by Ben Sanders
‘Keep going.’
‘Yeah, so anyway, we’re getting along fine, catching up and all that, and he says there’s an ex–New York cop called Marshall Grade that he’s after. And I was sorta like, oh, well, you know, and mentioned I knew a guy at PD called Marshall, but hadn’t seen him in a while. And then I guess we carried on, and I told him about the rumours I’d picked up, like about how you’d been undercover with Tony Asaro but things went kinda funny.’
The bacon was popping wetly, smelling all right, too. Marshall said, ‘So you had a good old gossip.’
Henry shrugged. ‘Just normal talk. But yeah, I guess.’
‘Right. And then lo and behold I called you, and you got back to Perry with the good news.’
Henry swept an upturned hand, like trying to find some extra nuance. ‘Well, yeah. But he never said what for.’
‘And you don’t have a great imagination, obviously.’
‘Look, it’s nothing personal. You and me go back as well, but, you know.’
‘Sure. Who’s Perry working for?’
‘I don’t know, I didn’t ask him.’
‘Because it’s a discreet business.’
Henry shot him with a finger gun. ‘You’re getting it now.’
Marshall didn’t answer.
Henry said, ‘Why you asking me anyway? Should’ve asked Perry what his deal was. Rather than doing your whole catch- and-release thing. Carl, those eggs’ll be done, get them outta there.’
Marshall said, ‘I took his phone so his boss could call me.’
‘But he hasn’t?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
‘Well, you should be chasing him, not me.’
Marshall said, ‘You set me up. I wasn’t just going to let that slide.’
Henry dug his thumbs in his belt, close in by the knot, cowboy style. ‘Might’ve earned yourself a favour if you did.’
‘I don’t need favours from you.’
Henry shrugged. ‘I’ll hang on to your breakfast, then.’
Marshall didn’t answer.
Henry spread his arms. ‘Look. I don’t know what to tell you.’
‘How about, Sorry.’
Henry smiled, lopsided, clucked his tongue. ‘What can I say, it’s a hard business.’
Carl slid a plate across the counter. Two eggs and four pieces of bacon, and a knife and fork. He said, ‘You still want the toast?’
Marshall put a leg down off the stool and moved in closer to the plate, kept the shotgun across his knees under the lip of the counter. The bacon could have done with a bit more. He said, ‘Yeah, I still want the toast.’
Henry rolled his eyes.
Marshall cut the edge off an egg, careful not to nick the yolk. He didn’t want a big flood of yellow, making a mess of things. He looked at Henry and said, ‘Who do you think he’s working for?’
‘Why you asking me? I thought you said the Asaros were after you.’
‘I did. But they’ll have intermediaries, and I’m starting at the bottom of the chain.’
‘Yeah, well. I’m on a parallel branch or link or whatever, so I don’t know.’
Marshall turned his coffee mug a few degrees, turned it back again. ‘What if I put a gun to your head and said, Guess?’
‘Jeez, look.’ He sucked his top lip. ‘He’s done work for a guy called Dexter Vine.’
Marshall cut himself some more egg white. He said, ‘Never heard of him.’
‘Yeah, he’s just small-time, my sort of scale. I see him now and again.’ A ringtone was playing, very faintly.
Henry said, ‘Is that you, Frank?’
Frankie’s head lolled back and forth. ‘Nah.’
Henry followed the sound to the living room, head cocked. He dug around between the couch cushions, came up with an iPhone.
He had a pained expression when he answered, like looking at a bright light. ‘Yeah?’
He waited.
Then he said, ‘Oh shit. Right now?’
SEVENTEEN
Perry
Ludo turned onto Sixty-second Street off Park Avenue, driving slow, not worried about the taxis stacking up behind him, hitting their horns. They’d come in over the Williamsburg Bridge, not as quick as the Midtown Tunnel, but Ludo didn’t want to be caught on a toll camera.
Perry was in back, his cheek almost normal, three motorbike helmets in the footwell beside him. Tol was up front with Ludo, leaning in over the dash, trying to see the right building. The line of cabs was giving them constant horn now, the driver behind pushing so hard he was locked upright in his seat, like flying a space rocket.
