Cold City (Repairman Jack - the Early Years Trilogy) (22 page)

“Why?”

“They’ve seen us.”

“Haven’t seen me.”

Well, Bonita had, but none of the others.  And he didn’t think Bonita was going to accuse him of anything.

“Hey, they seen
me
, okay?  I loaded them into the house and I loaded them into the trucks.  They can identify me.”

“Well, you’ll be back in North Carolina and they’ll be shipped back to wherever they came from.  Where
did
they come from?”

Reggie shrugged.  “Who knows, who cares?”  He chewed a fingernail.  “We gotta do something with the ones sitting behind us.  We get caught with them, we’re fucked.”

“Why don’t we–”

“Turn here!” Reggie said, pointing to the right.  “I got an idea.  I know a place on the north shore we can go.  No one’ll see us.”

“No one’ll see us what?”

“Hey, just drive and lemme think, okay?”

Jack glanced at him.  Reggie and thinking… not exactly a match made in heaven. 

6

Kadir didn’t have to look to know Tachus was beyond help.  He glanced down at the revolver in his hand – what chance did this little thing with its six rounds have against a machine gun? 

He dropped flat and slithered under the limo.  He heard shots, shouts, screams, saw Osman hit the ground on the far side of the car.  In the light from the open car door he watched his torn throat pump dark blood.  The man stared at Kadir, blinked twice, twitched, then lay still.  The blood stopped pumping. 

“That all of them?” said a voice.

“Yeah,” replied another.  “But we’ve got to go after that truck.”

“No kidding,” said the first.  “But first–”

Kadir jumped as a short, sharp burst sounded at the rear of the car.  He heard the trunk pop open.  Cold liquid began to splash his legs.

“Damn!  I hit the money.”

“You also hit the gas tank.”

Gas!  Kadir could smell it now, but didn’t dare move his feet. 

“Jesus, bro,” said the first voice.  “Will you look at that?  Beautiful or what?”

“Yeah, beautiful.  Meanwhile the other truck is getting away.”

“Yeah.  But a couple of details first.”

As Kadir watched, booted feet kicked Osman’s body onto its back.  It jerked as more bullets were fired into it. 

What were they doing?  Clearly he was dead.

More bursts of gunfire from farther away in the clearing.  Kadir used the sounds to cover him as he squirmed from under the car and rolled into the rank grass at the nearby edge of the clearing.

He held his breath as one of the attackers returned to the car.  He could see only two figures moving about the clearing, both wearing ski masks.  They reminded him of the Palestinian heroes from the Munich Olympics.

“Last one,” the approaching attacker said.

He fired a few more rounds into the rear compartment – why shoot Tachus again? – and then stopped by the trunk.  There he used a cigarette lighter to set fire to a piece of paper the size of a dollar bill – it might even have been money – and then dropped it at the rear of the limo.  Kadir could not contain a gasp of shock as the gasoline on the ground burst into flame.  His sound apparently was covered by the
woomp!
of ignition, because the attacker hurried away without a second look.

Kadir stayed low until he heard the remaining cargo truck start up and drive off.  Then he rose and reentered the clearing, giving the burning car a wide berth.  He glanced into the open rear section where Tachus sprawled, the top of his head missing.  His crotch had been blasted to a bloody ruin. 

Kadir backed away and saw that Osman’s genitals had been blasted away as well.  As he staggered about the clearing he noticed that the same had been done to Faraq and Saleem.  Why?  What did this mean?

He jumped as the limo’s gas tank exploded, sending a ball of flame into the air.

He hurried to the truck they’d brought but the keys were not in the ignition and he couldn’t bring himself to search the ruined body of the driver.  So Kadir did the only thing he could think of. 

He ran.  He didn’t know where he was going.  He simply ran.

7

Jack followed Reggie’s directions to the northern limit of the Staten Island waterfront.  He didn’t know the island’s geography, but figured those dockyards across the channel had to be in Bayonne.  Reggie hadn’t been kidding about it being deserted – at least at the moment.  Who knew what it would be like once more people were out and about.  Clouds had scudded in and it looked and felt like rain.

