by Les Goodrich
Colin answered playing along, “May we leave you this case of paperwork to clear up this whole mess? All we want is to make this right.”
Dolph took up the box from the chair seat, heavier than he expected, and Colin handed the case across to the man who said, “Perfect,” then disappeared into the dark back of the room as the boys made the front door and left the way they came in.
“Christ,” Dolph exhaled as he put the heavy box into the trunk, closed the trunk lid and looked at his watch. Ten fifteen.
The apartment was between them and Coral Avenue so they decided to stop there being that they had an hour to kill and a federal crime in the trunk.
Colin pulled the BMW into the townhouse garage and closed the garage door behind them. By ten thirty-five a.m. they were having a beer on the balcony. Dolph looked across the water. The view was a sharp contrast to the one he had looked upon from the balcony in Key West. Here towering condos and hotels, not puffy seagrape trees, loomed over the bay from Miami Beach. The intracoastal was not windswept wide expanses of open water but was trimmed with channel markers, traversed by bridges and populated by signs and boats moored or moving. And everything had a light on it. The buildings, channel markers, signs and boats had lights that blinked, revolved, pulsed and reflected streaks down into the water. Lights of red, green, amber, blue, and clear of every size and level of muted brightness. The whole damn river and the shore beyond looked like it was going to blink twice and blast off.
“How far is it to Coral Avenue?” Colin asked.
“A five minute drive.”
“How far is it by boat?”
“Um, I’d guess about fifteen minutes.”
“Maybe we should take Richie’s. Slip up easier. Check it out. Instead of just driving right up in the car.”
“We’d have to leave now.”
“Let’s go.”
They went to the car and got the plates. Colin grabbed the cellphone when he saw it on the seat and together they crossed grass between the buildings to the small apartment docks where Richie’s boat was tied. Colin loaded the box into a compartment under the seat ahead of the boat’s console and Dolph started the engine, after a few tries, and let it warm up while he found all of the light switches and controls. The running lights didn’t come on at first click but, after a wiggle of the toggle, light flickered then glowed green and red at the bow. Colin jumped out, untied the lines from the dock cleats and stepped back onto the boat, pushing it away from the dock as he did so. They idled, the outboard motor sputtering along, away from the other tied boats and out into the blinking marked light-streaked channel. They navigated up the intracoastal waterway toward the point where Coral Avenue ferried the cars from one bank to the other.
Chapter 17
The bridge approached out of the darkness ahead made visible as it pushed up into the black sky and it’s green and red indicator lights broke above the rest to reveal the dark concrete arch above them and cast a dim haze among the bridge pilings standing in the water below. They drove under the bridge, slowed to a crawl and surveyed both landings under each side of the overpass. Two men stood fishing on the west side. The engine echoed as they ducked under the high arched concrete and cars drove overhead. They idled north along the seawall in front of sprawling river-front homes. They turned right into the first canal (or finger as the locals called them) and idled past a few houses before stopping. Colin jumped out onto and tied the boat up to the dock of what was someone’s winter residence. Every window and door was sealed tight behind roll-down storm shutters and it looked like you could put a big stamp on the roof and mail the entire place back up to Teaneck for the summer.
Dolph slid the heavy box up onto the dock, propped the heels of his hands on the dock edge but stopped just before he actually climbed out. He turned back to the console as Colin asked in hushed volume, “What are you doing?”
Dolph pulled a canvas bag from under the seat where the plates had been stowed, shook it out, looked through it but it was indeed empty so he climbed out with it.
“Let’s divide these things and split the load. We’ll move faster I think.”
“True,” Colin agreed so they did it and were off.
They stayed in the shadows and crept through the landscaped back yard, up around the right side of the house and down the side yard toward the front. Skirted the driveway on the right of its curved half and stepped lively across the small residential street after a pause to look it up and down for movement. They slid across unnoticed and disappeared again into landscaped darkness between the two homes on the other side of the street. They snuck between the neighboring homes and through their backyards to the seawall facing the river. They carefully waded through a low hedge then made their way along the seawall’s coping between the hedge and the water to the landing under the bridge. They were the first to arrive. The boat ride was shorter that Dolph had guessed. They placed the plates behind a bridge piling off to one side and sat down in front of another piling closer to the water. They faced the salty road that ran under the overpass and Colin made digging sounds in the gravel with his shoe heels and it reminded him of doing the same in the gravel at recess in elementary school.
They recognized the white van when it pulled crunching gravel around the corner and both boys stood up. The van swung around, backed once, then stopped under the overpass facing the same road back out. Its back doors opened and two young men jumped out. One was Tony and the other a clone of his that Dolph and Colin were seeing for the first time. Tony closed the passenger side back door first slowly pushing it to click shut rather quietly. As it clicked shut the driver’s door opened and Baggy stepped out onto the gravel with his well-worn black oxford shoes. Grey suit. Black briefcase. Tony then swung the driver’s side back door closed at exactly the instant that Baggy closed his door and it occurred to Dolph that three people just got out of a van with the sound of only one door closing. Tony and his peer stayed by the van and Baggy walked up to Colin and Dolph and stood facing them, his hands crossed holding the briefcase in front of him and Dolph wondered how many briefcases Hector Sonzo went through in a year. He smiled then spoke.