Ludo watched the guy in his side mirror. ‘Funny how people go all road rage without knowing who’s in the car. Like, we could be anyone, how do they know we’re not unstable or something, get out, just shoot them in the face? Like, country where we have the Second Amendment, why’d you even take that risk? Cabdrivers probably do it every day, sooner or later you gonna hit that slim chance of someone murdering you.’
He pulled to the kerb behind a FedEx truck, cabs whipping past at full blare, Ludo saying, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ giving them the finger through the window.
He tapped the windshield with a knuckle. ‘This is us, here. Place with the nice shiny front.’
Tol said, ‘They got a garage. We can just drive straight in.’
Ludo leaned across to see better. ‘Beautiful. Must’ve known we were coming.’
He looked over his shoulder and pulled out into the lane again, another cab hitting the brakes and then the horn. Ludo made the turn without signalling, and the cabin went darker as they entered the building. Quiet without the rain tapping on the roof, a kind of solemn feel, away from the bustle.
‘Ah, shit.’
Ludo braked hard and they stopped with a jolt, midway down the ramp. A tow truck was just coming up, too wide to get past, headlights glaring at them.
Ludo said, ‘Motherfucker.’
He slammed the gearshift, turned in his seat, and reversed up the ramp, tip of his tongue showing with the effort. He paused at the kerb and then backed out across Sixty-second Street. A black Suburban skid-stopped with its nose five feet from Tol’s door, high beams blazing in his window, plenty of horn, too, in case they hadn’t noticed.
Ludo just sat there shaking his head, like he couldn’t believe folks’ attitude. ‘How’s he know we’re not some psychopath? Put the window down, bam, see you later. You just never know who you’re honking at.’
The truck turned out across the road, a green convertible piggybacked up on the flatbed. The car had a big dent down the middle of the passenger door. Ludo let it pull away, and then went in for round two, Perry’s stomach going light as they changed grade.
They got to the bottom of the ramp this time, but Ludo stopped them hard, another belt jerker that made them nod. He pointed through the windshield, wipers squeaking on dry glass now. ‘Is that him up there? The white Escalade. Look at that thing.’
Perry said, ‘Maybe.’
No doubt about it, really. He’d seen the thing just last night. He could’ve bet limbs that it was Henry’s car.
Ludo was watching him in the mirror, seemed to read the thought. Something knowing in his smile, just the way his eyes crinkled. He turned and looked at him. ‘How many white, pimped-out Escalades is one apartment building gonna have? I’d say probably just the one.’
He killed the wipers, held the wheel two-handed, leaned forward as he released the brake. The car crept down the aisle, headlights playing out ahead. Very weak, like some holy presence floating there, leading the way.
Tol said, ‘Taillights are on.’
Ludo said, ‘Yeah. So he’s in it.’
‘Mighta left the keys there.’
Ludo shook his head. ‘Not with that thing. Probably keeps them on a string around his neck, sleeps with them under his pillow. Look at it, like polished ivory or something. Not going anywhere, though. See, no smoke.’
‘Maybe he’s just come in
—engine’s warm.’
Ludo shook his head again. ‘No tyre marks.’
‘So what’s he doing?’
‘I dunno. Probably sniffing the seats. Maybe ass and leather’s a nice mix.’
They crawled closer, fifty feet away. Ludo said, ‘P-man, when we get there, I’m gonna have a talk, and you’re gonna back me up. Make a man of you. I’ll go to the front, you’ll go to the back. Easy.’
He reached up and adjusted the mirror, framed his eyes so they were centred, still crinkled at the corners. ‘Make sense?’
Perry nodded, voices in his head telling him this was just like every other job, just go with it. But it wasn’t really hitting the mark. He felt like they were right out at the limit here, on the threshold of mayhem. And one thought kept circling:
How do I get out of this?
Ludo, still watching him in the mirror, said, ‘Great. Pass me a helmet.’
Perry handed one across the console. Ludo hunched forward to pull it on, slapped the top to get it snug, the car still rolling.
He clicked his visor down. ‘You’ll need one, too, P-man.’
