Authors: Eric Pete

Frostbite (10 page)

BOOK: Frostbite

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My phone rang.

Right on the day he said he’d call. And at the time he said he’d call.

This was really going down.

“Hello,” I answered, seeing the call was coming from a blocked number.

“You didn’t throw away the phone. Smart man.”

“Want to tell me what you want?”

“Not over the phone. Take down this address. I won’t repeat it either.”

I listened, writing down the information he provided on a scrap of paper. When he was finished, I had a question.

“This isn’t right around the corner for me. How do you expect me to get there on short notice? I might be out of the country,” I said, continuing to walk briskly past people, the phone pressed against my ear so as to better hear.

“But you’re not,” he replied. “Because I told you not to leave the country when I gave you that phone. And because you’re currently in Portland, Oregon. Heading east on Couch Street. Toward the river. How is Old Town? I can hear all the people in the background, too, by the way.”

I stopped on the dime, saying nothing as I surveyed my surroundings. Felt my stomach knot up as I carefully backed away from everyone around me. Didn’t stop until I was free of the crowd and next to a stairwell. Ready to flee if this didn’t go as planned.

“Now that we understand each other, see that you make it. On time,” he said with a smirk that I could see through the phone.

After he hung up, I waited a while longer. Allowed myself a smirk of my own. Then I used my phone with which I’d just spoken to him.

My phone.

Not the one he thought he was speaking to me on. That phone was somewhere else.

Dialed a number to someone.

“You okay?” I asked the person who was in Portland instead of me. And apparently heading east on Couch Street. In a nasal tone, he answered that he was.

“Good,” I said. “They’re tracking the phone’s GPS. Turn it off again and dump the battery. And get out of there.”

If someone was physically in Portland, they wouldn’t catch him. The teenager was Wally Dunwoody, a student at Portland Community College, but also a parkour legend in Oregon. Could leap, jump, and flip like a spider monkey based on the YouTube clips I’d seen of him. Adrenaline junkie that he was, it only took a grand and the possibility of danger to get him to take the phone and turn it on at the right time. I’d already set all calls to be forwarded from it to my phone.

Satisfied so far, I dialed another number.

“Did you get it?” I asked cryptically of the man who answered.

“Working on it. Gotta do discreetly,” the man I had monitoring cell phone tower transmissions around the Old Town area of Portland replied in a low tone, in case his coworkers were being nosy. Money wasn’t the answer for everyone. For him, it was that long elusive acceptance letter from Stanford that would be coming for his daughter.

“Just get something for me as soon as you can,” I said from behind sunglasses and a Mariners baseball cap. Then I ended the call.

Sloppy of whomever he was to think I’d follow his instructions without a few ideas of my own.

And for him to not figure it out.

Told me a lot about him and his current state.

He was far from infallible ... and desperate.

Left Pike Place Market whistling to myself.

For I had somewhere to be per my instructions.

Oklahoma City

I was in the main bar of Mickey Mantle’s Steakhouse. Manning a booth seat against the memorabilia-laden wall while I enjoyed a meal of pepper steak with fresh broccoli and mushroom risotto. Took a look at the time on my phone while I drank from my glass of water.

Was in the right city.

Right time.

Wrong location.

Just trying to put things back on my terms.

My instructions were to meet with the mystery man by the water taxi on the canal here in Bricktown. But I wanted a good steak, so I sent some poor schmuck to summon him to me instead. Told my messenger to look for a pompous, gangly asshole who looked like he was used to giving orders.

Dressed differently than when he first met me, I motioned him over when he entered the restaurant. Seeing the pissed look on his face brought joy to my soul. While I wore a sun visor, T-shirt, and cargo shorts, he was in jeans and a button down with Ray-Bans shielding his eyes. Had a folded newspaper under his arm that I hoped didn’t contain a gun.

