The Falau Files Box Set 1

by Mike Gomes

  “What happened to the real Albert Raize?” Falau asked, unable to stop himself.

  “Albert is going to do one more month with us. In a month’s time he’ll take the place of another guy who isn’t going to make it.”

  “Why did he agree to that?

  “Albert had a problem betting on football. Thought he could beat the point spread. He was in the hole to me for $20,000 when he got busted. If he did this for me the debt gets forgiven. If he disagreed then my rates as a loan shark would have him paying his debt forever.”

  “And the other guy who won’t make it?”

  “He has problems with the Kings. He took some dope from them, but used it rather than selling it. They want to whack him now, but I convinced them it’d be better to watch him dry out in prison and then take him out the day before his release date. Albert will just slide into his spot.”

  Falau held the new uniform in his hands and looked at the new serial number. His escape involved a death, just like every other thing in his life.

  In the back of his mind a soft voice called with an echo. “It’s your fault. You killed me.”

  Quashing the voice the best he could the big man turned all his attention back to T-Bone.

  “Will Albert dummy up?”

  “Ya, Albert is no problem. He has a wife and kids. If he opens his mouth about all this he believes we’ll kill his family. Not the kind of thing I do, but it works to get these degenerate gamblers to pay back their debts. It’s always the white dudes from the suburbs that think they know more about sports than Vegas.”

  Standing up Falau walked over to his desk and reached under it, pulling out a small bag. He turned back around to his friend and tossed the bag to him.

  “It’s my stash. A thank you present. Not a lot, but things you can use. A shank, two packs of cigarettes, some weed and a good sized bag of heroin. Stuff that should be good for trading. Just my small way to say thanks.”

  “All the thanks I need is fucking up Wise. You blow the show on him and that whack-job kid of his with no loose ends and we all end up happy.”

  “When do you get out?”

  “Never. Unless Wise takes off then I’m stuck right here. It’s the only way I can make sure my family is okay,” T-bone said, standing up and placing one hand on the door to show he was ready to make his move to leave. He tucked the stash from Falau into his pants and smiled. “Listen close. They’re going to take us to chow in a few minutes. That’s when they’ll come to pull Albert from the line. When they call the name you walk out and go with the guards. Simple as that.”

  Falau knew his friend was right. It was simple, though a million things could still go wrong with the plan. But doing it in plain sight with all eyes on him was better than sneaking through a tunnel in the middle of the night.

  “Thanks man,” said Falau, sticking out his hand for T-Bone to shake.

  The gang leader looked at Falau. “Normally people hug at a time like this, but we’re in the joint and a hug leaves you wide open for attack. Mr. Falau, I have no idea if you’re a very good man or a very bad man, but I’m damn happy you’re my friend.” T-bone reached out and shook hands, realizing that the two men had never touched in all the time Falau had been in the prison. They were both far too cautious to themselves vulnerable to attack.

  The buzzer sounded, indicating they needed to line up for chow. T-bone left the cell and hustled to his spot on the floor as Falau slid on the new uniform. He looked at the dust and grime on the material. T-bone had made sure to get the uniform into a worn out state. The only difference between this uniform and his own was the identification number across the right breast pocket and running down the leg of the pants.

  Just like every other meal time, Falau followed protocol and went down and took his spot in line. He waited for the automatic doors to open, and all prisoners went out the doors into the hallway single-file to join the other members of cell block H who were right across the hall.

  A young guard walked between the two lines as they started to move to go to chow.

  “Raize. Albert Raize.”

  Falau stepped out of line and in front of the guard. He smiled, assuming the look of a man about to get released from prison.

  “Let me check your number, Raize. 9-2-6-1-1-2-1-5-8. Okay, come with me. Time for you to get out of here.”

  “Yes sir,” said Falau, walking with purpose behind the guard. The sense of formality had dropped, the guard making him walk to the side. A free man in waiting was given a bit more liberty on his way out the door.