“Good evening gentlemen. You have something for me.”
“There,” Colin indicated with his head and Baggy made a subtle gesture with his left hand swinging behind him then circling forward with a slight snap of his wrist aiming his flattened fingers toward the piling and Tony and his partner, as if moved by the very gesture itself, moved to get the plates but never looked up from their quiet conversation. The young men loaded the plates into the van then climbed in behind them and pulled the doors to silently. Baggy put the briefcase down at Dolph’s feet.
“Before I go,” he said, “I must let you know that Mr. Sonzo has been very generous since he considers you friends of the family.”
Dolph wondered if that was a good thing and glanced at Colin who looked back thinking the same with flared eyes to say so.
“Mr. Sonzo knows you appreciate it and hopes that perhaps you will be in a position to help him someday. Goodnight Gentlemen.”
He turned to walk back to the van. Dolph bent to pick up the briefcase. His fingers slipped under the hinged leather handle to swing it up into his palm. He gripped and stood, lifting it from the ground. The case rose and, as if it’s breaking contact with the Earth was a switch, ignited a horrific sound.
“Freeze! Police!” lept from a bullhorn with a shocking mechanical volume and inhuman tone.
A thud inside the van indicated some scramble and the vehicle roared into gear as Dolph watched Baggy wave them away as if to say save yourself. Baggy was already heading down the south seawall toward a neighborhood on the other side of Coral Avenue when a police car slid across the gravel road to block the fleeing van whose doors opened where gunfire exited and both Dolph and Colin were glad for it if it bought them even one second.
Colin and Dolph were headed down the opposite seawall, back the way they had came from, before the police
were out of the car and Dolph wondered where the cops with the bullhorn were or maybe it was the guys in the cruiser or maybe they were on top of the bridge and he wanted to look back but you never look back and he just kept running and Colin too. Over the hedge, not through it. Through the yards. Frantic but fast. Terrified but silent. Running and not looking back. Listening for the gunshots of bullets that would kill them. Across the street. Desperate. Past the vacant house. They barreled over the lawn and toppled down onto the dock. Sirens in the distance. They were in the boat and gone—moving at a decent but not suspicious night speed at just about the fastest hull-speed idle the boat could manage—down the intracoastal. The sound of gunfire crackled in the distance.
Dolph fumbled to light a cigarette with shaking hands. He got it lit and shook his head with the cigarette pinched tightly in his mouth. Colin silently held up his left hand with two fingers spread. Dolph put his cigarette between them and lit himself another. Colin inhaled a long deep lungful if ill health three times before he spoke.
“Thank God they didn’t see the boat.”
“They think we got away in a car. Or they were expecting us to be in a car. Maybe.”
“How do you think the cops knew?”
Dolph opened his mouth to speak but paused. He had already figured that out. He looked at his friend.
“Carl set us up for the reward,” he said flatly and took a drag then blew out the smoke behind them as the boat moved forward into the night.
“Fuck yes,” Colin burst in satisfaction. That bastard. I’m calling Sonzo.”
“Don’t call him now. I mean, we got away. But we’re not away yet. We gotta, how did you put it, get the fuck outta Dodge.”
“Yeah but we did take the—holy shit. The money. Is it in the boat?”
“Fuck I think so,” Dolph said and turned on the cockpit light switch. The inside gunnels and the decks flooded with red light and he scuffled around looking. The case was on the deck at the transom.
“Thank fucking God,” he said and he turned to steer again.
Colin moved back, dropped to his knees and opened the case.
“Jesus Christ!”
Colin looked down into a briefcase filled with packs of hundreds. Hundreds packed neatly in rows like in the movies. It was the kind of briefcase that men got killed for.
“How much is it?” Dolph asked.
“A lethal amount,” Colin said as he flipped through one of the packs.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“Enough for us.”
Dolph increased the throttle a bit and cruised north, up the channel, away from the action and lights of downtown. After about a twenty-minute ride, just before midnight, he backed off the throttle and pulled the boat into a long side canal. The canal dog-legged right and Dolph pulled up to a dock just behind that inside corner. They could still see the channel, if they stood, but the boat was completely hidden.
“Whose house?” Colin wondered aloud.
“Nobody’s. My dad is trying to buy it. No one lives here. Someone with Palm tree fever.”
“Sweet.”
Colin turned on the phone and dialed Sonzo.
“Hola.”
“Mr. Sonzo. This is Colin. I’m sorry to bother you at this hour.”
“Hola Colin. No bother. I’m night people. I trust you took care of our undertaking.”
