BLACK in the Box (22 page)

“Yo, punk ass. Gimme your wallet, man,” the youth snarled, and Black reassessed his evaluation – these weren’t youths at all, more like in their late twenties, with expressions as menacing as snakes.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Black said, but the second one was already moving as he dropped the cigarette and reached beneath his jacket.

Black dodged the worst of the blow as the man neared and swung, but enough of it struck his left arm to numb it from the shoulder down. He backed up a step and leveled a side kick at the man, who jumped back with a smirk.

Which changed to a look of surprise when Black’s other hand emerged holding his Glock.

“That hurt. I should kneecap you just for fun,” Black said, cocking the hammer back with his thumb, his other arm hanging lifelessly.

“Yo, man, we cool,” the taller one said as the smaller tried to flank Black.

“You’re going to be cooler with a bullet in you if you don’t get the hell out of here right now. You – punk ass,” Black growled at the smaller man who’d hit him. “One more step and you get it in the gut. You read me?”

“He ain’t gonna do it,” the taller one said.

“You’ll be first, then,” Black said, stepping back and shifting his aim to the speaker. “Don’t want to get any blood on me.”

The shorter thug lowered his bat. “Awright, man, you a tough guy. Peace out, you know?” he said and turned to walk away.

“You pull a gun and you’re dead, youngblood. I’m ready for it,” Black said, turning sideways to present a smaller target and edging to the door. “Get out of here. This is your only warning.”

The two men vanished into the gloom, and Black pulled the steel door closed behind him as he holstered his gun. Feeling was returning to his arm and it was tingling – a good sign. He held out his gun hand and eyed it.

Shaking.

Black took deep breaths to calm himself and considered how foolhardy he’d been to go outside at that hour, even after knowing that cars were broken into. It made sense that whoever was doing that might also be lurking around, looking for easy pickings.

He’d been lucky.

But if he kept making poor decisions, that luck wouldn’t hold.

The driver started the engine as the men with the bats climbed into the car, the dome light removed so it wouldn’t illuminate.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Dude had a gun.”

“Shit. Nobody said nothin’ ’bout him packing. We known, we coulda just popped a cap in his ass and been outta here. That was bogus.”

“Yeah.”

“We done here, or you want to wait for the cops?” the taller of the pair asked.

“Gotta call and tell our man deal’s off,” the driver said.

“Yeah. We still get paid, right?”

“We better. Not our fault we was set up.”

The shorter passenger leaned forward from the rear seat. “Yo, let’s go get some Mickee Dee, homey. I’m hungry.”

The Buick rolled out of the lot, its headlights remaining extinguished until it was well away from Home World, the driver already on his cell to tell their boss it had been a no go.

Chapter 44

Tom moved along the home improvement aisle, the carpets dark in the dim light. When he was sure that he was out of earshot of any of his fellow workers, he removed a phone from his pocket and placed a call to his triad supervisor. The man sounded troubled when he answered.

“Are you someplace you can talk?” he snapped at Tom.

“Yes.”

“Did you hear?”

“What?”

“Two of our men attempted to attack the private investigator outside, but failed.”

“What? Failed? How? Who did you send?”

“Who we sent is unimportant. The man is carrying a gun. We were never told.”

“That’s not good news. He’ll be on alert now.”

“Yes, of course. Worse, he’ll probably bring the police into it.”

“That endangers our enterprise.”

“I know.”

“I also overheard him speaking with the owner of the store. He was on the phone with the police. It sounded like he’s very friendly with them. From what I could understand, it sounds like they’re on their way here. He found a credit-card-skimming system.”

“This is becoming far too complicated. Has he been in the area where our merchandise is hidden?”

“No, but with police everywhere, you can’t pick it up this morning.” Tom stopped. “You know, he’s been back in the loading area quite a lot for someone investigating a murder in the front office. He claims he lost a cat in the store and is looking for it. But that could be a ruse.”

