In the Shadow of Men

by Darren Swart

  Gillian looked uncomfortable. Digger looked downright sick. The two Albanians parked across the street with the parabolic microphone smiled at each other. The Blue Haired Gang in the front window of the house across the street—peeping at the two Albanians—looked grim. Things were about to happen here in the sleepy town of Green Lake. Rose one of the blue haired ladies, looked at Emma and asked “Tea?”

  Emma nodded, solemnly. “Yes, please. That would be lovely.” There would be plenty of time to deal with the dark muscular men in the minivan after tea.

  Chapter 9

  The more he thought about it, the more Marty was convinced that the Bible had to be the key to all this.

  Gillian jotted notes, formulating a plan to get them in and out safely. She surmised with a fair degree of certainty that this would most certainly lead them into a trap, and probably result in them being captured. She also knew that it was their only lead. She would wait to inform Franz when they were on the road. He didn’t like taking chances. He would try to dissuade her from this and send in an assault team, but there was no time for that.

  Digger stood and excused himself to the bathroom. He was quite happy when this was just a surveillance detail. The thoughts of physical confrontation made him ill. Gillian looked at Marty and said, “Let’s take a shower.”

  Somewhat stunned, “But, I…”

  “Never mind the coyness, Lover boy. I know you want me.”

  Marty tried to mask his surprise, but failed. Gillian gave him a devilish smile and winked, putting her index finger up to her lips bidding him to remain silent. Recovered slightly, Marty managed to stammer, “Uh, sure. Whatever, Babe.”

  She unfolded herself with the grace of a contortionist and took him by the hand, leading him to the bathroom. Inside the small room, she reached inside the shower and turned on the shower. Her face was stoic as she sat on the toilet and began to debrief him. “I am sure we’re being watched. We need to develop a plan to get in and out. There is no way we can do this without being seen, so we need to figure out how to do this right under their noses. Would you be a dear and go see if Digger is finished throwing up? When he’s finished, wait ten minutes and then come back here.”

  Marty eyed her curiously for a moment “Why ten minutes?”

  With a raised eyebrow, she replied somewhat matter of factly. “I’ve decided I really do need a shower.”

  “Oh.” He quietly pulled the door closed behind him, quite certain, that he would never understand how a woman’s mind works. Crossing through the bedroom, he went to the other bathroom and knocked. “Digger? You okay, man?”

  A weak voice from the other side of the door, replied, “Yeah. I’ll make it. Be out in a minute.”

  Hearing this, Marty walked back into the living room and looked at the gentle slope of the antique clock on the mantel piece. It was noon. Five minutes later, Digger walked dejectedly out of the bathroom and sat down in one of the chairs. He sat there for a moment, not saying anything. Finally looking up, he asked “Where’s Gillian?”

  “In the shower. Apparently, she wants us both at the same time?”

  Digger’s eyes were suddenly very round. Marty gave him an animated wink and motioned for him to follow.

  The Albanian in the passenger seat strained and cursed, trying to see anything through the binoculars. His eyes almost looked wild, as he looked at his brother. “Should we take a closer look? They might escape out the back.”

  Gur rolled his eyes. “Imbecile. Where will they go without their vehicle?”

  Gur responded, indignantly, “Maybe they steal one, how should I know? Do I have to think of everything?”

  “What I think is that Mama must have dropped you on your head. All you want to do is see the girl take a shower. Am I right?”

  Gem glowered silently in the passenger seat. He cupped the binoculars so tightly against his eyes that he began to see stars. “This is why I hate surveillance. We never get to see anything.”

  Gur took a more soothing tone. “They will be out soon, you’ll see. Maybe I’ll let you kill the surfer? You would like that, no?”

  Gem smiled, revealing that he was missing his two front teeth. He hated the one they called Digger. The greedy bastard kept the good women for himself. “When we were at sea and came into port, we always had fun. I miss that.”

  Gur slapped him on the shoulder. “Yes; but this pays better. Besides, we could not be merchant marines all our lives. You know that.”

  “I know, I know,” he said, shaking his head and looking downward.

