by Matt Rogers
Tyrell stared at his feet.
Slater levered off the sofa, crossed the living room. He rounded the kitchen island and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘No matter what happens, you’ll be okay. You’re the smartest, toughest kid I’ve ever met. You don’t need a big idiot like me telling you what to do all the time.’
‘I like getting told what to do sometimes. I can’t do it all myself, like what Dad used to make me do.’
‘Good,’ Slater said, giving his collarbone a reassuring squeeze. ‘That’s good. Because I’m going to be bossing you around for a whole lot longer. So you’d better get used to it.’
Tyrell looked up and smiled. ‘I dunno what I’m gettin’ at. It’s not like anyone in California is gonna give you much trouble.’
‘There you go.’
‘Now call Alexis.’ Tyrell headed for his room. ‘Or I’ll do it for you.’
Slater busied himself with the dishes for as long as he could stretch out the menial task, then kept the momentum going by cleaning all the kitchen surfaces with a wet cloth and vacuuming the living room carpet. When he couldn’t distract himself any longer, he pulled out his phone and dialled her number. She wouldn’t be boarding for another fifteen minutes. It was nice to have an imposed limit on the length of the conversation. He wasn’t sure how it’d go.
‘Hey,’ she answered. ‘You checking whether I’ve gotten myself killed yet?’
‘You know me too well. You getting hunted through Boston Logan?’
‘I’ve killed four rogue TSA already. Any more and I might start getting tired.’
‘Don’t say that too loudly in an airport.’
She laughed. ‘You’re right. So—any reason for this?’
He didn’t answer immediately, trying to find the words. Eventually he sighed. ‘I don’t know how you’re going to take this.’
‘You won’t know until you say it.’
‘I started working on the list again.’
‘That’s good. That’s what I suggested.’
‘Frankie Booth is one of the names. He was associated with Dwayne Griggs, so he’s bottom-of-the-barrel scum, and he runs a gym that coaches a stable of budding MMA fighters in Hunters Point, SF. You do the math.’
He waited the appropriate length of time for Alexis to put the pieces together, to connect the beaten and brutalised body of Jack Sundström described to her by Ava with the new information Slater had provided. She said, ‘Sounds like a coincidence.’
‘It does,’ Slater said. ‘But not if you really think about it. If you have access to a group of highly skilled and morally bankrupt individuals all in the one place, guys you’ve probably groomed for years to do your dirty work, that puts you in a unique position. It’s a huge risk to take, and I’d wager Frankie’s one of the only people doing it in the country. Is it so hard to believe a psychotic CEO and a big-shot heroin dealer have both utilised his services?’
‘I take it you want to find out.’
‘Which is why I wasn’t sure how you’d react. King’s coming too.’
A pause. ‘King’s coming?’
‘You heard me.’
‘Why?’
‘He got the itch.’
She exhaled. ‘Some part of me wanted to do this solo. But I can recognise that as ego. There’s no point being stubborn and getting myself killed.’
‘Good,’ Slater said. ‘I’m glad you realise.’
‘But just…stay in your lane, okay? I’m not demanding. I’m asking. But I can handle Heidi Waters myself.’
‘You don’t know what she’s capable of yet. It might be far worse than you think.’
‘Whatever it is, I want to handle it myself. I need this, Will. For myself. So I know what I’m capable of.’
Slater understood every word because he’d been there before as a young man in his twenties, demanding more dangerous ops from a government that was already uncomfortable about the risks of sending him into hell, over and over and over again. It was the ultimate freedom, knowing you can deal with whatever comes your way.
He said, ‘Sure. But we’re looking to destroy whatever we find Frankie doing. Something tells me that’ll lead to Heidi.’
‘We’ll find out, won’t we?’
He smiled. ‘I thought this would go worse. I thought you might take it the wrong way.’
‘We’re both going to war. Did we really expect anything else?’
‘No. I guess we didn’t.’
She said, ‘We’re a good match.’