Something unusual happened as he approached. The pictures on two of the TVs above the bar developed static when he walked by. Then a guy who’d come from the ballpark across the street began experiencing problems with his phone, even losing a call, when he passed as well. My guest had some sort of jamming device on him. Afraid of being recorded or my having a wire on me.

And I thought I was the paranoid one.

“You don’t follow instructions very well,” he said as he sat down opposite me. From behind the false smile, he kept his voice to a barely audible murmur.

“Was hungry,” I retorted. “So what should I call you?”

“Mr. Smith,” he replied, dead serious.

“Let me guess. First name John, huh?” I joked as I continue to eat. Annoyed the fuck out of him. “You got me here. What’s the job?”

He looked around at the full bar.

“They’re not paying attention. Relax. It’s OKC. Ignoring the McVeigh bombing, how much clandestine shit happens here?”

“You’d be surprised,” he offered.

“Want something to drink? You must be thirsty waiting around by the canal for me. Have some water,” I suggested, motioning to the extra glass of water before him. Our eyes met.

“You take me for a fool?” he asked, avoiding touching it. Wasn’t going to leave a fingerprint for me.

“Speaking of being a fool, whatever this job is, I’m not a hero. And despite what it looked like from behind your little spy cameras, that job down in Florida wasn’t on that level. For real. I don’t fuck with terrorists, so don’t expect me to suddenly become patriotic. Don’t operate like that.”

“Relax. It’s something more intimate. Discrete. Admire the way you were able to get inside Prince Abdel Al-Bin Sada’s compound and get out with your life. And with the body count of trained pros you’ve racked up, it’s the perfect balance of stealth and ruthlessness.” He unfolded the newspaper and slid a single photo into view. This time, it wasn’t of me. “I need this man reassigned to another position,” he said. Dude was used to ordering the
reassignment
of people.

“I’m no hit man. Don’t rock like that. Get someone else.”

“Still proclaiming your innocence. I know what I’ve seen with my own two eyes,” Mr. Smith pushed back. “Now ... if he is accidentally reassigned like the rest of the unlucky people in your life, or even if you want somebody else to get their hands dirty, you’ll get the job done.”

A woman who’d entered walked by. Tall, blond, and confident in a black party dress. Most conversations in the restaurant, including ours, ceased. Should’ve had her own theme music. As she strolled down the side of the bar nearest us, one of the bar patrons was a little overzealous. In trying to discretely get her attention, he accidentally bumped into her arm. The black clutch she carried in her hand popped free, falling forward next to our booth.

“I got it, miss,” Mr. Smith said as he leaned down, snatching up her clutch in a smooth manner I wouldn’t have expected from him. I guess we were both used to wearing different faces depending on the scenario.

“Thank you so much, sir,” she said as Mr. Smith returned the clutch to her. She smiled at both of us before joining her companions who were seated in the leather chairs along the back wall.

“Who is he?” I asked, removing my hand from over the photo as we got back down to business.

“DA,” he answered, his eyes still lustfully on the woman who made a favorable impression. “Down in Orleans Parish.”

“In Louisiana? New Orleans?” I asked, my eyes narrowing as I looked at the photo again. He didn’t know who I really was, so a job in New Orleans was a coincidence. Still, it was as if the fates were conspiring against me. Apt, I suppose. “I already told you I don’t kill. Now I know you definitely have the wrong guy. No law enforcement and definitely no district attorney.”

“This isn’t a negotiation. And your continued freedom of movement is your payment.”

“Fuck you. I know this isn’t sanctioned by your people. Do it yourself.”

“Can’t,” he replied. “Too busy keeping the world safe.”

“Why do you want him gone?” I asked.

“You don’t get that kind of info. Protects you. Protects me. Just know that I need it done,” Mr. Smith replied.

“You’re here alone. I’m pretty sure of that. If I were what you think me to be, what’s to stop me from—”

He cut me off. “Know why I picked this city for our meeting?” he casually asked as he turned to see what was playing on the TVs in the bar for the first time. It was as if he’d been saving this moment for last. Free to relax.

