Searching for Harpies

by Charlie Vogel

  “Fuck that, Claude,” Lori sputtered. “Cancel your goddamn cavalry. We made a deal. This ain’t fucking over. We’re staying until that bitch has replaced Tommy Manning in jail. Forgive my French, Holy Man, sir.”

  * * *

  Roy and Slominski took only ten minutes to discuss how they thought Priscilla Eleanor Godfrey was going to arrive then react to the confrontation. I stood at the front window sipping my passion juice to keep from telling them the only thing they had right was that she would not come alone.

  Already determined to trick her into identifying herself as Harpies, I searched for some way to get her to admit framing Fr. Manning. If I could just lead her into why she went out of her way twice to turn the spotlight on him . . . I scratched at the shoulder straps of the bulletproof vest Slominski forced on me. It filled out my Nails tee shirt. Lori hadn’t been impressed before she flounced off to the surveillance van to join the bishop and guard Benny. It didn’t help that I told her she would more likely piss off Godfrey than manipulate her. Her parting “Fuck you” still rang in my ears.

  No, it was her voice in my ear piece saying, “Black Lincoln, tinted windows. Get ready.”

  Just get her to talk. Just get her to talk. Just get her . . .

  The familiar black vehicle pulled in beside the Oldsmobile, looking like a black swan hating to be seen with a sickly duck. I slipped to the side of the store and hurried back to the cage and the counter. I had only eight rounds in the Beretta, since I put one in Benny. Watching the front door, I rubbed the butt of the gun at my waist and hoped I wouldn’t have to use it. I glanced down at the shelf where Roy had put the shotgun. I especially didn’t want to “Just aim and pull the trigger” of that gun as he had instructed. My artist’s mind painted the store in blotches of red. Shit!

  Heart rate increasing, I waited and waited. Roy’s voice in my ear said, “No one’s moving. I think she’s waiting for you to come outside.”

  “Can you see anyone in the car?”

  “No. I’m peaking out of the pile of dirty laundry in the back seat of your Oldsmobile. I’ll cover you.”

  “He’ll be a sitting duck, asshole,” Lori snapped.

  “And you care?” Roy taunted.

  “Shut up!” Slominski ordered.

  “Wait!” Roy said. “False alarm. Second car went on by. Make your move, Fr. Dumb Ass.”

  We had agreed Harpies had to act first, not me. I didn’t want to be the center of her private little Fourth of July. Yeah, it would signal the real cops to ride in, even with that vest, I could still get shot to pieces and real dead. Shit!

  The phone rang by my hand. I tried to ignore it, but the constant ringing drove me nuts. Eyes glued to the front door, I tapped the “Talk” button. “This business is closed. Call back tomorrow.”

  A male voice asked, “Mr. Norris?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “You don’t know me. Harpies is with me outside the store. She wishes to talk.”

  “The door’s open. Have her come in.”

  “You don’t understand, Norris. She has the upper hand. If you and Lori Saint both don’t step out in ten seconds, the two of you will be history.”

  “Lori’s not here. She took your guard dog to the vet.” I took a deep breath. “He got in the way of one of my bullets.”

  “Think you’re tough, huh? Time’s running out.” The call ended.

  “Did everybody hear that?” I whispered.

  A chorus of “yes” answered me, then Slominski added, “Keep your civilian ass in that store, Norris.”

  With beads of sweat on my forehead, I left the cage to cross the store. I peered around the posters on the door, trying to see where Slominski hid. On the side of the Lincoln away from the Oldsmobile, the rear door opened. I saw no feet step to the ground.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped into the sunlight.

  A voice from the car called out, “Whatever weapons you’re carrying, drop ‘em or I’ll drop you.”

  I gingerly pulled the Beretta free and bent to set it on the sidewalk. I won’t be making any bullet holes, at least. I shivered.

  “Come to the open door.”

  Nothing moved as I walked. When I rounded the open door, a large hand grabbed my tee shirt and yanked me onto the backseat. My hands came up to protect my head but not in time. Pain exploded above my ear and the world went black.

