by Simon Wood
Even organized crime had politicians. How disappointing, Todd thought.
“What’s your name?” the blond asked.
“Todd Collins.”
“I’m Martin Fisk. How would you like to meet Jeff?”
***
“Who’s this?” Jeff Carlson asked.
“One of Jessica’s lost boys,” Fisk answered.
Carlson stiffened in his seat. He looked more annoyed than frightened. He tossed a glance the ex-marines’ way and they marched out of the office.
Fisk settled into one of the visitor chairs opposite Carlson. Todd did likewise.
As corner offices went, Carlson had a nice one, consisting of the usual modern conveniences required by today’s corporate execs. That included the secretary that Todd guessed saw no evil, spoke no evil and heard no evil. She never looked up once from her computer monitor to acknowledge their arrival. The same applied to the dozen or so people working away at their desks. Everyone seemed to be white-collar professionals doing white-collar work. It made for a nice cover. Todd wondered if these people believed they truly worked for a realty and shipping company. It was a reasonable hypothesis, if it weren’t for the ex-marines. Their presence spoiled the front. They were a pair of square pegs who did nothing but hang out in an office adjacent to Carlson’s.
“My wife hired you to kill me?”
“Yes.”
“My wife and I have a complex marriage, Mr....”
“Todd Collins.”
“My wife and I have a complex marriage, Mr. Collins. One that most people wouldn’t understand.”
“There’s no need to explain. It’s none of my business.”
“Thank you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t come to Seattle with the sole desire to kill me.”
“No. I came looking for work.”
“What kind of work?”
Fisk removed Todd’s .357 and placed it on the desk. Carlson studied the weapon and nodded like its presence explained everything.
“I’m guessing you aren’t a nine-to-five sort of guy?”
“Not anymore.”
“Well, I think we can put you to work.”
“What do I do about Mrs. Carlson?”
“Tell her she’ll have to find someone else,” Carlson said matter-of-factly.
Todd thought about her accuracy with a gun and willingness to use one. “And she’ll just accept that, will she?”
“Probably not.”
“You’ll have to do a good job convincing her,” Fisk added.
Carlson and Fisk pumped Todd for information. He gave up as much as he could without giving it all up. He was wedged between a pair of hard places after all. They seemed satisfied with his answers. Carlson said Fisk would put him to work starting tomorrow. Fisk handed Todd some walking around money and Carlson handed Todd back his gun. Todd wasn’t sure if this was a test of trust or a suicidal bent on Carlson’s part. He thought about the four rounds left in the .357’s cylinder. Enough for Carlson, Fisk and the ex-marines, but not enough for the witnesses. He slipped the revolver into his waistband.
Back on the street, Todd asked Fisk, “Now what?”
“I’ve got a lunch date and you’ve got a parking ticket.”
Flapping from the windshield was a newly applied ticket.
“I would pay that. Those things stack up if you don’t.”
“Thanks.”
Fisk produced a cell phone and punched in a number. He told the person answering that he’d be a few minutes late, then hung up.
“Todd, play it square with Jessica. She’ll write you off as a pussy that bitched out on her. She’ll complain, but she’ll move on and find someone else to do the deed.”
“What happens then?”
“That’s not your problem.” Fisk tap-danced down the concrete stairs from the building. “Meet me at Pike Place Market at nine tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
Todd watched Fisk hail a cab before crossing the street back to his Toyota. He peeled off the parking ticket, screwed it into a ball and tossed it on the backseat. He had no intention of staying in Washington long enough for it to matter.
He returned to the phone booth he’d called Jessica from the day before and called her. “We need to talk,” he said.
“I’m busy. Be here at seven, tonight.”
He didn’t mind the brush off. It gave him time to rehearse his speech.
He returned to the Travelodge where he was staying. It might not be situated in the prettiest part of the city, but it was quiet, clean and a block away from a strip club that boasted hundreds of sexy girls and three ugly ones. It was nice to be amongst honest folks for a while.
