The Devil's Stop

by Scott Blade

  Silence.

  “We took these from different gangs actually. Think we collected them from everywhere between Boston and Houston, Texas. I don’t even know what the hell most of these patches mean.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Oh, you see this is all cover.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you worry about that.”

  Lareno came back and said, “There’s no beer. No alcohol.”

  The Major looked at Dorothy.

  “Where’s the liquor, Dorothy?”

  “We don’t keep any in the house.”

  “Why not? Your husband drink too much? Is he taking out his pain on you? Does he hit you, Dorothy?”

  “No. Bill is a good man. We took it out for our sons.”

  The Major turned his head and looked down at the dead son again, hanging out of the broken window.

  “Oh. I see. So, your boys used to run with a local gang. Then they left the gang. And you and Bill made them stop drinking. Does that about sum it up?”

  She nodded.

  “What about the gang? Where are they?”

  “They left town.”

  The Major nodded.

  “We need some supplies, Dorothy.”

  “We got canned foods here. In the pantry. ”

  “Not those kinds of supplies, Dorothy. We need beer. My boys are gonna deserve some after tonight.”

  “What’s tonight?”

  He didn’t answer that.

  “There’s a food market in town. They sell beer.”

  “Good thinking. Lareno, take her into town. Take Ethans with you.”

  Lareno nodded.

  “And take Dorothy.”

  She stared at Lareno.

  “Bring her back in one piece.”

  Lareno said, “No problem.”

  “And Dorothy, you try anything. You try to warn anybody. I’ll burn Bill alive with this whole damn house. Got it?”

  Dorothy nodded but stayed quiet.

  Chapter 21

  I T TOOK WIDOW fifteen minutes to find a payphone, which surprised him that he found it that quickly, then again Hellbent was a little behind the times in some ways. And it was with the times in others, like having a Vape shop.

  The payphone was outside a pharmacy chain, which was open. The phone was housed in an old half phone booth thing. It had a blue plastic shield wrapped around it and still took a quarter, unlike some places which took thirty-five cents.

  Widow lifted the phone out of its cradle, checked it for a dial tone. He put a quarter in and dialed the number that Harvard had given him.

  He waited.

  She gave him the PI’s cell phone number, so he should answer it.

  Widow realized that he forgot to ask if Shiden was from North Dakota or not, but then he dialed the number and realized that the guy was based out of Chicago. Had to be because the area code to the guy’s number was 773 .

  Chicago was in the Central Time Zone, so the guy should be up and awake at an hour earlier than Widow’s time zone.

  He waited.

  The phone dial tone switched to the purr of a landline ring.

  After six rings, a man picked up.

  “Matt Shiden, PI.”

  And he said nothing else.

  “Mr. Shiden.”

  “That’s me. Who’s this?”

  “You don’t know me. My name is Commander Jack Widow, US Navy.”

  Widow figured that the guy had been avoiding Harvard. He’d be skittish in talking to a complete stranger over the phone asking about her case. So, titles might help.

  “What can I do for you, Commander?”

  “First, let me ask you a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “You know what the NCIS is?”

  Shiden was quiet for a moment.

  “A TV show?”

  “Do you know what it’s based on?”

  “My mother watches it. I never saw it.”

  “Do you know what it’s based on?”

  “Army cops?”

  “No. NCIS stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Services.”

  “So, Navy cops then? Military police.”

  “Right and wrong.”

  Silence .

  Widow said, “NCIS does investigate the Navy and the Marine Corps, but they’re not military cops, not like the Army. NCIS are civilian. They’re federal agents. The only military unit like that.”

  “Impressive. What’s this got to do with me?”

  “I’m an NCIS agent.”

  A pause from Shiden and then he said, “Good for you?”

  “You know it’s a federal crime to lie to a fed?”

  Shiden was quiet again, a long moment this time.

  “Shiden?”

  “Yeah. I know that.”

  “Good. I’m not threatening you. Just a friendly reminder.”

  “Ok.”

  “Ok. Now, a question.”

  “Shoot. I’ll help as much as I can.”

  “It’s come to our attention that you’re working a case about a missing Air Force Pilot?”

  Widow lied about Jackson Harvard’s job description. Sounded better if he wasn’t right on the money. More believable.

  “No. I was working a missing airman, but he was no pilot.”

  “Would his name be Harvard?”

  Shiden was quiet again.

  “Mr. Shiden? I don’t have a lot of time. The sooner you assist me, the sooner I can move on to Navy business.”

  “Sorry, yeah. His name is Jackson Harvard. ”

  “That’s him. Do you know what his job title is?”

  “He’s a missile guy. Works in nuclear missiles. Scary shit like that.”

  Widow said, “Missileers. They’re called Missileers. He worked with the LGM-30G Minutemen III. Know what that is?”

  “A missile?”

  “Right. It’s an ICBM, nuclear-tipped. Know what that means?”

  “It’s a nuke?”

  “Right. Intercontinental ballistic missile.”

