The Devil's Copper

by Jamie Crothall

  “No, no, no,” the old man insisted. “Calm down, don’t do anything stupid.”

  Walter rubbed his eyes as though to assure himself he was seeing things correctly.

  “That’s right. It’s no bad dream, is it?”

  “…Frankie?” muttered Walter. “What the hell?”

  He took another look around the room. When he saw me alongside the man with the gun, he attempted to stand.

  “Sit down,” Frankie spat. “No funny business or you’ll lose more than a dog this time.”

  Walter sat back down. He glanced up to me, his expression saying a lot more than I could take in at that moment.

  “What do you want?” Walter asked.

  “I hear you’ve been up and down all over town, son. Your friend goes missing and you travel everywhere except your own damn home. I’ve had men watching this place since Saturday.”

  He shut his eyes, clearly cursing himself for bringing me there. He looked up at me apologetically.

  “Can you do anything?” I found myself asking.

  “I don’t know,” Frankie said, answering in Walter’s place. “Can you?”

  Walter looked blankly for a moment. He didn’t move. Not that I saw, anyway.

  “My boy Shay here is a very good shot, Walter. He never misses.” He looked at me, then back to him. “How many times did you just lose her.”

  He clenched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

  “Too many.”

  “Ten seconds doesn’t buy you a lot, does it?”

  “What do you want?”

  “For you to check your damn messages. That’s what.”

  When he didn’t clarify any further Walter simply glanced at the answering machine that sat on a table by the TV. Frankie nudged his head towards it. Taking it as permission, he rose and carefully made his way to the machine and pressed ‘play.’

  *beep*

  “Walter, my boy, it’s your old friend. Just saw a friend of yours. He wanted to say hello, but he’s a bit busy at the moment. Stop by and see me, and maybe we can help you out.”

  *beep*

  Then silence.

  Frankie turned away from Walter and looked at me. He examined my expression for far too long.

  “Oh, you thought this was about you, didn’t you?” he asked. “That must be terribly disappointing.”

  “What do you want, Frankie?” he asked impatiently.

  “You betrayed us, Walter. You didn’t think I’d be okay with that, did you?”

  “I didn’t betray you,” he stated firmly. “I handed in my notice.”

  “You left. That’s as good as a betrayal in my books. I’d hand you thirty pieces of silver if I had it, but unfortunately, I only have a few quarters at the moment.”

  “Quarters aren’t made of silver,” I said.

  He tilted his head back at me. “It speaks.” He turned back to Walter. “Tell it to stop.”

  Walter didn’t say anything. He just held out a palm in a stopping gesture. That, and the sensation of the gun barrel at the back of my head was enough to take away any courage I had.

  “So you have Jack?” Walter asked.

  Frankie seemed to mull it over. “No. But I know where he is. I thought we might come to an arrangement.”

  “What can I do that would be any use to you?”

  “Don’t play stupid. You know damn well there’s a lot you can do for me. I need a little…what do you call it? ‘Social engineering?’ ”

  In the midst of this, I noted one of the generic heavies had a bushy brown mustache. Reminiscent of the one the gunman had the night Jack was taken.

  “I have a man on the inside, I need you to back him up.”

  “The police?”

  “No,” he laughed. “The fucking mining company.”

  Walter’s solemn look dropped momentarily, replaced with skepticism. “What?”

  “Unionized, aren’t they? Waste a shit ton of money on a daily basis. No questions asked, otherwise they file a grievance. Top brass is too afraid to do anything about it. They hand out purchase orders like it’s penny candy.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “It’s true,” I said. “I see it all the time.” When they realized I wasn’t being belligerent they let me continue. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but it was the best I could think of. “Drivers come back from jobs there all the time with new tools. The guys at the mine sites buy them, use them once, then hand them out. It’s like they think it’s a game.”

  Frankie tilted his head towards me. “See? Sound fact.”

  “So what do you want me to do?” asked Walter.

  “My man Campbell will get you in. You work your magic, get the password routines for the ordering system, then report back to him. When he verifies it, he’ll tell me. Then I’ll know you’ve done good.”

  “All this, just for some lousy purchase order scam?”

  “You let me worry about how to profit from this. You just worry about how to get the goods. I mean really, we could have had this resolved by Monday if you had just answered your damn phone.”

  Walter shook his head. “I do this, and you let Jack go?”

  “I told you,” he said with feigned exasperation, “I don’t have Jack. But I can help you get him back. If, that is, you make me a happy man.”

  “When?”

  “Right now. The boys here will drop you off. I trust you’ve had a good sleep.”

  “What about Billie? Can she go free?”

  He scoffed. “Like hell. My man Shay here will keep her company. Right here. Until you get back. So there’s no need to take your time, is there?”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be okay.”

  “See? Everything will be just fine if you do as you’re told.”

  Walter looked over at me. “I’ll be quick.”