He inched by the cramped reception area to get to his room. He made the mistake that women are warned against in parking lots late at night. He didn’t have his key handy. He didn’t bother to get out his cardkey until he reached his room and that was when they pounced. He didn’t even sense them until they drove him face first into the door. The inside of his skull rang with the same off-key tone as the hollow core door when his head bounced off it. Too dazed to fight back, the cardkey was out of his hand and into somebody else’s. The door flew open and two sets of hands thrust him into his room then slammed him down onto the carpet. He tried to scream for help, but he only assisted them in inserting a gag into his mouth. Seven seconds later, zip ties bound his hands and ankles behind him and another zip tie bound the ties together to complete the hog tying demonstration. The hands hoisted him up and tossed him onto the bed. Carlson’s ex-marines looked down at him, pleased with their work.
Carlson walked into the room and closed the door. He sat on the bed opposite Todd and nodded to one of his thugs. The one Todd had witnessed going out for lunch tugged the gag out of his mouth.
“So my wife hired you to kill me.”
“I don’t think she’s going to take no for an answer.”
Carlson laughed. “That sounds like Jessica. Bet you wished you’d been more persuasive.”
“Under the circumstances, yes.”
“Well, I want to help you out of your difficult situation.”
Todd didn’t like the sound of that. Handling Jessica was going to be a problem, but not that much of a problem. After Fisk left him, he’d considered getting in his car and just driving off. Sure, he needed information about the small man, but he could find it elsewhere. The Carlsons weren’t worth this much crap. But the time to run looked to have just run out.
“How can you help me?” Todd asked, losing sensation in his hands and feet.
“You’re going to kill Jessica for me.”
“I thought you said--”
“Forget what I said. That was for Fisk’s benefit. He’s got a thing for Jessica. He thinks he can save her from herself and me. He’s wrong. He can’t. How does twenty-five grand sound?”
Not that great. Money was being thrust at him from all directions and the numbers kept getting higher every time, but none of it was reaching the echelons Fisk had mentioned.
“Seeing as I know a bit more about the job and the ramifications associated with it, I was thinking of a number in the six-figure range.”
Carlson and the ex-marines found that hilarious.
“If you were worth six-figures, I’d pay it,” Carlson said, “but you’re not. You’ll take the twenty-five, which is damn generous for a guy who was planning to put a bullet in me. If you don’t, I’ll put a bullet in you. Now, what do you think?”
“Twenty-five sounds great.”
“Good man.” Carlson jerked a nod in the direction of the ex-marines.
One of the jarheads jerked out a switchblade and sliced open the zip ties. The rush of blood back to Todd’s extremities forced a sigh of pleasure from him.
Carlson rose to his feet and headed towards the door with his ex-marines in tow. “As far as Fisk knows, this didn’t happen,” Carlson called out. “Okay?”
Todd didn’t move until Carlson was long gone. He rolled onto his back an
d massaged the red rings around his ankles and wrists. He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. It wasn’t quite two o’clock.
***
“It’s me” was the magic phrase to open the doors to Jessica’s building. She greeted Todd without a gun or a pat down. Music spilled from an unseen sound system. It was low and soothing, but did nothing to take the tension out of the air.
“He’s not dead, is he?” she demanded.
“No,” Todd replied. “Do you know you’re being watched?”
Todd had to keep things tight from now on. He couldn’t afford to say too much and risk Jessica’s hair-trigger temper. Also, he wanted her opinion of Fisk. Was Fisk the lynchpin in the Carlsons’ affairs he believed himself to be?
“Fisk, you mean?”
“Blond guy, mid-forties, stands around five ten.”
“That’s him.”
“Yeah, well, it made it real hard to follow your husband with him tagging along behind me. Who is he?”
Jessica guided Todd to the sofa, sliding in next to him. She laid out a story, which pretty much tallied with Jeff’s. Fisk had worked for Jeff since the beginning. She’d noticed him tailing her. At first she’d suspected Jeff just wanted to keep tabs on her, but over time she realized that Fisk had a thing for her.
