by R. A. McGee
“I like the Miss Daisy treatment,” Porter said.
“Too bad. I’m not going.”
“Cat, listen—”
“No, Bobby, I’m not going to some storage unit.”
“But we need you,” Badway said.
“What the hell for?”
“Because Kevon’s your client,” Porter said. “No matter what we find out, you need to be the first to know. You might have to call the cops or the prosecutor ASAP. If that happens, do you really want to take my word for what I’ve seen? You need to use your own two eyes so you know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“That… actually makes sense,” Cat said. “Why does that make sense?”
Porter shrugged.
Cat sighed and slumped in the chair. “I’m going, aren’t I?”
“We can’t make you,” Badway said. “It’s just—”
“You’re coming and you know it,” Porter said. “The longer we sit here and talk, the more time we waste.”
“Fine, I’ll go,” Cat said. “But I want to put on the record—”
“We aren’t in a courtroom, counselor. Nobody here to note your objections,” Porter said.
“I note them,” Badway said, a smile on his face.
“But you don’t care,” Cat said.
“Not really,” Badway said.
“All I’m saying is this is the kind of extrajudicial stuff I was talking about the other day. Working outside the law, vigilante stuff. This isn’t what I do.”
“Relax, counselor. All we’re asking you to do is drive. That’s it. Just drive the car.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
The group left the building, Porter ensuring the door was secured, and assumed their former places in the vehicle.
“I’ll tell you both this,” Cat said. “Just driving. Nothing funny. No law against driving a couple clients somewhere.”
“Great. Swing by Sarge’s first,” Porter said.
“No. You guys said drive to the storage unit and that’s where I’m going. Why on earth would I go to Bobby’s house?”
“Tell her, Sarge.”
“We need to… check for Kevon. Maybe he’s hiding out at my place.”
“Why did you say it like that? I recognize that tone in your voice. It’s the same way you talked to Kevon about me working pro bono. You’re lying, Bobby.” Cat took the car out of reverse and straightened out onto the road, heading toward the highway. A turn to the right would take her north, and away from Badway’s club. A left turn, south toward the Bump House.
“Tell her the truth, Sarge.”
“Stop calling me that.” Badway sighed, then blurted it out. “Guns. We need guns.”
“What?” Cat stopped the car in the middle of the road. Traffic was light, but there were still horns as cars swerved to miss her. “What guns?”
Porter laughed from the back seat. “All the guns.”
“You shut up,” Cat said to the rearview mirror.
“After we shot those assholes last night, the cops confiscated our guns, and we aren’t getting them back for a long time. You were right that there may be a trap at the storage unit. Maybe not. Maybe we run into Vance and Parabellum at McDonalds, who the hell knows? What I do know is if there’s trouble, you want pistols in our hands.”
Cat was silent. Porter watched as she set her jaw and continued driving. She took the left turn, heading south toward Badway’s place.
“Smart move, counselor,” Porter said.
“I said shut up.” Cat’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
There was silence in the car for the rest of the ride. Porter thought he could hear Cat’s teeth grinding. Putting the sound out of his head, he leaned back and closed his eyes. The road was just bumpy enough to keep him from dozing off.
Badway gave Cat directions to the alley behind his apartment. She parked next to Porter’s Yukon.
“Son of a bitch,” Porter said, unfolding himself from the back seat of the BMW.
The same artist who had tagged his truck with a gigantic penis was still in the neighborhood. Now, along the driver's side of his truck was an oversized set of breasts attached to a tiny body, with Xs for the eyes.
“At least the nipples look good,” Badway said. “That’s gotta be the toughest part.”
“Can we hurry up? I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to,” Cat said. She tried to maintain an air of seriousness, but after she joined Porter and Badway in staring at the Yukon for a moment, she couldn’t contain her laughter.
“Nothing a trip to the paint shop can’t fix,” Porter said.
Cat started to walk toward the alley, but Badway stopped her. “What?”
Porter pushed his key fob and opened the Yukon’s trunk. In the back were several bags of clothing. He pushed them out of the way to reveal a push combination lock atop a large lockbox. The top hinged open and Porter pulled out a Glock 17, an identical twin to the one the police had, save for the serial numbers.
As a Fed, Porter had taken advantage of programs that sold guns at a discount to law enforcement personnel. He had multiples of several of his favorite guns. At the time, it had been a no-brainer. His then-wife was a nurse; with no children to support, finding extra money for things like guns was easy.
Porter had no other vices.
Next he pulled an AR-15 from his trunk and fiddled with the red-dot sight on top of the big rifle.
“An assault rifle?” Cat said. “That’s what you wanted to get?”
“Assault is an action. A rifle is an inanimate object.” Porter slipped the rifle’s sling over his shoulder.
“You know what I mean. Why do you need that?” Cat said.
“Because we have no idea what’s in my apartment. Last night it was Armenian businessmen—”
“Mobsters,” Porter interrupted.
“Business-mobsters. Today it could be Parabellum looking for Kevon. Just let Porter have it ready. We can go to my place, I’ll get a couple things, then we’ll be out to the storage unit. Easy stuff,” Badway said.