  “Just be careful.”

  “All right. Spare the dramatics,” he sighed. He gestured his generic thugs forward. “Let’s get going,”

  They ushered Walter out the door.

  Frankie looked back to me. “You be good to Shay, and he’ll be good to you. No promises though.”

  With that, everyone left but the man with the gun. He never moved. Not even an inch. He just stood, stoic as a statue. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could feel them peering through me.

  “…can I sit?” I asked.

  He didn’t reply. I assumed it would be acceptable, so I sat on the couch. I sat for a good ten minutes, though it felt more like an hour. I tried to figure out what to do. I wasn’t necessarily trying to devise a plan as determine how to stay alive. After half an hour, (which felt like five), the silence got to me.

  “Can I turn on the TV?”

  “No,” was his short and simple response.

  Another ten minutes dragged by. I noted my purse on the floor by the couch.

  “Can I go to the bathroom?”

  “No.”

  Okay. How can I advance from here?”

  “It’s…y’know…feminine stuff,” I said.

  “Right.”

  “Look,” I replied, a slight build up of emotion coming over me like a wave. “You’re a man with a gun and I’m…well…I’m nobody. I’m not brave enough or dumb enough to try anything. You can trust me.”

  “Trust you?” he scoffed.

  “Yeah.”

  “Prove it.”

  My hands shook as much as my voice did. “How?”

  He looked at me and a smirk grew on his face. I saw one eyebrow raise over his sunglasses.

  “Pick a number between one and ten.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Was this a coincidence? It had to be a coincidence. The walls closed in on me. My own heartbeat became deafening. His taunting expression was overwhelming.

  “…what?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I…”

  He shifted his weight, and by doing so, he flashed his gun. All part of a scripted move I’m sure
.

  “Okay,” I gasped. “I picked one.”

  “Ten?” he asked.

  I debated how to reply. Was this a game? Was this a test? I wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “Y-yes…”

  He stared right through me for at least ten long seconds with that same damn smirk before he made any kind of response. Finally, he nudged his head toward the bathroom door.

  “Thank you…” I gasped.

  I picked up my purse and backed into the bathroom.

  “Don’t lock it,” he stated firmly.

  I closed the door, refraining from locking it, as I toppled backwards and landed on the toilet seat. Fortunately, the lid was down. I clutched my purse with shaking hands. Tears streamed from my eyes. I was already way out of my depth. Why did the water level keep getting deeper? I rooted around in my purse for a tissue, oblivious to the roll of toilet paper beside me, when I was suddenly reminded of the revolver in my purse. I was so numb I barely noticed its extra weight.

  This began a long series of thoughts. Was Shay like Walter? Was it a coincidence he used the same test? Or did he know Walter’s little ploy? And was he teasing me with it? That man Frankie said Shay was a really good shot. And if Walter was to be believed, he lost me in several attempts to take action. Did that mean in some other timelines I just died several times that morning? Oh, god! There was no time to think about that at the moment. What would happen if two men with the same ability tried to one-up each other? Did Walter know Shay had the same ability? Assuming either of them had it in the first place?

  I reached into the bag and cradled the gun, as the fight-or-flight instinct took a startling turn. Shay had no idea I had the gun. He would never see it coming. One shot to the head. That’s all it would take. If I killed him outright, he wouldn’t be able to ‘snap’ back. If I missed, I’d be dead for sure, but I’d have the element of surprise. Could I do it though? One could argue for its necessity. But did I have it in me to shoot a man dead?

  Fucking right I could.

  I just kept telling myself that. I could. I fucking could. I had to. I had no choice. It was out of my hands. I gripped the gun in my right hand. I glared at it and willed it to stop shaking. I cursed myself to stop crying, and gather all my courage. I stood up, and flushed the toilet to sell the story, then approached the door. I could do this. I could do this. I could fucking do this.

  I opened the door, raised the gun, and pointed it at the first human-shaped figure I saw.

  ***

  “What the hell Billie??”

  Officer Riley had her gun drawn as well, and it was pointed back at me.

  “What are you doing here??” I asked.

  “What are you doing with a gun?” she retorted.

  “Where’s the other guy??”

  “What other guy?”

  “I don’t know what to do!!”

  “Put the gun down!”

  “I don’t know how!!”

  Clearly some training kept in as she tried to de-escalate the situation. My eyes darted all around the room, but we were the only ones there. The officer slowly began to lower her gun while she kept the other hand outstretched in a calming manner.

  “I’m putting it away, okay?”

  “…okay…”

  “I’m coming over to take yours, okay?”

  “…okay…”

  “I’m taking a few steps forward.”

  “…please hurry…”

  She kept to the side of my wavering aim and gently took the weapon from me.

  I dropped to the floor and fell into a pathetic, emotional mess.

  “I’m not even going to ask where you got this.”

  “How did you know I was here?” I managed to ask.

