Stu looked over the truck once the garage door had closed. He walked over to a side door and flipped on a row of overhead fluorescent lights that buzzed and flickered on.
“I understand you are pressed for time, so let’s get going,” he said. “We’re doing the left tank, is that correct?”
I flicked my gaze toward Tom, who gave me a barely perceptible nod.
“Yes,” I said. “And you’ve got the replacement?”
“Of course.” Stu pointed at a cylinder-shaped object in the corner covered by a dusty tarp. “Kyle,” he said, “help me move this fuel transfer pump. I have a holding tank for the diesel once we get the new piece installed.”
We set up the equipment and in a few minutes, he had the pump running.
“How long until it’s empty?” I asked.
“About ten, fifteen minutes. Then we’ll take it off the truck and the little guy can pressure wash the insides while you and I fit the new one.”
“Why do I get the dirty job?” Tom asked.
“Can you fit your arms around that thing?” Stu said. “It’s only fifty or sixty pounds, but every ounce is awkward.”
“Fine, fine. Go play your monster truck games,” Tom said.
“When you’re done, you mark the area you want me to cut and we’ll fill the tank up with water just to be on the safe side.”
“What we want isn’t going to rust,” Tom said.
“It took me all winter to grow this beard. I’m not about to singe it off if any leftover diesel decides not to play nice.”
I fought the urge to look through the window in the door to see outside. I figured Rollie and VP were set up somewhere in the parking lot for a baked goods company across the street.
After a few more minutes the pump started to make a horrible gasping sound, like an asthmatic walrus. Stu shut it off, took out a flashlight and peeked inside the tank. “Good deal, then. Kyle, c’mon over. Let’s get this bitch out of here.”
It was kind of neat the way the tank unhooked and in no time, we’d hoisted it free of the truck and brought it to a waiting trough.
Stu handed a fat marker to Tom. “Show me where to cut and then rinse her out.”
While Stu brought over the pressure washer and hooked up the hose and power, Tom pulled out a piece of cloth that looked like a small pillowcase. He turned the cylindrical metal tank until the bottom faced him. He peered in close and traced his fingers over the surface. “Ah ha.” He took the cloth and spread it over the surface using the mark he’d found as a starting point. “Kyle, hold this right here, mate.”
I did and Tom traced sound the rectangle with the big Sharpie. “That’s it.”
“All right, then.” Stu gave Tom the sprayer wand and fired up the pressure washer’s compressor. “Goggles on that table.”
* * *
“So, what are you boys pulling out of there?” Stu asked me while we lugged the new tank into place. It was easy as a two-man operation. Would have been a pain in the ass with just me or me and Tom.
“It’s not drugs, if that’s what you were wondering.”
“I know that. Ryan knows better than to ask me.” Stu sounded insulted.
“Are sure you want to know?”
“I’m about to use a Sawzall powerful enough to grind through the tank. If you got the Mona Lisa rolled up in there, yeah, I’d like to know.” He gave me his hockey player grin.
“It’s not—”
“I already took ten-large for a five-hundred-buck job. I figured it wasn’t Girl Scout cookies.” He’d stopped grinning.
Fair enough. “Diamonds.”
Stu nodded and scratched his beard. “Should be all right. As long as Tom gets his marking right.”
We doublechecked our connections on the new tank and Stu moved to fill it with the pumped-out diesel while Tom washed out the old tank.
When we were done, Stu went to a freezer with a pair of tongs.
“Ice cream?” I asked.
“Dry ice. I drop it in and the CO2 will make sure there’s no oxygen in the tank. Even if there are fuel vapors, no air means no fuel triangle.”
“And no boom,” I said. “Makes sense.”
It might have looked like a mad scientist scene from a high school film project, but the dry ice seemed to do the trick. Stu fired up the grinder and added showers of sparks to the special effects.
Before long he’d made a nice neat rectangular incision along the bottom of the tank. Tom singed his fingers trying to bend the flap back. Stu grinned and wagged a finger. “Lemme finish opening the soup can before you try to eat.”
