Shattered Shell

by Brendan DuBois

  He nodded slowly. "Sorry to hear that." Back to the phone "Your lucky night, Manny. I need a tow job, too. Part of a clean up. A dark green Range Rover's parked up on Atlantic Avenue by North Tyler, near Sally's Clam Shack. Get rid of it and store it somewhere."

  I could make out the voice on the other end of the line. "Of course it's got to be towed, you idiot, it's full of bullet holes. Call me at this number ... " and he gave Manny my home number, "when you've got everything set up."

  Felix hung up and said, "You want to tell me what happened tonight?"

  "Yes, but after a shower and some dry clothes."

  His nose wrinkled a bit. "Thanks. I think that's for the best."

  I managed a smile. "You're so gallant, Tinios, it makes my heart sing."

  He said something not very gallant in return, and I made my way upstairs.

  After cleaning up in the bathroom I started working on my knee. As I dug through the medicine cabinet, Felix's 9mm pistol was on the counter. My knee injuries were mostly scrapes, with one deep cut that was taken care of by a gauze bandage and some tape, and when left the bathroom I got the willies again about what had happened, remembering the gut-clenching sound of weapons being fired at me, hearing the metal-jacketed rounds that were meant for my flesh go tearing through my Rover, and then I was on my knees. I threw up in a series of painful spasms, my gut twisting at nothing there, only bringing up bile, and my sore knee on the tile floor made the pain that much more exquisite. I washed up some with cold water, got into my bedroom, and got dressed. In the top drawer of my oak dresser I retrieved my own 9mm Beretta, and I went downstairs and handed over Felix's piece.

  "Thanks for the loaner."

  “You're welcome. How about a beer?"

  "After tonight, I'd brew you a beer if I knew how to do such a damn thing."

  L got Felix a Molson Golden and poured myself some ice water, and as he sat on the couch with the shotgun across his lap and I sat with my Beretta, I told him about my trip south and my encounter with Doug and his friends at the Brick Yard Pub, and about the take-out meal on the ground that was probably now being picked over by seagulls.

  Felix said, "Lewis, it looks like you have mightily pissed somebody off."

  "I would guess you're right. I didn't think Doug was that much of anybody. But less than an hour after I was rattling his cage, there's a car full of goons waiting for me in North Tyler, waiting to cut me to pieces."

  "Don't think it was just Doug. It might be his boss or a worker. Look, ever since I moved here, I've focused my attention on points north, like here and Maine. Too many people are ping over the turf down south. Hell, I probably don't know half players on the North Shore. But I do know this. That pub is as a neutral place where deals get struck and agreements are made. You going in there and stirring the pot had to trigger a response. Only surprise is, that was one hell of a quick reaction."

  "Someone with a temper, or someone who moves fast." The water tasted cold and sweet indeed, and my stomach rumbled hunger.

  "Or both. Question is, what's next?"

  "I suppose a good night's sleep and a hearty breakfast is what you mean,"

  “No, it’s not. Question is, are you going to tell Diane about your little misadventure tonight, or are you ---"

  Just then, the phone rang. Felix picked up the receiver and said, "Yeah, Manny, it's about --- Oh."

  Felix had a strained look on his face as he handed it over to me. "It's for you."

  I'm sure my face was full of questions, but I took the phone and said, "Yes?"

  "Lewis Cole?" came a male voice I didn't recognize.

  "The same."

  "Sorry to hear about your misadventure in North Tyler tonight," the quiet and polite voice said. "Would you care to talk about it?"

  Felix was staring at me and I was staring right back. "I would love to," I said.

  I scooted over to the couch and sat next to Felix, and I moved the phone receiver away a bit so he could make out both ends of the conversation. "Who is this?" I asked.

  A bit of a laugh. "Please, Mr. Cole. You really weren't expecting an answer, were you?"

  "One can always hope."

  "Maybe so, but not tonight. There are things to discuss. Shall I start?"

  "Go right ahead."