  * * *

  My head throbbed in time to my heart beat. Pain. Heart beat. I’m alive! I tried to raise my right hand to check for injuries, but my arms had been plastered to my legs with bands of something. I forced my eyes open, seeing blurred cars passing on the other side of tinted windows. I recognized Memorial Park beyond the traffic.

  A man chuckled. Then the voice I had beard before said, “You weren’t out long. Sorry about the headache.”

  I wiggled in the leather seat to set my back to the door so I could see him. Harpies liked her men big and in suits. He wore aviator sunglasses even inside the dim car.

  “I can tell you’re really concerned. Where’s Harpies?”

  “She’s in the other car. You’ll meet up with her later.”

  “She normally kills anyone who gets in her way, so what’s up with the snatch?”

  “Well, Harpies did want to kill your friend Lori, but she needs you.”

  “Why would she need me?”

  “It has to do with your brother, Donald. He refuses to cooperate with us. He runs a reputable import business and we need him to help with a large shipment.”

  “You’re crazy! What makes you think he’ll help you?”

  “Harpies thinks he will do just about anything to save your life.”

  Static crackled faintly in my ear, then Lori’s voice said, “Bob, we can hear, but signal’s weak. Roy is following in the Oldsmobile. Ditch the mic before they find it.”

  The Curly button hung from my torn shirt, the tiny mic taped behind the pin. I sighed heavily and tried to adjust my position. The stiff bulletproof vest didn’t help.

  “Look, I’m not like Lori. I don’t know any of that Karate shit. You made me leave my gun. I’m harmless. Could you undo my hands? I’ll do what you say.”

  The tinted windows kept the interior of the car in half-light. When the man lit a cigar, I finally glimpsed a clean-shaven face and close-cut hair. The driver who hadn’t said a word looked much the same, including the sunglasses. What? Is she cloning these bastards?

  Cigar smoke billowed, not unpleasantly. “I don’t trust you. As you can see, I’m the only one back here with you. It seems you and Lori have a habit of killing Harpies’ employees. Besides making me cautious, it really pisses her off.”

  I huffed irritably. “How much further we have to go then?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “My damn ass itches. I need to scratch it.”

  He chuckled. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Another block, in Beatrice Estates. You can suffer until then.”

  “Ever had hemorrhoids, asshole?”

  “If I’m an asshole then you’re my hemorrhoid.” Both he and the driver laughed at that one.

  Roy’s weak voice said, “I lost ya, Bob. Got you back just when he gave the location. Back-up coming. Be careful.”

  “You listening to a download of the Nine Inch Nails?”

  “Nah, it’s cutting out. Could be the battery. Or maybe you broke it when you hauled my ass into the car and wrapped me in duct tape.”

  He shrugged then waved the cigar at me. “I know a little about MP3’s. I’ll look at it when we arrive.”

  “No need. It’s a cheap model I picked up to listen to Neil Diamond.”

  “Well, that’s a contrast to the Nails. You are an interesting man, Norris. More importantly, you and your brother are too rich. ”

  “No such thing, or hasn’t Harpies taught you that yet?”

  “I said you’re too rich. I didn’t say we are . . . yet.”

  “Money only means you
can buy anything you want . . . like the new MP3 player I’ll pick up when this is over.”

  “Good luck staying alive to do that.”

  * * *

  Once they dragged me to the recreation room in the basement of a large split-level home, the suited man and his clone left. Three even bigger apes with long barrel handguns in holsters replaced them. At least, they had the courtesy to cut the duct tape from my hands and legs and even gave me a plastic glass of water. From a comfortable upholstered chair, I silently watched two of them play pool. The third one stood near me, legs spread, hands folded in front almost like a trained soldier. Hm, like trained mercenaries. We wondered where Harpies was getting her men. There’s something for Roy to follow up on.

  I unpinned Curly and let him drop between the cushions, then took out the earplug and wrapped the wire around the phony MP3 player. When the guard at my side focused enthusiastic attention on the cue ball, I dropped the player and used my foot to slide it under the chair.