He gave it some more gas as they drew nearer, the Impala’s nose lifting with the boost. They came to a gentle stop behind the Caddy, quiet and sedate, no need to advertise they were blocking it in. Ludo spent a second putting the gearshift in park, setting the brake, eyes on the SUV the whole time. The slot to the left was vacant—no issues with space. Ludo didn’t waste time, but he didn’t rush, either, just got out and walked to the driver’s side at his normal pace, pulled open the door like he owned it, grabbed the driver left-handed by the throat. Perry was still in the Impala so didn’t catch his first words, and it wasn’t until Tol started shouting for him to move that he managed to pull a helmet on and climb out, hovering there at Ludo’s shoulder like some kind of minion.
Ludo had both hands in there now, saying, ‘Don’t scream, don’t scream.’
A real calm tone, like a dentist talking to a kid, his voice muffled by the helmet.
Perry got in closer to the door, trying for a better view. He was expecting to see Henry sitting there, but it was a young woman of about twenty-five. She’d been texting or something, dropped a pink cell phone on the concrete. Ludo had a hand on her mouth, and she was starting to convulse, nightmare eyes locked on Perry.
Ludo said, ‘Don’t scream.’
It must’ve been horrific, sitting there with this faceless robot torturing you. Ludo took his hand away, and the girl sat panting, no less terrified than if the devil himself had grabbed her.
Ludo turned to Perry and said, ‘That’s not what I told you to do. Said I’d go to the front, you go to the back.’ He drew a loop motion in the air. ‘Go around and check there’s no one in the rear.’
Perry didn’t answer, raised his hands and backed away, mouthing Whatever as he walked around the other side of the truck. His breath was loud inside the helmet, a crackle sound like radio static, and the thing reeked of sweat, probably residue from the last heist.
He heard Ludo saying something, maybe, ‘Where’s Henry?’
‘Upstairs.’
Perry could’ve told him that. Where else was he going to be? He opened the rear door behind the front passenger seat. It was done up like a hotel suite: a leather couch down the far side, an armchair and a minibar on his left, a television down the back, frozen on some kids’ TV show—
And a little girl sitting cross-legged in front of it, hugging her knees, trying to hide behind the end of the couch.
Perry breathed, ‘Oh shit.’ His own voice hissing in his ears, trapped by the padding.
‘Perry, we good?’
Shit, dammit.
He gnashed his teeth. Then he held a finger to the helmet where his lips would be and leaned toward the girl, stepped back and slammed the door, clenched and opened his hands. ‘Yeah, we’re good.’
He walked back around the other side, trying to act relaxed. Ludo was standing by the Caddy, watching the vehicle ramp, right hand on his hip. The sort of stance he’d probably use if he was looking for a picnic spot. His left hand was still on the girl’s throat, both her hands at his wrist, Ludo not seeming to notice.
He said, ‘What floor’s he on?’
The girl said, ‘Fourteen. He’s on fourteen. Room fifty-two.’
‘All right. What are you doing down here?’
‘I’m, I’m just waiting.’
‘You’re just waiting.’
‘Yeah, he. He told me to wait in the car, he’d be down soon.’
The hand around her throat wasn’t a great look for her: her skin had all folded up, making a double chin.
Ludo nodded and glanced around. No one else on their level. The Impala idling quietly with its doors open, Perry standing there like an idiot. He should’ve just stayed in the car.
Ludo said, ‘I’m sorry I gave you a fright. All you got to do is sit here and wait patiently, and we’re going to go up and see Henry.’
The girl nodded frantically. Ludo glanced around again, calm and unrushed, like waiting for service at the store. He said, ‘Thought it’d be Henry sitting here, but then when I opened the door and saw it wasn’t, I’s already committed to the throat grab, couldn’t really back out. Plus I’s a little worried you’d make some noise.’
The girl nodded, like she knew what he meant.
Ludo hooked one leg to check his sole and said, ‘We’re looking for a guy named Marshall. You know who that is?’
Rapid nods, and her eyes lit up, like this was something she could talk about. ‘He’s upstairs.’
