The Murder Run

by Michael P. King

  “We could release the video.”

  “Then the game is over. What will he do if you ruin his life? Will he go psycho? Do you want to take that risk?”

  “No.”

  They stopped walking. Nicole continued. “So other than using the video, how do we make him so afraid he’ll back off, not just now, but forever? What if someone else had the video? A gang boss. Sanders could pay to have the video destroyed.”

  “But he still won’t know if it’s really gone.”

  “But it wouldn’t be personal anymore. And he wouldn’t be dealing with you and your limited resources. He’d be dealing with the unknown and all that entails. He wouldn’t be able to retaliate. He’s just have to live with his fear.”

  “So we’re going to sell the video?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what are we going to do?”

  “I know someone who might be able to help.”

  “Who?”

  “First things first. We’re going to buy a new pair of phones. You’re not calling my phone or James’s landline, and I’m not calling your phone or that other phone you bought. All those phones could already be compromised. Then you’re going to sit tight, follow your normal routine. Let me know if you see the bearded guy again. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have something to report.”

  In the night, after Denison went to sleep, Nicole got out of bed, pulled on her robe, and walked through the house looking for her primary phone. She found it in a basket on the kitchen counter. She’d thought about pulling together a crew to do the crime boss impersonation. Maybe she could get Blaxploitation Star to help. Maybe he had a friend. Big black guys would certainly scare the hell out of Sanders. Or she could ask around and scout out a couple of professionals. Less chance of an accident. But Sanders would never believe that she was in charge—he was too sexist for that. And if this project went wrong, if her players overreacted, and Sanders wound up dead or the police ended up in the mix, her little house of cards would come tumbling down. James would be at risk. No. She couldn’t have that. Especially since she had told him she wouldn’t take any chances. She had to have Tony. She didn’t want to make the call. Lily wasn’t his problem. She didn’t want to put Tony at risk for a no-money gig—all downside and no upside for him, but she couldn’t think of any other way. She speed-dialed his number.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said.

  “Were you sleeping?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She could hear him rustling about as if he were getting out of bed. She explained the problem.

  “I think you’re right,” he said. “I think the impersonation is a good call. Give me two days. Find the location for the meet. Set it up as if Lily’s going to show, then I’ll pull a changeup. It’ll be hard looks and intimidation. If it all goes south, we’ll put him in the ground, and the cops will be looking for out-of-town muscle.”

  “Lily won’t like that.”

  “Does she have to know? And don’t tell Denison that I’m coming to town. The less he knows, the better.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Tony was standing in the dark in the living room, naked, his phone in his hand. The edges of the closed curtains glowed from the street lamp outside. He heard a noise. A plump, middle-aged woman wearing a thin gown, her gray-streaked hair hanging in a braid over one shoulder, appeared in the doorway from the hall. “Something up with your mom?”

  He smiled. “Nothing to worry about. She forgets what time it is.” He kissed the woman. “I have to go check on her, though. Didn’t like the sound of her voice. Want to make sure nothing’s wrong at the care center.”

  She put her arm around him. “You’re such a good son.”

  “Let’s go back to bed.” He led her back toward the bedroom. “I’ll have to leave in the morning. I’ll be gone a few days, but I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “We’ve got tickets for the concert on Saturday.”

  “I’ll be back by Thursday—Friday at the latest. I promise.”

  On Wednesday, Tony flew into Oakland International Airport. His ID read C.D. Abbot. He was wearing jeans, Birkenstock sandals, and a battered straw hat. Out on the sidewalk in front of the baggage claim, two men were waiting for him in a stolen Prius. They were big men, crowded into the front seats, one black and one Latino. They were dressed California casual. Tony ducked into the back seat. “Hey, Josh. Hey, Lorenzo. Glad you guys could make it.”

  Josh, the black one, put the car in drive. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “You guys geared up?”

  “Always,” Lorenzo said. “Almost didn’t recognize you, brother.”

  “We’re going up to Berkeley. Got to blend in.”

  They got on the interstate headed north. “Like I told you before, this is just a salary job. One thousand a day, three days max. If you have to pull a gun, that’s an extra grand.”

  “Easy money,” Josh said.

  They stopped on the street at the edge of the University of California campus. Tony got out of the car. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes, more or less.”

  He walked up the hill into campus. Students poured out of the buildings: jeans, gym clothes, yoga pants; bikes and skateboards. Nobody paid the least bit of attention to him. Up ahead was a grove of tall conifers. He spotted Nicole sitting on a stone bench under one of the trees. She stood up to hug him. “Missed you,” she said.

  “Missed you more.”

  “So you’re staying with the Iowa woman?”

  “Sybil Anderson. I’m living at her house. It’s on a lake outside Kickapoo Creek.”

  “How are you spinning it?”

  “Because of my work, I’ve always been kind of rootless. Never had kids. Then my wife passed away last year.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Widower is always a better sell than being divorced. As you well know, being divorced or never married is like being from the damaged goods section of the discount store. How’s Denison?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “I bet he is.”

  She punched him in the shoulder. “Will you stop it?”

  He chuckled. “You got the meeting set up?”