  Gillian toweled off from the shower. She always thought better in the shower. Her mind cleared and she looked at their situation objectively. She knew what they needed to do. She suspected she knew who would be watching her, so it might just work. The knock on the door brought her back to the present. “Just a minute.” She hastily finished toweling off and jumped back into her clothes. Her hair was still wet and glistening when she opened the door and motioned for them to come in. The shower was still running.

  Shutting the door behind them, she looked at them and said, “Boys, I have a plan.”

  ****

  Bernard geared up to climb the utility pole at the end of Gum Street. Howard’s Cable Service truck was perfect for the operation. It wouldn’t be missed for a couple of days. Howard never knew what happened when Bernard shot him. He had dumped the body near the glue factory. No one would notice it for a long time. If they didn’t find him for a couple of days, there wouldn’t be enough left to identify after the coyotes and possums got a hold of him.

  He climbed the pole with the best view of the house. The two Albanians across from the house should have placed a sign on top of minivan that read Imbeciles for Hire. It would have been less obvious. He didn’t understand why McPherson insisted on hiring such people. Surely, he recognized his talent.

  He could see the four old women in the house across the street, peeping out at the Albanian’s van. He would use that to his advantage. He had watched Gillian drive into the garage. The Delgado kid got in an hour before them. Bernard anticipated that they would be there until night fall and then make a break for it. He was patient. He would wait.

  ****

  Gillian walked through the plan twice, each time having both Marty and Digger repeat it back to her. She looked at Digger and asked, “Any questions?”

  Digger gave her a slightly exasperated look and responded, “As if. Remember who you’re talking to here.”

  Gillian gave him a quick smile. “That’s precisely why I asked.”

  He pouted. She knew he was a genius. She also knew he tended to read more into a plan than most people. That’s why she kept things simple. Marty took it all in. It seemed simple enough. They would have to manage a few loose ends, as they went. Somehow, he thought the plan would be more precise, like on television. He guessed that was just drama.

  ****

  The Blue Haired Gang gathered around Rose’s small kitchen table, drinking hot English Afternoon Tea with lemon. The mood was somber. Emma looked at Hazel and asked, “Is Earl working down at the garage today?”

  Hazel nodded and continued to sip her tea.

  “Do you think Rico is with him today?”

  “Well, Hun, you know he is. He never goes anywhere without that dang dog.”

  “Why don’t you call him, and see if he’ll come over and talk to those boys.”

  Hazel looked up, concern filling her blue eyes. “Emma, you know how he is. What if he hurts one of them boys? I don’t want him locked up over some misunderstanding.”

  “Face it, Hazel. What good could they be up to if they’re parked on the street watching that nice young man Digger. He’s never given us a moment’s trouble. In fact, he came in last week and set the time on my VCR, without the manual. Nobody’s ever been able to do that. He’s such a nice young man. I’m afraid they’re going to hurt him.”

  Hazel rolled her eyes. “Oh, Good Lord, Emma…” With a sigh, she held out her hand. “H
and me the phone.”

  Hazel held the phone at arm’s length, trying to see the numbers. “Anybody got some glasses I can borrow? I can’t see the numbers.”

  Three sets of glasses came at her simultaneously. She chose the closest ones. Picking them up, she looked at Sarah and asked, “Where did you get these? I love the frames.” Holding the frames at arm’s length and squinting, she asked, “Are those roses on the arms?”

  Sarah beamed. “Why no, they’re periwinkles. Cute as they can be. Smith’s Drug had them in the close out bin for five dollars and ninety-nine cents.”

  Hazel looked at her, earnestly. “Did they have anymore?”

  “Not in pink. They only have blue ones left.” Hazel pouted. She loved pink, but then Sarah knew that.

  Emma looked pointedly over the lenses of her reading glasses and cleared her throat. Hazel ignored her and carefully fitted the glasses on her nose. Slowly, she punched in the number to the garage.

  The phone rang six times before a surly voice answered. “Tilley’s Garage.”

  “Earl?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “Sweetie, I need a favor.”

