Godsend_a gripping, fast-paced thriller

by J. A. Marley

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m a woman, not a fucking Neanderthal. We do know things these days, you know. How do you crack it?”

  Danny was embarrassed that he had shown his surprise. He looked away as he answered her question. “We have our ways. We create a situation where the guard and the driver have to make a choice… Open the doors or suffer.”

  “How? Explosives? Accelerant?”

  “It all depends. First, we will block its way with larger vehicles, usually HGVs of some kind, front and back. If it’s an older van, we’ll ram it with a heavy vehicle, or we flip it over using a digger or such like. This would allow us to access the bottom of the van to gas them out, or to burn a hole in the escape hatch. The Loomis vans have them in their roofs. Once we know what type of van services this route, we’ll have the plan complete.”

  All the way through this, Harkness was nodding agreement. Danny wanted to be clear with both of them.

  “Don’t they have trackers? Silent alarms inside them? You’ll be very tight for time.”

  Harkness answered. “I think you’ll find Danny has done this before.”

  “Time is of the essence, June. But as Harkness is inferring… we are pros. But now I have a question for you. When and how do you take delivery of the extra cash? The drug money?”

  “It comes in overnight before the last day. They usually deliver it hidden amongst bible leaflets. They surround the bags of cash with boxes of printed flyers. We only allow our team to unload them. The drug money then joins the rest in the counting room, sent in dribs and drabs by our people, to make it look just like more donations. We wouldn’t want convention centre staff to become suspicious.”

  “Which of your team members oversee the count?”

  “That would be Greg Norby, our head of security.”

  Danny shot a look at Harkness. “So, we have no choice but to leave him in place, whether we trust him or not.”

  June answered with a sigh. “If he’s a problem, say the word. Vincent and I can handle him.”

  “We aren’t there… yet. Leave him in place, please, June. Anything that deviates from normal procedure might cause members of the public to become suspicious. We don’t need any extra eyes on us.”

  “That just leaves the most important part of the plan, Danny boy. When and where do we do the handover?”

  Danny reached out and picked up his glass of Blanton’s bourbon. The smoky amber liquid seemed to complement the sunset that had reached its most flamboyant point in the sky. He sipped the drink, sweet charcoal fire on his lips and tongue. “That all depends.”

  “Danny, don’t fuck around. On what?” June stared intensely at him as she said it.

  “On the amount of heat we generate.”

  “If you do it right and get away, the police will take at least twelve to eighteen hours to catch a lead on you. I know how you work, Felix. You don’t fuck around, and you don’t hang around.”

  “And how do you know you can trust me this time, Harkness? Remember the little welcoming committee I had set up for you in London?”

  June’s expression became wide eyed. “What in Jesus fucking Christ’s name is that supposed to mean? Harkness, you told me he was solid.”

  “Lower your voice, woman. I’ve told you, you’re playing with men now, not boys…” Harkness’s tone made June recoil. It was slight, but Danny clocked it. He thought he knew why June was skittish. Something had happened between Harkness and June. Something she may have started, but Harkness had most likely finished. It can’t have been pleasant. Had she underestimated Harkness? Had she tried to play him and ended up burnt?

  “Danny and I got off on the wrong foot in London. Bad blood. We have… clearer lines of communication now. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr Felix?”

  Danny stayed quiet, taking another sip of his drink.

  “When I said heat, I wasn’t referring to the police. I am much more concerned about our Mexican friends.”

  “All the more reason to do the divvy-up as soon as possible. Then, fuck off out of it, lickety split.”

  Danny was intent on talking to June. “You do realise you are at risk, don’t you? We will have to tell your husband one thing when we meet to apportion the money and then do something entirely different and quickly. At that point, he will come after you. Us. He may even rat you out to the Mexicans. Then, we’d have the cops, the drug dealers and your husband to contend with. But my guess is, he’ll want to draw a bead on you first.”

  “If he has the chance to. Don’t worry about my husband. I will deal with him.”