  "About the... activity up in North Tyler," he said. "Were you injured at all?"

  “A bump or two, but I'll survive," I said. "Were those… gentlemen who came to me in North Tyler, are they in your hire?"

  Quiet on the other end for a moment. "On some nights they are. Tonight, they were working a little freelance. Something that I didn't sanction."

  "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

  "I don't know what will make you feel better, Mr. Cole. I do know we must settle something before it gets too complicated. You’re looking for someone, correct?"

  Felix looked at me and I looked back and shrugged, "I am. How do you know?"

  "I know you are looking for the man who raped a friend of yours. One Kara Miles of High Street. Would you be interested in knowing that I am aware of this man?"

  I leaned forward, forcing Felix to keep up with me. "I would be very interested."

  "Very good," the same voice said. ''The fact that I know who you’re looking for and why, that should be adequate enough to prove my bona fides, would it not?"

  "You're doing pretty well so far," I said. "So what was the point of the gunplay earlier on, or is that something else you're not preparing to discuss?"

  "Oh, it was nothing out of the ordinary," he said. "I'll explain, if you don't mind."

  "I haven't said no yet, now, have I?"

  Another laugh. I decided he was a bit too affected and pompous, and wondered how he'd feel if someone shot up his car. "Yes, you’ve been quite agreeable. Listen, there are business negotiations going on here in the North Shore that are nearing completion between two, urn, rival groups. Nothing too fancy, nothing large enough to merit interest for the news media or most cops. They're too busy sniffing around Boston."

  Felix made a face and I said, "Go on."

  "These negotiations are almost completed, and when they completed, a number of people are going to get very wealthy, very quickly. So you can see there is a lot of interest on many people in these parts that these agreements conclude without a hitch."

  "I've been called many things before, but never a hitch."

  "Well, there you are. One group has a primitive young man who has a taste for... for the kind of thing that happened to you friend. Sometimes he acts alone and other times, like with Miss Miles, he has assistance. This man, unfortunately, has connection and is important to the members of his group. The incident ---"

  “Rape, you mean," I said, finally tiring of his smooth patter.

  "Yes, rape," he agreed, without missing a beat. "That man’s action would have made no difference to the final outcome of the deal. If you excuse the expression, these things do happen. But then you came along, Mr. Cole."

  Felix nodded and I understood, as well. "Asking questions and poking my nose in, and getting people nervous."

  "Exactly. So tonight someone's patience was reached and you were paid a visit. Quite stupid on their part, for I'm sure you know what happens next."

  "Two things," I said. "Either I go to the cops or I come back with some friends of my own, with some equivalent firepower."

  "So true."

  "And the deal or whatever the hell you're doing is in jeopardy."

  A deep breath from the other side of the phone. "Again, you are quite right. So after I found out what happened, I decided to make this little call and make you an offer."

  I looked over at Felix, who had a very studious look on his face. "An offer I'm sure I won't be able to refuse, right?"

  A slight laugh. "An offer I think you'll find attractive. Sometime this week, I'll turn over this man to you. No questions asked. In return, you stay out of Massachusetts for the rest of the month. Stop asking questions, stop follo
wing people, stop showing up in public drinking facilities where you're not welcome."

  "That sounds pretty generous," I said. "Why don't you give me his name and address right now, and we'll call it even. No need for a formal exchange."

  I could still make out the nameless man's measured breathing. "But a formal exchange will serve a purpose. I want the word to get out to his colleagues that nothing will threaten this arrangement. Nothing. A public turnover will do just that."

  "And when and how do you propose to do this?"

  A faint rustle of papers, Checking his schedule, perhaps?

  Day after tomorrow. Eight p.m. At the old airport outside of Newburyport, The far south hangar. I'll be there, along with the man you want. You and whomever can show up and take him away, and whatever you do then is up to you. I don't care. Just stay out of my sate for the rest of the month."

  My stomach was still doing dips and wheels and I swallowed a few times from the excessive saliva, and I said, "This man we've been discussing. Does he have a taste for knives, and did he visit Kara's landlord not so long ago?"

