by Andrew Allan
“There’s no guarantee they won’t find out. And, say this whole thing gets exposed. What happens to me? I get arrested. I go to jail. They work for the prison system. There’d be nothing stopping them from getting to me.”
“Unless they were stopped first,” I said.
“I just want to be clear that I didn’t actually do any killing. You know that,” he said. “The service did. I merely passed a name along. There was no conspiring, no nothing. You understand that, right?”
“Politics as usual,” I said.
Now, I was mad. I leaned into his desk and pointed.
“Your passing along a name was directly responsible for getting my friend killed! A good man. With a family!”
“But, I didn’t do the killing, I—“
“No, you accommodated it. You made the deal. A deadly one.”
He sat up, a pleading expression on his face.
“You gotta understand, once you’re privy to this kind of information, these services—“
“There are other services?” I said with genuine surprise and air quotation marks, which looked odd because I couldn’t make quotes with the Skull Crusher.
“Of course, there are. Why else would a man spend seventy-five million dollars of his own money to become governor? Or Senator? It gets him access. To unimaginable privileges. That’s what this is all about. Access, power, and prestige. Maximum Freedom.” He waved around the room, meaning government/politics.
It was sickening.
“But, you don’t learn about these things until it’s too late. When you already have blood on your hands,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“I’m not going to get into details. But, I got into some trouble last year. This connection offered to help out. I was desperate so I took his help. It wasn’t killing. But, enough to give him something to hold over me and use as needed.”
“Get to the point. My face is swelling up. And, I want to barf,” I said.
“The point is, they made me pass the name along to my client. My donor.”
I had to think for a moment. He said a lot that was vague. But, then I got it.
“So you figured it would be best for everyone if you played along. You save your ass, you help your donor, and you make these creeps some money, right?” I said.
He nodded. “And, that’s exactly what happened.”
“Who cares if someone has to die.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said.
“Only your faithful assistant Ross caught wind of it.”
“He wasn’t supposed to know.”
“And so, now that the fuck up came from your office, it’s your ass in the sling.”
“Yes.” A grave expression appeared on his face.
“So, we’ve talked ourselves right back to my original request. Tell me who the middleman is. Stop trying to cover your ass, because it sounds like you’re already dead,” I said standing up. I’d had enough.
He shook his head and smirked.
“No. That’s not gonna happen.”
“Why the hell not? I’m the only chance you got!”
He looked me over.
“That’s not much of a chance,” he said.
I sighed.
“You’re being a real dumb dick,” I said.
“Perhaps. I’d love for you to get the bastards. But, my money is still on them.”
He tapped a newspaper sitting on his desk. There was an article about authorities stepping up their search for me.
“And, I’d increase my odds if I just turned you in right now.”
I held up the iron fist.
“I’ll smash your face before that phone reaches your ear,” I said.
Hate brewed inside me. This guy was jerking me around. And, he was working against his own best interest.
“Then we’ve come to an impasse,” he said as he stood up.
I was starting to worry but didn’t want to show it. He could call the cops – or maybe even the executioners – and they could be here before I walked out of the lobby. Then, it would be all over. I’d disappear and they’d get away with everything.
I looked down at the phone on his desk. Then up to him. He stared back. I looked back at the phone and smashed it to pieces with the iron fist.
He jumped back worried I was attacking him.
Someone from outside the office spoke loud, “What was that?”
He composed himself. “There are other phones in this office.”
“You piece of shit. I tried to help you.”
“You can’t help me,” he said, straightening into a defiant posture. “But, I can help you.”
“That’s what I’ve been asking for all along.”
“I’ll help by giving you a ten minute head start. Then, I will call Capital Security. Then, I will call my connection. I want everything to appear as if I tried to stop you,” he said.
“That is no fucking help,” I said ready to pound his face.
“I will also tell you your instincts appear to have been spot on. You were shrewd enough to find me here. You’re obviously moving in the right direction.”
His flattery felt like an insult.
He continued, “You know who the killers are, you just don’t know their names. I don’t either. But, I’m sure you can find that out.” He added, “If you’re willing to get close to them.”
“Every time I get close to them they try to kill me,” I said.
“You’ll need to be careful then,” he said.
That did it.
I leapt over his desk and grabbed him by the tie. My momentum pushed us back onto the table that ran along the wall behind his desk.
“Tell me who the middleman is, asshole!”
I grabbed his throat and punched him in the stomach with the iron fist.
He gasped, his face beet read.
One of his staffers walked in. “Mr. Wingart, is everything—“ They screamed. “Call the police!”
I hopped off Wingart and ran out of the office.
An office flunky tried to block me. I plowed through him and ran towards the front door.