  “Well, Mr. Norris, we meet again.”

  I was proud that I didn’t stiffen, but instead turned casually to lift my iced water in a salute toward the too thin woman in her austere business suit who had just entered. “Ms. Godfrey . . . or could I call you Peg? Maybe just plain Harpies?”

  “Never that because I’m not her. I’m just Priscilla or Ms. Godfrey.”

  “You’re trying to make me laugh, right?” I held up a palm in surrender. “Okay, I’ll play your game. What’s your part in this drug ring?”

  She cocked her head on that long, skinny neck. “I’m like you. Another pawn on the board. Harpies has a hold on me. I collect money and put it in a Bison Insurance account. It is then sent to a New York bank account, which is used by Harpies or her friends in Jamaica.”

  “Good story that doesn’t explain why would you tell me all those details. What is so bad that someone could control you like this? Ah, your past maybe?”

  “What do you know about that?”

  “You were a top-less go-go dancer at a bar.”

  From the tightening around her eyes, I knew I had hit a nerve. Anger curled her lips and tightened her voice. “How long have you known that?”

  “A while. An old friend told me.”

  “And how many people at Bison did you tell?”

  “No one. Living or . . . dead.” She didn’t flinch in the stare down.

  “Ah, so not even your friend Harry Piston or, ah, what’s your other friend’s name?”

  “Lori Saint. I believe you know her as well as she knows you.”

  She shrugged. “Not really, just what’s in her file. Look, Mr. Norris, Let me explain myself. For the first time in my life I have the chance to legitimately advance over common people.” She sat in the chair matching mine and leaned forward, sincere and intense. “If by some small chance you or Lori Saint come out of this mess alive, I want you to understand one thing. I will kill you myself, just to keep my past a secret.”

  I grunted. “I do believe you on that one.”

  Godfrey settled back in the chair looking me up and down from old athletic shoes and worn jeans with its cowboy belt to torn and faded Nails tee shirt and my now collar length hair and short beard. She shook her head. “You’ve got money and position in this city yet you dress like that and wallow in the pig sty of the common man. I don’t get it. Why did you and Saint decide to stick your noses into our business?”

  “I started out just wanting Fr. Manning free from jail and cleared. Now, I want the violence to stop.”

  “Manning’s freedom won’t be possible at this time.”

  “Why not?”

  She examined her manicure and played with expensive rings on one hand then the other, keeping me waiting. “Simply because . . . he can identify Harpies.”

  I laughed. “No, he can’t. Is that why . . .Who put the murder weapon in his car?” Damn, I wished the mic was recording.

  “Harpies had one of her people do it while he was packing to leave. She then simply put out the call and had police officers she knew stop him.” The ice cold snarl returned to her face. “And, Norris, you are wrong, probably dead wrong. The priest does know Harpies. He just hasn’t made the connection.”

  “You seemed to be at ease telling me all this . . . like it won’t matter because I’ll probably be dead.”

  She shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Since you’re spilling your guts, why does she want me?”

  “Your brother’s import business.”

  “Yeah, her Man-in-Black in the Lincoln told me on the way over. Has she even contacted Donald directly or did she think she needed to force him by threatening my life?”

  “Oh, she talked to him. She suspected he wet his pants. Within an hour he had a protection order and top security around him to prevent any visits, phone calls or electronic contact. But neither your brother or you understand how determined and powerful she is. When she wants something, she gets it. So here you are to force his help. She thinks it will be a matter of just a few days.”

  “And if he doesn’t help?”

  “You’re dead. He manages the drug shipment and . . . you might get lucky.”

  It was hard to laugh, but I did. “Donald didn’t get where he is by being a fool.”

  “Neither did Harpies. So, I guess it will be contest of wills, right?”

  “That simple, eh? Now, I have a question for you. What’s Fr. Manning’s connection to Harpies?”

  “She’s his sister.”

  Chapter 15

  Across the room the phone sitting in its charger base rang. The closest guard checked the caller I.D. then hurried to pass the handset to Godfrey. She turned her back and paced away from me, lowering her voice so all I caught were murmurs. The two guards went back to their game. The clicking of pool balls and the negative comments thrown between them didn’t help my effort to eavesdrop. I couldn’t exactly tell them to shut up.