The panel came free and hit the floor with a loud clang.
Several rows of wrapped cloth that looked like dirty dreadlocks fell to the floor.
Tom had a leather pouch at the ready. He carefully tore one of the packages open.
Glittering thumbnail-sized stones poured into Tom’s outstretched hand. He shook out the cloth to make sure he got them all and when he was done, they filled his palm.
Stu gawked. “Damn, son!”
Tom pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and peered at the stones, one at a time.
“Please tell me all this crap hasn’t been for nothing,” I said.
“Oh no, Mate. Not at all,” Tom almost whispered. “These are bloody flawless.”
“Okay, good.” I checked the clock on the wall. A little after midnight. Right on time. “Check the rest and then we get on the horn for the next phase?”
Stu began to put away his equipment. “Gents, it’s been interesting. I know better than to ask about where you’re off to and why and all. I just ask that you respect my privacy whenever you get where you’re going.”
“Of course.” I couldn’t wait to move on and finish this thing. Tom had stressed that the guys had been clear about making sure the next meet was in the middle of the next night.
“Make sure you tell Ryan I said thanks,” Stu spun toward the window in the entrance door. “What’s this crap?”
Red strobing lights splashed through the glass. My first thought was that the cops were raiding the place. Would I have time to call Bishop? Would it make a difference?
Tom had just stashed the last of the diamonds into the drawstring leather porch. He glanced at me, shook his head and stared up at the rafters.
Before I could think to call anyone, my burner phone for VP trilled.
The red lights and now a whoop of a siren filled the night air. But it only sounded like one vehicle.
“Ah, Christ. It’s just an ambulance,” Stu said. “Don’t these assholes have GPS?” He was out the door before I could stop him.
Tom reacted faster and tossed the stones atop a stack of crates piled higher than his head. He looked ready to bail out a back door, if there was one. I held up a finger for him to wait and answered the call.
“What the hell is going on?” I said.
It was Rollie. “Ambulance rolled up out of nowhere. Cut on the flashers after it drove past once. Must have circled back.”
“What is it doing now?”
“I see one person. Wearing a paramedic uniform. Want me to draw a bead?”
I could picture Rollie on the high ground with his rifle.
“Which one?” I asked.
“Not sure.”
“Don’t fire.” I tried to think. “Think they saw you?”
“Probably not,” he said. “I saw the guy with you come out, but he’s behind the ambulance.”
No way this was all a coincidence. But we had to be sure.
“I’ll keep the line open,” I said. I was carrying a pistol but didn’t see the point in waving it around. No sign of Tom. Had he found a back door after all?
I moved toward the side door. Now I could see lettering on the side and some sort of healthcare logo with a green cross. Red light continued to splash over the widows.
VP came on the line. “Rollie is on the gun now. We still only see one guy. Could be Grist. He’s got a uniform and cap on, so it’s ha
rd to tell.”
Now I saw Stu reach the door from the outside. A huge guy had a grip on his shoulders and despite the clean white uniform, the Glock he had in Stu’s ear told me he wasn’t here to help.
Tom whispered out of the darkness, “Draw him into the room and get him to turn Stu loose. I can get him in the head from behind.”
They hadn’t seen me yet. I backed away so that Tom would be behind them if they dealt with me. Still it didn’t feel right. “Since when were you a shooter?” I whispered back.
“Time for some beginner’s luck?” The tension made even Tom’s whisper sound higher in pitch.
They’d be inside in a moment. Mauser rammed him into the door and Stu’s face against the window was a mask of fear and confusion.
“VP, tell Rollie it’s a positive on Mauser at our door, so you have to be looking at Grist.” I wondered if I left it at that where he’d take the shot. I didn’t dare try for Mauser. I was no gunslinger. I might be able to rush up and get Mauser, but I was equally likely to hit Stu or miss altogether. “And the big guy has a gun on Stu. I can’t get him.”
