A car pulled up to the curb and her two friends got in, leaving her alone. She looked around, maybe trying to find someone else to talk to, but when she saw the rest of the cheerleaders were already gone she began the walk home.
I wondered why a kid this rich and high profile was hoofing it a few blocks. Didn’t mom or dad want to protect her? Yeah, I know one of them was paying me an indecent amount of money to kill her, but you still needed the premise you loved your kid enough to get a car to pick her up.
I let her get almost out of sight before I started the van. No use trying to take her with a few cars still in the parking lot. Just ahead, around the first bend in the road, stood a vacant lot and the houses on either side were shielded with trees. The other side of the road had big houses set back. The perfect spot to do the job. I didn’t need to be seen while doing it. I was sure the white van cruising the parking lot a couple of times and then leaving right after she did and heading in her direction would be enough to give the cops something to go on.
By the time they collected the camera tapes and talked to eyewitnesses I’d be long gone.
A woman sitting in her car, reading a book and waiting for her son or daughter, looked up and gave a half-smile. I waved and beamed with joy. She’d remember the old man with white hair and thick glasses, and by tomorrow night a police sketch would be on the local news channels.
The back of the van was ready to go, too. I had rope and a pile of moving rugs to cover her, as well as two pairs of handcuffs I had no intention of using unless she fought back. I’d be able to get the rag over her mouth before she knew what hit her, though, so I wasn’t too worried about her resisting.
The first time I’d used a similar plan was a long time ago. I was taught by my predecessor. Who had been taught by his, I supposed. You never really talked about too much further back. Maybe the last generation of child abductors was enough. Maybe we all hoped the phone would stop ringing or the e-mails would never come, and the world would right itself and bad people would stop wanting their children dead.
I needed to hurry up and get back to New York.
She was just ahead now as I drove at about ten miles an hour, foot lightly tapping the gas to keep momentum. I’d get ahead of her and stop, acting like I was at the house for a reason. I was in a work van, and I was a heavy old man. No harm.
As I drove past I could see she was oblivious, wearing ear buds and listening to music I’m sure I didn’t get or understand, deep in her high school thoughts.
She’s a mark, I told myself. You never got too close and I needed to stop worrying about whom she was or what she was thinking about. I knew it was all the running around from city to city that was getting to me, and the change from east to west coast time always hit me hard. Especially as I got older.
I put the van in park but kept it running. With her music blasting she wouldn’t know the difference anyway until it was too late.
Just as I opened the door I heard the gunshot.
The gun I was carrying was empty, here for effect in the event I needed it. Unconsciously I reached for it in my jacket pocket as if it would do me any good.
Who was shooting at me? Could it be one of Chenzo’s boys? Payback for the guy in the trunk?
I looked around but didn’t see anyone. I’d need to abort this job until I could figure out what had happened.
And then I figured it out with the second shot, which caught my target in the stomach. She was already on the ground, the first shot having ripped through her neck.
Someone had killed her.
I stomped on the gas and drove away, expecting a black sedan or a gunman to block my way out of the area.
Someone had really killed her.
NINE
“Calm down. Where are you?” Marisa was trying to get me to breathe and stop yelling but I couldn’t. My heart was racing and I felt nauseous.
“They shot her. They shot her,” I said. The reverse image of her in the side mirror as the second shot hit her lifeless body would be etched in my psyche forever.
“Pull yourself together. Where are you right now?”
“I’m in the van on the side of the road,” I said.
“Are you crazy? Stick to the plan. Drive. Now.”
I punched the steering wheel. “What plan? I don’t have her because she’s been shot. She was assassinated twenty feet from me.”
“You need to get to the stashed car and drive towards Dallas. I’ll figure it out on my end. If you stay in town you’re going to get arrested for her murder. You set it up so the van and you were seen, remember? Whoever did this isn’t going to be on any surveillance tapes,” Marisa said.
“You’re right. I’ll call you back in an hour.”
“I’ll see what I can figure out. Hey. . . you gonna be alright?” Marisa asked.
I nodded my head even though Marisa couldn’t see me as I started the van. “Yes, I’ll be fine. This isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen. Just not sure what happened.”
“We’re going to figure it out.”
I hung up and drove a couple of miles over the speed limit, watching for police and ambulances, which both drove past me about a minute later. I was already a few miles away from the crime scene but I was paranoid not only the authorities but also the killer would get on my tail soon enough.
This had never happened to me. I couldn’t remember ever hearing something like this going on. There was a code. You hired one person to do the job. It was very specific and I was sure Marisa had gone over it with the client.
A bad coincidence? The other parent wanted the girl dead, maybe? I hoped Marisa could make heads or tails out of what had happened.
I started to head south, my eyes darting from one mirror to the next. The ride to the new car was only ten minutes but it felt like ten hours, and I was expecting the window to shatter at any moment and my life to be over.
I cleaned out the van since it wouldn’t make sense anymore. The new car was an old car, a Ford Taurus with Texas plates. I put the kidnapping kit in front seat with me and pulled off my wig and glasses. My eyes hurt from wearing them, even though the lenses themselves weren’t anything more than plastic.
