by Ty Patterson
She squirreled away at what was holding her back.
It was Livy.
She would not die as long as her daughter was out there. Livy’s face blurred in front of her, became clear. Her giggle swept through her.
Jenny Wade decided not to die.
She had convinced Cezar to quit the gang. She had made him give up the money.
She had Livy.
She hadn’t come this far to curl up and die.
‘Where’s the money?’ This time the voice was sharper.
Everything came back to her, the room, Knuckles, another hood, and Boiler.
She laughed despite her condition.
It didn’t come out as a laugh, but Boiler recognized the sound.
‘Gave it away.’
‘What? What did you say?’
‘Gave it away. To charities.’
She laughed again.
The knife swung toward her thigh.
The door opened behind Knuckles.
A man stepped in the room and faced her.
She frowned.
She recognized him. Where had she seen him before?
The knife punctured her jeans and its point pricked her skin.
The pain cleared her fog.
Mr. Carter! What was he doing here?
She must have mumbled something because the knife left her.
The room felt as if it was underwater.
She saw Mr. Carter grow. No, that didn’t make sense. He was already a grown man.
She squinted her eyes.
He was not growing.
His arm was rising. Something was at the end of it.
The report was curiously mild.
The man next to Knuckles fell.
Knuckles was diving, reaching for his gun. It was rising.
Another report sounded. Then another and a third.
Knuckles fell back as if punched back by a giant fist. His head became a watermelon.
No, it didn’t.
It became what a melon became when squashed.
A fourth report sounded.
Boiler moved.
Boiler knew something was wrong the moment Wade mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like Carter.
He leaned closer to hear and found her attention was behind him.
Something’s wrong.
He whirled round, spotted the figure at the door.
The figure moved, one of his men went down. More shots sounded, so close, they felt like one trigger burst.
Boiler moved.
He leapt, darted behind Wade’s chair, used her as cover, searched for the gun in his waist.
Knuckles was down. The other hood was down.
His gun rose.
Carter was moving toward him.
Carter’s gun was steady, trained on him.
Boiler was behind Wade.
He fired.
Carter staggered, lost his gun.
Boiler’s lips curled in triumph.
He started to depress the trigger again.
Then Cezar’s bitch had to play a hand.
She hurled herself to the side, fell along with the chair.
Now Boiler was exposed.
Carter was still coming.
Fast. Low. Deadly.
Kevlar!
Boiler couldn’t complete the thought. Carter smashed into him, yanked his gun hand upward and smashed it against the wall.
The gun fell.
His shoulder crushed Boiler’s ribs, squeezed his breath away.
Boiler grunted, reared his head back, and struck Carter’s face like a pile driver.
He felt a shiver go through Carter, but his hold didn’t loosen.
Instead he did something Boiler didn’t anticipate.
His hand curled around Boiler’s head, crushed it against his face, like a lover’s embrace.
The fist that sank into Boiler wasn’t like any lover’s.
It spread hot agony in him, exploding in his body, making him groan loudly. He thought something cracked.
A rib.
Boiler had fought in Ukraine. He ruled Miami. Carter wasn’t going to get the best of him.
He summoned his strength, snapped his hands up and managed to break Carter’s hold.
Howling like a wolf, he followed through, flinging Carter against the far wall as if he was a ragdoll.
He followed, halted.
Carter didn’t bounce and fall off the wall.
He bounced against it with his feet, landed like a cat, grabbed a chair and hurled it at Boiler.
Boiler didn’t duck fast enough.
A leg caught him in the cheek. His face split open.
Carter was on him, snapping his head with a quick jab, punching the broken rib, spearing fire in him.
Boiler shaped his fury into a hammer, let it loose against Carter.
The hammer sailed over Carter’s shoulder, was gripped, and then it was Boiler who was flying and crashing against the wall.
He roared, left the floor in a dive, met Carter’s knee with his face.
His nose broke. He thought his jaw broke. He fell back. He embraced the pain, bathed in it, used it to fuel his rage.
He landed on the floor.
Next to the knife he had used on Wade.
He grabbed it. Pulled Jenny Wade by her hair, dragged her along with the chair, pulled her up.
His knife arced down. Wade screamed.
His hand met resistance, halted.
Carter’s hand gripped his wrist and arrested its downward slide.
The two men strained, throwing their weight behind their limbs, sweat pouring down their faces, blood soaking Boiler’s shirt.
Boiler’s lips drew back. He knew he had the upper hand.
Carter wouldn’t try anything else or his arresting grip would weaken and the knife would sink into Cezar’s woman.
‘She’ll die. In front of you.’
Something seemed to change in Carter.
The brown eyes changed, became flat, hard. Walls.
The hand that was trembling with the effort of holding his knife hand back, stopped trembling.
It became solid. Like a block of concrete.
Boiler felt Carter’s body behind the block, all hardness and forward motion.
Carter moved. The knife dipped.
Towards Boiler.
Boiler strained, sucked in great gulps of air, but couldn’t break Carter’s lock.
He dropped Wade, swung a punch at Carter.
It landed on his temple. He didn’t blink.