Rollie back on the line. “Kid, I can’t drop Grist, Mauser would pop the mechanic. This isn’t on him. Are you able to slip out the back?”
“Don’t think that’s an option.”
“Then come outside where I can cover you.”
“Or they might just blast me.” I figured Grist and Mauser had a plan coming in. Slaughtering everyone might cost them the stones, so we’d at least have a chance to make our case. “Remember the phone is on in my pocket,” I said. “Make sure you don’t say anything, okay?”
“You sure that’s the right play?” Rollie said. “They might not be up for chatting.”
“No. But if all they want are the rocks, maybe we let them take them.”
“No!” Tom hissed from the background.
Damn. I’d hoped he wouldn’t have overheard that.
Whatever I might have come up with to change Tom’s mind vanished from my brain when the door squeaked open.
Mauser shoved Stu inside. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for the red-headed mechanic to look paler, but his face was sweaty alabaster.
“You hide well for such a slab of beef, Kyle.” Mauser glanced around and for a nanosecond I thought of trying to draw on him. Nope, might as well shoot myself. “Where’s your buddy?” he asked.
I figured he meant Tom, but decided to play obtuse to stall for time. “Ryan’s in the wind, hadn’t you heard? I got stuck with digging out of this mess. I never wanted to cross up with you and Grist.”
“We’re a little more than cross.” Mauser had a deep voice that made him sound huge even over the phone. “And if you give me another cute answer, I’ll put one in this guy’s knee.”
“Please, no.” Stu looked like he might pass out.
“Shut up.” Mauser twisted one thumb on Stu’s hand and the guy nearly buckled from the pain.
“You don’t have to hurt anyone,” I said. “That’s not why you went to all this trouble.”
“Maybe I want to. Ever think of that?” Mauser showed his teeth in more of a snarl than a smile. I’d seen him around enough over the years to recognize him, but never up close. His face bore a C-shaped scar on one cheek and all the skin showed the craggy aftermath of terrible adolescent acne.
“You don’t owe us any favors,” I said, “but adding bodies isn’t going to lower your profile. You two still need to get out of the country. I have my own reasons to keep my mouth shut and not get involved with the cops.”
“You looked plenty involved with them when you left the port, didn’t you?” He glanced around but his gaze returned to me too fast for me to contemplate doing anything stupid. “Where’s Tom?”
I paused and was certain he was going to hurt Stu and then me, but before I could say anything Tom spoke up.
“I’ve got a gun on you right now, Mauser,” he said from the shadows. His voice was steady and strong. I was impressed.
“You better use it while you have the chance, Tommy. Make it count, ’cause now I see you hiding back there.”
Mauser was shielded behind Stu, but he shoved the man to his knees and stooped over to rest his chin atop Stu’s head. “Ready to play William Tell? Take your shot at the apple. C’mon. Kyle, you can play too, but I won’t be aiming at your bum knee, believe that.”
My whole body felt like a coiled spring, but unless Tom actually fired, I didn’t dare move. I wondered if Rollie still had Grist in the crosshairs, but that was small comfort in here.
“How about nobody shoots?” I said, as much for Rollie as Tom. “Mauser, I’ll put my gun on the floor and Tom will come out and do the same.”
“You guys are no fun.” Mauser keyed a microphone clipped to his shoulder. “Two inside plus the wrench.” He listened to a reply and adjusted an earpiece. “Not yet. Won’t be long.” Another pause. “Understood.”
Tom emerged from the corner shadows holding his pistol in two fingers and away from the trigger. That was that. Mauser had us both, but we’d never really stood a chance.
Stu looked like he was melting before our eyes.
“Both pieces on the deck and kick them over to me. Pasty,” he said to Stu, “make one move toward them and your brains will cover ’em first.”
Stu didn’t figure to surprise us with heroics. This had definitely not been part of the negotiations for his fee.
Tom and I did as we were told. I moved extra slow and turned around so Mauser could see me take the gun out from behind my back.
Once he’d taken the weapons, he gestured to the floor. “Take a seat, kiddies. You too.” Mauser shoved Stu down. “Three secure,” he said into the mic.
