to Alaska before?”

  Widow said, “I was in Anchorage last year.”

  Widow had also been close to the Alaskan shores in a submarine before. But that was classified. He didn’t mention it. Last year, Widow was in Alaska with Agent Gray. They had followed a string of clues in an investigation that led them to a local bad guy, a man who was famous in the state. Widow bet that if he had mentioned the name to Liddy, he probably would’ve recognized it. So he didn’t mention it.

  Liddy said, “Don’t think I was there at all last year. I fly people all over the place, but you need special permission to land in Anchorage at the airport. And all I got is that floatplane.”

  “You look familiar. It’s vague, like a distant memory. But I remember you. Maybe I’m all wrong.”

  “I don’t think so. It wasn’t me. I would’ve remembered you. You stand out. I just got one of those faces. I guess,” Liddy said.

  Widow stayed quiet.

  They continued talking for nearly two more hours and had lunch from the kitchen. Liddy had fried fish, even after losing his catch earlier. Widow had a double cheeseburger and fries. He ate it all so fast that Liddy offered him seconds, but he refused. He wasn’t full, but the more food he ate, the less coffee he could stomach. When it came to food versus coffee, Widow always went for coffee. When he was out there in the Kodiak wilderness, if he was given the choice between water and coffee, Widow would’ve gone with coffee. Coffee has all the ingredients a person needed—water and caffeine.

  Once they finished their lunch, the lodge’s double doors swung open. Cold air wafted across the dining room, lounge, bar top, and the back of Widow’s head. He turned in his chair and saw Peter towering in the doorway. Behind him, Widow saw that the gray sky had gotten grayer. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Liddy turned around after Widow. They both stared back at Peter.

  7

  Peter entered the lobby. He was still dry, but he had put on a rain slicker like he was prepared for the worst. There was an eager look on his face. The heavy double doors closed behind him. He stepped down into the dining room area, passed through the lounge, and walked over to the bar. He stopped between Liddy and Widow. As soon as Peter got to the bar, the rain started pouring. They could hear it. In a flash, it pounded on the roof, the dirt outside, the sidewalk pavement, and the lodge’s walls. It hit everything. More thunder rumbled. This time it was louder, more pronounced, like a concert of drums.

  Liddy put down his latest pint of fake beer and asked, “Is that thunder outside?”

  Peter looked at Widow and said, “Plane’s ready. We better get going.”

  Liddy threw a hand up and said, “Hold on now, Peter. Sounds bad out there.”

  Peter said, “That’s why we better go now.”

  Liddy said, “No. Come on, you can’t fly to Kodiak in this.” Liddy turned to Widow and said, “Widow, you gotta stay. Wait it out.” Liddy looked at his watch and said, “It’s only afternoon. If it slows up, then you can go. What’s the rush?”

  Widow shrugged and said, “Don’t worry. I wasn’t about to step on one of those little floatplanes. Not in this weather.”

  Peter’s shoulders slumped like he was disappointed.

  Liddy said, “Good. That settles it. Peter, go tend to the guests. We’re fine here.”

  Peter said nothing. He turned and headed back out the way he came. Widow and Liddy returned to talking. Widow got another cup of coffee.

  8

  Peter shuffled along, defeated in his quest to get rid of Widow. He zigzagged through the lodge’s guests and back out the double doors. Once outside, he swung a right and walked along the sidewalk, which was mostly covered. It rained so much there that the covering was a no-brainer to invest in. Sports fishermen and hunters were everywhere, fleeing the rain, trying to return to their respective lodgings.

  Peter pushed through the stragglers trying to get inside, out of the rain, and looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to him.

  He stepped into an uncovered alley between Liddy’s Lodge and a neighboring business. He slipped the hood from the rain slicker over his head. The rain hammered on it. He took out his cell phone and made a second call to his boss. The first call he made the moment Widow and Liddy went into the lodge.

  That’s when his boss told him to get rid of Widow.

  Peter dialed the last n
umber in his phone. It rang once and a voice answered. The guy on the other line was not menacing but more matter-of-fact, like a journalist—not one of those nightly opinion anchors who spout their views of things, but one of the older, more respected TV broadcasters, a real newsman like Walter Cronkite.

  The Broadcaster said, “You’re not calling me from the air?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Is the tourist gone?”

  Peter swallowed and said, “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s raining here.”

  The Broadcaster said, “I know that. I’m still in Anchorage.”

  “It’s bad. The old man won’t let him go.”

  The Broadcaster was quiet a moment, and then he said, “Is he keeping him there on purpose?”

  “I don’t think it’s anything sinister. I think he likes the guy, and it is raining.”

  The Broadcaster said, “If the rain doesn’t let up, where will this tourist go?”

  “I guess he’ll stay the night. He saved the old man’s life. I doubt he’ll send him somewhere else where he’ll have to pay for a room.”

  The Broadcaster said, “If he stays the night, just try to find out more about him. Found out why he’s there.”

  Peter said, “I believe it’s just an accident. He seems legit.”

  The Broadcaster said, “You believe that bear in the woods shit?”

  “I don’t know. It sounds plausible.”

  “Do I need to remind you about Kloss?”

  “No.”

  The Broadcaster said, “Good. Someone sent him here. This guy could be with him somehow. If he doesn’t leave, find out more.”

  “Okay.”

  “Peter, remember when you got out of prison and no one wanted to help you. Do you remember that?”