“Maybe easy for you two. I wasn’t in the Special Forces like you. And I didn’t do… whatever the hell he did, either.” Cat waved her hand at Porter.
Porter ignored her and handed Badway the Glock. “Listo?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” Badway turned back to Cat. “Stay close behind me and you’ll be okay.”
“Maybe I should stay in the car?” Cat said.
“Your choice, but then you’ll be alone out here,” Badway said.
With a final nod, Porter started off down the alleyway, Badway close behind.
Cat watched them for a few seconds, then looked around at the empty lot. She jogged after the men. “Hey, wait up.”
Porter was focused on the alley in front of him. There were no windows to be concerned with, so he moved to the back staircase.
Moving down an area with only one way in or out could be trouble. You were being funneled toward an unknown; if someone wanted to shoot, that was as good a time as any.
Sometimes, being in the fatal funnel couldn’t be helped. This was one of those times.
Porter moved quickly and quietly, with a practiced walking stride that did little to disturb the red dot in his field of view. As he got to the corner, he took it wide, sliding out into the courtyard to see up the staircase and toward the back door of the club at the same time.
There was yellow police tape blocking off the stairs. Badway ripped it down and started up the stairs, Cat right behind him. Porter waited for a moment, then brought up the rear, moving sideways up the stairs, back against the brick wall.
Badway stopped outside the front door.
“Your door is open,” Cat said in a whisper.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Badway said.
Porter retook the lead and nosed the door the rest of the way with the muzzle of his rifle. Then he stood, waiting and listening.
“Aren’t we going to go in?” Cat said.
�
�Shhh,” Porter said.
After several moments, he walked through the threshold and turned left into the kitchen. He continued to Badway’s bedroom and the bathroom, making sure no one was lying in wait. “It’s empty.”
“Yeah, I’m clear.” Badway stepped into the living room and tucked the pistol into his waistband.
Cat spoke up from the hallway. “See? Nothing to worry abou—” She stopped short of the living room.
There was tape on the floor, approximating the outline of two bodies. Large pools of blood stained the unfinished wood floor. On the couch where Porter had slept was a gigantic hole, and a film of sticky blood that wasn’t all the way dry yet.
“Oh,” she said. “Shit.”
Eighteen
“That’s a… that’s a lot,” Cat said.
Badway disappeared into his room.
Porter stepped toward Cat. “It’s better not to look at it.”
“It’s just… so much, you know?”
“You must have seen this in crime scene photos and evidence for court?” Porter said.
“Yeah. But this is... real. Much more real. The smell…” Cat put her hand to her nose.
“Sarge, we’re going outside,” Porter said. He took Cat by the elbow and walked her out the front, onto the balcony. “Take some deep breaths.”
“I’m okay. Just got a little lightheaded for a minute.”
“You sure?”
“I think so. This… doesn’t bother you?” Cat said.
“No. When you’ve seen it enough, it fades into the background. I know it's there, but it isn’t a real thing. Like if you swat a fly on a wall and it smears a little bit.”
“You sound like a psychopath. No one should be comfortable with that. Imagine what it does to a person,” Cat said.
Badway emerged from the apartment, holding a bag of beef jerky.
“You too?” Cat said.
Badway stuffed a piece of jerky in his mouth. “Me too, what?”
“Never mind,” she said.
Badway handed Porter the pistol. “I’m good now.”
“I hope you grabbed one with more than five shots,” Porter said.
“I can count.”
Cat moved down the stairs, holding both railings and taking one step at a time.
“What’s wrong with her?” Badway said.
“I was just wondering if we were gonna talk about the fact that Kevon isn't here,” she said.
“Nothing to talk about,” Porter said. “We need to get to the storage unit.”
The group walked down the alley. Porter had a piece of beef jerky in his mouth and his hands on his rifle. Badway took the rear.
The fatal funnel was kind to them; no one tried to kill them.
Cat unlocked her car. She pointed at the rifle slung across Porter’s chest. “You aren’t putting that thing in my car.” She slipped behind the wheel and started the car.
Porter looked at Badway, who shrugged and got into the passenger seat. Porter shook his head, put the rifle back in his lockbox, and slammed the door on his trunk.
“If we need that later, I’m gonna be salty,” Porter said as he got in the car.
“I don’t care.” Cat punched the gas and the BMW accelerated out of the empty lot and onto the streets.
Badway punched the address into the GPS and Cat sped away, following the blinking ball on the screen. The noontime traffic was light and easy. Cat handled the roads well; she weaved around slower traffic like a pro, pulling off the highway and onto the surface streets.
The GPS chimed in and announced that the destination was on the right, 410 Alton Drive.
“Park in the lot across the street,” Porter said.
“Why? The address is on the right.”
“Humor me,” Porter said.
Cat turned left into the parking lot of a supermarket. She parked in the row furthest from the building, closest to the road, and turned the car off.