“That’s precious, but that pretty much screws up my chances of killing your husband.”
“You’ve grown some balls since yesterday.” She patted his cheek. Condescension shone in her eyes.
“No, I have a sense of urgency. You asked me to kill your husband and that’s fine. I can do it—not my thing—but I’ll do it. But that’s real hard when I’ve got a witness hanging over my shoulder.” Todd’s words tumbled out in an avalanche of inspired neurosis. It was a convincing act, because he believed every word. The Carlsons and Fisk were crowding him, cutting off his air. One of them had to give him room.
“Steady there. Don’t you worry about Fisk. I’ll keep him occupied. Is that all you wanted from me tonight?”
“No. This Fisk knows me. I can’t afford to hang around town and to follow your husband until a gap opens up. Your husband is never alone thanks to the two military types that follow behind him at a safe distance.”
Jessica smiled. “You’ve impressed me. I didn’t think you’d pick up on them so quickly.”
Todd didn’t like that remark. What was she expecting? For him to just walk up to him on the steps of his building and cap him there in the street with his bodyguards twenty yards behind? Suddenly, Todd felt the sticky wet stamp of expendable on his back. It made sense from Jessica’s point of view. He caps Carlson and the ex-marines cap him. The circle of silence is kept sacred. The money she’d promised him seemed to have shifted from her desk drawer to another hemisphere. Jessica wasn’t the one to give him the space he needed.
“So how do you want to play this thing?” she asked.
“I need him alone. I need his entourage to be occupied elsewhere when I do this.”
“I think that can be arranged,” she said with a cat that’s just got the cream look. “Lie low for a couple of days while I sort some things out.”
Todd got up to leave.
“I do have one request.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to be there when you do it.”
***
Fisk was already waiting at the coffee shop opposite Pike Place Market’s north arcade when Todd arrived. Fisk indicated to a waitress for another menu. Todd glanced over the menu but his stomach churned at the thought of food. Nerves were setting in. This was taking too long and getting too messy. He couldn’t see himself getting out of this without something sticking to him. The waitress waited for him to order and he disappointed her by just ordering coffee.
“Not hungry?” Fisk asked when the waitress walked off.
“Not much of a breakfast guy.”
“You should try. You’ll feel better.”
Todd sipped his coffee. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Fisk’s breakfast arrived and Todd’s stomach churned at the smell of eggs and sausage. Todd brought his coffee to his mouth so he could distract his nausea with the aroma. Fisk missed the charade.
“What do we do today?” Todd asked.
“We’ve got a little business over here.”
“Doing what?”
“You’ll see.”
Fisk paid the check and walked Todd to 1st Avenue. He stopped at an Asian-owned knick-knack store at the edge of the market district. It sold the usual touristy crap you found in every big city. A couple of Asian teenagers straightened stock on the shelves and outnumbered the customers. The place smelled freshly decorated. The woman behind the register recognized Fisk immediately and broke into a wail of happy shrieks, not all of it in English. She came out from behind the register to pump Fisk’s hand with a two-fisted shake and did the same with Todd. Fisk greeted her in what Todd took to be Chinese. It came out smooth yet practiced.
“Friend?” the woman asked, looking at Todd.
“A colleague, Mrs. Ho. I’m showing him the ropes.”
“Good. Good.”
Mrs. Ho called over the teenagers and introduced them as her children. She gushed about their potential for greatness. The teenagers did their best to ignore the display. Nobody liked to see their parents act beneath themselves.
Feeling awkward under her intense gaze, Todd smiled.
The store’s only customer left with no purchases in hand.
“Is Mr. Ho here?” Fisk asked.
“Yes. Out back.”
Fisk strode to the rear of the store like he knew the layout well and opened the door marked private. The Ho teenagers kept their gazes downcast like eye contact would turn them to stone.
Fisk waited for the door to close before shouting out, “Mr. Ho.” He walked through the stock room, examining open boxes containing the unsold items resting in popcorn chips, and calling out Ho’s name.
“What are we doing here?” Todd asked.