  A longer pause, and the voice, maybe not as sure, said, "I believe so, though I don't have direct evidence. It sounds logical, although, does it not? In either event, he's yours for the asking, and I’ll be showing up in two days."

  "Sounds too good to be true."

  "I don't care how it sounds. I do care if we have a deal. Do we?"

  Felix nodded vigorously and I said, "All right, then. We have an agreement. One rapist in exchange for me staying home and away from your charming home state."

  "Good," said the voice, "See you then." And then he hung up.

  I replaced my own receiver and looked up at Felix and said, "It's a trap, isn't it?”

  "About as blatant a one as I've ever seen."

  "They think I'm that stupid?"

  "Maybe they think you're that desperate."

  I jumped about a half-mile when the phone rang again, and I answered and a quiet, meek voice said, "Felix?"

  "Hold on," and I passed it over and he smiled and said, "All set, Manny? Pickets set up? Rover towed away? Well, hell, I told you it got shot up. Not my fault you have to cover it with a tarp: I'll check with you tomorrow."

  Felix hung up and we sat there, then I got up, made a fire, went into the kitchen, and got another Molson's for Felix and a tall glass of water and a bag of saltine crackers for myself. I was tired and hungry and sore, but the fire felt nice and I liked having Felix in my house and his associates outside.

  Felix drank from his beer and I tried to quiet the trembling tension in my gut, and I said, "So it's a trap. Do we ignore it, or do we go in, knowing it's a trap?"

  "We ignore it, it's not going away."

  "So we go in."

  He cocked an eyebrow. "Not what I said. It's up to you, my friend, since you're paying the freight on this little adventure. I was just pointing out the options, as miserable as they may be."

  "I know what you're doing, and I also meant what I said. We go in."

  Another eyebrow movement. "Diane might be ticked off with what you're doing."

  "Diane has asked me to do something. That's what I'm going to do, and I don't think I can accomplish it by going to her or any other cops."

  "Fair enough," Felix said, finishing off his beer. "And here’s another thing you're going to do. You're going upstairs and you’re going to bed."

  I almost laughed. "You really expect me to sleep?"

  "Maybe, and you won't know until you try. Look, you're upstairs and the downstairs will be locked. Someone gets in the house, he's gonna have to go by Manny and his friends. Manny may not be too bright but he's a good subcontractor; he does his job. So. Even if they do get by Manny, they'll have to get by me. And if they get by both of us, then I hope to hell you're awake, 'cause there'll be a hell of a noise. All right?"

  “All right," I said, and I went to the kitchen and put away the empty beer bottle, and then I went upstairs for spare sheets and blankets. Back downstairs, the fold-out couch was undone and most of the lights were turned off. Felix stood by the couch for a moment, after having taken off his sweater and shirt. His upper body was tanned and well-muscled, with ridges and pockmarks of scar tissue nestled among the fine black hairs. His clothes were in one hand and his pistol was in another.

  He turned to me and said, "First time I've ever spent the night here."

  "First time for everything, as they say."

  "Maybe so." He looked around the downstairs, at the oriental rugs, bookshelves, and furniture, and out the glass doors to the deck out to the faint lights on the ocean. "Now I think I know why you came back here tonight."

  "It's my home," I said.

  He looked out again. "No, more than that."

  "Oh?"

  He turned to me, a reflective look on his face, a look I wouldn't normally associate with Felix Tinios. "You came back here to heal, didn't you?"

  I tossed him a pillow. "You must be tired, to be so philosophical. Good night, Felix."

  "Night, Lewis."