The storage facility across the street was composed of several buildings with green metal roofs, all sitting behind a chain-link perimeter fence topped with barbed wire. There was an access gate at the front entrance and, outside the gate, a small building that must have been the office. There were no businesses on the left or behind the facility, and a fast food chain to the right.
“One way in,” Badway said.
“Not crazy about that,” Porter said.
“Why not?” Cat said.
“Sarge?”
Badway rubbed his mustache. “Let’s say this is an ambush. Once we go in, all anyone has to do is wait for us to come back out and then they have us in a choke point, right by the entrance. We would be easy pickings. Hell, we’d literally be sitting ducks while we waited for the big entry gate to open.”
“Maybe we can just call the office and ask them to look in unit sixty-two for us?”
“They don’t have the key, remember? They’d have to cut the lock off, and they only do that if they auction it off.” Porter looked left and right, scanning the facility. “That wood line runs behind the buildings.”
“Stealth?” Badway said.
Porter nodded. “Trees lost a bunch of leaves, but there’s enough back there to hide us. What do you think?”
“Yeah. The best option. I don’t see any cameras in the back. If we can get in, we should be undetected.”
“Can you guys talk in normal-person for a minute?” Cat said.
“We’re gonna sneak in the back,” Porter said. “So no one sees us.”
“How? There’s a big fence everywhere.”
“We can just throw something over the barbed wire. Porter and I can boost you up and over. The drop isn’t that far. I saw it in a movie once. I think the person broke their ankle—or was it hip?” Badway said. “But you should be fine.”
“What? I don’t want to break a hip,” Cat said.
Badway and Porter laughed. “He’s messing with you,” Porter said. “We’ll do things a little smarter, not harder. Can your little GPS find us a hardware store?”
“No need. There’s one right there.” Cat pointed to the left. “See the orange sign?”
“Even better. Let’s go, Hoke,” Porter said.
“What?” Cat’s eyebrows scrunched up.
“Driving Miss Daisy? Never mind,” Porter said.
Cat fired up the car and, thanks to a couple of accommodating green lights, was in front of the hardware chain in no time.
“I’ll be right back,” Porter said, stepping out of the car and pushing the door shut.
“Is this what he does all the time?” Cat said.
“It’s been a habit for him lately,” Badway said.
“That’s why you brought him up, isn’t it? You needed some help with planning and sneaking and guns, right?”
Badway looked at Cat. “He’s good at finding people.”
She was quiet for a few moments. “He seems confident.”
“Always has been,” Badway said, thumbing his mustache.
“You guys close growing up?”
“I’m an only child. My mom dropped me off with them as much as she could so I’d have people to play with. I’d spend whole summers with his family. Porter’s one of three kids, but he and I were the closest.”
“Has he always been this bull-headed?”
“Always. Sometimes it gets him into trouble. There was this one summer when we were younger, probably around twelve or something like that. He hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet, so he was a regular-sized kid. We’d walk to the pool and there was a group of older kids that hung out along the way. Not real troublemakers, but old enough to be away from the parents and act like assholes. One day we were walking by, and they decided they wanted Porter’s change.”
“Change?” Cat said.
“Quarters and stuff? We used it at the vending machine by the pool. You can imagine—Porter told them they couldn’t have it. They kind of pushed him down and took it. The rest of us were going to jump in. I was a little old
er and a little bigger, but still smaller than the big kids. Porter said no, he didn’t need our help. We went to the pool, but he didn’t have any fun. He just stood in the water with a mad look on his face. We took a different route on the way home, to avoid those kids, and he was stewing about it the whole time.”
“He was that pissed?” Cat said.
“Maybe the maddest I’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying something. He has a terrible temper, but most people don’t get to see it. He controls himself better these days. Where was I…?”
“You guys walked home that night,” Cat said.
“Right. We got to his place, and he went into his dad’s room and they had a talk. I didn’t know what they said, but Porter came out with something in his hands that he wouldn’t show us. We let it go, but he was still quiet the rest of the night. The next day, we went swimming again. Porter insisted we walk by the same house as the day before. The rest of us didn’t want to, but he said he was going, with or without us. We couldn’t let him go alone.
“We walked past that house and the same kids came out, saying thanks for the Cokes and candy they bought with our money. They said they wanted more. Porter told them they didn’t want his money, but they laughed and told him to give it over. He walked up to the main kid and hit him in the jaw so hard, he knocked him unconscious. Right there in the kid’s front yard, laid him out.”
“But how? You said he was smaller,” Cat said.
“The thing his dad gave him was a roll of dimes. His hands weren’t big enough to fit a roll of quarters, so he grabbed those dimes and hit that kid with everything he had. As he’s standing above the kid, he looks at the rest of his friends and you know what he says?”
“What?” Cat was turned in her seat, facing Badway.
“He says, ‘I told you, you didn’t want my money.’ I’ll never forget it.”
The door to the back seat groaned open, and the car sagged under Porter’s weight. “You guys miss me?”
“Like a case of the clap,” Badway said.
“Burn.” Porter laughed.
“Did you get what you need?” Cat said.
“Sure did. This’ll make our lives much easier.” Porter held up a short-handled set of bolt cutters.