He brought a leg up, kicked out at Carter.
Carter’s left hand folded, his elbow pointed like an arrow and met Boiler’s kick.
Blackness raced through Boiler.
He heard himself groaning.
He ditched the attack, clasped both hands on the knife, gritted his teeth, and attempted to dislodge Carter.
Time seemed to stand still. Noise seemed to recede, other than their breathing, and struggling on the floor.
The door slammed open. Shadows rushed in.
He didn’t turn. It would be his men. If they weren’t, his men would take care of whoever the intruders were. He had enough feet on the ground.
Carter didn’t turn either.
Someone shouted. Someone else responded.
Light flashed. A report sounded. More reports sounded.
The blade didn’t waver. It was still pointing to his left and down, where Wade had been.
She was now lying on the floor, her eyes watching them in sick fascination.
More reports sounded, like a roll of thunder.
Carter let go silently.
The blade leapt in the air, moved to the left.
Boiler reacted, his synapses moved to correct its flight, turn its killing arc.
Carter kicked Wade’s chair. It scraped away, dragging her with it
The blade’s flight turned, Boiler lunged.
His eyes widened in sudden shock when his wrist became putty, the kni
fe seemed to twist in his grip.
Carter spoke for the first time.
‘Never again.’
The knife disappeared.
Inside Boiler.
Chapter 22
Jenny was sleeping on a warm, soft bed. She was floating blissfully, images and memories drifting in her mind.
Happy times with Cezar. Laughter, playing in their backyard. She smiled in her sleep. If this was Heaven, she didn’t want to wake.
More memories came. Livy and her at the dining table, her daughter’s excited narration of the day. She, marking her school work. The men entering her dining room. Boiler.
Jenny stirred uneasily. The orange and warmth faded. A memory came, of Boiler’s green eyes piercing hers, something glinting in his hand. He too faded. All she could remember was sound and shouting.
Another face, initially blurred. It sharpened into Mr. Carter’s.
He spoke. She strained to hear him.
‘You’ll be fine.’
Jenny smiled. This was a first. Mr. Carter hadn’t ever spoken to her till then.
His lips moved again.
‘Olivia is safe.’
Livy? Why wouldn’t she be safe?
Livy.
It all came back to her in a rush.
Her eyes flew open.
She was in her room, in her bed, snuggled under her favorite comforter. Her thighs throbbed, her shoulder burned dully. She pushed the blanket down and surveyed herself.
She was dressed in an old T-shirt and sweatpants, underneath which she was bandaged in places. On her thighs and shoulders; all those places where Boiler had cut her.
She flexed her toes and fingers. They moved.
She listened. There was a faint murmur of voices from outside, but her house felt warm and safe.
Like a home.
Livy burst in the room, a whirlwind of energy and blonde curls.
She took one look at her mother and yelled to the people outside.
‘Mom’s awake!’
Pike bustled in followed by Chuck and Bundy and the three waited patiently while mother and daughter exchanged hugs, kisses, and smiles and shed a few tears.
Pike beamed at her when Livy skipped out of the room. ‘How’re you feeling?’
‘Like I’ve been poked with a sharp knife. Several times.’ She laughed.
‘Who bandaged and dressed me?’
‘Mr. Carter. He’s a man of many talents.’
‘Good man. Didn’t speak a word.’ Chuck said gruffly. Anyone who didn’t waste breath was a go-to guy in his books.
Bundy read Jenny’s wandering gaze around her room. ‘You didn’t want to be taken to the hospital. You were very insistent about that. No cops. No hospital.’
He held his right wrist up and brandished the discoloration around it. ‘You grabbed me tighter than a vice and didn’t let go until we promised.’
‘Mr. Carter – he had some experience of such wounds, he said – had a look at yours and said they looked worse than they really were. Boiler was going more for effect, initially, than real harm. It was the shock that made you lose consciousness, not the loss of blood or serious damage. You’ll have a limp for a while, but that will go away soon.’
He swallowed. ‘However, if Mr. Carter hadn’t come in time, that knife dude would have gotten down to serious business.’
Jenny shivered and drew the comforter tighter. ‘Where is Mr. Carter?’
Two people swept in the room before any of them could answer.
A woman in the lead, a man behind her. Both of them in suits and brought with them a formal manner.
‘Jenny, I’m FBI Special Agent in Charge, Sarah Burke and this is Special Agent Mark Kowalski.’
They flashed badges at her. ‘I lead a task force that investigates gang crimes, high profile crimes… anything that doesn’t get solved or no one else wants to touch, comes to me.’ She smiled deprecatingly.
‘You have had an eventful night. Are you up to answering a few questions?’
Jenny nodded and began narrating, without waiting for the questions.
Behind the FBI agents she saw Pike nodded approvingly at her recital, till Burke asked a question.
‘Who killed Boiler and the others?’
Pike put his finger to his lips. She paused, trying to figure out what Pike wanted her to say.
What did he want to hide from the Feds?
Pike stepped in smoothly before she could reply. ‘Like we said, ma’am, they were FBI agents. They didn’t give names, were masked and were outfitted like your Hostage Rescue Teams. They shouted they were the FBI.’