  “Tomorrow night. Here’s the place.” She got out her smartphone and pulled up Goggle Maps. “Abandoned industrial zone on the bay. Right here.” She pointed it out. “Bad place for an ambush. Easy access to two freeway on-ramps. Last two nights, nobody was near there after eight or nine p.m. The meet is set for eleven. The tide is going out until after two.”

  “Great. You got Sanders’s phone number?”

  She gave it to him. “You want me with you?”

  “No. You’re going to be setting your air-tight alibi. And your girl—Lily? She knows to set her own, right? Separate from yours.”

  “She’s going to be sleeping over at a friend’s.”

  “That’ll do. I hope she’s worth it. Seems like a lot of trouble for a car that wasn’t even stolen. If this goes bad, I could be six thousand out of pocket.”

  “She’s a natural, but it turns out she just doesn’t have the stomach for the game.”

  “Most don’t.”

  “Will I see you after?”

  “I’d love that.”

  Tony walked back down the hill. That old happiness. The electricity. The confidence. Whenever he was with her, he was one step better than he was on his own. That was why he had to call her when he got shot. He could have made do, figured it out, called someone else, but he hadn’t wanted to. And it was the same for her. She could have handled this little plot on her own, but she hadn’t wanted to. It was an excuse to get together. And grooming up Lily. Teaching her, testing her. Nicole really couldn’t keep her hand out of the game. Always scheming. Maybe she was too young to retire. Grifting was all she knew. Maybe Denison was just going to have to wait a few years. She could visit him three or four times a
year to keep him on the string and spend the rest of the time with him on the con. He really did miss her.

  The Prius was waiting at the curb. He ducked into the back seat and pulled the industrial site up on his phone. “I’ve got a spot we need to check out.” He showed the phone to Lorenzo.

  “I know that place. Down past the county park. Take the next left, Josh, then get over to the right.”

  The battered sign next to the broken gate read Apollo Mechanicals. A newer sign read No Dumping. A dirt path circled through broken slabs of concrete, rusted steel cable, and twisted framing to oversized machinery. Weedy shrubs and tough grasses grew up from hills of earth. Plastic bags, cans, bottles, and broken furniture completed the picture. At the back of the circle, the ground fell away to a sea wall of boulders and concrete pieces and the bay beyond. “Stop here,” Tony said.

  They got out of the car. “This is the best place for the meet. They’ll set up here. The back is clear, so no one can get behind you. The cover to the left and right is sparse—just that junk over there—” Tony pointed to the right—“and those two piles of dirt.” He walked to the edge of the sea wall and turned around. “Good view down the path both ways.”

  Josh leaned back against the Prius. “We playing it straight?”

  “Never. Have you got the guns?”

  “Picked them up this morning,” Lorenzo said. “Got them from an old prison buddy. All old, serial numbers burned off, just like you wanted.”

  “Great. The only thing left is for me to make the call.” Tony took out a burner phone and called Sanders’s private number.

  “Hello?”

  “Sanders?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is the man who owns your video.”

  “What?”

  “Bet your wife will be just as surprised as I was. A family man like you. Nasty shit.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Little girl owed me. Gave me the video to pay her debt. So now you deal with me. The meet is still on for tomorrow night. Bring ten thousand dollars.”

  “I can’t get that kind of money.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “I need more time.”

  “There isn’t any more time. Show up or suffer the consequences.”

  “Five thousand. I can get five thousand.”

  “By tomorrow night.”

  “By tomorrow night.”

  “Same time. Same place. No bullshit.”

  “I’ll have it.”

  “And Sanders, the little girl belongs to me. You bother her, I bother yours.” Tony ended the call.

  Josh laughed. “You’re as convincing as ever.”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Sanders smacked his fist down on his desk. Jesus Christ. The little minx had sold the video. Why couldn’t he catch a break? He picked up his office phone. “Marty? Got a minute? It’s urgent.”

  “Be right up.”

  He fiddled around with the papers in his inbox until Colvin arrived. “Shut the door,” he said.

  Colvin settled into the visitor’s chair facing Sanders’s desk. “What’s up?”

  Sanders told him about the phone call. “So she didn’t even have the video.”

  “Maybe.” Colvin shifted his weight. “You got a call. That’s all you know. You don’t know if they have the video. You don’t know how they got your phone number. Hell, you don’t even know if they are they. Could be some friend of hers.”

  Sanders shrugged.

  “At this point, would you pay five thousand to get the video and be done with this distraction?”

  “Give five thousand to her? No. She created this problem. Besides, we’ve talked about the copy problem.”

  “But if it’s as advertised?”

  “If it’s really over? But when is it going to end? This guy wants five thousand. What does the next guy want?”

  “You’re going to the meet. You can judge for yourself. But you might need to change your approach.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Look, the contractor is the expert. You could let him make the decisions. You pay, you don’t pay, he does what he needs to do. Either way, it’s all settled tomorrow night.”

  “I don’t know if I want to go that far.”

  “I didn’t get you into this mess. You came to me. Do you want out? You could always let them post the video and deal with the fallout.”

  “He can make it all go away?”

