McGill's Short Cases 1-3, Three Jim McGill Short Stories
Page 11
Leo checked out the SUV the local office of the Secret Service brought to the airport and drove everyone to the Roosevelt Hotel. All the NFL players represented by Cyrus Zale were already in their rooms and joined McGill and Sweetie in his suite, as did J. R. Sullivan, the specialist Nick had found for McGill.
The hotel, befitting a five-star establishment, came up with a white board and black and red markers for McGill. He drew up the play so all the guys could envision their responsibilities and work together as a team.
McGill had booked an event space in the hotel called The Saenger Room. For a reception, the room had a maximum occupancy of twenty people. Eighteen would be present. Sweetie, Deke and himself plus the thirteen players and Hilaire and Zale.
McGill wanted the feeling to be cozy.
The players entered the room in business attire, as befitted the hotel’s ambience. McGill explained to them what Sullivan’s medical specialty was. He also told them Sullivan was a former army helicopter pilot in Operation Desert Storm, the first Persian Gulf war, and the winner of a Bronze Star with the V device awarded for heroism. The players doffed their street clothes and lined up before Sullivan wearing only gym shorts. The smallest player was half again bigger than Sullivan, but they all paid rapt attention to him as he told his stories of being a real warrior and went about his work.
When Sullivan finished he accepted a check from McGill and asked if he might stay and watch from the sidelines. McGill said, “Sure.”
Nineteen in the room made it cozier still.
Everyone took his place, and McGill dimmed the lights.
Having timed things well, they needed to wait only a few minutes.
Hilaire led Cyrus Zale to The Saenger Room. She wore a Naeem Khan appliquéd cocktail dress in black and white. He wore a black Lanvin suit with a crimson tie. They were dressed up to do a night on the town, but first Hilaire had a surprise for Cyrus.
She let him worm it out of her.
“Matthew wants to see you,” she told him.
Cyrus laughed. “I knew you’d scare him into coming back to me. Guys like that, they’ll beat on each other ‘til they drop. But a woman? She can scare them just like —”
Cyrus opened the door to The Saenger Room.
He was the one who shrieked.
Hilaire pushed him into the room and closed the door behind her. That was before she saw Matthew. He stood before them, monstrous in size, wearing only a pair of shorts and …
Fine silvery needles sticking out of him everywhere.
His scalp, his face, his neck, his shoulders, arms and torso, his legs and feet.
Good God, there was even a needle in the inner corner of his right eye.
Cyrus turned to bolt from the room. Only now there was a man with a hard Afro-Eurasian face blocking the door. He was fully dressed. Even so, it was impossible to miss the outline of the weapon under his coat. Not just a handgun. It looked like a compact automatic weapon.
He didn’t take it out. Didn’t say a word. Doing either was unnecessary.
There would be no getting past him.
Things got even worse when another massive, multi-punctured figure stepped out of the shadows. Cyrus and Hilaire both recognized him. Another client, another sucker. A player who’d paid Cyrus his league-mandated three percent and from whom Hilaire had extorted another twenty-five percent.
One by one eleven more players stepped forward, forcing Cyrus and Hilaire to the center of a circle formed by huge, silent, glaring men, each of whom was perforated and made to look more menacing by dozens of tiny needles sticking out of him.
By this time, Hilaire was studying the placement of all those needles.
All Cyrus could do was look around fearfully, hold his palms up and say, “Guys, guys, guys, you’re playin’ with us, right. You sure put a good scare into Hilaire and me; we’ll all have a good laugh about it and —”
“No,” McGill said. He slipped between Matthew and another player into the circle. “Your clients are here to renegotiate their contracts, and get back the money you stole from them. Now, you can either agree to their demands or I’ll call the U.S. attorney for the Eastern District of Louisiana and let you and the guys explain yourselves to her. If that doesn’t scare you, Mr. Zale, I’ll call the NFL office in New York, too.”
“Who the hell are you, mister?” Zale asked. “And what’ve you done to all my boys?”
It amused McGill, and reassured him, when someone failed to recognize him.
Made him think there might be some measure of privacy for him after Patti left office.
“I’m the guy who figured out your scam, and the guy who will put you in federal prison, if you don’t go along with the game plan. That’s all you need to know.”
“You’re showing us your voodoo is stronger than mine,” Hilaire said.
