by Mike Faricy
“What do you mean he took it? How? Why didn’t you—”
“Shit, man. They had a gun on me, made me unload everything, then gave me two grand and told me to get out of town. I mean, it’s like a movie dealing with these hillbillies up here. We have to get it back tonight and not deal with the bastard ever again. What’s he gonna do? Go to the cops? Can you get up here and give me a hand?”
“You bet,” Hub said, bolting upright on the couch. “I can be there by dinner time. But don’t you think it might be better to wait, think this through before we go charging in?”
“What’s to think through, Hub? All that stuff is going to be gone in twenty-four hours. They have to move it now. I underestimated this guy. I won’t do that again. Trust me. He’ll have this stuff out of there by Wednesday at the latest. No, if we’re gonna get it back, it’ll have to be tonight. They won’t expect us. They’ll think I’ve gone home. By the way, they know I’m coming out of Florida. Tonight’s gotta be the night.”
“I’ll leave in about fifteen minutes,” Hub said and began a mental inventory of the tools he would need. They arranged to meet at an interstate restaurant. Hub decided the one tool he would need for sure was that shiny chrome .45. He stuffed four hundred dollars in his pocket, tossed the .45 under the driver’s seat, and was out the door in just under fifteen minutes.
Val’s plan was very simple. They were going to get everything back from J.W. and then run like hell. They waited around the corner for thirty minutes, making sure the Georgia Gallery was indeed empty. Val called the number and listened to the phone ring for a full two minutes.
Hub spent the time reading up on the security system advertised on J.W.’s office door. The system was commercial rather than residential, which made it a little heavier duty than what he usually worked with, but nothing he couldn’t get around in a couple of minutes. He’d have them inside in no time.
Fifteen minutes later, they were tiptoeing around the warehouse. Val’s first thought had been to load up everything and just get out of town. But as they carried armloads of silver trays, boxes of flatware, and jewelry, he was having second thoughts. Why not teach old J.W. a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget?
“You about done?” whispered Hub, scurrying back from the table with more trays. “Let’s get the rest of this stuff and get out of here. We got what we came for. We’re two grand ahead of the game. Don’t deal with this guy again, and let’s just move on.”
“I’m gonna teach that old bastard a lesson. See how he feels ‘bout trying to screw me when he comes in tomorrow morning,” Val answered, stacking two more flatware boxes into the trailer.
“Let that son of a bitch learn the hard way. He can’t just jack me around. We’ll see who has the last laugh here. If I had room in the trailer, I’d clean this place out,” Val said.
“Val, let’s not push a good thing. We got what we came for. I’ll be back in a second. I’m just gonna use the can.” He thought about Val’s idea on his way to the restroom and liked it even less.
Chapter 23
Todd was full of energy. The morning excitement from ripping off the Florida guy was still surging through him. It had been exciting seeing the look of disbelief on his face. Knowing he couldn’t load up his trailer and flee the scene without Todd pounding the hell out of him. He paced back and forth, from the living room down the hall to the bedroom, and then back again.
“For Lord’s sake, Todd. You’re making me tired just watching you. Will you please calm down!” J.W. screamed from his recliner while sipping another White Russian.
“Maybe I’ll go grab a light workout. I’m still pumped up from this morning. Running that little piss ant off like you did. That was mighty fine, J.W., mighty fine.”
“Yes, God, please go! You’re going to keep me up all night tossing and turning if you don’t burn off some of that energy now.”
“Yeah, a light workout will help calm me down,” Todd said. He grabbed his gym bag and was out the door.
On his way to the gym, he drove past the Gallery. As he sailed past, he noticed the warehouse light was on. That would start J.W. chewing on him first thing in the morning. An extra dime of electricity would throw J.W. into a complete hissy-fit for the entire day. He circled around the block, figuring he’d slip in the back way, turn off the light, and start tomorrow on a positive note. Coming around the corner, he saw Val’s car and trailer backed up to the warehouse door.