Ludo’s chin dropped slightly. ‘With Henry?’
The nods gained tempo. ‘Yeah. He got here just now.’
‘You have keys to get in?’
‘Yeah, they’re just.’ She fumbled at the control column, awkward with her head pinned to the seat, her line of sight too high. She switched off the ignition, and the console went dark. She handed over the keys. Ludo looked at them a moment, rocking his palm to separate them, and then he let her go and slammed the door. He looked at Perry and tipped his head. ‘Get in with her and make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. Tol and I are heading upstairs.’
Perry said, ‘Are you going to kill him?’ The hissing voice sounding strained and worried.
‘We’ll see. Get in the car. Try not to be so jitterbuggy.’
Ludo gave him a push to get him going. Perry walked around the back of the Caddy and climbed into the passenger seat, heart really thundering, that question up at hurricane volume:
How do I get out, how do I get out—
The girl was leaning against the door, sobbing into her hands, shuddering occasionally. In her side mirror Perry saw Tol, still sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala but with a helmet on now, elbow up on the sill, chatting a little as Ludo leaned in and popped the trunk.
The girl said, ‘Please can I just get out of here?’
Wringing her hands as she said it, desperate with misery, her mouth bent all out of shape. Her neck was red and blotchy where Ludo had held her.
Perry said, ‘Just wait, you’ll be OK.’
Too shaky: he didn’t sound convincing.
He watched Ludo lift the lid, remove a brown jacket from inside, and shrug it on. There was a UPS shield stitched on the front.
‘Please, I don’t have anything to do with this.’ Her voice wobbly and snot-filled.
‘Just be quiet.’
He almost shouted it, and she went silent, the kid in back starting to cry instead.
Tol was out of the car now, jacket on, swinging his arms to get the blood moving. Ludo was at the trunk, removing a duct-taped cardboard box maybe four feet long and a foot square. He laid it on the ground and then got back in the Impala, hooked a neat reverse turn into the vacant slot beside the Escalade. He waved to them as he got out. Then he slammed his door and picked up the box again, carried it at waist height across his forearms as he and Tol walked away, the little girl still crying as Perry watc
hed them go.
Funny how the brain works: all that stuff in his head, escape plans and that kind of thing, he still had time to wonder how good their disguise was. Some corner of him thinking that box was too big for a motorbike courier, if UPS even had them, and why would there be more than one deliveryman, anyway? Almost got a smile out of him, picturing two guys squeezed in on a little bike, trying to balance that huge package.
He shook the thought off, a sudden movement that made the girl jump, and then he sat there with his hands wrapped behind his neck and his eyes closed, trying to think things through.
What happened if they went up there and it all hit the fan? Shot it out with Henry and killed a whole bunch of residents or something? Hit a bellboy on his first day. He’d be an accessory. Didn’t matter how things turned out anyway, bloodshed or not, the girl and the kid were both witnesses. And victims, technically, because keeping them in the car was probably an abduction, holding them against their will or whatever. Which made Perry a kidnapper, even sitting here doing nothing, smelling someone else’s sweat.
He opened his eyes, wanting some clue to look at, make the answers all click together. The kid was still crying. Perry turned in his seat, saw her huddled there at the end of the couch. The girl beside him leaning on her door, looking in her side mirror as she chewed her top lip. Fist against her mouth, a tear crawling down her cheek. He thought of saying something about how he had kids, too, but it didn’t feel right, offering that. When he went inside, did his time, he’d got out and found he didn’t really know them. Two years, and they were different people, or maybe he was. It felt like cheating to say they were still his. Same genes, but that was about all they shared—
He broke the thought off and said, ‘Do you have a phone?’
She took the fist away. ‘It broke. The screen’s all splintered.’
‘Shit.’
He glanced around, not really looking at anything, more of a panicked dither than actually being proactive. He opened the glove compartment and poked around, and lo and behold, there was an iPhone waiting for him, on top of all the owner’s manuals. He wasted precious time just staring, couldn’t believe he’d got so good at wishing. Thing was brand-new, no dust or scratches on it or anything, fresh out of the box.
