Louder Than Words

by Brett Baker

  Just as I started to develop a plan for entering his home so I’d be there waiting for him at the end of the day, I heard a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” I yelled, standing up from the chair and approaching the door. No answer. I’d just taken a breath to repeat myself, when a plain white envelope slid under the door. I backed away from the door and took shelter on the other side of the bed in case the person on the other side of the door had any intention of pumping me full of lead when I picked up the envelope, but nothing happened. After kneeling for three minutes, I stood up and approached the door as quietly as I could.

  I opened the unsealed envelope and found a hand-written note on plain white stationary. “34thStreet steps. 8 o’clock.”

  The note was unsigned, but since no one other than Curtis knew I was in DC I assumed it was from him. I had no idea what 34thStreet steps meant, but a quick search revealed a set of steps that lead from the Georgetown neighborhood of DC down to the canal towpath trail. I’d arrive at 8 o’clock that evening and hope that he didn’t intend to meet in the morning.

  Since the steps were nowhere near his home or work, I knew that Curtis must have had some other reason why he wanted to meet there. I preferred to choose the location of meetings, but I knew I could handle myself no matter what happened. But I decided to arrive early to eliminate Curtis’s advantage.

  I got off the bus at 34thand M at 7:15. The neighborhood bustled with foot traffic as tourists, college students, and the DC well-to-do sought food and drink. A downhill, tree-lined sidewalk along cobblestoned 34thStreet led away from M. The street ended just before the steps, and I stood at the top of the steps and looked down at the bridge that crossed the canal, and the ramp that led down to the near-side bank. I’d just sat down on the stone wall overlooking the steps, when I looked back up a trail adjacent to 34thStreet and saw Curtis sitting on steps that led up to the Francis Scott Key Memorial. He saw me, but made no move toward me, so I walked toward him.

  “You’re early,” I said. “I bet you couldn’t wait to talk to me.”

  “Something like that,” he said. “I said eight o’clock, but I knew you’d be here before that. Never let someone get there first, huh?”

  “Looks like I failed,” I said. He nodded. “This is quite the place.” I nodded up the steps to the memorial, which consisted of a bust of Key, and a limestone pergola covered in vines of wisteria that gave the whole park a sort of Greek, lush feel. I sat down on the steps next to him.

  “We can’t talk here,” he said, standing up. “Follow me.”

  He walked away without waiting for a response, and I had no choice but to follow. He descended the steps and then the ramp down to the canal. He waited for me at the bottom of the ramp, and then we walked side-by-side on a narrow gravel path along the canal.

  “I’ll walk on the inside,” I said, switching spots with him so I stood with a wall to my right, and him to my left, and the canal to his left. “I’d rather you not push me into the canal.”

  “I might say the same about you,” he said.

  “You might,” I said, making no promises. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

  “Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.

  “Are you just going to repeat what I say?”

  “I have no reason to tell you anything. I don’t know who you are. You ambush me first thing in the morning, bring up my dead brother, and just demand answers? I have no obligation to meet you.”

  “Why do you think your brother is dead?” I asked.

  “I don’t think he’s dead. He’s missing.”

  “You just said I brought up your dead brother.”

  “Missing. I meant missing.” I nodded. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Mia Mathis. I’m sure you called Dirk Oswalt today. Did he not tell you everything that you wanted to know?”

  “I didn’t ask your name. I asked who you are. Why are you asking questions? You seem to be sticking your nose in a bunch of places where it doesn’t belong. Are you a reporter or something?”

  “I’m not a reporter. I’m not law enforcement. I’m sure Oswalt told you that.”

  “I didn’t ask who you’re not. I asked who you are.”

  “That’s all you’re getting,” I said.

  “I don’t think Mia Mathis is your real name. We’re not going to discuss anything until you give me your real name.”

  “Mia Mathis is my real name. I have no reason to hide behind a different name.”

  “There’s nothing on Mia Mathis,” Curtis said. “I did some searching and if that’s your name then you’re a ghost.”

  “Then I’m a ghost,” I said, appreciating Polestar’s efforts to keep agents anonymous. “What did Oswalt tell you? I know you talked to him. Otherwise you’d have no reason to meet me. You needed him to tell you that I mean business.”

  “He told me everything. Said you came down asking questions about Coulson. Killed Ospina. Busted the shipment the other night. Broke into his house and threatened him.”

  “That about covers it,” I said. “And I’m sure he told you that I have evidence of all of it.” Curtis nodded.

  As we talked, we walked under the Key Bridge, and then the Whitehurst Freeway. On the other side of the freeway, the trail climbed up to road level, and then ended.

  “Let’s go back,” he said. We turned around and I switched spots with him again to keep him between me and the canal. “Oswalt said you have evidence of what happened. That’s unfortunate for Oswalt. But I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what you’re trying to do by coming here to talk to me.”

  “You and Oswalt can do whatever you want to do. That’s not what I’m interested in. I need Coulson.”

  “Why are you so interested in Coulson?”

  “That doesn’t concern you.”

  “If you want answers it concerns me.”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Curtis shook his head.

  “I haven’t heard from Coulson for almost two weeks,” he said.