  Returning to stare down at me, she clicked off the call and snapped her fingers. The three men shifted back to their attentive roles by gathering behind her. Like Trained guard dogs. I stifled a smirk.

  “Harpies wants to see you . . . now.”

  I threw up my hands. “She’s got my permission.”

  “No, you go to her, Mr. Norris. With hands tied and blindfolded.”

  My heart rate bumped up because no mantra came to mind. “Why?”

  “In case you decide to escape and hurry to the cops. Which reminds me, you boys need to do a strip search.” Her expression turned flat and cold, much like her personality. “Take everything off.”

  “I’m not carrying any weapons.”

  “We don’t personally know that. We also want to be sure you’re not wired or have a cell phone with GPS tracking.”

  “I rarely carry a cell phone, but isn’t it a little too late to find out?”

  “I’m reading that you don’t care . . . which tells me you’re clean. Leon searched you thoroughly in the car after he knocked you out, but I believe in giving personal attention to such details. After all, it’s my neck Harpies has on the chopping block. Am I right?”

  “About which part? Leon being thorough, your being careful or Harpies using you to take her fall?”

  “Stand up, smart ass, and strip or the boys will do it for you.”

  As the trio moved around her I pushed up from the chair, my fingers shoving Curly deeper down beside the cushion. I whipped off the Nails tee and yanked at the Velcro of the vest. It thudded heavily to the floor. I barely kept my balance as I toed off the athletic shoes.

  “You want everything off?’

  “Yes.”

  “Could you, like leave the room or maybe turn your back?”

  Her chuckle had me clamping my molars. A sharp ache reminded me I still hadn’t seen a dentist from my run-in with Kobo. How many weeks ago? Time flies when dealing with shit. No time for anything. Always a good excuse, even with Lori.

  “I don’t think I want you asking for or dictating anyth
ing. I’m thinking this will be the best part of the whole screwed up day.”

  I worked at the belt buckle. “Well, being an exhibitionist isn’t a turn-on for me.”

  “Who cares? Quit stalling. Trust me, I’ve seen more than my share of naked men. You do look fit for your age. Or is there something we haven’t seen yet that makes you ashamed?”

  I unzipped the jeans fly, hooked my thumbs in the waistband of both pants and shorts and shoved everything to the floor. Just like Hartford doing an annual physical, but, if one of them snaps on gloves, I will not be happy. I looked down my nose at the guard searching my clothes. I worked hard to ignore the bitch looking me up and down, noting she stared a little too long below my waist. Either she’s comparing me to her long list of naked guys or it’s been a while since she’s seen one. I controlled the urge to ask.

  The round-faced guard finished with my clothes and shook his head. Godfrey flicked her skinny hand and he threw the pile at me. I dressed in record time, leaving the vest on the floor. Dropping back into the chair, I loosened the knots of the athletic shoe laces and fumbled getting my feet covered again. The mundane moves had my watchers turning away long enough for me to recover Curly and slide the button under my belt. I hoped the mic still worked.

  Minutes later a guard beckoned me to the rec room bar and stools where another had spread a quick meal of nuked polish sausages on buns and chips. I noticed they all got beer but I only got more water. Few words were spoken as everybody but Godfrey wolfed down the food to her commands of “Hurry up, hurry up.”

  The bitch led the way to the driveway and a luxury black limo.

  “So you’ve moved up from the common people’s Lincolns to I’ve-got-fucking-money limos?”

  She whirled on me. “You don’t drive a Chevy or a Ford, do you, rich guy?”

  “No, it’s a sweet Ferrari Boxer. Red.”

  “See how money works? Ted, put him in the forward-facing seat. You and Bruno join us. Bill drives.”

  Ted shoved me into my seat then pulled down the backward facing seat. His knees and big feet bumped mine. I was moving when Godfrey settled beside me. She kept her distance as if I had body lice. The second guard settled into his fold down.