  The guard unlocked the door with the words OUTGOING PROCESSING written on it. As the door opened Falau was shocked with the level of activity he saw in the room. Over a dozen men were getting processed to leave the prison that day. The room was only the size of a high school classroom, but the walls had openings and counters, just like the DMV. Each window had its own purpose. Paperwork, personal items, cash, transportation, and parole assignments.

  “Sit here and wait to be called for each window. When you’re done at the window sit back down and they will process you at the next. Good Luck.”

  Falau took his place on the long row of benches and thought of all the ways that the escape could go wrong at this point. There had to be a picture of Raize in the file. What if someone saw it and noticed he was clearly not the man who should be leaving the prison? Could he fight his way out? Doubtful, what with the number of armed guards and the wall that would still need to be scaled.

  “Raize, Albert!” shouted a man sitting in the ‘Parole’ window. Coming face to face with the man Falau noticed it was the same man who had originally taken him from the van when he arrived in the wee hours of the morning. The man flashed a smile his way and sat up straight in his chair.

  “Well, look who it is,” he said with a devilish grin. “Isn’t this interesting.”

  Falau looked at the man, searching for the right words, but nothing came to mind. He stammered a little, then simply nodded his head.

  “Son, you’re getting a second chance out there, so don’t blow it,” said the older guard pointing his finger at Falau. “Funny I was here the day you came and now the day you leave. What got you in here in the first place?”

  “Being stupid and drunk. I have a problem with drinking. I need to get into some groups and get my life together.”

  “You’re damn right with that. Only thing that will work. I’ve gone twenty six years without a drop of alcohol. Not even at weddings. Getting sober saved my life and kept me from losing my wife and kids. No matter what you do, get yourself sober. It’s hard to start with but after a while you begin to deal with all the things you were drinking about in the first place.”

  Despite the guard having no idea he was talking to the wrong man, his words rang true for Falau and his own life. He struggled to deal with the truth of life and his past. Maybe being sober was the way to do it, but to this point the bottle was the only thing that had ever helped him.

  “Yes sir. I know it will be a long road to get to the right place.”

  “Now that’s what I like to here. Now, you need to check in with your parole officer twice a week,” said the older guy while sliding a piece of paper across the counter. “You do that and stay sober, and you’ll be all set. Best of luck young man.”

  “I will, sir. You seem like a fine man, but I hope I never see you again.” Falau and the man chuckled at the simple joke.

  Falau returned to his seat and waited to be called to the next window and the next until he had finished.

  After receiving his personal effects, or at least the ones that belonged to Albert Raize, he slipped into the jeans and T-shirt. He checked the wallet and found $3.

  The man behind the counter smiled at him and passed him a bus ticket and $50 cash. “Best of luck. You can now walk out that door to freedom.”

  Falau held his breath for a second, then gathered his things. He passed through the first glass doors and walked the long hallway to another set of glas
s doors. He kept thinking to himself that T-Bone was in the wrong kind of work. He was a tactician. Most people would never escape in such a simple way. They would make it unnecessarily difficult for themselves. But T-Bone spotted a weakness in their system and focused on it and created a plan. He had deliberately sprung it on Falau with no time to waste, just so he wouldn’t think about it too much. He was smooth and skilled. If he did get out of this rat-infested trap, he would be a good contact to have on the street.

  He reached down and pushed the lever of the glass doors, opening up onto the outside world for the first time in months. He stepped out into the cold, late winter air and felt a shiver. He didn’t have a coat. The bus stop was across the street. Looking to the right and getting ready to cross, a black Mercedes sped up to him and stopped on a dime. The window dropped down to reveal Tyler, a wide smile on his face. He was listening to the song ‘Chain Gang’ by Sam Cooke.

  “Need a ride, convict?” he asked with a wink.

  Chapter 24

  Opening the door of the luxury sports car, Falau smiled. The small car seat would feel more comfortable for his body than anything in the prison had in months.