“It’s called acupuncture, but yeah,” McGill said. “We had a specialist come in to treat the guys, tell them stories about facing down enemies and they started feeling better right away. We’ve got a nice case of corresponding healing going on here. You use pins to hurt; we use needles to heal.”
Hilaire smiled. “You’re a pretty smart fella. Maybe you and me should talk.”
That made Cyrus look at her and frown.
McGill told him, “Don’t worry. I’m spoken for.”
The moment of displeasure with Hilaire was enough to spark defiance in Cyrus.
He said to McGill, “So what if I don’t like your game plan? What if I say you let me out of here or I’ll file charges against you? False imprisonment or something like that.”
“That would be a difficult charge to sustain,” McGill said. “Because if you’re not agreeable my friends and I will be the ones to leave the room, and you’ll have some time to chat in private with your clients. I believe you saw the error of your ways when you spoke with Matthew. Now, the other guys can put a word in your ear, too.”
As planned and diagrammed by McGill, the players tightened the circle.
McGill could feel the aura of power the huge young men generated.
They weren’t even ticked off at him but it was still intimidating.
Cyrus Zale’s face turned to Jell-O. “Okay, okay, okay. What do you want?”
The players stepped back, as planned.
McGill said, “The first thing you have to understand is there will be no bargaining. You raise any objections, I step aside and you’re on your own. You understand? Good. You terminate your agreements with all your clients, not just the ones in this room. In fact, you get out of professional sports altogether.”
That almost brought a cry of protest from Zale.
But the players closed in again, on their own.
Talented athletes knew when to improvise.
Zale nodded vigorously. The guys stayed close to keep the pressure on.
“You repay all the money you and Hilaire extorted from them. You’ll place the commission you received from each player into a numbered account. Once that’s done, you’ll make sure you never contact them again, in person or by proxy. You do those things and you’ll be free to find a new path in life. I’d ask you if that sounds good to you, but your opinion doesn’t really matter here. Nod again if you understand.”
Zale did, and he raised his hand.
“What?” McGill asked.
“What about her?” he said, inclining his head Hilaire’s way.
“We’re going to talk with her after we’re done with you.”
They were done with Zale in short order. McGill had brought forms for him to sign for each player, releasing them from their contracts with him and acknowledging the amount of money he owed each of them. Collecting those sums wouldn’t be easy, but McGill had one idea that might help.
Before Zale left the room, Sweetie tossed a fetish to McGill.
It looked just like Zale.
“Maybe you don’t believe in voodoo,” McGill said, “but if you don’t make good on your repayments, maybe you’ll find
a reason to change your mind.”
McGill handed the doll to Hilaire.
She smiled. Zale glared at her, but left while he could.
Deke closed the door behind him.
McGill told Hilaire, “Matthew has said he’d be willing to pay you a three percent commission to represent his interests. You still feel that way, Matthew?”
The young giant nodded. Hilaire smiled at him.
The other players took notice.
“You guys all need a new agent. Don’t feel obligated to make the same decision Matthew did, but, who knows, maybe Hilaire could work some good juju for all your careers.”
Hilaire gave McGill her best smile; it was damn near bewitching.
Didn’t keep him from telling her, “I’ll be watching to make sure everyone’s best interests are represented.”
On the way out of the room, McGill noticed Hilaire talking not with any of her new clients but with J. R. Sullivan. Two pros at the insertion and removal of pointed objects. McGill might have been concerned for the guy if he hadn’t tested his mettle under fire.
On the flight home, Sweetie told McGill, “That wrapped up nicely.”
He said, “If it wasn’t corny, I’d say neat as a pin.”
“But you said it anyway.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not worried about a voodoo queen helping all those guys play against the Bears?”
McGill laughed. “No, I was worried about hanging around her too long.”
Leaving no room for misunderstanding, he added, “I was tempted to ask Hilaire if she could bring Vince Lombardi back from the dead to coach our guys this time.”
Sweetie loved the idea.
About the Author
Joseph Flynn has been published both traditionally — Signet Books, Bantam Books and Variance Publishing — and through his own imprint, Stray Dog Press, Inc. Both major media reviews and reader reviews have praised his work. Booklist said, “Flynn is an excellent storyteller.” The Chicago Tribune said, “Flynn [is] a master of high-octane plotting.” The most repeated reader comment is: Write faster, we want more.
Contact Joe at Hey Joe on his website: www.josephflynn.com. You can also read excerpts of all of Joe’s books on his website.
All of Joseph Flynn’s novels may be purchased online at amazon.com.
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