By the time I’d ditched the disguise in a gas station bathroom, gassed up the car and left parts of the kidnap kit in restaurant bathrooms along the way, Marisa was calling again.
“Are you ready for some messed up info?” she asked.
Sure. What did I have to lose at this point? “I’m all ears.”
“You got paid for the job.”
“I get paid half upfront and the rest when it’s done. So?”
“I reverse-engineered this entire transaction. The money was paid the second I mentioned the dollar amount. The second. Before they’d even told me who the target was, and in full,” Marisa said.
“That’s uncommon but not suspicious.” These jobs were from people who wanted this done once in their life, not multiple times. They were scared it was a police sting and even more scared they’d go to prison for a long time if it went south.
Sometimes they talked too much and they always paid on time or early, afraid I could use a late payment to squeeze them for more money. I never would but they didn’t know any better. It was all part of the unwritten code but when you’re dealing with people who want children dead, it gets into some gray areas.
“But get this. . . the guy who I talked to had nothing to do with the payment,” Marisa said.
“Again, not uncommon. Is there a point to this? I need to find a hotel and crash and soak in a hot shower for a few hours,” I said. I left out the part about more than likely crying myself to sleep. I needed a moment. I wasn’t a cold blooded assassin, after all.
“I contacted the guy and he thanked me for a job well-done. He thinks you did it and praised his go-between for setting this up in the first place. The money went through his mysterious middle man. When I tried to follow the money trail further back it was a dead end. The company itself is part
of another company, part of another company, and so forth,” Marisa said.
All very common in this line of work. I had so many dummy companies and money hidden all over the world, if I needed to pull it all and run, I would miss half of it. The scary part was it was all mostly legal thanks to the corporate laws. I’ll never get pinched for tax evasion or something stupid, because they’ll never ever find this money. I pay enough taxes on the sports cards part of my life, anyway.
“I did find a name,” Marisa said. “Nolan Ryan was the name given for the middle man.”
“I’m guessing not the great pitcher. It’s either a bad coincidence or someone knows what I’m doing with fake names. What chance is it Keane is involved? I never took him for a dirty cop,” I said. I didn’t believe in coincidences. Someone had taken great pains to screw up my job, still pay me for it, not take the credit, and call me out over the baseball naming I’ve been doing for years.
“If Keane is dirty I’ll be amazed,” Marisa said. She’d done her homework on the guy over the years. Besides his lousy marrying streak and driving, he was relatively clean. He drank a bit and cursed and never went to church, but he wasn’t someone who could shoot down a sixteen year old girl in broad daylight.
“Maybe a rogue FBI agent. It could be anyone. I’m sure they’ll get antsy when I don’t try to find them right away,” I said.
“Only because you need to cry in the shower for awhile.”
“I never said anything about crying,” I said defensively.
“It was definitely implied. Are you going to drive all the way to the hotel or do you want me to find you another one?”
“Find me something a couple of hours south but close to an airport if possible,” I said.
“Tall order but I’ll try. I’ll keep everything booked at the hotel and airport from Texas in case someone is watching,” Marisa said. I’d trained her to be as paranoid as I was at times. You could never be too careful and money was never the issue. Being cheap over canceling a flight early to save $400 was what got a guy caught in my book.
Before hanging up with Marisa I went through my little black book of killers I’d known over the years. “Any clue who it could be? Who is bold enough to do this?”
“Jesus Diaz comes to mind but no way that he killed a sixteen year old as sloppy as that,” Marisa said.
“No. Diaz is working in Hollywood last I heard. We’re not exactly friends but we don’t do the same work, either.”
Jesus was a good guy as far as hired killers go. I’d run into him a couple of years ago in New York. It was a brief meeting and we both had our fingers on the trigger. You never took it easy with another assassin, especially since I was just playing one. I wondered if Diaz was being a heavy for a movie guy or if he was actually acting. Maybe I’d look him up after my shower crying. I knew it wasn’t him, but there were another dozen names I still needed to cross off my list. This week was getting worse and worse.
“I need to think for awhile. Do your thing and I’ll text you when I get to the new hotel,” I said.
“I just booked the hotel. I’ll text the address and info right now,” Marisa said.
I could never multi-task like she could, and if I tried this would all come crashing down around me. Even more than it seemed to be right now.
The long, winding road was welcome right now. I set the GPS on my phone with the hotel address. I had about ninety minutes until I reached my destination, which was plenty of time to sort out everything in my head. Maybe I’d have a good cry while I drove.
I knew I was missing something important in all of this. There was always something obvious. An old buddy of mine, Chet, used to smoke weed. A lot. In my teens I was doing some really stupid things including breaking and entering with Chet so we could afford pot and beer. Really stupid but I was a kid with a chip on my shoulder.
I’ll never forget the one smart thing Chet ever said to me. We were standing on a busy street corner with cops all around, waiting to sneak into a movie. Chet pulled a blunt from his jacket and lit up.
“Are you crazy? We’re going to get busted,” I said.