“Our job. Mr. Ho.”
Mr. Ho emerged from a poorly framed box that pretended to be an office. He was small and frail. His clothes hung off him and they made him look older than he was. Todd guessed he was in his late forties carrying a ten-year penalty. Unlike Mrs. Ho, Mr. Ho exhibited no joviality.
“Mr. Fisk,” he said, his accent distorting the words. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you again, Mr. Ho. I thought you’d been avoiding me. This is my colleague, Mr. Collins.”
Todd didn’t like how his name was being bandied about. Fisk was tossing his out too, so Todd guessed no one would be telling tales. This was going to be a town Todd could never return to, that was for sure.
“We’ve come about--”
“I know,” Mr. Ho interrupted. “I’m sorry.” He dropped his head.
“You see, Todd, this is the harsh reality of the true American dream.” Fisk backed the man into his office. “Mr. Ho here came to this great nation to start a business, to prosper, and he needed money for that. Money that he didn’t have. He needed a loan. But as an immigrant, he had no credit record in the US and conventional lines of credit weren’t available. That’s where Carlson Realty stepped up to the plate. They provided these wonderful premises and a generous loan. But Mr. Ho hasn’t been paying back what he owes, have you. Mr. Ho?” Fisk picked up an illustrated jewelry box where the illustration had been an adhesive transfer that had been lacquered over. “And I can see why when you try to sell crap like this. No wonder you have more staff than customers in the store.”
Fisk hurled the jewelry box at the ground. It bounced off the concrete floor and broke apart. Mr. Ho flinched at the sight of his merchandise’s destruction. Todd felt nauseous all over again.
“I’m expecting a payment of at least three thousand dollars, Mr. Ho. Please tell me you have it, because that interest is killing you.”
“Mr. Fisk, if I could hold off paying you for a month, I would be in your debt.”
Fisk
choked out his derision in the form of a laugh.
“It would give the store a chance to bring in customers.”
“I don’t think so. I think, Mr. Ho, you have to be taught a lesson about the rules of a free market economy. Todd, don’t mark his face. Keep it to the body. I don’t want anyone getting curious.”
“What?” Todd said. Everything snapped into place. This was racketeering 101.
Fisk turned his attention away from Mr. Ho to Todd. “I want you to hurt him.”
“I think he’s got the message.”
“Just do as I tell you.”
Mr. Ho backed away from the men into the confines of his office. Todd crossed a line he never thought he’d cross and followed Mr. Ho.
The Chinese man, realizing he’d backed himself into a corner, panicked. He searched for a route of escape that would take him past Fisk and Todd. There was none and it only served to fuel his panic. He flailed at the weak walls in hope of bursting through. The walls weren’t to code but strong enough to withstand Mr. Ho. Todd closed in on him.
“Body blows only, Todd,” Fisk advised.
Mr. Ho whirled around to face Todd. He dropped his arms down as not to provoke a fight. In his native tongue, he pleaded to Todd.
Todd grabbed Mr. Ho by the throat and pinned him to his desk. The man begged for time and consideration. Todd locked gazes with him and saw into him. He felt the man’s struggle to attain his dreams and felt them being shattered all at once. Todd raised his fist to strike. Hitting a defenseless man should have been easy, but it was anything but. What possible satisfaction could anyone feel from beating this man? It was no different from pulling the wings from a bug. He couldn’t do it and dropped his fist.
“Get out of my way.”
Fisk jerked Todd aside. The flicker of relief that appeared on Mr. Ho’s face died when Fisk drove a fist into his gut. The blow sounded like a four by two striking a side of beef. It cut Mr. Ho’s strings and he crumpled. Only Fisk’s steadying hand kept him from crashing to the floor.
Fisk delivered blow after blow, until the man’s flesh and spirit surrendered. Todd never challenged Fisk. He didn’t fear his own beating, but his interference would have made Mr. Ho’s worse. Fisk would have done it out of spite, just to teach Todd a lesson. After Fisk delivered his last punch, he released Mr. Ho and he slid to the floor.