  The way she said it, Danny knew she was focused and serious. It was not a matter for discussion. Is that what had made her edgy? Had she and Harkness come up with a plan to kill Vincent Cardell at their earliest convenience? Did that plan extend to killing him too?

  “I will let you know about the divvy-up in due course, but only once you’ve given me the answer to all of the questions on this list.” Danny stood up, finished his drink in a single swallow and looked down at the two of them.

  “I’ll need the answers the next time we meet. See you both in a week. And let me be clear. I don’t want to see either of you, individually or as a pair, until then. This time, next week, at Wahoo’s Bar and Grill. Arrive separately.”

  June stared dumbly at the handwritten list of questions Danny had handed to her. Harkness tried to stand up, but Danny put a strong hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into his chair.

  “No, you don’t, matey boy. This is my job now.”

  Danny left them to it. One was looking frustrated, the other seething. He won’t be able to just fucking leave it, will he.

  He was expecting the tap on the shoulder as he crossed over to the car park opposite the bar. As soon as he turned, Harkness was full into his face.

  “What the fuck are you playing at, sunshine? Your job? I fucking brought you this. I let you live when I could have snuck into that shitty little house of yours and gutted you like a pig.”

  “But you didn’t, did you? Just like I didn’t back in London. Now, you’re stuck with me. You want this money. I can tell. You may have been able to get the hell out of London and come looking for me, but I’m guessing it cost you a bit more than you anticipated. You need cash. I’m the way you’re going to get it. So, back off, Harkness. Or else I’ll take my chance and walk away.”

  “You think you’ll get your chance, don’t you, Danny boy? You think you’ll have an opportunity to take me off the board.”

  “Harkness, make no mistake. Whilst my days of killing are done, I kept one last slot open… especially for you.”

  Danny cocked the pistol that he’d been holding just below Harkness’s side from the moment he had turned around to face him. The noise raised a flicker in Harkness’s eyes. He’d missed it.

  Harkness laughed, just as Danny remembered. That deep, throaty bellow was accompanied by the slow clapping of his hands. “Bravo, Danny. Bravo. Bring it on, my son. You just try and bring it on…”

  Danny had seen and heard enough. He walked off.

  But he didn’t put the gun away until he was back inside his jeep.

  Amparo was looking lovely. She was wearing a long, white linen skirt paired with a cropped purple linen top, sleeveless. Her hair was down, a freesia just above her ear. Danny was a little speechless as he kissed her on the cheek.

  “Ay, hombre… what was that?”

  She grabbed the front of his polo shirt and pulled him into a longer, proper kiss. As always, he was thrilled by the smell of her perfume, the softness of her skin against his face. When they parted, Danny was beaming.

  “Where we eating?”

  “We’re going to Sarabeth’s, mi amigo. The best seafood in Key West… and their beet soup is delicious.”

  “Great, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten anything for a few days.”

  “Really? How come? You need to look after yourself, hombre.”

  “Sometimes, I just forget.”

  “At lea
st I know you’re not a ‘touron’ for sure now. They do nothing but eat.”

  She’d been right. The beet soup was amazing, as was the shrimp. The conversation flowed, Danny finding himself being charmed at every turn. It caused him at one point to think of how Ciaran would admonish him, how “no feckin’ good” could come of this. But he didn’t care about what was right or wrong. In this moment, he was content to just hang, convince himself he was normal, even if it was for just a few hours.

  Danny asked for the bill, their server having to make sure he meant the cheque. Amparo laughed.

  When it came, Danny paid in cash. He noticed Amparo’s face change, just for a second.

  “What? What’s wrong with cash?”

  “Let me see your wallet.”

  Danny hesitated. Wrong move.

  “Hombre! Let me see it.”

  “I… I don’t have a wallet.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Frisk me, if you want to. I don’t own a wallet.”

  “What about credit cards? Your ATM card? Driver’s licence.”