  There were few things that Earl Tilley cared about enough to drop what he was doing. His Mama and his dog were at the top of the list—and in that order. The phone looked small in his hands, as he hung up. Earl was a man of basic needs and a clear talent for two things: fixing cars and fighting. He had three different divorce lawyers and fifty or so loyal customers to prove it. If his Mama called saying two strange men were scaring her, that was all he needed to know. He called old man McGillacutty and told him that it would be another hour or so before his Buick was ready. He then hopped into the cracked blue vinyl seat of the faded relic of a wrecker and whistled for Rico. Merle Haggard blared through a single speaker from an ’87 Chrysler laying on the dash. It strained to overcome the racket of twin straight pipes. The only AM station the wrecker would pick up competed against the wind whistling through the cab. He made the four blocks to Gum Street in less than five minutes.

  Earl smiled grimly, as he played it out in his mind. He hoped these boys were player wannabes. In that case, they would be packin’ heat. Despite his thick chest and six and a half foot frame, he could move faster than a cat on fire when it came to stripping a weapon from a stranger. It was an easy eighty or so dollars in his pocket, if they were in good shape. There had been many an unfortunate soul who had underestimated Earl’s speed because of his size. It was a bad assumption that usually ended up with a broken wrist or ribs.

  At the top of the block, he saw the cable truck parked with the lineman at the top of the pole, working on the line. It seemed odd, because it looked like Howard’s van. But it sure wasn’t Howard at the top of the pole. That would have to wait for now. He had other business to attend to.

  A maroon Ford minivan stood out like a red dress at a Baptist Church social on a block where most people drove older Buicks and Chevy’s. He killed the big V-8 engine a hundred yards behind the minivan and glided quietly behind van. They didn’t even look up. He eased the door open and motioned for Rico to come out. The ears of the ninety-pound black German Shepard stood at attention, as he dropped as silently as a cat from the cab.

  A swarthy looking fellow sat in the driver’s seat, with a salad bowl contraption in his hand, so Earl moved to the passenger side and let Rico handle the fellow with the salad bowl. Mama and the girls practically had their noses plastered to the living room window like they were seated in the front row for Saturday Night Wrestling. All waited in eager anticipation to see the action. Earl focused on making this quick and clean. He didn’t want his Mama seeing him get hurt. That would scare her. He didn’t want that. Besides, he knew how the rumor mill worked with them old widow women; one tiny scrape on the arm and the rumor mill would have him in intensive care by sundown.

  He patted Rico on the side. The dog looked up, attentively. Earl pointed to the man on the driver’s side. His large arm out the window, Earl could see the two headed eagle with odd letters circling it on the deeply tanned shoulder. Had Earl been somewhat worldlier, he might have recognized the Cyrillic letters. As it was, they just looked right funny. One thing was for sure—these boys were definitely not local talent. He was sure they weren’t cops, either. It looked like it was time to have a little fun.

  Easing up to the passenger side, he was sure to stay far enough behind the window post. As he took a quick glance at the driver, both guys looked a lot alike. These guys must be twins. Earl’s tone was low and guttural, “Can I help you boys?”

  Startled, the passenger lunged backward, trying to grab him through the window. It was not the smartest of moves. Earl caught his wrist quickly and pinioned it against the window post. With his free hand, he curled his fingers into a grapefruit sized fist and rammed the juggernaut into the man’s temple. The stocky form flopped forward in a heap.

  The other man dropped the salad bowl—looking contraption reached for his waist band. Earl grinned. It looked like he was going to get a little extra beer money this weekend. As the gun cleared his belt, Earl snapped, “Get ’em, Rico.” A black blur cleared the window, clamping his jaws tightly on the gunman’s wrist. The man yelped in pain. The gun dropped harmlessly to the floorboard. Earl jerked the passenger door open and threw the unconscious passenger to the street. Gem’s head struck the pavement like a wet melon. Blood began to ooze under him.

