Callahan's Fate (21 page)

“I’m not naming any poor kid
Aloysius
,” he had told his grandfather.

“Oh, Jeez, no, not for a first name, but
maybe you could give it to him for a middle name.”

Reflecting back now, he thought he
might, if he ever had a son.

Raine
cocked her head
and considered his offer. “Sure, I’d like to,” she told him. “I haven’t been to
New Jersey at all, and I’d love to meet your grandfather.”

“Then we’ll go,” he said. “We can take
the train if you want.”

“The subway?”

“No, doll, Amtrak, so I’ll get online
and get some tickets,” he told her.

Raine
yawned,
and he admired her beauty.
 
She’s so pretty.
“I’m sleepy.”

“So get some rest while I get us
tickets.”

“All right.”
She burrowed
under the covers while he reached for his boxers and a T-shirt. “I’ll keep the
bed warm for you.”

“You do that,” he said. “I won’t take
long.

   
Callahan took a shower first.
 
When he came back into the room,
Raine
slept,
her hair fanned out across the pillows.
 
She had managed to kick off the top blanket so he adjusted it and
covered her, delivering a light kiss on the end of her nose.
 
Although she stirred, she didn’t wake, and he
brought his laptop to the kitchen table.

With a few key clicks, he bought a pair
of tickets on the Northeast Regional train. The first available departure was
at ten a.m., so he took it and then he drank a beer.
 
The mellow brew eased some of his tension,
but he remained concerned about their situation.
 
Going to see his pop would help, he thought,
at least it would take his mind off Snake’s threats for now.
 
If Granddad was having a good day, he might
pick his brain about the situation.
 
Although long retired, Al Callahan retained a sharp mind and some of the
best survival instincts Cal had ever seen.
I
can use all the help I can get.

Long after
Raine
had fallen asleep, Callahan joined her in bed.
 
Lulled by the beer and the gentle rhythm of her breathing, he drifted
into sleep.
 
He still woke before she
did, though, and made coffee.
 
When she
roused, hair tangled, eyes bright after her rest, he came over to deliver a
kiss. “Good morning, doll.”

“Good morning.” She brushed her hair
back. “Did you get train tickets?”

“You bet I did,” he told her. “We leave
at ten so we’ve got plenty of time.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I need to
shower.”

“Go ahead, and I’ll make breakfast.”

He adored the way she lifted one
eyebrow.
“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Callahan had gathered everything he
needed, from the skillet to eggs, butter, and bread for toast while she
slept.
 
His culinary skills were basic,
but he managed to scramble two eggs each and make toast.
 
When she came to the table, hair washed,
dried, and pulled back into a ponytail,
Raine
grinned. “Wow, you did make breakfast.”

“Told you I would,” he replied. “
Whaddya
think?”

After a moment, she picked up the fork
and tasted the eggs. “I’m impressed, Callahan. It’s good. What else can you
cook?”

“Not much,” he said. “I can manage a hot
dog or hamburger if I’m lucky, warm up something from a can, or nuke it in the
microwave. So you like your breakfast?”

“I do, very much.”

Her simple praise filled him with
joy.
 
He liked pleasing her.

They walked the few blocks to
Pennsylvania Station, holding hands.
 
She
wore her crimson, cable-knit cardigan, and he wore his old denim jacket, faded
to a soft powder-blue.
 
A sharp wind blew
between the buildings as they headed down Seventh Avenue, shoulder to shoulder
with commuters and others
en
route somewhere.
 

“I didn’t know it was so close to Madison
Square Garden,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, and Hotel Pennsylvania is
right across the street.”

“So I see,”
Raine
told him. “I’ve never ridden a passenger train before.”

“You’ll like it,” he replied. “You can
have the window seat if you want.”

“How long will it take to get there?”

Callahan laughed. “Not long, doll. It’s
just across the Hudson, first stop.
 
We’ll walk to Pop’s building from the station on Market Street.”

“Does he know we’re coming?”

“I haven’t called him yet, but I imagine
he does.”

She frowned, looking confused. “What?”

“Pop has a gift,” he said. “Some
mystical Irish bullshit to listen to him talk, but I’ll almost guarantee you he
knows I’m coming.
 
I’ll phone, though, to
be sure.”

He would call once they reached
Newark.
 
On the way to the station,
Callahan scanned the crowds searching for Snake, but he saw no one who
resembled him, and with a lighter step, they entered Penn Station to catch a
train.

Chapter Fourteen

Raine’s
notion of train
travel had been shaped by movies and early exposure to
Thomas
The
Tank Engine
.
 
The reality didn’t begin to compare but she
liked it.
 
Riding out of the tunnels from
Penn Station, she sat in a window seat, eager to see the view from the train.

“How soon will we be able to see?” she
asked Callahan.

“It won’t be long. We’ll cross the
Hudson River in a few minutes.
 
We’ll be
in Newark before you know it.”

They were, and although she anticipated
meeting his grandfather,
Raine
hated to end the train
ride so soon. At the station on Market Street, Callahan paused long enough to
call his grandfather.
 
The short
conversation was punctuated with laughter.
 
As they walked onto the street, she asked, “So did he already know
you’re coming?”

“Yeah, he said he did.”

“Maybe he’s just bluffing you,” she
said. Psychic talent wasn’t something she had often experienced, and she wasn’t
sure if it was valid or nonsense.