‘And if that wasn’t clear enough, their jackets were stenciled with the same three letters,’ Bundy added, drily.
‘A bunch of them rescued us from the cellar.’ Chuck broke his word count quota for the day. ‘Didn’t wait for our thanks. Made sure we were okay and then disappeared. They said they had other gang members to apprehend.’
‘I was asking Jenny Wade.’ Burke’s voice was icy.
‘I don’t remember much,’ Jenny answered truthfully.
‘I was drifting off. I was in shock and thought I was dying. All I remember is the door bursting open, voices shouting. The men were masked and there were some letters on their vests, but I was too far gone to read them.’
She saw Pike nodded approvingly.
He stepped forward, irritation on his face and in his voice. ‘With respect, ma’am, you should know all this. The lead agent, or whatever you folks call him, said you would be coming later to check on us.’
Jenny was good at reading people. She had to be.
Years of living with Cezar, of meeting some of his friends, the years when they lived in cities, always looking over their shoulder, had taught her to look beyond what people said.
She saw the FBI agents were confused but hid it well, behind their professional demeanor.
What’s going on? Why’s Pike hiding Mr. Carter’s identity?
Burke regarded the three men for a long while, letting the silence build. They didn’t break.
She turned to Jenny finally. ‘Why were they after you, ma’am?’
Jenny saw the questioning looks in her friends’ eyes and knew she owed them an explanation too.
‘I was married to a guy called Cezar. He was a drug dealer in Virginia, initially in Miami, in a gang bossed by a scary man who was called Big G.’
‘Cezar and Big G were close. They were initially in another inner city gang in Miami, but Big G was ambitious and he broke away to set up his own outfit. Big G was ruthless; he had men with him who were equally ruthless. Boiler was one of those men. In no time, the gang’s criminal reach ran from the north to the south.’
She drank from the glass Chuck handed and looked at her friends.
Pike’s eyes were shocked, as were Bundy and Chuck’s. She hoped they would forgive her for her deceit.
She hadn’t lied to any of them. She just had never told them who she was and where she came from. They had accepted her, had made her feel welcome, at home.
‘Big G asked Cezar to run the Virginia operations for the gang. What Big G said, Cezar did. I moved with him, but by then, I was sick of this life. I wanted Cezar to quit.’
She glossed over the arguments, the fights, and the late night screaming matches.
‘Cezar said Big G would kill both of us. It wouldn’t be a pleasant death.’ She shivered. ‘I got a taste of it last night. If,’ she caught herself in time, ‘your agents hadn’t come in time; I would be slashed to death. Slowly. That was Boiler’s specialty.’
‘Big G got captured in Mexico, Boiler took over the gang. We heard that Big G still ran the gang from inside. Nothing changed.’
‘There was a way out, however.’
She told about the initial meetings with the FBI, with the Special Agent in Charge of the Richmond office. She gave them names.
Kowalski pulled out a tablet and started punching keys.
Checking up on my story.
>
She walked them through the details, the excitement and fear of escaping the life they had, starting a new one. Of their meetings with the Marshals, their sifting through several identities, selecting the one she had now. A school teacher.
‘We would be based in a small town in Connecticut.’ She mentioned the name. ‘We would be free.’
‘We lived in that town for a while, but both of us had always wanted to see the rest of the country. We traveled. All over the country, despite the warning from the Marshals. We lived in a state of fear, always looking out, looking for strangers, gangbangers. But we enjoyed the freedom.’
She sighed. ‘What I didn’t know was that Cezar had Big G’s money. He stole thirty million dollars from the gang.’
Someone gasped. She nodded. It was a heck of a lot of money.
‘Cezar had been stealing for a long time, and that built up.’
She saw the light dawning in the FBI agents, in her friends, when they made the connection. ‘That’s right. Boiler was after the money.’
‘Things changed the moment I knew this. We couldn’t keep traveling the way we did, someone would spot us. The gang had a reach across the country, either through its own presence or through other gangs.’
‘We couldn’t return the money. Boiler would kill us.’
She smiled, a joyous, carefree smile. ‘We gave the money to charities. That’s a lot of money, but there are thousands of charities in the country. Each one got at least fifty thousand dollars. Some got twice that.’
She saw the skepticism in the Feds. ‘Pike, there’s a safe in that wardrobe over there.’
She gave him the combination. There would be no more secrets from her friends.
‘In a plastic file folder right at the bottom, there will be a list.’
Pike searched, found the folder, opened it, and rifled through the various papers till he came to the list.
The list ran to three sheets and had names, addresses, amounts, and dates on it.
‘You can cross check those deposits with the charities. You can make copies.’
Kowalski disappeared. Chuck accompanied him.
‘Where’s Cezar?’ Burke asked when they returned.
Jenny sensed she was struggling with taking it all in, but she didn’t show. Her voice was cool; her face didn’t show any emotion.
‘Cezar died, just after Livy’s birth. The stress had been getting to him. He had a couple of strokes while in the gang. The third killed him. I buried him in Connecticut.’
