Mr. Hooligan (41 page)

“Stay down there a little longer for me, Riley. I don’t trust a car that was behind me on the main road.”

“A brown SUV?”

“No, looked like a Chrysler.”

The car rattled over bumps, and springs creaked. Dust billowed up, momentarily clouding the view of the sky.

Harvey cleared this throat. “You know, I got a bone to pick with you.”

“What’s that?”

“How come you didn’t tell me that guy Brisbane had plans to intercept? Riley, man, that was one rude surprise. I’m still pissed. I almost shat myself.”

Riley chuckled. “I apologize, Harvey, but you can understand, I couldn’t let you in on that. A trap is a trap only if it’s a secret.” Riley watched the back of Harvey’s head.

Harvey mulled that over and said what Riley was expecting. “So let me understand. In other words, you think I was going to divulge this to somebody?”

“Harvey, let’s not talk about this, it’s over. Everything went down cool, let’s move on.”

“It’s me talking to you. Me and you, we’re supposed to be in this together and you kept me out of the loop.”

His anger surprised Riley. If Harvey wouldn’t let it go, fine. Riley would let it go for him. He would not engage him on that subject again.

“You didn’t trust me, that’s how I see it. You still have your doubts, but that’s okay, I see how it is.”

Riley kept quiet. The car turned right, onto what felt like a rocky road, narrower, trees closing in, no more lampposts, no more wires.

“They beat up one of Lopez’s guys. They didn’t mess around, they whacked him with their guns, and don’t worry, I know who was behind it as soon as things started jumping off. I said to myself, that fucking Riley, he set us up good.”

“What do you want me to say, Harvey?”

“I don’t know, man, I don’t know, just I never had nobody pull a gun on me like that and I’ve never seen a man get clubbed in the face like that before. Tell you the truth, I
heard
it more than I saw it, but I’ll never forget it.”

Riley was tired of listening to this. If it continued, it would spoil his moment with Duncan, so he said, “Do you want an apology?”

Harvey banged the steering wheel. “I want your respect!”

Riley closed his eyes briefly and said, “Okay. I mean this. Harvey, I apologize for not telling you about Brisbane and as a result almost letting you crap your drawers.”

The car rolled down a slant and Harvey turned around with a slow grin, the old Harvey again.

They were coming into a clearing. Riley could tell from the sparse number of trees and the sound of the tires. He found himself smiling again, thinking of Duncan. The car rattled over a rough stretch and up a long smoother path. Then it eased to a stop. Harvey cut the engine.

“We’re here.”

Riley sat up. A clearing of wild grass, a glimpse of the river down an incline and through the trees. The grass was a beautiful green in the bright light.

The brown SUV came barreling out from behind the trees and lurched to a sideways stop behind them, blocking their path to the road. Riley spun back to the front and saw Harvey pocket the car keys and open the door, and a car and white van speeding toward them, kicking up dust.

Riley said, “You didn’t bring me here to see Duncan, did you?”

Harvey was halfway out the door and Riley snatched at him. “Come here, come here you son of a bitch,” grabbing a fistful of shirtsleeve. Harvey twisted away, nearly falling backward.

Thirty yards in front, the car and the van had stopped and men were getting out.

“Why, Harvey? Tell me why.”

Harvey backed away from the open door, fear in his eyes, his lips trembly. He looked around fast and shrugged at Riley. “Why do you think? Huh? What the fuck do I know about Guyana? I told you, man, I told you I never wanted no part of this operation, I
told
you.”

Riley shook his head in disbelief. Up ahead, Lopez stood in front of the white van, flanked by two men with pistols held low. Barrel was helping Israel Monsanto out of the car. Barrel, the man Riley should have killed. He looked over his shoulder and saw Boat and Jinx standing by the SUV, also with pistols. Then he looked at Harvey, whom he definitely should have let them kill, and said, “You were this close. You had money, you could’ve created a new life. But instead you made a stupid move.”