  “Does he work for you?”

  “He works for everyone.”

  “What does that mean? He works for everyone.”

  “It means he wants to get paid.”

  “A mercenary,” I said. Curtis shrugged. “What else would you call it? He kills people for money.”

  “I don’t know that he’s killed people,” he said. “That’s a bold accusation.”

  “He’s killed people,” I said, flatly.

  “Not for us. He gets things done.”

  “You pay him to get things done?” Curtis nodded. “What sort of things?”

  “He knows people. He can arrange things. He opened markets for us.”

  “Drug markets?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the U.S.?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d you find out about Coulson?”

  “He’s a known quantity.”

  “Known by whom?”

  “Everyone.”

  “That tells me nothing,” I said.

  “A guy like Coulson is in demand. He’s got connections and experience, and he’s willing to do anything. He’s proven himself adept at handling any number of situations. There are plenty of organizations around here that need to get things done without being constrained by limitations imposed on them.”

  “So he’ll do illegal things for anyone who pays him. Who does he work for?”

  “He works for the people paying him. He’s got no loyalty. He’s former military. He couldn’t adjust to life outside the military, so he stopped trying. He turned everything into a mission.”

  “How’d you hear about him?”

  “I’ve known about him for as long as I can remember. Let’s go up here,” he said, pointing to the 34thStreet steps.

  We walked up the steps, and turned right into a cobblestone alley lined by brick buildings. Signs at the opposite end of the alley advertised home furnishings, a spa, and desserts. It
looked like an area in the process of a rebirth that hadn’t reached 34thStreet yet.

  “Does Oswalt know that your brother is CIA?”

  “That’s no concern of his,” Curtis said, admitting something he’d previously denied.

  “So CIA isn’t involved in Dixie County?”

  Curtis stopped at the entry way of a white brick building. The sign on the door read “Delight” imposed on a square dinner plate, a green sauce-looking swirl underlining the word. It looked like the sort of trendy restaurant in a hidden location that Georgetown denizens would fawn over.

  “I don’t know who you are, Mia Mathis, but you’re jumping to mistaken conclusions. The CIA isn’t involved in running drugs in Dixie County.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” I said. “You know as well as I do that they’ve been involved in questionable operations.”

  “Not this time,” Curtis said. “Now, enough of this nonsense. Let’s get a bite to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I said.

  “I insist. I have more to tell.” He held the door for me, and I looked through the glass on the other side of the vestibule, but couldn’t see inside the restaurant. I had no reason to trust Curtis, but I had more questions for him, and I knew I could handle whatever he presented inside the restaurant, so I nodded and went inside.

  Chapter 43

  As soon as I walked through the second door at the back of the vestibule I knew we weren’t eating dinner. Delight was either weeks away from opening, or weeks out of business. I turned around to look at Curtis, and he smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Looks like they’re not serving tonight.”

  “Then why did we come in here?” I asked.

  “What do you want to know, Mia?”

  “I want to know why we came in here.”

  “That’s not what you want to know. You said you wanted to know about Coulson. What do you want to know?”

  “I need to know who he works for.”

  “I already told you that. He works for himself.”

  “No one else?”

  “No. He’s a lone wolf. Doesn’t play nice with others. I don’t know that he’s killed others, but it wouldn’t surprise me. And we didn’t hire him to kill anyone.”

  “We? He’s done work for the DEA?”

  “No.”

  “Then who does he work for?”

  “Who do you think, Mia?”

  “He works for you?”

  “I’m one of many. I don’t know how many, but he doesn’t limit himself.”

  “Why can’t I find anything on him?”

  “Why can’t I find anything on you? If you were him would you use your real name?”

  “Yes. I use my real name all the time.”

  “You don’t do the same work that he does,” Curtis said. “His line of work is much more dangerous.”

  “Don’t be so sure. You don’t even know my line of work.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what line of work you’re in?”

  “I solve problems,” I said.

  “So does Coulson.” Curtis walked through the dining room, and toward the door that I assumed led to the kitchen. I didn’t move. “Follow me, Mia.”

  “I’ve followed you enough,” I said.

  “Suit yourself.” He pulled out a chair at a table near the kitchen door, and sat down. “I’ve had enough of this, Mia. This whole thing is a charade. I don’t know who you are, but I’m tired of talking to you.” He looked toward the kitchen door, just in time to see a man well over six feet tall, and pushing three hundred pounds walk through the door. He cradled a gun in his arm, his finger resting on the trigger.

  “You’re not kidding. You must really be tired of talking to me,” I said.

  “I talked to Oswalt, Mia. And he told me what happened to Derek.”

  “The phone call,” I said.

  “That’s right. The phone call. I sent Derek to kill you after Oswalt told me how you interfered with the meeting at the campsite.”

  “You’re O?” I asked.

  “The one and only,” he said. “Oswalt called and told me that Derek killed you. I called him the next morning to thank him and he didn’t answer. That’s when I knew you killed him.”

  “You knew I killed him because he didn’t answer your call? A bit presumptuous isn’t it?” I began swaying back-and-forth on the balls of my feet, as if nervous about the situation.

