Pawnbroker: A Thriller (19 page)

Chapter 84

COURTYARD MARRIOTT, SUITE 135

MONTELLO, MISSISSIPPI

Jack Docker sat alone in the suite’s outer room, smoking a Camel, waiting for the meeting to end. This whole affair was beginning to make him nervous. He had worked as hired security for various “businessmen” over the past ten years, but he had never seen so many people so wound up and jacked up over a product. Made sense, he supposed, given the dollar amounts they were tossing around, but it still made him uneasy. Docker also knew Ballard wasn’t really the head man; he put on a convincing front, and yeah, he was one mean psycho and he kept order in the ranks, but there was someone else above him. Docker had noticed the quiet phone calls, after which Ballard’s mood often shifted. Before a call, he could be on top of the world, Ricky Bad-Ass Ballard, then afterward get all quiet, with maybe even a touch of fear. Yep, there was somebody else.

For the past two months, Docker had been attending these weekly meetings where he sat in a room with a bunch of “sub-distributors” and “territory managers.” What the hell was the drug business coming to? Docker was old school, a man from a simpler time who felt out of his element. Ballard said he was going to make enough money in one year to retire and live out his life, and he promised to take Docker along for the ride. Sounded nice, but Docker wasn’t holding his breath. Dreaming was fine, but nothing in his life had ever been easy and he didn’t expect that to change anytime soon.

If it happened, it happened, but until then he’d go right on kicking much ass and taking many names. He had one ass in particular on his mind. That hock-shop bastard had made a mess of Docker’s crew in the hospital, a mess that Docker was forced to clean up. Even worse, it embarrassed the hell out of him, and that was not the kind of thing Jack Docker could live with.

Chapter 85

The more we talked, the more involved Doc and Angie insisted on being. Penny and I resisted, but over a period of several hours, they wore us down. I still didn’t like putting them at risk, but there were certainly advantages to having new players, even marginally geriatric ones.

I had finally convinced Penny to give up on the possibility that the people who were after us weren’t related to the drug angle, that they were just after the Discman and its futuristic technology. It was all related.

At my request, Doc kept researching what we were now calling CBS, Cooked Brain Syndrome. He turned up a few more cases, all very recent, and all without explanation as to cause. No mention of a red ring in the victims’ eyes, but then again, all the victims were dead. That ring had a distinctly living look about it and I was sure it faded away when the person died.

After floating different ideas all afternoon, we had a plan that felt good. Angie cooked another big meal and we all gathered round the table.

“Angie, this pot roast is delicious,” I said.

“Ummm-hmmm,” Penny agreed.

“Unique flavor, don’t you think?” Doc said.

Angie smiled, said nothing. Something about that smile gave me pause.

“What do you season it with?” I said.

“Oh, the normal spices. Salt, pepper, a wee sprinkle of garlic, a few other things. I call it Freddy Delight.”

“That’s a weird na—” I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth, and my stomach turned over. Penny had missed the Freezer Freddy discussion earlier, and kept eating.

Doc didn’t seem bothered. I stared at Angie. She stared back, and finally deadpanned, “I hate waste, Gray.” She stabbed a big chunk of meat from her plate and inhaled it in one mighty gulp. I eased my fork back down, fighting the urge to puke all over the table. Suddenly she burst out laughing. “Gotcha!”

Chapter 86

W
e hatched the plan after I finally looked through the stack of messages I had grabbed from the shop and saw a number of calls from Jack Docker. Each of his slips contained a phone number, and the PLEASE CALL and URGENT boxes were ticked. They were getting antsy.

After going over their instructions one more time, we said good-bye to Doc and Angie, and watched them leave in the pre-dawn darkness. The plan was simple: Drive to Jackson, buy two prepaid cell phones. Call us, give us the number to one of them, designated the redline, and set that phone aside. Cross over into Alabama, call Docker and issue the instructions we gave them, then ditch that phone and head home.

If the enemy had the resources to find out where cellular calls originated, and we had to assume they did, the call-from-the-road approach would provide no trace back to us and our location. More importantly, we were hoping they would call us back, and that this would give us a path back to their location via Jimmy’s wizardry. I was sure Ballard was the ringleader, but I also doubted he was running a high-stakes enterprise like this right from the sheriff’s office.

Angie called mid-morning. As arranged, the conversation was brief: She gave us the number for the redline phone they’d be bringing home and hung up. Penny used the prepaid phone we had bought in Tupelo and gave the redline number to Jimmy.

“Now we wait,” she said.

Chapter 87

INTENSIVE CARE UNIT

NORTHEAST MISSISSIPPI HEALTH CENTER

TUPELO, MISSISSIPPI

Abby strained to break the gluey crud that held her eyelids shut. One came open, then the other, and she immediately closed them again to blot out the searing white light above her. She turned her head to the side and tried again. Still bright, but bearable. A series of touch switches lined the bedrail beside her and one said “Room Light.” With great effort over what seemed like a long time, she raised her hand and pushed the button. The overhead light went off, leaving the room dark except for some soft indirect lighting in a valance above her bed.

Where was she? How did she get here, and how long had she been here? She fought to remember, came up blank. Her vision was blurry but improving. Among the buttons on the bedrail was one that said “Nurse.” Maybe she should push it. No, not yet. Best to let her head clear some more. She pushed another button and the head of her bed raised with a quiet whir. As the bed came up, so did the level of pain in her head; she lowered it back to a slight incline, then looked down at herself.

Two IV lines ran into her right arm, one on the back of her hand and another near the inside of her elbow. Her left arm was free and she raised her hand to her face, close enough to read the information on the plastic ID wristband. Northeast Mississippi Health Center. She was in Tupelo. It also said ICU. She was in Intensive Care? What had happened to her? Was she dying? Where was Gray? Oh, Gray, Gray, Gray, she needed Gray.