Mauser spoke to Tom. “First things first, where are the stones?”
All I could think was, don’t say, “What stones?”
“If I tell you, are you going to kill us?” Tom said, and I braced for the explosion.
The strobing red ambulance flashers went out.
The door opened a moment later and Grist walked in. “Nope. We won’t kill you. We won’t even damage your pretty faces.”
“Other parts …,” Mauser said.
“For now, we are pressed for time,” Grist went on, “so we will remove this gentleman’s fingers,” he nodded at Stu, “a knuckle at a time. And if you two don’t seem to care, well, you each have ten toes, don’t you?”
“Did you see they have a floor drain? Very convenient,” Mauser said.
Aside from not being willing to be mutilated for a bunch of baubles, I started wondering why they cared about preserving our faces.
“Tell them,” Stu said. “I have some cash, you can have it.”
Grist turned to Stu. “Did you get them all out?”
“Yes, yes. Tell them,” Stu begged us.
“It sounds like you did your part. I wouldn’t dream of cheating you out of your hard-earned pay,” Grist said. His jaw clenched. “Enough. Tom, let’s have them.”
Mauser took out a KA-BAR knife and slammed Stu prone to the floor with his other hand. He pinned Stu’s right wrist under a thick boot.
Tom’s face crumbled. “You bastards. They’re in a small pouch on top of those crates.”
“No games?” Grist asked.
My mind raced with what Rollie must be thinking. I couldn’t be sure if the line remained open with the way the phone jostled in my pocket.
“No. No tricks. Just take them.”
Grist scrambled up the crates like a seasoned rock climber despite being at least a decade older than me.
“Yes?” Mauser called up.
A low whistle was all the reply he needed.
Mauser removed his boot from Stu’s wrist and allowed him to sit up.
All the while I tried to put myself in Rollie’s place. He had no shot with the rifle while we were inside. He couldn’t rush the place by himself and I doubted VP even knew how to use a gun. That would be a suicide mission.
Grist climb
ed down and examined the contents. “My compliments. These are everything I hoped they would be.”
“May you never get the chance to enjoy them,” Tom said.
I cut in. “No, enjoy them or whatever, but if you tie us up and blindfold us, you’re sure to make a clean escape. You don’t need to kill us.”
Grist looked at Mauser. “So much talk of killing. Who said anything about killing?” Then he took the pouch and pressed it into my hands.
“What?” I said, staring dumbly at it, then up at Grist. “What is this? You don’t want the stones?”
“Oh, we want the stones.” The two of them were grinning. “Just not yet.”
Chapter 30
Johnstown, Pennsylvania
Cold from the cement floor of the garage seeped into my hamstrings and rear end, making a sudden move about impossible. Grist had Mauser place a rectangular piece of plywood to separate me from Tom.
He’d been asking us questions and reading our reactions with the barrier preventing us from signaling each other. He’d been more than clear that Stu would pay the price if he detected deception.
I saw little point in lying and hoped Tom felt the same way. Once Grist gave me back the stones it had been easy to discern the reason. They wanted us to move forward with the deal. Now I understood why they weren’t going to damage our faces. It would be hard to imagine Mr. Beautiful feeling comfortable if we were all black and blue.
For now, their greed gave us a moment of grace, but I didn’t think they’d care what they did to us after they got what they wanted. Same went for Mr. B and whoever he brought.
Luckily just before they made us sit down for questioning, they forced us to empty our pockets. I managed to thumb off the burner Rollie had been monitoring and they weren’t all that surprised that we both carried multiple phones. Presumably they used the same sorts of techniques. They just wanted to know which one was for Bishop, and which one we needed to signal Mr. B’s people. The others they apparently just assumed went to some other shady support contacts I had.
For the most part, Tom and I played it straight. We’d both figured out that they weren’t aware of Rollie and VP nearby. That was the one thing we kept secret.
Short Cut (The Reluctant Hustler Book 2) Page 19