  “My licence is in the car.”

  “And the others?”

  Danny could see more awkward questions. “What? You think I’m secretly married or something? Carrying a picture of another girl around?”

  “Danny… I already know where you live. There’s no girl in that little house. It doesn’t have a female touch to it.”

  He thought he’d diverted her attention, but it was only for a moment.

  “The only guys I know that pay for everything in cash are drug dealers, muchacho.”

  “See! There’s that cop instinct again. Always ready to think the worst. If I were a dealer, I’d have mobile phones coming out my ears.”

  “Sí, sí… pero it must be something else. It doesn’t stack up… You don’t stack up.”

  And then, she said it. The words Danny didn’t want to hear.

  “Why did you lie to me about the truck? The one I came looking for after the fight in the Tom Thumb?”

  He’d been right. She had clocked the GM truck key on his fob that day at the coffee shop.

  “You were in that store that night, weren’t you?”

  Danny took a moment to look at her. He was at a crossroads. It had happened in a heartbeat. He had a choice now. Lie to her and then walk away. Tell her the truth and watch her walk away. The little bit of romance he’d been enjoying was about to flutter from him like the answer to a vital question that was on the tip of your tongue but never quite spoken aloud.

  “Yes, it was me. I was the one who stopped the robbery. I was the one told the kid behind the jump to wipe the security video, forget the cops and most importantly, forget me.”

  She met his gaze, her expression not changing from one of intense scrutiny. She was looking for a tell, a moment when he deviated from the truth with something on his face that would indicate it to her. He decided to plough on. He might as well; he thought all was lost anyway.

  “I have been honest with you. When you asked me what I did, I told you the truth. I told you. I’m an international thief. I’m on the run, hiding. Hiding here in the Florida Keys.”

  Amparo blew out her cheeks, a sadness in her eyes. It was at least a minute before she spoke. “We have a saying down here. Florida Keys… It’s a sunny place…”

  He completed it for her, “…for shady people. I’ve heard another that goes ‘We’re here because we’re not all here.’” Danny tapped the side of his head as he said it.

  She allowed herself a rueful smile.

  “Would it make any difference if I told you I’m a changed man? If I trotted out all the clichés, despite the fact that, in this case, they are true?”

  “Leopards… spots… hombre. You might think you’re a changed man, but…”

  “Didn’t your brother want to change? After he’d been shot? Didn’t he see the world he was living in for what it truly was?”

  “He did, but he’s not still living off the proceeds of crime. Are you?”

  “What’s that phrase they used to use about gay people in the American military? Oh, yeah, ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’…”

  “That’s not an answer that makes me real comfortable, muchacho.”

  “What do you want me to say, Amparo? Your cop instinct led you to me. Then, your female intuition led you further. You found me attractive. I find you attractive. We took it somewhere. Yet, I think you always knew. You told me yourself, you like a bad boy. I’m not the worst; I’m trying to get better. But I’m not a saint.”

  Danny did not want a scene. He didn’t want his last memory of Amparo to be some kind of semi-row. He certainly didn’t want that to be her last experience of him. But what could he do? How could he reclaim a bit of that evening?

  But then, Danny had an idea. He returned to his regular source of inspiration. “Have you ever seen a movie called Out of Sight?”

  He could see the question was a bit of a curve ball, but he nodded at her to answer, despite her puzzled expression. “Called what?”

  “Out of Sight. Stars George Clooney and Jennifer Lopez. Great director…Steven Soderbergh.”

  “Hombre? What has this got to do with–”

  “Everything! He’s a thief, she’s a cop… They have a thing… chemistry. They kind of find a way through…all the…tricky stuff.”

  “You’re trying to square off your context with a movie? Ay…que pasa…eh?”

  “I know it sounds crazy…but I’m serious. Make me one small promise. Before you consign me to the bin… sorry, the trashcan… watch the film and have one more drink with me.”

  She looked astounded. But he pressed on.