  “How was your vacation?” asked Tyler as he stepped on the gas and pulled away from the curb.

  “Relaxing, but the people next door just made way too much noise,” said Falau, in an exasperated tone.

  “Well I hope you didn’t fill up on sweets because I got you a treat,” responded Tyler, reaching between the seats and pulling up a brown paper. “I thought, if I were in prison for a few months what would I want to have first? So I got you a cheeseburger and fries.”

  Falau tore into the bag and pulled out the two cheeseburgers wrapped in their familiar yellow paper. He dropped the fries into the bag and stuffed a few into his mouth.

  “Mmmm. What, no shake?”

  “Sorry, but I didn’t know what flavor you liked best. We can stop for one.”

  Falau laughed and took a large bite from the cheeseburger, enjoying every morsel of the unhealthy but sorely missed food.

  “Wow, you’re doing a number on that burger.”

  “It’s been a long time. Hey, how did you know to talk with T-Bone?”

  “Did you forget?”

  “Forget what?”

  “We know everything. Once we did our investigation we knew where you were within forty-eight hours. We ran background on everyone in the cell block. T-Bone stuck out like a sore thumb.”

  “Was he just a mark, or did you think he could help in the future?”

  “Hold on, Falau, you’re not part of recruiting. If he gets out you tell him nothing. If he can give you information fine, but it ends there. Nothing more. He has too many connections to the area to do what we do. Is that clear?”

  “Ya, it’s perfectly clear. Just a question, man. Don’t worry, he knows nothing. He’s a sharp guy so he knew not to question anything about you even after he met you.”

  Tyler looked straight ahead and kept his eyes on the road, fighting back a grin.

  Falau looked at his friend, waiting for him to break the silence, but all he did was drop the visor to stop the sun from shining into his eyes.

  “You didn’t meet with him, did you.”

  “What do you think? Why would I open myself up to that? I had a friend take care of that for me. We look a lot alike, so if your jail friend described him to you it was close enough to sound like me.”

  “Never anything out of place for you is there?”

  Tyler shifted his eyes to his friend and a serious look spread across his face. “I try to make sure there isn’t anything out of place. If there is, I’m the guy who has to fix it. Better to have it right the first time than to do it twice. No mistakes, then nobody dies.”

  Falau heard him loud and clear. Tyler was the straw that stirred the drink. He was the one that everything revolved around. There was no way to tell how many cases he was working on all around the world, how many people put their lives in his hands. But through all of it, here he was picking up his friend and making him feel as if he was the only person he had to deal with.

  “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to sound like I was mocking you at all. Prison messes with your thinking and you say things a bit different. I will square away.”

  “I understand. It can mess with you.”

  “Have you done time?” questioned Falau, turning in his chair and taking another big bite of the burger.

  “That’s a story for another day. Let’s get our eyes on the prize.”

  Chapter 25

  Tyler was driving as hard as he always did, foot hard on the gas and weaving in and out of traffic without a care in the world. It was his special way of making sure nobody was following him.

  “Some things never change,” said Falau, grinning at his old friend and holding on to the bar above the passenger side window. “If it works, might as well stay with it.” Falau shifted comfortably in the seat, enjoying the luxury of being inside the car. “What happened to the Dodge?”

  “Oh, your old love machine? Well I have her ready for you. The moment those guys picked you up and we got word of it, we had a team out there grabbing the car, your coat, and all your other things. Oh, by the way... I have this for you.” Tyler reached inside his jacket to his chest pocket, removing a 9mm handgun. A Ruger SR9C, to be exact. He handed the weapon to Falau and smiled. “I think you’re old friends with this.”

  Falau chuckled and took the gun in his hand. He pulled back the slide to see if there was a bullet in the chamber and saw that there was. He slid the gun down behind his back and shoved it into his jeans. Suddenly he felt more comfortable being armed and having some means of defense.