  “Derek always answers. He understood the importance of the situation, and my anxiousness since I’m the man in charge. If I called him about something so important he would have answered if he could. I figured you survived the shooting and had a gun of your own and took him out. I told Oswalt not to go ahead with the shipments the other night. I thought you might still be around. He wasn’t supposed to proceed until we had a body. But he took Derek’s word for it and assumed you’d been eliminated. He should have listened to me.”

  “Who’s this guy?” I asked nodding toward the behemoth with the gun.

  “He’s the guy who I hired to kill you. I’m a reasonable man, Mia. I understood the dangers of our operation from the beginning. I understood what might happen if I got mixed up with someone like Ospina. I’ve been working my entire career to lockup guys like him. I understand guys like him. I knew I could manage him. If he crossed me we both knew that I could bring the full force of the federal government to bear upon him. He would have been foolish to double-cross me. And Oswalt understood the situation, too. He knew that his brother didn’t trust anyone, so if he brother vouched for me, then he could trust me. That’s why I had no problem managing Oswalt. But you, Mia. I don’t know what to do about you. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. That’s two strikes. But I could have overlooked that. I could have made a deal with you to look the other way while we ran the operation in Dixie County. I could have made it worth your while. But you had to go and make it personal by killing my brother. I can forgive a lot, Mia, but I can’t forgive that. My brother. Do you have a brother?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you understand. You sealed your fate in that motel room in Cross City. And since I can’t find Coulson, I called my buddy Eric here and he’s going to take care of the job for me. I’m sorry it ends this way, Mia. I’m not too sorry. I’m looking forward to seeing it, actually. But you know what I mean.”

  I continued swaying, and started wringing my hands, making it look like the pressure of the situation had become too much. As I spoke I made my voice crack. “Who’s Oswalt’s brother?” I asked.

  “His brother?” Curtis said, as though he didn’t understand the question.

  “Yeah. You said that Oswalt trusted you because his brother told him that you could be trusted. Who’s his brother?”

  “I really should be more careful when I speak,” Curtis said to Eric. “Sometimes I just get so wrapped up in the story that I can’t help it. I’ll work on that.” He looked at me, and then back at Eric, and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it doesn’t matter at this point, considering your situation. I’m surprised Eric has kept his finger from squeezing the trigger for this long. I don’t know how much longer he can hold out. Anyway, it’s Coulson. Oswalt’s brother is Martin Coulson. At least that’s the name by which we all know him. You’ll have to check with Oswalt about his real name. But it looks like you won’t get the chance to do so.”

  All of a sudden Oswalt’s defensiveness at hearing Coulson’s name, and Coulson’s numerous trips over the years back to Dixie County made sense.

  “Good thing you called Eric to kill me then, because Coulson won’t be doing any more jobs for you. I killed him in Chicago before I went down to Dixie County. And after I kill Eric, I’m going to go to Dixie County and tell Oswalt what I did.”

  “I don’t think you understand the situation, Mia.”

  I looked at Eric. He was watching Curtis, who had his eye on me. The perfect moment presented itself, so I looked off to the side of Eric, and behind him, put my hands u
p in front of my body, and yelled to the imaginary person standing there, “No, don’t do that, you’re going to get us killed!”

  Before they could process the situation, both Eric and Curtis looked to their right, in the direction of the imaginary person to whom I spoke. As soon as Eric took his eyes off of me I charged at him, landing a flying kick to his nose, which sent him reeling backward, his gun firing into the ceiling as he stumbled.

  “Damnit!” Curtis yelled, jumping up from his chair, and backing away from Eric and me.

  A second kick connected with Eric’s wrist, which caused him to drop the gun, and cry out in pain. He bent over to pick up the gun, but before he could get his hand to it, I kneed him in the face, feeling his nose break, a river blood pouring to the floor instantly. He looked up at me, and took two steps toward me, but I sidestepped him, and tripped him as I grabbed his shoulders and threw him to the floor. He landed flat on his chest. Before he could turn over I grabbed the chair that Curtis had been sitting in, turned it over, lifted it above my head, straddled Eric, and directed the top-most metal slat on the back of the chair toward the soft spot on the base of his skull where it connected with his spine. The first strike made him cry out, but the eighth quieted him. I added three more for good measure, then put down the chair, lifted his arm, and watched it fall to the floor.

  I turned around, hoping to find Curtis cowering under a table, but he was nowhere to be found. I searched the entire restaurant with no sign of him anywhere. In the kitchen I found the back door wide open, and looked outside, but Curtis was long gone.

  Chapter 44

  As soon as I left Delight I forgot about Curtis. Despite his attempt to kill me, I felt no urge to hunt him down. I’d come to DC seeking the missing pieces on Coulson, and Curtis provided them. I’d make sure he’d get what he deserved, but my immediate thoughts turned to Oswalt.

  I returned to my hotel, picked up my rental car, and checked on flights to Tallahassee, Gainesville, or Pensacola, but with nothing scheduled until the following day I decided to skip the flight. Instead, I left DC just before nine o’clock, and headed south on I-95. I didn’t know if Curtis would contact Oswalt and tell him what happened, but I figured it better to assume that Oswalt was expecting me.