“Of course. For the steaks,” I said as I plopped the final piece of steak in my mouth. “Right? Or are you hoping to see Kevin Durant?”

He kept his eyes locked on
SportsCenter.
Barely acknowledging me or my taunts. “Because it’s close to Dallas ... where I just left. You are familiar with Dallas, yes?”

Collette.

He was threatening me with Collette.

Dallas

Bob Jones Park in Southlake.

Had sped the 200 miles down I-35 to get here, lucky not to get a ticket. Had to be sure Collette was okay, but couldn’t shake the raw feelings stirred from our last encounter years ago. Our final encounter.

Right here.

She’d held a gun on me that night. One I’d provided.

“Is that why you lied to the police? Wanted to kill me yourself? That is what you want to do, right? That’s why I brought the gun for you. I lied to you. Betrayed you. Now you can finish it,” I’d said.

“And ... you ... deserve ... to ... die, you bastard!” Collette had said, baring her teeth as she bordered on hyperventilating. “You took away the one person in the world who meant something to me!”

“I’m sorry for that, Collette,” I’d said, pained as I came to realize that despite the momentary fantasy of the past few months, I never had a chance. As angered as I’d been up to that point, the fact that she wanted me dead no longer mattered.

“No, you’re not. Don’t ever say that!” I heard the hammer click back as Collette prepared to exact her revenge.

“How’d you know? At least tell me that.”

“Your voice. I’ll never forget your voice. It’s like a bell ringing in my head every time you speak. You were there when it happened. You were there when Myron blew himself up. You knew. You ... killed ... my husband!”

“He did it to himself, Collette. He was cheating on you. I ... didn’t know he’d—”

“Blow himself up and try to kill me too? What kind of monster are you?”

“One that loves you no matter what you think of me.”

“Love? Is that what made you fuck Sophia? Love for me?” Collette shot at my feet, clearly coming to terms with what she was going to do. “It sickened me to do the things I did with you. Don’t you dare talk to me about love!”

Collette was blind for a time. Indirectly my fault. Her husband’s mistress had hired me to break up his marriage so she could have him all to herself. I went too far. Led him to believe Collette had been cheating on him. And he blew himself up. Gas explosion that took out the whole house. Just as Collette was coming in the door.

It was one of my first jobs as a free agent. No longer under the direction of Jason North, a devil who used me as his personal tool in many of his schemes of blackmail, coercion, and revenge. Mutual interests later led Jason to sell me out to Collette, revealing the truth about the man she’d accepted into her life. A man she knew as Chris the author.

And she went after it with a passion; convincing me she was still blind as her eyes got better and hiring Sophia as part of her plan for vengeance.

Worst of all, she allowed me to fall in love with her. Funny thing was, in the end Collette couldn’t bring herself to shoot me. Took someone else to pull the trigger.

That person who was arriving just now, F
RISCO
P
OLICE
emblazoned on the side of his patrol car. Elicited a different set of emotions from me as I wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest this time.

I’d called him when I crossed the Texas state line. Told him I needed to meet with him urgently. Seeing as he was still on duty, he’d sped here on Texas State Highway 121 no doubt. Last time we were here, he was Dallas PD. Officer Kane was Collette’s protector back then. And a man who helped me give the woman I loved closure.

Now?

He was so much more.

I exited my rental car and motioned toward him. Officer Kane exited as well, but left his car running with the window down. We were alone in this wooded area, but he turned his head several times, surveying the tree line with one hand resting atop his holster as he dipped his dark sunglasses with the other.

“Relax. I came alone,” I said as I carefully strode toward him in the loose gravel.

When I got within ten feet, he suddenly reacted. Drew his gun on me. “I told you what I’d do if I ever saw your ass again!” he yelled, all too well reminding me. “Now get your hands up!”