Up front, the sorority sister shrieked and hid under her desk when I came around the corner. I must have looked like a charging bull. I shoved the front glass door open. When my arm swung back and the Skull Crusher smashed the glass shattering it onto the floor in a thousand jagged pieces. I hustled down the stairs and out of the building.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I WAS BARELY off the block when police cars converged from every direction. They surrounded the Senator’s building. I ducked into a doorway and watched as half the cops secured the area and the other half stormed inside the building. Then, I looked for a clear path and got the hell out of there.
After twenty minutes of cutting through alleys and working a roundabout route I made it back to the car. I had to presume Wingart – that prick – had already told the cops I had been in his office. So, I’d be billed as armed, dangerous, and in the vicinity. I had to get out of town fast.
Easier said than done. Roads leading to I-10 west were closed down and checkpoints were being set up. The only way I was going to get to Defuniak – to Ilsa – was by going way out of my way, taking small roads and cutting through small towns. But, just getting out of the downtown area proved challenging. Traffic was already backing up.
A police siren squelched. I startled as a cop car raced past on the road shoulder. The car pulled up to the intersection ahead and stopped. The officer, wearing a bright yellow vest, started setting up a new checkpoint. I couldn’t U-turn. I couldn’t back up. And, I couldn’t pull out of line. It would look suspicious.
Two more police cars and a police van arrived at the intersection. Two cops pulled wooden barricades out of the van and began placing them on the street to funnel traffic into a single file line. The other cops directed traffic and checked cars.
The car behind me honked. I hit the steering wheel, frustrated and un-nerved.
My foot lifted of the gas and my car crawled forward as I looked around for an alternate route. Slim pickings.
The cops waved traffic forward. Time was running out.
Mine was three cars back from the checkpoint. I could see the cops up ahead – the ones checking passengers in cars – they referred to some papers. It had to be a picture of me. They’d identify me the moment I pulled up. You’re screwed, Asher!
The ding of a service bell drew my attention. Right side of the car. A large, jacked up pickup truck had just pulled out of the service bay at the tire repair shop and was looking to pull into traffic. This could work.
A police officer whistled and waved. The cars ahead of me pulled forward. I didn’t. I waved the truck ahead of me. He thanked me with a nod and pulled onto the street, creating a shield to prevent the police from seeing me drive into the tire shop parking lot.
But, I didn’t stop in the parking lot. I pulled into the empty service bay the truck had just exited. Service technicians watched my car pull in and gave me a signal to stop. No thanks. I pulled straight through the bay and out to the other side of the building. I swerved around an assortment of cars waiting to be repaired and cut onto a service alley for deliveries. It was the break I needed. I drove for five alley blocks then turned off and took an intersection that hadn’t been cordoned off.
Three streets later, I was on Highway 319 driving south. It wasn’t my preferred route. It would take almost twice as long to reach Defuniak Springs. I’d have to cut down to the Gulf coast, around the Apalachicola National Forest then up through Panama City. But, at least there were no cops. Yet.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE HOUR AND a half trip from Tallahassee to Defuniak Springs took more than seven hours. Defuniak Springs is just north of Interstate 10. And, there was a ton of heat looking for me. Police cars were parked near every major Interstate on and off ramp. I had to double back and cut through small towns like Ebro and Vernon, even going so far as to cross over into Alabama before looping around and driving straight south into Defuniak Springs. I was relieved to arrive.
I found a payphone at the far end of a poorly lit convenience store. This was the bad part of town and plenty of the locals watched as I dialed DG’s number under the glowing cone of a bright streetlight. A woman with a hard Southern drawl answered my call.
“DG’s,” she said, pleasant enough.
“Hi, this is Walt. Calling for DG,” I said.
“I’m gonna connect you now, sugar,” she said.
Of course, DG had an answering service for his underground network.
I said, “Okay, thanks.”
A trio of teenagers walked over and sized up my car. From here, they seemed impressed.
A different voice came on the line. I didn’t recognize it.
“Hello, Walt?” Female, pleasant. I guessed early twenties.
“Yes,” I said.
“Don’t write this down. I’m gonna say it twice, so listen.”
“I’m ready.”
Twice she gave me the address and directions to where I would find Ilsa. I thanked her, hung up, and walked back to the car, repeating the address in my head.
The teenage trio breezed away from my car as I walked up. One smiled, “Sweet wheels.”
“Thanks.”
I got in and drove off.
The woman’s directions lead me to a dead end. A chain-link fence cut off the road. I killed my lights and waited. Nothing happened for fifteen minutes. I turned the car on and backed down the road to check the street sign. I glanced at the rearview mirror.
Stop!
A pair of men stood in the road behind my car. They looked mean. One walked up to my window and swirled his finger, telling me to roll it down. I did.
“Who are you?” he said, a menacing look on his face. His hand on the handle of a pistol tucked in his front waistband.
“Walt. DG’s friend. I’m here to see my girlfriend, Ilsa. She’s the one laid up,” I said.
He looked over the roof of the car and nodded approval to his friend.