“A cat? Who brings a cat to a murder investigation?”

“Exactly. None of it makes any sense.”

“Does our colleague there suspect you’re talking to us about this?”

“Not that I can tell.”

“Has he been behaving oddly?”

“He’s been distracted and on edge.”

“We cannot allow the merchandise to be discovered, Tom. Or for the police to learn about our routes. That would bring the federal authorities into things, and we’ve successfully avoided them by remaining low profile.”

“I did hear him discussing the FBI with his police contact.”

When his boss spoke again, he sounded alarmed. “Did you get any sense of how long until they get there?”

“No, but that was only a few minutes ago.”

“Stand by. I want to consult with my higher-ups about this.”

His superior murmured to someone else and then spoke into another phone. The triads changed burner cell phones almost daily to evade surveillance and thus had a plentiful supply of them on hand at all times.

Tom saw a bloated form lumber around the corner and smiled to himself. The investigator had, in fact, brought a cat. These Americans were crazy – they lived in a land of endless prosperity and yet consumed illegal drugs at a higher rate than any other nation in the world, they had everything and yet were chronically unhappy, and their specialist investigators brought cats to murder scenes. He shook his head in wonder. Even after four months of witnessing the society with his own eyes, he still had a hard time believing many things about it.

His boss came back on the line. “It is agreed. We cannot take any more chances. You are to use whatever means are necessary to neutralize our colleague and recover the merchandise.”

“What if I can’t do both?”

“Eliminating the threat is more important than the merchandise.”

“Do you want me to wait to see how the police proceed?”

“No. Let’s assume they will suspect our man there. If he has been selling drugs to the others, it will come out. It was a stupid risk on his part, but harmless. Until now.”

“Do you have any preference on how he goes?”

“No. Just make it swift, and do not be discovered.”

“Another murder here will result in the store being shut down and everyone put under a microscope.”

“Yes, but if you are able to eliminate our problem outside the store, would it not then open up the possibility of it being a robbery gone wrong? Or eliminate all but speculation if he simply disappears?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then you are to lure him out, away from the store, and dispatch him once he’s no longer where the police will make a link. We have found them to be fat, stupid, and lazy. If he simply leaves with no explanation, they have nobody to question.”

“And the body?”

“I will arrange for it to disappear into the night. Call me and let me know where you leave him, and that part will take care of itself. He will be at the bottom of the ocean in a few hours.”

Tom nodded. “Let me consider how to arrange this.”

“Obviously, you must do it quickly.”

“And the merchandise?”

“We will have to be prepared to lose it. If they don’t discover it, you can remove it tomorrow during a delivery. If they do, there’s nobody to question, and they will assume that because our friend has vanished, he was the mastermind. It’s clean either way.”

“Very well. Once I have a plan, I will let you know where to find his remains.”

Chapter 45

Black passed Tom on the way to the bathrooms and gave him a nod. The little Chinese man returned the gesture as he moved by, seemingly lost in thought. Black entered the restroom, shrugged out of his jacket, and then removed his shirt, which was badly soiled from his exploration on the office roof. He examined the bruising on his still-tingling arm and then gently probed his ribs, which were sore and discoloring from the adventure with the pallets, but didn’t feel broken.

“This is bullshit,” he whispered. He hadn’t signed up for being run over by a truck. It had seemed an easy assignment – spend a night questioning and examining evidence, pocket a fat wad of cash, and move on. Now he had an injured arm that was turning an alarming shade of purple, his torso looked like he’d been beaten with lead pipes, and with the cut over his eye he could have been mistaken for the losingest boxer in history.

And he was out of cigarettes.

What he really needed was a drink, he thought. In his imagination, he knocked back a tumbler of Jack and washed it down with a beer that was so cold it froze his teeth. He could almost taste the warm amber burn and the soothing relief, feel the heat spread through his stomach as his cares melted away, the ethanol banishing them to obscurity.