  “What harm can it do?”

  “Only my job…”

  “You knew I was some kind of bad boy… You were here anyway. Watch the film. Please.”

  He saw the first chinks in her armoured attitude. He reached across the table and gently took her hand. She looked him in the eye, her expression softening further.

  “I guess it can’t hurt… Muy loco… muy, muy loco.”

  Danny felt it was a victory, a small one, but a victory no less. He wasn’t ready to lose this little slice of normality just yet.

  Danny walked her home. It wasn’t the same, but still, he walked her home. There was no hand holding, but she did link his arm which he took as a good omen. The evening air was refreshingly cool. Each time the breeze blew, he was able to enjoy little bursts of the smell of her perfume. At this point, he was enjoying all he could.

  In the hallway of her duplex, she stepped back from him and looked up into his eyes. “What’s the movie called, again?”

  “Out of Sight. It has the sexiest seduction scene I have ever watched.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, chico.”

  “I wasn’t… I didn’t…”

  “Alto! I’m teasing. I’ll watch your stupid movie. Then, if I change my mind, I’ll leave you a note in your mailbox. Now, I know why you have no phone.”

  “I never liked them anyway. By the way, before I go can I just…” He leant in towards her, looking like he was about to kiss her, but he actually plucked a newspaper from one of the pigeonholes. It was a freebie, full of nothing but supermarket coupons and local advertising.

  “I thought you were going to kiss me.”

  “I thought that might earn me a slap…or worse.”

  “It would have…”

  “I just need the paper. I think I may have stepped in something unpleasant…”

  “Oh…bueno. So, this is goodnight…”

  “It is. Despite everything, I had a lovely time, Amparo. I hope I have a shot at another one.”

  “Quién sabes? Who knows…”

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek and held the door for him to go.

  “Goodnight, Amparo… but I’m not saying goodbye. Not yet.”

  He turned and left. As he did so, he rolled the newspaper into a tight cylinder in his hand.

  D
anny crossed the road away from her apartment complex and took an immediate right turn. This took him down a road that ran along the back of two rows of similar duplexes. It was darker and each side was lined with parked cars and rubbish bins. About fifty yards in, Danny ducked behind a parked car, making sure his feet on the ground were hidden by the wheels.

  About thirty seconds later, a second person came down the same alleyway. As he drew level with the car, Danny leapt.

  Using one end of the newspaper, he popped the guy just below his Adam’s apple. He went down on his knees, his hands immediately around his own throat, gasping for air. Danny then used the paper again, this time mashing the end of it onto the bridge of the guy’s nose. There was enough paper wound tightly to break bone. Now, the man at his feet had two problems, and both were fucking up his airways. To finish him off, Danny brought the end of the newspaper roll right down onto the crown of the guy’s head. Danny had no doubt his target would be seeing stars.

  He leant down and grabbed him by the collar. He wanted to grab him by the hair, drag him all over the alley, but the guy was shaven-headed. On his neck, Danny could see a gang tattoo. He wasn’t sure of its meaning, but he knew a gang tattoo drawn in prison ink when he saw one.

  “Why were you following me? Eh? Que pasa, hombre?”

  Danny played out a hunch. Through garbled gasps for air the man spat out a string of Spanish swearing. The last one being cabrón. Even Danny knew what it meant. And being proved right made him feel sick.

  “Chingate, you wanker. Don’t come near me… or her, again.” Danny didn’t want to kill the guy, but he knew he had to send a message. He stood over the gasping man and brought his foot square down onto his ankle. With force.

  The crack sounded like a whip. The man’s scream split the air, pure agony.

  Danny exited the alley the way he went in, but this time at double speed. They had sent an amateur to follow a pro. They had been arrogant. He was a Mexican, no doubt. And now, Danny had a big problem. He’d been followed. Followed with Amparo. He hadn’t clocked the tail until a hundred yards from her front door. At least he had acted after leaving her. But still. They had followed him to her door.