Chet told me to relax. “We’re hiding in plain sight. Watch the cops. Who are they harassing? The dudes trying to look small in the corners. They’re the ones getting busted. We’re hanging out with everyone else.” He’d turned to the two girls standing near us and offered them each a hit, which they took. I could lie and tell you we scored with the two hot chicks but in reality we snuck into the theatre, got caught and were tossed out. I don’t even remember what movie it was.
My point: sometimes the clue is right in front of you and so obvious you looked past it, so focused on finding hidden meanings and danger around the corner when it was right in front of you.
I still hadn’t figured it out but I felt better trying to work through it in my head.
There was a black sports car a half a mile back that had been back a safe distance for several miles. I didn’t know if it was following me or the route, but I was still shaking and paranoid so I took the next exit into another gas station.
The black car kept going down the highway.
I was in no hurry right now. I got out and stretched. I decided a snack was in order. I didn’t think I’d leave the hotel room once I got there. The flight was super early in the morning to get me back to New York and I had a good hour drive to the airport and the hassle of checking in as well. I wondered if I’d be able to sleep.
Right now chocolate and a Coke was in my plans. Marisa made fun of me for eating convenience store hot dogs smothered in chili but with my diet it was the least of my problems.
I have a sweet tooth and lots of disposable income, which is a very bad combination.
I half-filled a shopping basket with candy bars and Coke until it was heavy carrying it. A couple of bags of chocolate mini-donuts topped me off and I was back on the road and licking my fingers with melting Snickers and Butterfingers.
The black sports car wasn’t following me and no one else looked like they were on my tail, either. I kept in the slow lane and just over the speed limit, happy cars were passing me and I was in no rush.
After the first bag of mini-donuts was polished off and half of the candy bars, washed down with two Cokes, I turned on the radio. I found a classic rock station and listened to songs I knew from my childhood or stuff from the 1970’s I was familiar with.
My sugar high was getting me to relax and sing along to a Pink Floyd tune I’d never been a huge fan of.
I pulled off the highway towards the hotel, which loomed in the distance. By the time I drove into the parking lot and looked around to make sure no one was watching me, my candy and Coke rush was expired.
I covered my face and cried for awhile.
TEN
I landed back at JFK and was greeted by an older driver with salt and pepper hair, his suit nicely pressed and the driving cap angled on his head like he’d spent an hour with it looking at a mirror. By the steely look in his eyes I knew he was going to be another no-nonsense man like the last one.
I didn’t bother asking for his name, either.
My initial thought was to go straight to the jazz club, but I was hungry. I’d spent the rest of yesterday in my hotel room, wiping mini-donut crumbs off my belly and washing down the last of the candy bars with the soda. I was a nervous eater, and when I finally fell asleep with late night talk shows on the television, my stomach was growling.
I wanted a greasy-spoon diner and a greasy burger with greasy fries. I asked the driver if he knew of a good spot.
“I know an excellent one. You want grease? Even the water is greasy,” he said and laughed.
I got into the back of the car and checked my phone messages. Marisa had called twice when I was in the air, which is never a good sign.
I called her back, hoping she wouldn’t ask me about last night’s dinner and she couldn’t hear my stomach threatening to riot.
“I got some news, boss, and you aren’t
going to like it,” she said. Cutting right to the chase without small talk is never a good sign.
“I’m all ears.” I don’t know why I said that all the time to her but I made a mental note to stop it. Yet again.
“I had a guy watching out for Will and he was at the jazz club last night but slipped out the back door. There’s an added wrinkle, too: a thug associated with Chenzo is in town as well, and he’s been asking questions. I think they figured out the kid isn’t dead,” Marisa said.
Damn it. The botched job had gotten me behind the eight-ball now. I was a day late and a dollar short, and every other cliché I could think of. I was hoping to be able to work the jazz club and get to Will before anyone else, but it looked like I was going to have to stand in line now.
“How is it possible they know so much already?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Even Marco has gone quiet to me,” Marisa said.
Marco was a tech hacker working for Chenzo’s outfit. He was one of the best at getting into any computer system with ease. He loved a challenge. He was the guy who’d told me about the wiretapping by using a common cell phone. He’d helped me out in a pinch quite a few times as long as it didn’t interfere with his Chenzo work. I guess now I was getting too close to where he did his business and he was cutting all ties.
“Rumor has it they sent Marco and his buddy Chazz down south after a bad job but Chazz is back in Jersey without the hacker,” Marisa said.
This was all getting to be too much for me. There were too many players in motion at once, and this wasn’t even my normal job. This was usually much simpler. I got paid to eliminate a child, I kidnapped said child and put him or her through the vast network so they would disappear to live happily ever after in some family that cared about them.
Usually. I remembered Frank Black and wondered again how bad the situation had been for Will growing up, although I had a sneaking suspicion the kid would’ve been trouble no matter where he ended up.
“I’m trying to stay away from Chenzo as much as possible,” I said to Marisa. “If Will vacated the jazz club, what leads do I have?”
Dirty Deeds Page 7