  Tyler looked at Falau as he hammered down on the gas and entered the highway at top speed. The car moved with grace and precision as the exits flew quickly by. “Okay, listen carefully. This is the situation. You're still on the job. You're the man that needs to bring in Calvin Wise. That assignment didn't just disappear when you went into prison. In fact it got more pronounced. I'm sure you heard and saw some of the news inside. More girls have fallen victim to the exact same crime he committed. From the intelligence we have he's certainly the guy doing it, but the police are simply turning a blind eye to it. There's even talk of the FBI coming in to bust this little prick. But as of right now nobody from federal has come in. Seems like his old man has too much control over everybody around here.”

  “No problem. I'm glad to see the work is still there. Needless to say I need the money and this will be a good start for me. Just let me get back home and put myself together. In a few days I'll be back on the case.”

  “Sorry buddy. That's not going to happen this time. We need you on the case right now. If you can't do it we need to get somebody else.”

  “Tyler, I'm not asking for much. I'm just asking for a chance to get back home and pull myself together, develop a new plan and get focused on what needs to be done.”

  “I understand your concern. But our concern is that this kid is a killing machine. He doesn't let up. He doesn't stop. He just keeps killing. Are you able to take on this mission and continue it now?”

  Falau reached down to the bag to pull out some more fries but there were none left. “I see how it is... first you butter a guy up with a cheeseburger and french fries, and then you lower the boom on them,” said Falau, laughing and placing his hand on the shoulder of his friend.

  “You’re not answering the question.”

  “Okay, I'm in. Take me to the Dodge, let me get behind that class act of a car, and I'll be ready to roll.”

  Chapter 26

  Tyler's car came to a screeching halt outside of a Suburban garage that looked more like a storage unit than anything else. Shifting slightly in the seat he opened the car’s center console, retrieving papers, pens and a wad of cash.

  Shuffling through the different items he came across a card inside a sleeve that was no bigger than a credit card.

  “Falau, here's the key
to get you through the gate, and it'll also get you into the garage. Go to the one marked A-275. Pass the card over the sensor and you’re in. The Dodge will be in there, so pull it out. The door will close automatically behind you, then you're on your way to do the job. I don't need the card later, so just throw it away or destroy it.”

  “Sounds simple enough. Take care, my friend.”

  Falau opened the door to the car and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He calmly walked into the storage area and soon heard Tyler’s fast car ripping away. He smiled, thinking perhaps Tyler did not know how to drive in a calm and sane fashion.

  Approaching to the locker he passed the card in front of it, just as he had been told, and the door automatically rose. The ugly red Dodge 2000 Caravan sat there in all its glory, just as he remembered it. Falau hopped inside and found the keys in the ignition. Glancing down at the buttons, they remained the same, and still had all the deadly force the Tyler had informed him about before. On the passenger seat sat the coat, sunglasses, and a box of the new bullets Tyler had made just for his 9mm.

  The key turned and the engine came to life with a sputter. There was a high-pitched whine, almost like the fan was out of sync and creating some disruption. Falau was sure Tyler had even developed this feature to make the car fit the profile all the more.

  Outside the storage complex Falau steered the car down the road in the most casual of fashions. He wanted to blend in with all the other soccer moms and dads who were ready for their kids to take the field in the most gentle and non-contact ways.

  If only Tyler were here, the two of us together could take care of this and it would be no problem, though Falau while scratching his chin. But that wasn't to be. Tyler indicated clearly and often that he did not get involved with that part of the mission, and his important work was somewhere else.

  Within twenty minutes Falau pulled up to the same spot he’d been months before with a clear view of the Wise home. Looking out he saw the rolling landscape that went up to the house and the wall that defended it. He used the binoculars to check down the street to the gate and then up again to the garage that sat on the hill. Minimal activity, and nothing to see. Scanning the grounds with a binocular every five to ten minutes, nothing appeared to change. The Rottweilers came out for their runs, combing the area and running in a pack. They still proved to be the biggest problem in his mind. They were obviously well trained, and defended their territory to keep any intruders away from the Wise home.