Liberation Day - A Thorn Byrd Novel

by Dustin Stevens

The bell above the door jingled twice as Thorn passed through, once upon opening, another as it closed behind him. In a Pavlovian response conditioned from years of experience, the aging barista behind the character looked up at him as he entered, the look on her face bordering on hopeful, praying that something unusual would present itself to break up the monotony.

  Nodding once in her direction, Thorn shifted his attention away from her gaze, a bit of color flashing to his cheeks. For all the optimism she held behind the counter, he wasn’t there for a shot of liquid caffeine, didn’t intend to stay long.

  “Well, if it’s not Thorn Byrd,” a voice said as he stood on the foyer, surveying his surroundings. “I’ll be damned, he is smarter than he looks.”

  Drawing in a deep breath through his nose, Thorn let the ingested air lift his shoulders a few inches before dropping them down, turning to find Nio and Iggy seated together along the back wall. Both were dressed for the outdoors, jeans and pullovers, dark colors all around. Each had a coffee on the table in front of them, their beverages in to-go cups, lids already on.

  “Wasn’t hard to find you,” Thorn said, weaving his way through a handful of tables, most of them sitting empty. “All I had to do was go to the closest corner, and here you are.”

  Fire flashed behind Iggy’s eyes as she stared up at him, her right hand clenching into a fist atop her thigh. “I’m really starting to dislike you.”

  “I’m aware,” Thorn said, his voice dismissive as he shifted his attention to Nio. “Can we talk?”

  Using his foot, Nio pushed the chair between them out a few inches, motioning for Thorn to take it.

  “Not here,” Thorn said, twisting his head to the side. “You guys up for a walk?”

  A quick glance between them was the only reaction as they seemed to assent in unison, rising with their cups in hand at the same time. Heeding the cue, Thorn led them back out the front door, nobody saying anything as they crossed the street and headed away from the coffee shop.

  The riddle, if it could even be deemed that, was easy enough to decipher. At the far end of the docks was a single coffee shop, the only place within walking distance that wasn’t owned by Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks. Despite having less than a week on the job, Thorn knew it was the place Nio was referring to, the other joints too conspicuous for them to spend much time at all.

  “We missed you last night,” Nio said, his tone neither accusing nor condemning.

  “Yeah, I had dinner plans,” Thorn said, leaving his answer open-ended.

  “Poor girl,” Iggy commented, pretending to whisper, but making her voice loud enough to be heard.

  Pulling in another deep breath, Thorn steered the group from the sidewalk onto a wide footpath running parallel to the harbor. He positioned himself along the bank, Nio beside him, Iggy on the far end.

  “She always so pleasant?” Thorn asked, his voice hard, turning his head just slightly to look at Nio.

  A smirk pulled the younger man’s head back a few inches, the right side of his mouth curled upward. “Clearly you haven’t spent much time around Cuban women. It’s when they are being nice that you really have to worry.”

  A handful of barbs floated to Thorn’s mind as they walked on, each pointier than the one before. On another occasion he might have let them fly, but given his reasons for being there, he decided to pass.

  “Cuban, huh?” Thorn said. “In that case you should know I had a business meeting last night at a restaurant called La Rosa Negra where they served bistec de palomilla, tostones, and flan. How was your evening?”

  The comment did exactly as it was intended to, finding its target, hitting flesh without drawing blood. In the darkness he heard Iggy faux-whisper, “Really starting to dislike you,” a half smile pulling at his features.

  “The reason for the meeting,” Thorn pressed on, skipping right past her comment, “was to go over the schedule for tonight.”

  Beside him he could sense the Garcia’s both grow attentive, their body language becoming tense as they waited for him to continue. Raising his gaze, Thorn scanned the ground before them, finding it deserted. Digging his chin into his left shoulder he glanced back, noticing an older couple walking a hundred yards back, oblivious to the trio in front of them.

  “Word is another container is set to arrive tonight,” Thorn said. “Which I’m taking to mean it’s here now, and he wants to make sure it is still here come morning.”

  To his left he could sense both his companions casting glances at him, though he refrained from matching their looks.

  “He?” Nio asked.

  Thorn nodded, the response pure reflex. “Cat name Luis Cardoza. From what I could gather, he runs things for the Cuban operation here, owns La Rosa Negra.”

  “Hmm,” Nio said, processing the information. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Thorn said, recalling his encounter with the man the prior night. “I got the impression he’s not really the kind to be putting his face out there any more than necessary.”

  He refrained from adding any additional comments about the line of work the man was in, knowing it would only offend, regardless of his intent.

  “Okay, so a new shipment is here,” Iggy said. “You can’t really believe our father is on it.”

  Thorn’s eyebrows tracked upwards on his forehead, the thought one that had not crossed his mind. “Not in the slightest, but I didn’t think that was the only point in you guys sticking around right now.”

  “It’s not,” Nio inserted. “So you think there’s a chance something’s going to go down tonight?”

  A long moment passed as Thorn aimed his attention out over the water, the lights of Boston behind them shimmering across its surface. In the air floated a pair of lazy gulls, the sound of their wings beating just audible in the silence.

  “I don’t know,” Thorn said, “but if you’re serious about sticking around, I could use your help in monitoring it.”

  Iggy started to comment, her words cut off by Nio, holding a hand out toward her, his attention still aimed at Thorn. “What did you have in mind?”

  Once more rotating at the waist to cheek their tail, Thorn extracted his cell phone from his pocket and extended it to Nio. “One hour from now I will place four fiber optic cameras around the container, their live feeds running back into this phone.”

  Nio accepted the device without comment, pocketing it away the moment it touched his palm.

  “Last night I did a dry run, so I know the feeds work, but it was a pain in the ass trying to keep an active eye on it,” Thorn said. “Tonight, knowing there’s a live target on the ground, it would be helpful to have somebody watching full time.”

  In front of them the trail split in half, extending out in a short loop before depositing travelers back the way they had come. Drifting to the right, Thorn pulled the others along with him, slowing his pace.

  “How close do we need to be for it to work?” Nio asked.

  “About a mile,” Thorn replied, the range nowhere near some of the things he had worked with in the past, but still sufficient for his purposes tonight. “I figured since you guys are spending so much time hanging around here at the moment, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “It won’t be,” Nio confirmed.

  “And what happens if we do see something?” Iggy asked. “We whisper into your super cool, high-tech earpiece or something?”

  Another scowl flashed over Thorn’s face, just as fast disappearing, biting back the evoked response. “One of you will give me your phone. If you see something, you call me.”

  The last of the trail stretched out a few feet before them, the brown dirt and gravel looping back in the opposite direction. Beyond it was a few feet of grass in front of a waist-high barrier, the ocean just below.

  Thorn slowed his pace even more, drawing Nio and Iggy to a stop beside him. In the darkness, Nio extended a small black square his direction, Thorn accepting and tucking it away before shoving hi
s hands in his pockets.

  “I’ll meet you guys back at the coffee shop at seven,” he said. “If nothing transpires, we’ll swap phones back and be on our way.”

  “And if it does?” Nio asked, standing just a few feet away, matching Thorn’s pose, his gaze aimed out to sea.

  “Depends on what happens,” Thorn said, “but we’ll deal with it then.”

  For the first time Iggy refrained from comment, the trio standing in silence before Thorn turned and headed back the way they’d just come, alone.

  Chapter Thirty