  “I looked up your friend in the system. I got his name out of someone who was familiar with him. I checked your place, first but it was quite a mess.”

  “There was someone else here. He was watching me.”

  “There was no one here when I arrived,” she assured me.

  Why would he have left? Unless he was able to ‘see’ her coming, and got out of the way.

  “We’re not safe here,” I said.

  “There’s no one else here.”

  “They’ll be back. They took Jack. And now they took Walter, and left someone to guard me.”

  I should have been more careful with what I was sharing, but I had no filter at the time.

  “Who took him?”

  “I don’t know, some man named Frankie.”

  She offered me a tissue.

  I blew my nose.

  She offered me a hand to stand up.

  I looked up at her. “You’re not wearing your uniform.”

  “No, I’m not,” she replied. “Tell me something.” She reached into her coat pocket. “Do either of these men look familiar?”

  She withdrew a photocopy of a photo. It was poor quality, but clear enough to make out one defining feature.

  “That guy,” I said, my finger trembling as I pointed to the vague image of a policeman with a big, bushy mustache. “I don’t know about the rest.”

  “Close enough.”

  “Are you in trouble?” I asked, turning the tables slightly.

  “I might be if I keep this up,” she said. “A black female police officer in Northern Ontario…you learn to keep your head down. But I’ve had enough of that. I’ve had my eye on these two for a while, but couldn’t prove anything. The man you mentioned is probably Frankie Chambers. Two-bit mobster who worked his way up to five-bits over the last few years.”

  “We have mobsters?” I asked, blowing my nose again.

  “Oh, honey. What version of Sudbury do you live in?”

  I liked my version a lot better.

  “My boss knows him.”

  “You think he’s…?”

  “No. I don’t think he knows who he is. Or at least what he is.”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “Joey Linden.”

  “Ah, porta-Joey?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I doubt he knows who he really is either. Frankie Chambers likes to parade as an upstanding member of society. I think Murray and Jones work for him. They released Michel Lussier last night without any charges. I want to talk to him, but I have no idea where to find him. His address, conveniently, is no longer on file.”

  “I know where to find him,” I said. “I think. I was going to try to talk to him. Get some info out of him. That’s why I’m dressed like this.”

  She looked me up and down. “It works for you. Might work for him.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Lussier is dumb enough to talk, given the chance. I think he’s treating this like a game, and would be willing to brag to anyone willing to listen.”

  “I can do it,” I insisted.

  “No. It’s too dangerous. I can’t let a civilian do that.”

  “You’re not in uniform,” I reminded her. A little bit of determination was coming back to me. I resented the amount of weakness these men had drawn out of me. “Besides, as you say, you’re a black woman in Northern Ontario. You’ll stand out. He’ll remember you.”

  “And he won’t remember you?” she asked with one eyebrow raised.

  “I haven’t seen him in a year. I doubt he’ll remember me.”

  She mulled it over. “Tell me where he is, and I’ll think about it.”

  “Well, think quick before I change my mind. He’ll likely be at the Laurentian.”

  “What an ass.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “No,” I said with a laugh, but I refused to give in. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m definitely gonna get fired for this,” she muttered.

  ***

  Riley drove her personal vehicle, but had a walkie-talkie on the dash. She stopped to listen to a crackling voice recite some code, but determined it wasn’t relevant. It was a short drive to the establishment,
a bar attached to an aging hotel on Lasalle Blvd. Would he be there at this time of day? We could only hope he was that desperate for a drink. Or to brag to anyone who would listen. The parking lot was almost empty, which wouldn’t be unusual for a Wednesday afternoon. Riley put the car in park.

  “Let’s go,” Riley said.

  “No,” I insisted. “It’s fine, honest.”

  She rolled her eyes. She knew it made sense, but she didn’t like it. “Just try to find out who he was working for. That’s all we need. If he gets suspicious, just run for the door. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  I turned down the sun visor to look at myself in the mirror. A little make-up would have gone a long way, but hopefully the visor on my cap would cast a little necessary shade over my eyes. I wiped away any lingering tears, chased away any remaining fears, and called upon my old acting abilities.

  “How do I look?” I asked.

  “You look good, girl.”

  I smiled. A genuine smile. I needed that.

  “Wait. Here,” she insisted. She handed me a twenty dollar bill. Good call; I forgot I was penniless.

  ***

  The last time I set foot in the Laurentian I was sixteen. It was one of the few places lax on carding people. I wasn’t a fan then, and it only got worse as time went on. The place was mostly empty, except a few older men who likely spent their weekdays day-drinking. The chances of Mike being there already were slim, but hopefully it would be over quickly. I picked a place at the bar and ordered a drink.

  The first twenty minutes were uneventful. Then, a man in his fifties sat beside me and made a show of a business conversation on his cell phone. Being important enough to take a call in public was still a bit of a status symbol at the time, as sad as that sounds.