  “Worst-case scenario, the contractor kills this gangster. You think the girl would talk to anyone after that? There’s no downside for you.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Thursday evening, Denison and Nicole were at a cocktail party to raise money for Denison’s Bright Horizons job training program for aged-out foster kids. There were a dozen people there who could vouch for them, including two women from the mayor’s office. Lily was staying with Chrissie on the pretext that an old boyfriend was bothering her. They’d ordered delivery pizza. Lily had paid, flirted up the delivery guy, and given him a large tip. They picked a movie to watch on Chrissie’s smart TV, and Lily paid for it via her Amazon Prime account.

  At 11:00 p.m., Tony, Josh, and Lorenzo, now driving a Cadillac Escalade, rolled through the broken gate of Apollo Mechanicals. Tony was dressed in a suit and tie. In his pocket was an empty smartphone with the video on it, which he was going to claim was the original. He slowed the car to a crawl. Josh and Lorenzo slipped out and disappeared into the dark. Tony continued down the dirt path. Up ahead, where he’d predicted, a BMW sat with its headlights on, the light illuminating two dirt piles to the right. A man with a shaved head and a mustache stood beside the BMW with a plastic grocery bag in one hand. Tony pulled up short of the lit-up area, made sure his Glock was loose in its holster, and climbed out.

  He called over to the man at the BMW. “Sanders?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Step away from the car.”

  Sanders took two steps.

  Tony started toward him. “I’ve got something for you.” He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out the smartphone.

  A bearded man pointing an assault rifle appeared out of the dark on the left. “That’s far enough.”

  Tony stopped. “So this is how we’re playing it?”

  “This is exactly how.” Sanders snatched the phone from Tony’s hand. He found the video and played it. “This is the original?”

  Tony nodded.

  “Any copies?”

  “No.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “’Cause I’m a businessman. My word has got to mean something. I tell you I’m selling something, that’s what I’m selling.”

  “What’s Lily to you?”

  “She owes me. So she belongs to me now. That’s all you need to know.”

  “What if she owes me a debt?”

  “Not anymore. That’s all done.”

  The bearded man lowered his rifle. “Pay him.”

  “Pay him?” Sanders looked at him as if he were crazy.

  “Yeah,” the bearded man said. “Pay him.”

  As Sanders reached forward with the bag, Josh came up behind the bearded man and pushed a pistol into his neck. “Easy there, buddy. You’ve been doing fine so far. Drop the rifle.”

  Lorenzo came out of the shadows on the right, his pistol also trained on the bearded man. The man set the rifle on the ground.

  Sanders’s head swiveled from Josh to Lorenzo. Tony dropped into a boxing stance and punched him in the face. He stumbled backward. The bag fell to the ground. Tony hit him again. “I don’t like people pointing guns at me.”

  Lorenzo crossed to Josh and the bearded man, picked up the bearded man’s rifle, and whacked him in the temple with the rifle butt. He crumpled to the ground. Josh cuffed his hands behind his back and searched him for other weapons. Lorenzo tossed the assault rifle into the dark.

  Tony pulled his Glock and grabbed Sanders by his shirt front. “Ge
t on your knees.” He put his gun in Sanders’s face.

  Sanders sobbed, “Please, please, it’s all a misunderstanding. I was afraid. I wasn’t sure you’d be straight with me.”

  “Open your mouth or I’ll break out your teeth.”

  Tony pushed the barrel of the Glock into Sanders’s mouth. Sanders screwed his eyes closed. “Bam,” Tony said.

  Josh and Lorenzo laughed. “Look at that,” Lorenzo said, “he pissed himself.”

  Tony wiped the barrel of his gun off on Sanders’s shoulder. “Next time, I pull the trigger.” He picked up the plastic bag and ruffled through a wad of hundred-dollar bills. It looked like the $5,000 was all there. “Lily belongs to me. You bother her—even speak to her—I’ll come for your kids.”

  “No,” Sanders said. “I understand. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

  “That’s a very healthy choice. You stay right where you are until we’re gone.”

  Tony, Josh, and Lorenzo climbed back into the Cadillac, circled around, and drove away. “Thanks, guys,” Tony said.

  “We pulled guns,” Lorenzo said.

  “A deal’s a deal,” Tony said.

  “Plus the daily rate,” Josh said.

  “The job was so easy,” Lorenzo said. “I almost feel sorry taking your money. Almost.”

  “Guys,” Tony said, “stop rubbing it in. You’re going to get paid.”

  “Just breaking your balls,” Josh said.

  11

  Goodbyes

  Nicole was nursing a sparkling water, pretending it was a vodka soda, while she listened to a retired fruit company executive talk about his ski vacation in the Alps. The sort of high-end destination this guy was talking about was the perfect place to pick up a lot of expensive jewelry in a hurry. But she had to put that out of her mind. James needed a check from this guy for Bright Horizons. He’d been helpful with job-training money in the past—had even helped some youth get summer jobs—but now James needed for him to step up to the next level.

  His wife came over and put her hand on his arm. She looked as if the hardest thing she’d ever done was graduate from college. “That’s enough, dear,” she said. “Our vacation is a lot more interesting to you than it is to Nicole.”