Callahan laughed. “Doll, he said he went
out this morning to buy donuts and stuff for lunch for us.
 
Wait till you meet him, you’ll see.”

I guess I will.
 
“How far is it?”

“A few blocks. It’s an apartment house
for senior citizens.”

Three streets and ten blocks later,
Raine’s
feet protested.
 
Although she’d walked more than ever before since coming to New York
City, she wasn’t completely used to it yet.
 
Callahan, however, marched with purpose, and he wasn’t even winded when
they stopped outside a multi-story building. “This is it,” he said.

The senior Aloysius Callahan opened the
door to his sixth floor apartment before they knocked. “There you are,” he
said, his accent thicker than Callahan’s. “Come in already.”

“Hi, Pop,” Cal said and hugged the tall,
elderly man. “You’re
lookin
’ good.”

He looked like Callahan if you changed
his dark hair to white, added a dapper moustache, put lines in his face, and
added six decades.
 
Raine
noticed the old man had a different nose but otherwise, without the age
difference, the men could’ve passed for brothers, maybe even twins.

“I look old,” Pop said. “And feel older
than that.
 
She’s lovely, Buddy, so
introduce me.”

“Give me a chance,” Callahan said with a
grin. “Aloysius Callahan, known as Al or just Pop, this is Miss Lorraine
Teasdale, but she goes by
Raine
.
 
Doll, this is my grandfather.”

“I’m pleased to meet you.”
Raine
extended her hand to shake, but the old man hugged
her instead.

“Likewise,” he said. “So you’re from
Missouri.
 
How do you like The Big
Apple?”

“Fine,”
Raine
replied.
 
She turned toward Callahan and
poked him. “You told him, didn’t you?”

Callahan opened his hands and spread
them wide. “No, I swear I didn’t. He just knows things sometimes.”

His pop nodded. “Like I know you got
trouble,” he said. “I’ve got a pot of coffee made. Come in, have a donut, and
tell me about your problem.”

Raine
grinned at both
of them.
 
“I see what you mean,” she
said. Her Callahan, despite describing his grandfather’s gifts, wore a stunned
expression. “Maybe Pop can help.”

The old man beamed at her.
 
“I will if I can. Buddy knows that.”

They exchanged a look of mutual
admiration and trust that touched her. “Yeah, I do,” Callahan said. “So here’s
the story.”

He sketched out the tale, everything
from running into the Marshes at Coney Island to the back story, how he’d sent
Snake to Riker’s Island.
 
Callahan left
out nothing as he shared with his grandfather, describing each encounter and
ending with what happened on Halloween night.
 
Al listened, head cocked to one side, and when his grandson finished, he
nodded.

“Yeah, you got big trouble, that’s for
sure,” he said.
 
“This, what’s his name,
Snake? He’s out for blood, and he’s made you the target in his personal
vendetta.
 
He wants to hurt you and he’s
found your vulnerable spot—
Raine
.
 
Once a
perp
knows
they can get to you through your woman or your kid, you’re screwed.
 
He
ain’t
gonna
quit until you’re dead or he’s in custody.”

Raine
listened and
watched the old man as he spoke.
 
Although tall and slender, he appeared to be so frail that a gust of
wind might blow him over.
 
His eyes were
bright and alert, but his skin reminded her of thin parchment paper.
 
Something about him reminded her of a fine
antique, fragile yet infinitely valuable.
 
He’s wise,
she thought,
and his body might be weak, but his spirit
is strong.

“Yeah, I got that,” Cal said. He
scrubbed one hand over his face and reached for another donut. “What I can’t
figure is how to end it.”

“You take him down, or he takes you.
It’s that simple.”

“I can’t kill him without a reason,”
Callahan replied. “Or arrest him either.”

“Then get something on him.”

“It’s not that simple,
Pop
.”

“Why the hell
not?
Back in my day, we would’ve managed to do it.”

“I know, but things are different
now.
 
It’s the Twenty-First Century, not
the 1940s and 1950s.
 
We
gotta
obey the rules or take the consequences.”

Al snorted. “Oh, c’mon, this is one time
you outta bend ‘em a little.”

“I can’t if I want to stay in law
enforcement, and I do,” Callahan said.
 
He sounded exasperated but not angry.
 
When he looked across the coffee table at his grandfather,
Raine
could see the affection. “So besides that,
whaddya
suggest?”

His grandfather reached for the open
pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes on the end table and fired one with a match. He
clamped the unfiltered smoke between his lips and dragged hard.
 
As a cloud of powerful, aromatic tobacco
surrounded them, Al glanced at
Raine
. “Do you mind if
I smoke?”

She inhaled. “No, not at all,” she told
him. “My grandfather used to smoke
Luckies
, too, so
it reminds me of him.”

Callahan shook his head. “You know I
mind,” he said. “Didn’t the doctor tell you to lay off the cigarettes?”

The old man winked. “He might have,” he
said. “But I’m not and I told you already.
 
I’m ninety-three.
 
Something’s
gonna
kill me sooner or later, so I might as well enjoy one
of the few pleasures I got left.
 
Whaddya
care?”

Despite what could be a harsh question,
his tone retained affection. “I like having you around,” Callahan said. “I
don’t have much family left.”