‘You’re only just realising that?’
‘Of course not. I knew all along.’ A pause, then, ‘I’m boarding.’
‘Maybe see you around.’
‘Maybe.’
He clicked off and lowered the phone.
Wondered if King’s conversation had gone worse.
18
It hadn’t.
King thought it might, but he was kidding himself. He stopped at the base of a shallow hill in Ingleside Park, took Violetta by the hand, and looked into her eyes. His suspicion that she might be furious revealed itself as mere paranoia when she smirked at him before he even opened his mouth. ‘Go on. Spit it out.’
He furrowed his brow. ‘You’re a mind-reader now?’
‘Only with your mind. I know you too well.’
Junior squeaked a happy noise from the stroller they were wheeling through the park. The sun was out, practically making the grass glow. The gardeners in charge of Ingleside were consummate professionals: the view was straight off a postcard. Manicured green lawns, quiet suburbia, friendly neighbours, and a healthy, happy baby. Only a madman would leave it behind unless he absolutely had to.
King had accepted his madness a long time ago.
He said, ‘Slater needs my help.’
She stared into his eyes, like she could see into his soul. ‘Does he now?’
King cocked his head, realised it wasn’t the full truth. ‘He could probably take care of it on his own.’
‘What triggered it?’
She was right, he realised. She knew him maybe better than he knew himself. He hadn’t even mentioned the Dunfields’.
‘Bill wanted to learn how to strike,’ King said. ‘I gave him a lesson this morning. It’s like it woke something up. I called Slater right after, asked if there was anything on his plate. There was.’
‘He’s working on the list?’
He ran her through a summary of what was unfolding — Alexis, Ava, Mary Böhm, Frankie Booth, San Francisco. Violetta listened patiently.
When he finished she said, ‘I wouldn’t have cared either way. But now I’m glad you’re going.’
‘You think Alexis is biting off more than she can chew?’
‘She might be. But that’s what you and Will did, early in your careers. That’s how you learned.’
‘I don’t think Slater ever pushed her into this life. I think she was always eager to dive in. She was just looking for the opportunity. She found it in him, in what he could teach her.’
Violetta nodded slowly along. ‘I agree. She’s already more than I’ll ever be.’
‘That’s not true.’
Violetta smiled. ‘I made that sound worse than it is. Truth is, I don’t know if I want that life anymore. Storming Tirano’s townhouse a couple of months ago…it made me realise things. Now I want this.’ She gestured to the stroller, to the park, to the sun and the pleasant murmur of suburbia. ‘So I’m happy for her to be better than me at war. I have new priorities.’
‘Better priorities?’
‘I don’t think there’s good or bad. It all comes down to what you want.’
He nodded.
She said, ‘What do you want?’
‘To help Slater. I’d never forgive myself if he ended up needing me and I wasn’t there.’
She said nothing.
He said, ‘You’re okay with that?’
‘If I wasn’t okay with that we wouldn’t be right for each other.’ She paused. ‘And we
’re right for each other.’
He kissed her. ‘We leave tonight.’
‘Does Tyrell need looking after?’
‘I don’t think so. But I’ll make sure he has your number, knows to call if he needs anything.’
‘Of course.’
He could see her thinking about Tyrell, about Junior, about nurture.
She read his mind again. ‘That’s my world now.’
They got the stroller rolling again and finished their lazy walk through the park.
19
Late afternoon turned to early evening, and Slater heard a knock at the door.
Tyrell got there before he could. The teenager swung it open and peered up at King, who loomed on the porch.
‘You here for the sleepover?’ Tyrell said. ‘You bring pizza like I asked?’
King reached out and tousled his cornrows as he brushed past. ‘Funny.’
He went to the kitchen and clasped hands with Slater. They gave each other a knowing look. It said, We leave this happy-family business behind the moment we get on that plane.
Tyrell said, ‘When y’all leaving?’