  Silence. Both ways. Even though Widow mentioned the ICBM, it caused him to hesitate as well. Like a snake recoiling after it used its venom for the first time. If a venomous snake came with a sense of morality, which they don’t.

  Shiden said, “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t tell you that. NCIS business.”

  “What can I do to help you?”

  “We understand that you’re working for his wife?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Patriot Act, Shiden. Patriot Act. We know everything.”

  “Ok,” Shiden said.

  Widow heard fear and paranoia in Shiden’s voice.

  “Answer the question.”

  “I don’t work for her anymore.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because she doesn’t pay enough for me to have this headache. ”

  “What headache?”

  “All these feds calling about Harvard.”

  Widow paused a beat.

  “What feds?”

  “You and the other guys.”

  “Tell me.”

  “There’s these other guys. They called once, right after I was packing to meet Mrs. Harvard in some town in New Hampshire.”

  “Go back to the beginning, Shiden.”

  “Like you said, Mrs. Harvard was worried about her husband. He stopped contacting her. She was getting nowhere with the Air Force. The husband was supposed to be overseas.”

  “And?”

  “He wasn’t. I confirmed that with the Air Force.”

  “How?”

  “Got my contacts. You don’t need their names? Do you? Cause I can’t give those out.”

  “No. I don’t need those. Just continue.”

  Widow didn’t hear the next thing Shiden said because an automated voice came on telling him to put more money in the phone. So, he fished out another quarter and dropped it in.

  Shiden said, “He never went o
verseas. He was sent to New Hampshire. A top-secret thing.”

  “What top-secret thing?”

  “I don’t know. I know better than to ask questions about government secrets.”

  “Did you confirm he’s in New Hampshire?”

  “Oh yeah. At first, he was calling his wife. Well, he called her once that I found. Was a cell phone. I had it triangulated. Some town in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Hellbent?”

  “Yeah. That’s it. How did you know?”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Then nothing. Mrs. Harvard was insistent on going to find him. She wanted me to meet her there. I told her it was crazy. She offered me more money.”

  “Did you take it?”

  “Of course I took it, but it was chump change. No way was I going to stick my neck out for that. Not with government secrets involved. Good thing too, cause now you’re telling me this might have something to do with IBMs.”

  ICBMs, Widow thought but said nothing.

  “Mr. Window?”

  Widow, he thought, but no reason to correct him.

  “You know that Harvard is eight months pregnant?”

  Shiden was quiet, and then he said, “Sure. I know.”

  “You let her go to Hellbent all alone and eight months pregnant. And you took her money.”

  “I’m…I’m sorry for that.”

  “Better hope that our paths don’t cross, Shiden.”

  “Wait? Are you really NCIS?”

  “I am.”

  “It’s not a crime to abandoned a client. PIs fire clients all the time.”

  Widow thought for a moment .

  “It’s not a crime in the state of Illinois, but it is a federal crime.”

  “It is?”

  “What’ve you done is called fraud level two. Which isn’t as high as one, but comes with a ten-year sentence.”

  “Oh no. I can’t go to jail over this?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Shiden. It’s my duty to report this to the FBI.”

  “The FBI?”

  “A local agent will get in touch with you later today to tell you where you can turn yourself in at.”

  “Turn myself in?”

  “I guess they can send Chicago PD to pick you up, but that adds extra charges. If they come, get you then it looks like your trying to run. You know how it is.”

  Widow heard Shiden gulp over the line.

  “Isn’t there something we can do? An agreement?”

  “Agreement?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You trying to bribe me?

  “No. No. What if I give the money back?”

  “Give it back?”

  “Yeah. She wire transferred it. I can just reverse it.”

  “Reverse it?”

  “Yeah. Like it never happened.”

  “Well, I suppose that if the money was reversed, it might look like you refused to accept payment. Then there’d be no evidence of Fraud Level Two.”

  “Ok. I’ll do that.”

  Widow said, “You better do that now. Right when we get off the phone. It probably will make the transfer not even accessible to the FBI, since it was reversed in twenty-four hours.”

  “It’s been forty-eight hours.”

  “That’s what I meant. Forty-eight. You’d better get on it.”

  “I am. Thank you. Thank you.”

  Widow hung up the phone.

  He waited a moment, and then reached into his pocket, pulled out his last quarter. He slipped it into the phone and dialed another phone number from memory.

  It rang. He got a desk sergeant somewhere inside the Pentagon. She asked if she could help him and he gave her a name.

  “One second,” she said and transferred him.

  He got another voice.

  “Civil Aviation Intelligence. Director’s office.”

  The voice was a female, and she didn’t use the entire title of the office. It was Civil Aviation Intelligence Analysis Center or a division of Air Force Intelligence. Which meant nothing to Widow. It was DIA. Under the umbrella of Defense, to a man like Widow, what’s the difference.

  “This is Jack Widow calling for Lieutenant Colonel Darry Stevens.”

  A pause and the voice said, “Hold on a moment. ”

  Which turned into another minute and Widow fumbled through his pockets for another quarter in case this conversation ran over, which he expected it would.

  He had no quarter left.