They hopped in the car. “Beams off. Turn here, cut around the house, and follow the road,” he said.
I turned into what looked like the front yard of a small two-bedroom home. But, as I pulled around to the back yard, I could see the house had been built right in the middle of an intersection, disguising it and obscuring the side street we were on now which, a moment later, lowered and banked until it ran parallel along a creek of respectable size.
I had to follow the road using the moonlight that beamed through the trees and reflected off the creek. Good thing it wasn’t overcast. It was slow going, and despite the ridiculous rumble of the engine, things seemed more peaceful without the headlights.
I saw a family of deer on the far side of the creek. They were partially silhouetted by the moonlight. Their heads perked up at hearing the car. They watched me and I watched them between glances at the road. It reminded me that life was still happening as normal for people and beasts outside of my predicament. I hoped to get my life back to normal soon.
We arrived at a small alcove with a gravel path that led to barn-sized doors set against the base of a hill. My passengers – who remained silent for the ride – hopped out and pulled open the doors. They waved me forward and I drove the car into what looked like a small cave. I parked, turned off the car, and got out. I could smell the minerals in the soil.
“This way,” my guide said, waving me out of the cave. They closed and locked the barn doors behind me.
We walked along the river for about the distance of a typical big city block. Then, we cut down a worn grass path that meandered towards the river.
“Careful,” my guide said.
He led me across a small bridge of stepping-stones, hardly visible above the surface of the water. No one would see them from the road or even from higher up in the nearby hills.
I made it across the water despite almost slipping off twice. Once on fresh land, we picked up the pace, jogging through a densely wooded area until we arrived at a wooden gate. My guide opened the gate and we went in.
The set up was familiar in that it was similar to how DG had his property arranged down by the Rainbow River: A winding path led back to a flat, spacious house set in the middle of a parking lot’s worth of vehicles. All the vehicles pointed away from the house for the fastest possible getaway, and they were parked under thatched roofs to avoid aerial detection.
My guides took me into the house and led me up to a buxom woman whose scoop neck top let it be known that her cleavage ran long and deep.
“You must be Walt,” she said. “I’m Stella.”
“Hi,” I said.
“You hungry? Thirsty?” She turned to my guide. “Smash, get him a brew. Make it two.”
He nodded and went to find libations.
“I want to see Ilsa. I can eat after,” I said.
She smiled and led me down a dim, wood-paneled hallway.
Ilsa was sitting up in bed, brushing her hair. She sensed my presence at the door “I wanted to spruce up once I heard you were coming,” she said with a smile.
“You look extraordinary,” I said and moved into the room.
I took her face in my hands and gave her what had to be the best kiss in all the many years of our relationship. I couldn’t kiss her enough.
I moved my hands off her face, down the sides of her neck, across her shoulders and behind her back then squeezed to hug. It was a strong enough embrace to nearly lift her off the bed.
“Oww!” she said.
I relaxed my grip and she settled back against a small mountain of pillows. She squirmed around for an angle that would put the least pressure on her body. She smiled, but the kiss and hug seemed to have exhausted her.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be. I’ve needed that kiss,” she said.
I sat on the bed next to her.
“Well, here I am. The woman of your dreams,” she said.
“You are indeed. How you feeling?” I rubbed her left leg.
She smiled. She hesitated, but forced her concerned expression away. She was trying to keep up a strong front.
“Before you answer that,” I leaned forward and gave her another kiss. I couldn’t get enough. I held it and held it and held it until she started to laugh.
“Sorry, I just had to,” I said.
“Take all you like,” she said, a genuine smile on her face this time. “Your kisses numb the pain.”
“Is it bad?” I said.
“It’s getting better. Just takes time to heal.”
“What does the doctor say?”
“That I might be able to walk on my own in six months. But, I will limp for the rest of my life. And my long, lean, lovely leg will not be worthy of showing off at the beach.” She forced a smile.
My hand caressed her injured leg. I looked down at the L-shape it formed under the blankets. I wanted nothing more than for my hand to emit a healing heat that would restore her leg back to full health, and forever ease her heart and mind.
I looked into her eyes.
“You will always be the most beautiful. Always,” I said.
She waved me off like I was getting too serious and needed to chill out. But, when she leaned back to rest her head on the pillows and looked out the window I could see the beginnings of tears glisten in her eyes.
She started to say something then stopped and caught her breath. She closed her eyes then blinked the tears away. One escaped down her cheek. She wiped it away, looked at me, and smiled. Then, more tears surfaced.
We hugged, with less force this time.
“Okay, enough of that silly stuff,” She said. “I will be fine. There are more troublesome things to worry about, and I think you know what I mean.”
She gave me a stern look, as if I was the misbehaving student and she the disapproving teacher. She’s given me that same look on friskier occasions.
“How goes the work of the hunter?” she said.