‘Couple of hours,’ Slater said. ‘We got ourselves a red-eye.’ To King he said, ‘At least it’s not Mexico.’
They paused for a moment, then laughed in unison.
Tyrell said, ‘What’s funny?’
King turned to the boy. ‘Doesn’t matter where we’re going. San Francisco sounds nicer than Durango, but there’s scum everywhere. Even right here in Boston. You remember Tirano, that townhouse…’
Tyrell said, ‘The rest of the people on that list…are they from all over?’
‘No,’ Slater said. ‘They’re all here.’
‘Shouldn’t you be cleanin’ up Boston before you go elsewhere?’ Tyrell waited, and the lack of response provided the answer. ‘So you are going to protect her.’
King shifted foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable about talking business in front of a thirteen-year-old. But Tyrell was no ordinary teenager. All of them knew that, Tyrell included.
‘Yeah,’ Slater admitted. ‘We are.’
‘She cool with that?’
Slater nodded. ‘Listen, Tyrell, we’ve got to talk specifics.’
Tyrell held up a hand. ‘I get it, man. I’m gone. I’ll go play Call of Duty, let y’all play it in real life.’
There was a smirk on his face as he retreated to his room, but underlying the humour was an element of truth none of them felt the need to address.
When they were alone in the kitchen, King lowered his voice, conspiratorial. ‘How do you want to approach this?’
‘I did some research on the gym. It’s legit. There’s no knowing how many of his fighters he’s corrupted, but it might be widespread. Might be systemic. You know as well as I do there’s a sacred relationship between coach and student. It’s evil to breach that. I’ve got no doubt that if Frankie’s persuasive, he’s worked that dark magic on a bunch of his disciples. If you’re a budding fighter and you’ve got a father figure telling you what’s right and what’s wrong, and you’re impressionable, you’ll do whatever he tells you to do. So I don’t think finding Frankie and taking him out straight away is the right call. That won’t solve the problem, as tempting as it is.’
King said, ‘You’re right. Everything about this makes me sick. I say we go for a slow burn. Integrate ourselves with the gym, find out who’s involved and who’s not, learn how it’s connected to Heidi and Vitality+. You never know. Heidi might be one client of many. It’s Silicon Valley, after all. Success is everything and I’d wager there’s a few business tycoons who’d do anything to keep themselves at the top.’
‘We know that already.’
They did. They’d seen the worst in people too many times to keep a running count. The demands of giant corporations often stripped those at the top of their humanity, created an invisible pendulum that bound them to results, whatever that entailed. Even if it meant intimidation, torture, murder. They seemed to think there was no point keeping your morality if you lost your reputation in the process.
Slim chance Heidi Waters was the only entrepreneur in Silicon Valley who’d lost their mind.
Slater said, ‘“Integrate ourselves with the gym.” What are you thinking?’
King said, ‘I’m thinking we show a little of our skill. Make ourselves indispensable.’
Slater smirked. ‘Funny. I was thinking the same thing.’
They spent nearly an hour forming a fluid game plan, with emphasis on “fluid.” Rigidity never worked in their field. They formulated a path, and they would do what they could to stick to it, but roadblocks were inevitable.
Nothing a little improvisation couldn’t fix.
Time ticked by and as darkness blanketed Winthrop Slater scooped up his packed bag. He went down the hall and stuck his head into Tyrell’s room. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
Tyrell looked up from his iPad. ‘You’d better.’
Slater thought about leaving it there, not making a big deal out of it, but at the last second he crossed the room and knelt by the bedside. Tyrell threw his arms around Slater’s bowling-ball shoulders and hugged tight.
Slater muttered, ‘You’re one of the best things that’s happened to me.’
‘“One of”?’ Tyrell muttered back, with a smirk. ‘Man, you the best for me. Without you, I ain’t shit.’
Slater stood up. ‘I didn’t do anything. I just showed you who you could be.’
He walked out.
20
Mary Böhm heard the knocking on her door, right on schedule, but couldn’t bring herself to believe it was real.