  A voice came on just then. A male voice.

  “Who is this?”

  “I already stated my name. Who is this?”

  “This is Director Bruce Carr. Now, who are you?”

  “I’m Jack Widow calling for Darry Stevens. It’s an emergency.”

  “An emergency?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I suggest you call nine-one-one and not the Pentagon.”

  “It’s urgent. I need to speak to Darry Stevens.”

  “Darry Stevens is no longer here. This is a civilian position. Stevens was here, but he reenlisted to become a one-star.”

  “Sorry for the confusion, sir. I needed to speak to him, but you’ll do.”

  “I’ll do? Son, this is a secure line. How did you get this number? And they didn’t switch you over to me. Don’t give me that. The switchboard don’t work that way. And you dialed direct.”

  “I knew the number?”

  “How?”

  “Sir, I’m on a payphone and running out of time.”

  A pause.

  “What’s the number? ”

  “On the phone?”

  “Yes.”

  Widow looked at the phone and found the number and recited it to the guy calling himself Carr.

  The timing couldn’t have been better because right then he got a warning from the operator and lost connection.

  The phone rang back, and Widow picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “So who are you?”

  “I’m Jack Widow. Commander, former SEAL.”

  “Former SEAL. That’s not how you got this number? SEALs are tools, not spies.”

  “I was NCIS, once upon a time.”

  “So you know Stevens?”

  “I do. Good man.”

  “I never met him. He’s been gone awhile.”

  “That’s ok. I’m sure you can help me.”

  “Not very likely, Commander. Since my impressions is that you are former military and not current. Do you work in law enforcement or something?”

  “No, sir. This is a personal matter.”

  “The DIA doesn’t deal in personal matters, Commander.”

  “It’s personal as in a personal favor, but it’s also urgent.”

  “Urgent to you isn’t urgent to me.”

  Widow said, “I don’t know about that. I got a feeling that you’ll be interested in this case. ”

  “What case?”

  “Do you know where I’m calling from?”

  “A pay phone. You told me.”

  “Recognize the area code?”

  “I don’t have time for this, Widow.”

  “It’s New Hampshire.”

  “So what?”

  “Sir, I’m going to give you two pieces of intel. One is another phone number where you can call me back.”

  “Widow, I’m hanging up on you right now. Don’t need another phone number.”

  “The second intel is a name.”

  Silence.

  Widow asked, “Still there?”

  “I am. What’s the name?”

  “Captain Jackson Harvard.”

  Silence.

  “What’s that name supposed to mean to me?”

  Widow said, “Look him up. Call me back on that number.”

  “I’m hanging up now, Widow.”

  The phone went dead.

  Widow hung up the payphone and walked away, hands in his jacket pockets.

  He headed back to Harvard.

  Chapter 22

&nb
sp; W IDOW WALKED back to the laundromat and the marshal office. This time, there were two people inside the laundromat, using the machines. Both customers were women. Both in their twenties. They were friendly with each other and shared a plastic bowel of quarters, brought from home.

  They talked in loud voices like they were competing to be heard over the rotor blades of a Black Hawk helicopter.

  Roommates, Widow figured.

  He passed them by and walked around the side street to where he left Harvard. She wasn’t by the Wrangler where he had left her. She wasn’t anywhere that he could see down the side street.

  He moved in further behind the laundromat and stopped and looked around and saw another vehicle parked there, behind the Wagner’s Charger.

  It wasn’t the weirdest vehicle that he had ever seen, not even in the military world. But it was unique .

  It wasn’t weird in function. It was obviously a functioning vehicle. It wasn’t like an experimental Naval land vehicle or anything like that. But it was weird because of the paint job.

  It was an SUV, four-wheel drive with no markings on it to indicate Marshal or police for Hellbent or any other sign indicating that it was an official vehicle of the county, but it had the strangest custom paint job he’d ever seen.

  The SUV was an old model something that Widow couldn’t recognize. Maybe it was a nineteen seventies Ford Bronco or something like that. It was boxy and had big windows.

  The paint job consisted of bright greens and reds and yellows. Painted on the skin of the SUV, stretching out over the hood, doors, and probably the roof, was a scene on the Thames River in London. On one side was the London Bridge, the other Parliament, and in the center, was Big Ben. Hovering over all of it was a zeppelin, like the Hindenburg only this one wasn’t on fire.

  There were spotlights on the streets below. The beams fired out over the bottom of the massive Zeppelin.

  Widow recognized it. It was the cover of one of the Led Zeppelin albums. He didn’t know the name of it. Why would he? It was unusual that he knew it was a Led Zeppelin album cover.

  He wasn’t a fan. He recognized it because the zeppelin was a dead giveaway.

  The vehicle had to be the deputy’s truck. His personal vehicle, Widow guessed .

  He deduced that because he heard voices above him, and he looked up and saw Harvard at the top of the stairs arguing with the guy.

  Widow walked up the stairs and met them at the top.

  The deputy was a tall guy, as tall as Widow, but he had a good thirty pounds on Widow. It was all fat.