“New life? Make a clean break, get a fresh start, like toward better days? Yeah sure, right. I already
have
a life, and this is it right here, this is my home. I got to do what I got to do to protect myself if I want to live and prosper here, my country, not no Guyana.”

“You think you’re so wise but you outsmarted yourself this time, Harvey. This time—”

“I don’t want to hear no more, I’m tired of listening to you.” He swung away and walked off.

“Hey!” Riley lifted himself off the seat and shouted through the door. “They’ll kill you too, don’t you know that? When they run out of use for you, you’re gone. You can’t see that?”

Harvey clapped his hands over his ears like a child and walked on. “I don’t want to hear it, shut up shut up, Riley, please.” He slouched toward Israel Monsanto, who was leaning on his cane with a wistful smile.

Riley flopped down in his seat and laid his head back. So this was it? He covered his eyes, then he brought his hand down and punched the back of the front seat and kicked a door viciously, and after a moment, he started to regain control. He looked through his window at the slice of river gleaming between the trees, and a sudden calm fell over him.

Candice’s field and house took shape in the air and he could picture it right there, right out there by the river. Could see himself lying in the grass by the river, under a tree, staring up at the rustling branches, his head on the tree’s buttress. It was a soothing image to hold in the mind. He let it settle into him.

One of the men said something. A door slammed. Riley looked straight ahead and saw Harvey in the backseat of the Monsantos’ car. Lopez and Israel, standing a distance apart, were talking, nodding, glancing at Riley. Two foes banding against him. In this equation Riley was the odd number, and maybe had always been.

Harvey was a child, and watching him sitting in the backseat, staring at the floor, Riley gave him four months, maybe five, before one night after locking up the bar, he would put a hand on his car door and hear footsteps behind him a second too late, a second before he felt a gun barrel cold against the back of his neck.

Riley squinted at the glitter of light on the river, seeing himself under that tree on the slope … yes … A screen door slammed and he turned his head lazily to see Candice on the porch across the field, calling to him. Her voice drifted away in the breeze but he heard faintly,
Time to put the steaks on the grill,
then something else, a question about red wine.…

Lopez and his men were advancing. Behind him, a loud
clack.
Boat and Jinx had chambered their rounds and were strolling toward the car.

Riley’s body went rigid with anxiety, down to his calves, but his mind was quiet and unafraid. A deep, deep breath and a long exhale and he relaxed.

They surrounded him on four corners, guns held low, fingers on triggers. Lopez turned and spoke to Israel. Israel leaned on his cane with both hands and gazed at Riley across the distance. Then he raised a hand. Good-bye.

Riley nodded.

When Israel’s hand fell and he turned away to hobble to his car, Riley realized it wasn’t a wave but a signal. One of Lopez’s men was stepping forward, big pistol raised.

Riley looked out at himself lying in the grass by the river. Somewhere in that world, perhaps in the field, a dog was barking and he saw his son running through the knee-high grass bringing a frog in cupped hands. If he listened really well, he could hear the river and his heartbeat.

When the fear rose again, he thought of Sister Pat and his bench at home, and he succeeded at the thing he’d been trying to do for the longest time. Breathed evenly, lowered his gaze and let the worries go, let the fear fall. Let it fall, let it fall …

All the men raised their weapons and took aim.

Sitting there, picturing himself tranquil in the sunlight on the grass, it was only natural for Riley James to believe that if he had another chance, if he could live his life again, easy happiness would always be with him, even in his dreams.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to Kris Dinger and Enrique Noble for patiently sharing their marine knowledge; to Markus Hoffmann, Kelley Ragland, and Christina MacDonald for their editorial assistance; and to my wife, Pamela Vasquez, a dependably candid and astute first reader.

Also by Ian Vasquez

Lonesome Point

In the Heat

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

MR. HOOLIGAN.
Copyright © 2010 by Ian Vasquez. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.minotaurbooks.com

ISBN 978-0-312-37811-0

First Edition: December 2010

eISBN 978-1-4299-2540-2

First Minotaur Books eBook Edition: December 2010