He was on his cell phone to J.W. It was the third call he’d placed in the past two minutes. The old fool was on another call and not about to get off. He could call the police, but that was possibly the worst option. The last thing J.W. wanted was Atlanta police poking around his Gallery warehouse. He decided it was time to teach Val a lesson he’d never forget. That would certainly be more fun than the light workout he had planned.
Todd parked his car in front of a Ford Ranger pickup. As he cautiously crept toward the building, he saw Val’s shadow, watched as he made three separate trips to the trailer, carefully stacking items inside. Todd actually heard him whistling. Not the least bit worried about being caught.
On the fourth trip, Val carried a half-dozen silver trays in his arms. He had carefully placed cardboard sheets between them so they wouldn’t scratch one another. He leaned into the trailer, gently set them down, and arranged the trays on their side.
Suddenly a sharp, explosive pain caught him at the knees. The silver trays clanged like church bells across the floor of the trailer as Val doubled-up in agony.
“Ahh, ahh, God!” he screamed as the trailer door slammed forcefully on his legs a second time. A sharp pain shot up his spine and stabbed his brain.
“Oh God!” he cried and collapsed onto the concrete floor.
A huge hand grabbed him by the neck, yanked him up. Before he could see who it was, a knee caught him hard on the side of the head. He actually saw stars and almost blacked out.
“Well, look who’s making a little after-hours call,” Todd said. “Does J.W. know you’re down here, boy?” Todd reached down and pulled Val to his feet like a rag doll. “What you doing here, boy? You working late tonight?”
Pain shot through Val’s legs. He didn’t recognize the voice, couldn’t place the accent. He tried to focus, tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head, all the while thinking that his left leg was broken. His head throbbed. He couldn’t see clearly, and he couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
Hub was looking at his chin, close up, just inches from the bathroom mirror. Thinking, ‘Cleaning this guy out is a bad idea.’ He rehearsed again in the mirror, “Let’s just take what’s ours and get out of here. We’ll leave two grand ahead of the game and never deal with him again.”
He suddenly heard the trays clang and clatter out in the warehouse. That did it. Val was playing way too loose right now, and they were both going to get caught. Making all that noise will have the cops here in a matter of minutes.
He stormed out of the bathroom, muttering to himself. He was almost back in the warehouse, ready to tell Val to shut up, when he heard a weird sort of cackle and knew immediately it wasn’t Val.
“Yeeha! What’s wrong there, boy? You ain’t saying much right now, are you, Mr. Fast Talker? What? Cat got your tongue?”
Todd was thinking this was a thousand times better than a light workout at the gym. He would be a big ole tomcat, just soften up this little mouse he found, before calling J.W. down here and showing him what he had caught running around in the warehouse tonight.
Hub peeked around the corner. The man was big. No, strike that, he was big and muscular. But he wasn’t a cop, and he appeared to be alone. Hub sized him up from behind. Not an ounce of fat on him, arms about the size of Hub’s thighs, colored bands tattooed around large, hard biceps, big heavy shoulders, a shaved head except for the ponytail. Just now, he was holding Val up like a toy and slapping him.
In one swift motion, Hub was across the floor, bringing the butt of the pistol down hard across the b
ack of Todd’s skull. He heard an audible cracking sound, like punching a watermelon too hard. He hit him on the back of his shaved head, just above his ponytail. Todd and Val collapsed in a heap on the floor; a second later, Val began to wiggle out from underneath.
“Son of a bitch, man,” Val said through swollen lips. “You took your damn sweet time getting here. He almost killed me. Ahh, Christ, that hurts,” he said, rubbing the back of his leg. “He tried to break my damn leg,” he said, sitting up, kicking out, catching Todd hard on the bridge of his nose with a shoe heel.
“You okay, Val?” Hub asked as he reached down and grabbed Val under the arms. “Can you get up?” he asked, not waiting for an answer, and pulled Val to his feet.
“Ahhh, damn, but that hurts,” Val said, limping around in a circle and rubbing the back of his left leg. He could walk. His legs weren’t broken, but they were going to have a hell of a mark left on them.
“God damn you!” Val yelled and kicked Todd in the chest. “You muscle-bound jerkoff. What’s wrong, cat got your tongue?” he shouted over swollen, bleeding lips and kicked Todd a second time.