  The other man struggled to free himself from the dog, but Rico was still clamped on the man’s wrist. His other arm was pinned under a hundred pounds of dog flesh. Earl put a big fleshy hand on the man’s thick neck and took his time with a powerful left. Gur went limp and slumped back into the seat. Earl’s fist made a wet slapping sound, as he hit him a second time to be sure he was unconscious. Gur’s dark head lolled forward, unresponsively.

  Earl glanced up in time to see Rose high five his Mama. He allowed himself a sideways grin and went back to the task at hand. When he looked up again, his mom gave him the thumbs up. He winked and smiled, boyishly. Be it ever so humble, there was nothing like a mother’s approval.

  Earl patted Rico on the head and said, “That’s good boy. Let him go.” Rico returned a low guttural growl and didn’t move.

  Earl raised his voice an octave. “Rico…”

  Rico gave him a sullen look and let go of the man’s wrist. Some indentions were present, but there was no blood. He smiled at Rico and gave him another pat on the head. The dog nuzzled him to be petted some more. “That’s a good boy. Yes, he is.” He scratched him under the jaw. The Shepard dropped to the ground and padded back to the wrecker, tail high and wagging. Rico jumped into the front seat of the wrecker and lay down. With the excitement over, it was time for a nap. Earl looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the events. The cable guy was still on the pole. He hadn’t moved. Given all the activity, that was really strange.

  He walked back to the wrecker and opened the passenger door. He gave Rico a quick pat. The dog raised an eyebrow, but little more. Earl reached into the floorboard and picked up a roll of duct tape. He ambled back to the minivan and opened the side panel door. Reaching down, he felt the pulse of the one fellow on the ground. The pulse was strong. He was still alive. He would have a headache when he woke up, but he’d be okay. Earl duct taped his hands together and then his feet. He grunted, as he picked up the stocky little man by his shirt and pants—like a gunny sack—and tossed him in the floorboard of the back of the van. The man was a little stocky, but then Earl had been known to pick up entire engine blocks and move them to the back at the shop. He walked over to the other side and taped the other man’s wrists and feet, and pitched him unceremoniously on top of his buddy. He checked the parking brake, shut the doors and moved the wrecker to the front of the van. With experienced ease, he hooked the van up to the wrecker.

  When the van was six inches off the ground and ready to be towed, he made his way up the short walk to Rose’s front door. He was met by four adoring faces.r />
  His Mama took a tone of sternness. “Now son, don’t go and hurt them boys.”

  Earl rolled his eyes. “Yes Mama. I’ll take them down to the woods near the glue factory on 109 and drop ’em off. They’ll be all right. They should come to in a couple of hours with a headache, but nothing more. They’ll be fine. I promise.”

  “All right. Thank you, Honey.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

  Earl grinned. “Sure, Ma. It kinda breaks up the day, you know?”

  With that, he returned the kiss tenderly on her cheek and started back down the walk to the wrecker.

  Hazel called after him. “Dinner on Wednesday, remember?”

  The response came back. “Yes, Ma’am.” With any luck he’d finish putting the starter on Ol’ McGillicutty’s Buick by day’s end. He might even call Thelma down at the cable company and find out if there was a service call on Gum Street. Something about that cable guy still bugged him.

  Chapter 10

  Gillian stared at the scribbled outline and considered what would go wrong at each phase. With any luck, they would search the house, keeping the body count to one. Two would endanger the mission. And three would be a failure. They would begin the set up two hours before sunrise. She gambled on assumption that any surveillance teams would hold their position until they were sure that she and Marty had found whatever it was that they were looking for. The only drawback was they didn’t know what they were looking for. That made her queasy every time she considered it. However, if a Bible was their only hot lead, then she would work through it. She smiled noncommittally at Marty, without dismissing the idea. He seemed so convinced that she didn’t have the heart to challenge him.

  Digger wasn’t quite so green now and he began to joke around a little. Marty rolled an ink pen through his fingers, preoccupied by the things that had happened. Without warning, Gillian shooed them out of the bathroom to finish the arrangements. Her plan was contingent on how much support she could gather in the next couple of hours, which could jeopardize the plan. Marty looked forlornly at Digger and asked, “Dude, is there anything to eat around here?”