  Upstairs I dragged out the twelve-gauge Remington shotgun that I keep on a foam-rubber mattress underneath my bed and placed my 9 mm Beretta next to it, both weapons now within easy grabbing reach. I huddled among the cool sheets and blankets, listening to the wind and the waves, and also hearing those awful tearing sounds of metal ripping through metal, the sharp reports of the gunfire, and then I also began feeling the cold and the wet again as I ran along the icy rocks of the shoreline. Another shiver, and I hugged myself in a ball, and tried to will myself to sleep. I thought of Felix downstairs and the heavy locks on the front door, and the mysterious Manny, keeping an eye on things outside. I thought and tried to distance myself from what had happened outside Sally's Clam Shack, and I must have succeeded, for eventually I fell asleep.

  In the morning I woke to the smells of something cooking, all after getting dressed, I limped downstairs to the kitchen, my joints aching, especially my knee. Felix was there at my stove, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, with a holster and pistol hanging from his shoulders. There was the smell of coffee, and I sat down, unaccustomed to the sight of Felix cooking breakfast in my own home.

  "Figured this would get you up, if nothing else," Felix said pouring me a cup of coffee, and he said, "Bacon and cheddar cheese omelet sound all right to you?"

  "Sounds perfect," I said. "How did you sleep?"

  He winked. "Slept well. Trick is to convince your mind that everything is just fine. You keep on telling your brain that ever thing is fine, that there's nothing to worry about, and next thing you know, you're dreaming. How about you?"

  "My brain is a bit more stubborn," I said, reaching over to retrieve a breakfast plate. "I slept all right, but not deeply. Kept waiting to hear something blow up."

  "Don't we all."

  I took a bite of the omelet, savoring the taste of the eggs, bacon, and cheese, and feeling my stomach grumble with pleasure. It had been a long time between meals. I turned and saw that he had put the couch back to its proper position, and that the bedsheets and blankets were carefully folded. All that and breakfast, too. Felix was becoming the perfect houseguest, if one could overlook his means of employment.

  I certainly could, and continued eating.

  "Today," he said, wiping down the counter, "I'm going to do some recon work. Want to see the scope of the land, try to figure out how we're going to avoid the trap at the airport. I'll give you a call later, and I suggest you keep the next day pretty free."

  "Then what?"

  "Then we talk, and then we go in. If it all works out, which is a possibility, then you'll have a nice package for Diane. If not, well, we'll see what else we learn. At least we know we're dealing with the right people. But there's one important matter."

  “What's that?"

  He rinsed off the washcloth. "That courier job is coming right up soon. I can join you on this meet, but everything else for a week or two, you're on your own. Remember that,
in case you decide there are places we need to go. I'm not going to be around."

  "Any idea when you'll be back?"

  "Depends," he said. “I’ll let you know."

  I said that was fine, and after washing my own dishes I walked him out to the front door. Felix stepped out onto the shoveled path and looked over at me.

  "You were pretty lucky last night," he said.

  "I sure was."

  He smiled. "Let's just hope your lucky streak keeps on going, all right?"

  "With you in my hire, how could anything else happen?" He waved and started walking, and I was going to thank him again for what he did, and then he was far enough along the path so that I decided not to. I closed the door, knowing that he knew, knowing that Felix always knew, and that was good enough.

  Later in the morning I was cleaning my 8mm FN assault rifle and securing the cartridges I needed for it, when the phone rang.

  "Mr. Cole?" came the voice, and it was not my friend from last night.

  "Yes?"

  "Mr. Cole, this is Manny, up here in the parking lot, the guy that Felix hired?" he said, his voice rising. "There's a woman here who wants to see you."

  "Is she a cop?" I asked.

  "Nope," he said. "Just a cute little thing, no weapon on her at all. You want I should send her down?"

  "Sure," I said, hanging up the phone, conscious that my house smelled of both bacon and gun oil. A not-unpleasant combination. I tidied up some, throwing newspapers and magazines into a reasonable pile, and when someone started knocking at my door. I walked over, wondering what news Paula Quinn might have for me. I opened the door and froze, the brilliant midmorning sunlight hurting my eyes.

  "Well?" she asked. "Are you going to let me in?"

  "Sure," I said, and I stepped aside as Kara Miles came into my home.

  Chapter Twenty-Three