“I know,” I said, complying as Kane closed the distance between us. “But I—”

Didn’t finish as the motherfucker cold-cocked me, metal hitting flush against my skull. I tumbled to the ground dazed, but still with enough wits about me to sweep my leg around. Kane wasn’t expecting it and fell hard as his feet went out from under him, joining me in the dirt. We lunged at one another, colliding with my angling his gun away from me. His sunglasses fell off, leaving him momentarily blinded by the sun when I rolled him onto his back. I head-butted him right in his nose then, making him drop his gun.

I took a hold of it then, jamming it under his chin. “Stop!” I yelled, staring crazily into his eyes. Didn’t have time for this shit. When Kane finally relaxed, I got off him and helped him to his feet.

“You got that out your system?” I asked, covered in dust and scratches as I felt the welt forming on my forehead. He nodded, holding his bloody nose as he looked at his gun still being pointed at him. I applied the safety then tossed it back to him underhanded.

“What the fuck you want?” he asked; breathing heavily as he slowly restored his sidearm to its holster.

“Collette,” I replied. “Is she okay?”

“Of course. You’re the only one that brings trouble to her life.”

“Then I apologize in advance. But there might be some problems.”

“What now? Can’t you just ... die or something? I’m serious. Just trying to have a quiet life with my—”

“Wife,” I said, completing it for him although it pained me to do so. “I see the wedding band. Am I right? Congratulations. And I see you switched jobs, too. Moving on up to the north side, huh? ”

“Yeah,” he said, a bit of honest pride showing on his face. “Got a promotion. Things looking up.”

“I’m happy for y’all. For real. Glad she’s put all the ‘stuff’ behind her.”

“I didn’t say all that. Still hard sometimes. But she’s made a lot of progress.”

“I understand,” I responded, taking some solace that maybe a tiny part of Collette missed me. Wouldn’t admit that to Kane though. “Well ... I came to warn you. Somebody knows about her and her connection to me. Somebody that’s using it as leverage to get me to do a job.”

“Are you saying they’re threatening Collette?”

“Yeah. I owe you that much to let you know.”

“Must be legit for you to be worried. Well, if anyone comes around, they’ll run into more than they planned for.”

“You don’t understand. This guy is way above your pay grade. Works in the government.”

“Our government?” he asked, smiling as if he didn’t believe me. Then the smile disappeared.

“Yeah. The dirty stuff if I had to guess. Has a lot of authority. The kind to stop airplanes ’n’ shit. As long as I do this, it’s all good. But ...” I said, feeling uncomfortable sharing my doubts with him.

“So, what are you going to do?” he asked.

“I’m going to do the damn job,” I replied. “Just wanted to let you know. Keep an eye out for your wife. Just in case.”

“You think I won’t?”

“No. I’m just saying if you need some additional security. . . discrete security, I can put a few extra eyes on Collette. Figured I’d come to you first.”

“Fuck you. You’ve done enough. Keep your ... your resources. I’m the fuckin’ police and ain’t nothin’ happenin’ to Collette on my watch, so just stay the fuck away.”

“Uh huh. King Kong ain’t got nuthin’ on you, Denzel. Well, fine. Protect and serve,” I muttered as I walked off toward my rental. “Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

“It’s not a job, bitch. I love her,” he called out from behind me. Angst was evident in his voice.

“Good. Continue to do so. Because if you ever hurt her, you’ll have to answer to me. And unlike today, I won’t call first,” I said as I got back inside the Hyundai and started it. Not the brightest thing I’d done, threatening a police officer.

As I drove by Kane, he kicked my car door. Hurling expletives, but at least he didn’t shoot. Hated to bring my shit in on his and Collette’s lives, but couldn’t undo it or magically make it go away.

Like a bad case of diarrhea, this had to run its course.

As I exited the park and turned onto Highway 114, en route to DFW Airport after a change of clothes, I made a call.

Despite Kane’s wishes, there would be a few extra sets of eyes on Collette besides his buddies on the force.

My wedding gift to them.

BOOK: Frostbite

3.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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