She suddenly felt afraid and terribly alone. Her eyes filled with tears, and through swimmy vision she found and pressed the Nurse button. A starched and pressed woman appeared quickly. “Well well well, look who’s awake! How are you feeling, Ms. Bolton?”

“Why am I here? What’s wrong with me? Where’s—”

“Whoa, one at a time. You’re here because you’ve been quite sick. We’ll wait on the doctor to discuss your different health issues.”

Health issues? She had summoned a walking textbook. “Where’s my husband? I need him. His name’s Gray Bolton. Is he here?”

“Uh, no ma’am, no one’s here right now.”

“Did he say where he was going? How long has he been gone?”

She saw Nurse Happy’s face change from a fleshy ball of cheer to reluctance, the face of a woman who didn’t know quite how to answer a tough question.

“He has been here, right?”

“I need to go notify the doctor that you’re awake, Ms. Bolton. I’m sure he’ll be in to see you shortly, probably early this afternoon.”

“Has my husband been here?”

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. I really have to go now.” The nurse left.

Gray hadn’t even been here? No, that much was obvious. Where was he? What had happened to her? She turned her head to the side and sobbed into her pillow.

Chapter 88

Jimmy’s call came at nine that evening. The research was done, and Penny took notes as he talked. The work on the redline phone’s number was ready—no calls to it or from it could be traced back to us. It would show up as a phone in a randomly alternating false location comfortably distant from Montello. Even better, he assured us he could trace the phone on the other end of any call made to the redline phone. He reminded us that while he was all for helping the little guy fight The Man, expenses were mounting on his end and would need to be paid. Penny assured him he’d be taken care of, and Jimmy the Geek seemed good with that.

An hour later, Doc and Angie showed up, tired but obviously pleased with themselves. “Mission complete,” Angie said with a quick salute.

“Good job, guys.”

Penny checked her watch. “Little under two hours till midnight.”

“As exciting as all this is,” Angie said, “we old folks are about tuckered out. We’re going to call it a night. You can fill us in at breakfast.”

We hugged both of them, thanked them some more, and said good-night.

“You sure this thing Jimmy did will work?” I said.

“He’s never failed me yet.”

“What does Jimmy look like?”

“Never met him.”

“But you trust him?”

“Nobody sees him, Gray. He’s a phantom, operates either online or via phone, period.”

For some reason, that really bothered me. I loved the internet as much as the next guy, but when it comes to matters of life or death, particularly mine, I much prefer to look my associates in the eye.

“I don’t like that.”

“You know someone else we can call to get these things done, I’m all for it.”

“Smart aleck.”

She stuck her tongue out at me, and it reminded me of a time when Abby and I played back and forth like that.

At two minutes past midnight, the redline phone rang. I picked it up from the coffee table, checked the caller ID. Out Of Area. Penny clicked the START button on a digital stopwatch Doc and Angie had picked up in Jackson, and I answered the phone.

“Yes?”

“Bolton?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Bite me, you silly fuck.” Docker.

“Tell you what, Jack, you’re about rude. Put your boss on the line.”

“He ain’t in.”

“Bullshit. The deal was for him to call, not his butt boy. If the boss isn’t talking to me by the count of three, I’m hanging up. One...”

Chapter 89

“B
olton?” RoboVoice said.

“What is it you so urgently need to talk to me about?” I said, assuming all the pink slip messages from Docker were really from this guy, Docker’s boss. If I was right, Ballard was that boss.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

“You know what they say, possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“Be smart. Give it back.”

“Maybe I’ll just show it to the cops.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

“Oh gee,” I said. “I forgot. You are the law. Isn’t that what your badge says, Ballard?” Silence. After a few seconds, I continued. “What I can do, though, is take it to the press. They’d be very interested in this new technology.”

“You’re out of your league.” I thought I could hear the snarling hatred even through the techno-disguise.

Penny held up two fingers, letting me know I’d been talking for two minutes. We needed three, according to Jimmy.

“So are you.”

“Mighty big talk from a fugitive.”

I laughed at him. “You’re a real piece of work, Ricky, you know that?”

“I’d prefer you call me Sheriff Ballard.”

“And I’d prefer you eat shit and die, but thanks for being man enough to admit who you are. On tape, no less.” My last comment was an afterthought and a lie.

Penny held up three fingers and just as my finger touched the END button, I heard a click followed by the unmistakable, seething voice of Ricky Ballard: “Your wife has already had a close call, Bolton. You might want to watch your mouth. She’s such a pretty little thing, and so very vulnerable up there in that big old hospital all by herself while her husband is on the lam with his new girlfriend.”

“You touch her and I’ll hunt you down like an animal and slaughter you.”

“Oh, she’s already been touched. I hear she has the most wonderful skin.”

“You’re dead, Ballard. You hear me? Dead.” I punched off the call and threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and stuck in the sheetrock like a dart on a dartboard.

“Sonofabitch!” I said.

“What are you doing?” Penny shouted. “We have to have that phone!” She went over and pulled it out of the wall. “What brought that on?”

“Abby didn’t have any reaction. They did something to her. I know it.”

Penny stopped, said nothing. I studied her face. “You knew?” I said.

She didn’t answer, and I started toward her. “You knew about this and didn’t tell me?”

“There was no need to upset you any more.”

I was in her face now. “That was not your call. When did you find out?”

“Angie told me, after she called the hospital.”

“So everybody in this house knew except me?”

Again, she didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. I saw that she was looking at something behind me, and I turned around to see Doc and Angie standing in the doorway.

“It was my fault, Gray,” Angie said. “My idea not to tell you.”

I stomped through the house, out the back door, and slammed the door behind me.