“Hey, don’t kill him. Let’s just get the hell out of here. Before someone else comes,” Hub said. He dragged Todd across the floor by the ankles. He laid the .45 on a table and grabbed a roll of duct tape to wrap the monster before he came to. He wasn’t at all interested in facing the guy head-on.
Val continued limping around in a circle. “Ahh, God, that hurts,” he moaned, rubbing his legs.
Hub had Todd pretty well secured. His legs and arms were taped tightly. He took a foot long piece of tape, placed it over Todd’s mouth, and wrapped it around the back of his head. He tore a shorter piece off the roll, stuck it across Todd’s eyes, and rubbed it firmly in place.
“Come on. What do we have left to get out of here?” Hub asked, more than a little anxious to leave.
“Just those two boxes,” Val said. Nodding in the direction of the end of the table and making absolutely no effort to pick them up himself.
Hub took both boxes, tossed them into the rear of the trailer, and quickly closed and secured the door. “You okay to drive?”
Val nodded with his back to Hub. “Little something to remember me by, asshole,” he said and urinated over the duct taped body on the concrete floor. “What’s wrong, boy? Cat got your tongue? Hey, don’t be pissed off,” Val snorted before zipping up and limping to his car. “Let’s get out of here and head home.”
Hub could see Todd’s head moving slightly. He wasn’t at all interested in being in town once that muscle-bound animal was on the loose. Minutes later, they were driving south, leaving Todd to greet J.W. in the morning.
It was the wee hours of the morning when Hub finally pulled into his apartment. Val arrived about twenty minutes later.
“Look,” Val said in answer to the question on Hub’s face when he opened the door. “That damn J.W. knows we’re coming out of Florida. He may have my address. I’m too tired to unload this shit tonight. Just let me sleep here, and we’ll unload it tomorrow. I’ll think this through once I get some sleep. My damn leg is killing me. This just really sucks.” Val attempted to give one of his swing spins and shrieked, “Ahhh, Jesus, this is going to shoot my chances at National Swing Champion right in the ass.”
Hub was too tired to argue. He just wanted to get back to bed. It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that he remembered the .45. “Damn it,” he said out loud, “I left that damn thing up in Atlanta. Left it right on the damn table. Shit.”
He could picture it, sitting on the corner of the table, next to the roll of duct tape. There was absolutely no way they could trace it to him, none. Fingerprints, maybe, but those guys wouldn’t go to the cops with this. Still, he’d have to get another piece. He liked the security it had given him tonight, and after tonight, it might not be a bad idea to have a gun handy, just in case. Maybe keep an eye out for one, put it on his personal shopping list while he was working through the next batch of homes over the coming weeks.
Chapter 24
J.W. hadn’t slept well. To be precise, he hadn’t slept at all. If he had looked out the window once for Todd’s car, he’d looked out a hundred times, always with the same result, nothing. He was beyond furious. As far as J.W. was concerned, little Toddy’s gravy train had just ended. He could start looking for a new sugar daddy, effective today. J.W. was finished with him.
He made coffee, took two or three sips, and poured the rest down the drain. His stomach was already churning, and he chugged down three or four gulps from the Maalox bottle then drove to the office, already late and cursing Todd.
He saw Todd’s car the moment he turned into the alley, and his first thought was that it would do Todd no good to come here and try to apologize. He hadn’t quite finished that thought before he realized it was awfully strange Todd would park this far from the building, particularly at this hour of the morning.
As he pulled up next to the building, he noticed that the overhead door was down but not closed all the way, leaving a six-inch open gap at the base. He was more than a little suspicious and thought for the briefest of moments about calling the Atlanta police. The last thing he needed was the police inventorying what he had in his warehouse. He opened his glove compartment, pulled out the Kleenex box, and dug down below the tissues to the revolver he always kept handy.