“There’s a boat ramp around here somewhere,” Reggie was saying, craning his neck as he peered through the windshield.

“Boat ramp?  You’ve got a boat around here?”

He looked at Jack as if he’d grown a third eye.  “What?  No.  Did rent one here once, though.”

“Fishing?”

Another look.  “Hey, no.  Had to get rid of something.”

Jack hesitated, then decided he had to ask what.  But before he could speak, Reggie straightened and pointed to the left.

“There!  Get us over there.”

As Jack approached he saw a ramp sloping down from the pavement to the water, lined on either side with wooden bulkheading.

“What to we need this for?”

“You’re going to back the truck into the water.”

“What for?”

“We’re gonna sink it.”

“What?  But the girls–”

“Yeah.”  Reggie nodded, a small smile playing about his lips.  “You catch on fast, Archie.”

Jack stared at him.  He wasn’t kidding.

“No way!”

“Yes, way.  Yes, fuckin-A way!  This way they don’t talk and they don’t give out no descriptions.”

He was really serious.  Jack couldn’t wrap his mind around the casual cold-bloodedness.

“Uh-uh.  Not happening.”

Reggie made a disgusted face. “Or what?  You gonna pussy out on me?  All right, get out.  Get out!  I’ll do it myself!  Move!”

The only move Jack made was to slide his right hand to the noon position on the steering wheel.

Reggie slid closer.  “Come on, Archie!  Get the fuck out and let–”

Jack straightened his elbow, slamming the knife edge of his hand against Reggie’s throat.  The short chop didn’t carry the force to crush his larynx, but enough to spasm it.  As Reggie clutched his throat and made choking noises, Jack felt the dark break loose again.  He grabbed his head and smashed it back against the passenger door.  The glass had been blown out by a bullet, but his skull landed with a thud against the bottom of the window frame.  Jack slammed it a second and third time until Reggie’s eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp.

He released him and let him slump in the seat.  Jack leaned back, panting.  He watched Reggie breathe.  Okay.  Still alive.  Now what?

He had a truck rented by someone who probably didn’t exist, with fourteen illegal young girls in the back and an unconscious man in the front.

He was in deep shit.

The girls.  The girls came first.  Had to figure out what to do with the girls.  Had to put some distance between himself and them.  And quickly.  He could walk away from the truck, but that left him conspicuous and vulnerable to being picked up.

He could dump Reggie here, let the girls out, drive away, and report them at the first pay phone he found.  Some sort of social services agency would pick them up, feed them, keep them warm, and find a way to get them back to their families. 

Yeah.  That seemed like the best for all concerned.

He checked Reggie’s hoodie pouch and found a set of keys.  As he slipped out of the cab and hurried around the back, he prayed one of them fit the lock on the rear doors or his plan was shot.  The air temperature was probably in the forties but the wind off the water made it feel sub-freezing.  His second try was a hit – the padlock shackle popped up.  He pulled one of the doors open and saw a crowd of frightened faces.

“
Usted es libre! Correr!
”

They stared at him.

He motioned toward the ground.  “
Salte! Usted es libre! Correr! Correr!
”

Something hard and round jammed against the back of his neck as a voice said, “What the fuck are you up to?”

That didn’t sound like Reggie.

The girls screamed as a hand grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face up against the unopened rear door.  Hurt like hell but he refused to groan.

Who the hell was this?  One of those dead Mohammedans’ friends?  Probably thought he and Reggie had double-crossed them.

“You listening?” the voice said.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

Might as well tell him. 

“Letting them go.”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Another voice came from around the passenger side of the truck.

“We got one already down here, bro.”

Someone must have found Reggie.

“What?”

“Looks like a little falling out between slimeballs.”

Slimeballs?  Did he think – well, what else would he think?

“
Quedense!
” the first guy said and closed the truck’s back door.  The girls inside wailed.

“They’ve been cooped up in there all night,” Jack said.

“Like you care.”

The guy tightened his grip on Jack’s neck and dragged him toward the passenger side.  Jack got a glance at him and his bladder clenched when he saw the ski mask.

A second masked guy, shorter, heavier, was standing by the door.

“How come he’s still breathing?” the second one said.