It followed the pattern she’d been told to listen out for, so that was something. It snapped her out of her trance, got her off the couch, but as soon as she was up the apartment felt hollow, empty, too big. In reality it was a shoebox. She knew that. But every square inch of window was now a potential line of sight. She saw the image clear as day — the glass spider-webbing then shattering, the bullet punching through into the living room, embedding itself in her chest. She wondered if she’d feel the pain or simply snap out of existence, unaware of what had been her final moments.
The knock sounded again. Same pattern.
She went down the hall, but answering it blindly didn’t seem prudent, even if the rhythm was what Alexis had told her to listen out for. She pressed her eye to the keyhole, then thought, They could just shoot through it, put a bullet through my eye. But it was too late to do anything about that, so she peered out and saw a woman standing there who looked very similar. Same eyes, same hair, same skin. There were subtle differences, more obvious when you really looked, but it was close enough.
She opened the door, everything tight, braced for some shocking twist, like that Alexis had been working for Heidi all along…
Alexis’ face was blank. ‘You look like you’re about to pass out. Breathe.’
Mary tried.
Any second could be her last. She figured, even if she survived this whole ordeal, the stress would take years off of her life regardless.
Alexis shook her head in frustration. ‘Let’s go inside. No use me standing out here all night.’
Mary tried to keep her tone level. ‘Were you followed?’
‘No. They’re not watching every entrance.’
‘You sure?’
‘Absolutely. No one saw me.’
‘Okay.’
‘Let me through.’
Mary stepped aside. When Alexis crossed the threshold, an unspeakable relief passed through her. Alexis hadn’t produced a gun from her leather jacket. Hadn’t slipped a knife from the belt holding her skin-tight jeans up. Of course not. She’d been telling the truth about flying civilian from Boston, and you couldn’t exactly smuggle a weapon through airport security, no matter how talented you were.
Mary followed Alexis meekly down the hall, like a trailing puppy dog. ‘Do you…do you have a gun?’
Alexis looked over her shoul
der. ‘No. Why?’
‘What if—’
‘I picked up something else on the way here. It’ll do for now.’
‘What—?’
‘Not important. You need to breathe, Mary.’
Mary had been so focused on Alexis standing in her living room that she’d ignored the fact her vision was swimming. She planted herself down on the sofa, inhaled deeply. It helped. She gazed up at the woman. She knew nothing about her. ‘Honestly, what the fuck are you doing here?’
It brought a smile to Alexis’ face, cut through the tension. She sat down in an armchair on the other side of the living room, which wasn’t enough of a distance away to be awkward. The space was cosy, intimate. Mary couldn’t imagine the dread she’d feel if she lived in a bigger place.
Alexis tilted a lamp on the coffee table beside her away from her face, elongating shadow. ‘Ava spoke to you briefly about me. I helped her out of a bad spot.’
Mary nodded. ‘My mom noticed. Ava’s sister. She heard it in her voice. Can I ask…?’
‘You can ask whatever you want.’
‘Will you answer?’
‘Depends.’
‘Mom and I…we always suspected it was pain pills. It’s starting to seem like everyone in the middle-class has some sort of issue with them. We thought Ava was overdoing it, spiralling. It’s funny, because…’ She trailed off.
‘Because what?’
‘It’s the reason I took Heidi’s offer in the first place, four years ago. The reason she got me on board with Vitality+’s ethos. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I bought it. The idea that, if you get rid of the jitters associated with caffeine, then for a lot of people that’s enough. Not all of them, but Heidi was adamant that there’s a swathe of people who shy away from caffeine because they hate the anxiety. They crave that soothing feeling that opioids provide. Extreme example, I know, but I believe it. It’s all to escape pain, after all. But, um, that’s beside the point. Mom and I, we thought with Ava it was Oxys.’
‘It started that way,’ Alexis said. ‘By the time I got involved she was buying black tar heroin off ten-year-old kids.’