J.W. stuck the short revolver into his pocket, gripped it with his right hand, and cautiously walked to the side door. The door was unlocked, putting his senses on full alert. It could still be Todd, groveling inside with a tearful apology after an evening of debauchery, but he didn’t think so. He stepped quietly into the darkened warehouse, dark except for the six-inch shaft of light washing in at the base of the overhead door. He stood still for quite some time, letting his eyes adjust, ears perked to pick up the slightest sound. He listened for a step, a bump, something, anything, but heard absolutely nothing.
After what felt like a very long time, he reached over and switched on the warehouse lights. It took a moment to adjust to the light. In the second or two he blinked his eyes in the brightness, he thought nothing was wrong and then he focused on the empty table and, next to that, Todd’s body on the floor.
He had the revolver out, shakily pointing around the room at the various empty shelves and corners while he approached Todd, quietly, cautiously. He heard something but couldn’t identify it at first. Then he realized Todd was snoring.
“Get up, you musclebound oaf,” J.W. said and kicked Todd’s feet. “What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing down there?” He noticed the tape for the first time, lots of it, wrapped around Todd. “What the…? My God, Todd. Toddy! Toddy, who did this? What’s happened?”
Without thinking, J.W. reached down, pulled a corner of tape up on Todd’s face. He quickly unwrapped it from behind his head and then yanked the strip of tape off across his mouth.
“Ahhh,” groaned Todd as a goodly portion of his thin mustache and lip came off with the tape. The thin little mustache, pulled out by the roots, left red, blotchy little pinpricks where it had been ripped off.
“Ahhh,” Todd groaned, suddenly awake. “Get me out of here. J.W., is that you? J.W., you know I hate the dark. Get me out of here,” Todd whimpered.
J.W. still wasn’t thinking clearly, and he quickly grabbed a corner of the tape placed across Todd’s eyes and eyebrows.
“No, no, J.W. wait, don’t…”
Before Todd could finish, J.W. tore the tape off across Todd’s eyes and what was now left of his eyebrows. Large bald patches were suddenly interspersed with thin clusters of hair.
“Ahhh,” screamed Todd. “What the hell are you trying to do to me, you old fool? God,” he whimpered. “Get me out of here. I can’t stand another minute of this. Get me out of here. Get me out of here,” Todd cried, red-faced, looking at the tape wrapped around his arms and legs.
“Just a minute, wait here,” J.W. yelled and hurried into his office. He grabbed a pa
ir of scissors from the desk drawer and ran back to Todd’s side.
“Calm down, Toddy. Calm down,” J.W. pleaded, as he cut the tape, freeing one arm, then the other, and finally Todd’s legs.
Todd staggered to his feet, rubbing his arms, screaming, “Ahhh,” as he picked up and tossed the empty table.
“Calm down, Todd. What happened here? Who did this?” he asked, knowing the answer before he finished the question. For the first time, he became aware of a pungent odor surrounding Todd.
Todd answered J.W.’s questions before he asked them. “It was him, that fast-talking little prick, the one from Florida, the one from yesterday. He was cleaning us out, J.W., taking everything.”
Todd took a deep breath and continued, “I drove past last night and saw the light on. I came down the alley to check it out. One of them hit me from behind.”
“They loaded everything into his trailer. They took it all, J.W. I asked him what he thought he was doing, just before they attacked me from behind. There were three, maybe four of them. I’m not sure, it all happened so quickly.”
“I don’t know how long it was before I came to,” Todd said, suddenly touching the back of his head, gingerly feeling the large knot back there about the size of a golf ball.
“Let’s get you to Tampa General and have you checked out. Make sure everything is all right.”
“I’m, I’m just not sure I’ll be able to drive,” Todd whined.
“I’ll take you myself, Toddy,” J.W. said, stuffing his revolver into his trouser pocket. He carefully guided Todd toward the passenger side of his car. “Let’s get you checked out first. We’ll worry about the rest of this later.” He closed the car door once Todd had settled in, locked the warehouse, and drove off.
J.W. spent the next four hours waiting with Todd in the outpatient area. Between X-rays, blood work, a chat with a specialist, and waiting for Todd’s pain medication, J.W. had more than enough time to begin planning what he was going to do to Val Harwood and whoever else helped him on this midnight caper.