“Found him letting the girls go.”

“Yeah?”  The second stepped closer.  He had blue eyes and the skin around them was pale.  Not a Mohammedan.  “A little disagreement over who gets first choice of the girls?”

Jack shook his head as best he could.  “No.  Over what to do with them.”

“And you won.  What was your bright idea?”

“Let them go.”

“Really.”  His eyes narrowed as he jerked a thumb toward the cab.  “And what was his?”

Well, why not tell him?  If they got pissed at Reggie, so what?  He had something coming for what he’d been about to do.  A lot coming.

“Back the truck into the water and sink it.”

The second’s eyes widened.  “With the girls inside?”

Jack nodded.

A long silence followed as the second guy peered through the shattered window at Reggie.  Then he looked at Jack.

“How do we know that wasn’t your idea?”

“Because like I told you,” said the first, still behind him, “he was letting the girls go when I nabbed him.  Telling them to run.”

Another long silence, then the first tightened his grip and said, “Still doesn’t let you off for driving them up here.”

“Not like I had a choice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack considered what to say next.  These were two cold-blooded killers who hadn’t hesitated a second to shoot up the Mohammedans, but he was still standing.  Maybe they weren’t after him.

“What do you care?  You’ve got your money.  I can’t identify you.  Let’s just call it a day.”

“You think this is about money?”

“Tell you the truth: I don’t know what the hell to think.”

“Mouthy, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told.”  And then he realized something.  “Aw, no.”

“What?” said the first.

“You want the girls too.”

“So what if we do?”

“They’re just kids.  Let them go.”

“You’re the one who delivered them to the brokers.  Now you’re all concerned about them?”

“Like I said, I didn’t have much choice.”

“We heard you,” said the second. “Convince us.”

Might as well lay it all out: He gave them a quick rundown of the situation, leaving out what happened to Moose.

“Nice story,” said the first.  “Make a good movie.  Was this guy Tony a good friend of yours?” 

Something in his tone…

“Why?  What do you care?  You know something?”

“We found a phone in the other truck,” said the second.  “We redialed the last number.”  His gaze flicked to the first.  “Told them the delivery had been made.  He asked for a password.  When we couldn’t give it, he asked if this was Archie.  Then he said ‘Kiss your friend’s ass good-bye.’ ”

“Shit.”  Poor Tony.

“You’re Archie?”

Jack nodded, silent.

“Think your buddy’s gone?” said the second. 

Jack thought about Tony as he’d last seen him – taped up with blood leaking from his nose.  Would Tim shoot him?  No question Moose would have.  Probably Reggie too.  He’d said,
We ain’t killers
, but he’d been more than ready to drown the girls.  Why expect any mercy for Tony?  He was a liability, a loose end.  He could point a finger…

The sons of bitches.

“Yeah.  I do.”

“Then you’ll want a little payback. You can tell us how to locate their depot house.”

Jack definitely wanted payback.

“It’s on the Outer Banks.  Easy to find.  But listen.  Can you call the cops down on the place?  Just in case he’s still alive.”

“Why would we want to do that?”

“Because he’s a good guy and has nothing to do with this.”

The second looked over Jack’s shoulder at the first.  “Believe him, bro?”

“Spins a good tale, but…”  He tightened his grip.  “Got any references?”

It took Jack a few seconds to process that.  “You’re kidding, right?”

“Your life could depend on it.”

His mind raced.  His father?  Who’d buy that?  Giovanni?  Maybe.  Then he knew–

“There’s this guy who runs a sporting goods shop on the Upper West Side who–”

“Abe?” said the first.  “You know Abe?”

A ray of hope: They’d heard of Abe. 

Wait.  Why did these two killers know Abe?  And how, out of all the sporting goods shops in the city, had they picked out Abe’s first thing?

“Yeah.  Isher Sports Shop.  I worked for his uncle when I was a kid and–”

“Spare us the details,” said the first as he handed a cell phone past Jack.  “Call him.”

The second took it and started walking away, dialing as he went.

He didn’t even have to look up the number…

“Tell him I’m the guy who worked for Uncle Jake!”

Jack watched him have a short conversation out of earshot, then he returned.