Sylvia’s face popped into his head. She’d freak when she saw the condition he was in. Hopefully it would stir her to pity, if nothing else.

Of course, if she wasn’t there, she wouldn’t see him. And judging by her lack of response, she wouldn’t be.

The thought jolted him back to his ugly present, and the idealized visions of slipping into a chemical coma receded. He gingerly fingered his contusions, shook the worst of the remaining ceiling dust from his shirt, and pulled it back on with the resignation of a convicted man headed for the gallows.

Black resisted the urge to call Sylvia again – there was no way she was still awake, and it would be a wasted effort that made him look even more desperate than he actually was. Which stopped him. What was he planning to do when he made it home? What was his game plan? Assuming she would even take his call… Proclaim his undying devotion and beg for forgiveness? Suggest starting over on the right foot? Propose marriage? What was he prepared to give to keep her in his life?

He shook off the uncomfortable feeling the thought caused and forced himself to face his fear. Why was he distant? What was the real reason?

That he was damaged goods went without saying. Nina had seen to that. The last time he’d ever really trusted anyone had been with her, and she’d cored him a new one after using him for everything she could get. His later relationships had followed a predictable pattern where he was always busy with his latest scheme, and eventually the women went off in search of someone looking for the same thing they were.

Which he certainly couldn’t blame anyone for. He was under no illusions about his value on the open market, and more than aware that his “best if used by” date had come and gone some time ago.

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to say the magic words that would enable him to keep the one woman he’d met who would put up with his crazy parents, his bad habits, his sporadic earnings, and a lifestyle that more resembled clinging to the side of a sheer cliff for dear life rather than climbing the ladder to prosperity.

“I’m screwed,” he whispered and then swung around when the door opened and Kyle stepped in.

“Hey. How’s it going? Figure it all out in time for the final commercial break?” the man asked.

Black shook his head. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Let me know if I can help.”

Black nodded. “You could start by telling me the complete truth about who here is taking drugs, and where you think they’re getting them from.”

Kyle held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Whoa. I don’t do that shit, so I have no idea where to get them.”

“What about who here’s using them?”

“What, you figure because I’m a brother, I know who’s got the dope and where to get it? Because we all criminals, right?”

Black frowned. “No, Kyle, I’m asking you because you’re older and street smart, so you probably have a pretty good idea who’s doing what.”

“Going to have to find another snitch. I don’t play that.”

“I got jumped outside. Know anything about that?”

Kyle’s face didn’t change. “Bad neighborhood to be wandering around in this late.”

“Yeah. I figured that one out.” Black shook his head. “Thanks for all the help.”

“Look, if I knew anything definite, I’d tell you, all right? But I don’t. I just got suspicions. And those aren’t a reason to send anyone to jail.”

“You heard Mary bought it?”

“Yeah. That’s a damn shame. She wasn’t a bad one. Fair.”

Black pushed past Kyle and walked back to the administrative offices, the fatigue of the night hitting hard. He had no doubt that Kyle knew more than he was letting on, but he was equally sure that he’d never spill it. Which left Black holding a big leaky sack of nothing with which to defend Bethany.

Who still hadn’t called, either.

Roxie looked up at him from her screen with a serious expression.

“Well?” he asked.

“It’s password protected, all right.”

“And?”

“It’s two-factor authentication. Which is impossible to crack. Or at least, way over my head in the time we have.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that our boy was paranoid, all right. His password, which I was able to crack, asks for a second one, which is created by a dongle.”

“Like Internet banking?”

“Exactly.”

“So we’re looking for something about the size of a car key,” Black said. He removed the papers Larry had given him from his jacket inside pocket and skimmed them quickly. “This is an inventory list of everything the police found in the office. There’s no dongle.”

“What about his car?”

“Someone broke into it.”

“Convenient. Wonder whether they were looking for the same thing?”

“Makes sense. The thing’s a piece of junk. No self-respecting car thief would look twice at it.”