“Well sir that’s why I’m, calling. There was a problem.”
Silence. Colin continued.
The cops showed up but Dolph and I got away. We have the money and we want you to know we think of it as yours and we will not spend a penny. And—“
“Jesus and Mary! The freaking cops came to my office?”
“No, no. We made the switch under the bridge. At Coral Avenue.”
“Goddamnit. I told Carl to do it at the office. Or in the parking lot there across the little alameda on the side. Was he there?”
“No sir. We think he set us up for the reward money. Baggy was there. I think he got away too. Not sure.”
“That fucking Carl. He’ll get a reward. His own reward. He’s done. Done. Okay, listen to me. You two keep that stinking money. It’s yours. You earned it and you did your job and more than that you calling me right now means so much because I know that it’s enough money that you could have just left with it. That would have been a mistake. You did the right thing. In fact consider it a payment for this information because I don’t think Carl set you up I know he did. You are good boys in serious trouble, and I know what your fathers did to you and I cannot understand family treating family like that. You boys got away and you didn’t have to call me. I appreciate and respect the fact that you did. I’m rooting for you more than ever now. More than local cops will be after you now. If I can help you in any way I will but don’t go back to Richie’s place for now. (Colin didn’t bother to mention that they were in Richie’s boat.) Don’t call me for a few days also. I am sorry about the fuck up. There aren’t many stand up crooks around anymore. You two just restored some of my faith.”
He hung up. Colin knew that Carl’s death warrant had just been signed and the phone clicking was like the coffin lid slamming shut.
“How’d that go?” Dolph was anxious to hear.
Carl’s dead and we just scored a hundred points with the biggest gangster in Miami. He has a vested interest in us not getting caught now that the Feds are in on this. They take the counterfeiting thing seriously.
“That good huh.”
“Yeah. Maybe our luck’s changing,” and they both laughed out loud at that one.
“And we can keep the money.”
They sat in the boat listening to the VHF radio and watching for the Marine Patrol. They saw and heard nothing. They took turns watching and sleeping in hour increments for about five hours. Only the expected few boats slid by in the darkness and they wished that it could stay dark forever. They seemed to be safe for the moment. The officers of Miami/Dade had no idea they had escaped by boat. Or at least no one high enough in the decision making chain had that idea and anyone below them who had figured it out was, at least for now, apathetic enough to just do what the brass told them. Look for two guys with a briefcase full of money at the airports. Ten-Four Captain. Ten-Four.
Chapter 18
A gauze of humid light began to fade in around the boys huddled in the bottom of the damp center console. The unseen sun still below the horizon but pale shadows foretold its arrival. Dolph was awake and he looked at his friend who was asleep, who was trying to sleep, or who was pretending to sleep. Dolph wondered if Colin was dreaming. And he wondered: when men dream do they dream the same dreams as children? As he watched his friend possibly dreaming he realized how silent, or at least how still, the world around him was. He heard a dove call in the distance. Maybe the dove was in a tree four or so houses down, and its four-part coo came every fifteen seconds. Then he realized that he was also surrounded and indeed enveloped in the pulsing treble of a thousand singing crickets. The cricket-song was shrill and it undulated in waves that seemed to fill the air with a tangible but invisible foam that pulsed in waves but never ended. A never ending sparkling invisible foam of cricket-song waves punctuated by the interval, mournful shadowed coo of a single dove in the filtered distance. He noticed his breath and he understood at once that he breathed the same air as the dove and that somehow they were brothers but that the dove was not subject to any man’s law. He listened to the dove-cricket-breath song and the only description that came to his mind was: sacred.
Colin awoke and looked at Dolph. He rubbed his eyes and focused them and his mind and looked around to measure the light and thereby the time. He realized Dolph’s otherworld gaze and asked him something about the night and Dolph asked Colin if he believed in God. Colin rubbed his face again to be sure he was awake and spoke.
I don’t believe that God is an invisible architect who lives in the sky, and who fashioned the world out of
wood and sends us to Heaven or Hell for this or that. But I do believe this world is beyond what we know and if there’s a God why does he give us such Hell?
“He doesn’t give us anything but freedom and what we do with that freedom makes this life the Heaven or Hell we live in.”
“I suppose,” Colin said and then neither of them spoke for a long time as it grew light.
Then Dolph said, “I guess that your choices make your situations and your situations force new choices on you. But what about the undeserved tragedy? The undeserved.”
“Like a guy fiddling with the ATM who gets shot by a bank robber?”
“Right.”
“Well I’ve thought about that too. I think it’s that oldest and most mysterious principle of life: shit happens.
“We better get going before shit happens to us,” and Dolph stood.
“You mean more shit,” Colin added standing also.
“Yes, more shit,” and they started the boat and headed out of the canal.
By the time the Sun was above the barrier island trees the boys had made their way forty miles north to Pompano Beach. Somewhere along the way Colin had tossed his dad’s cel phone overboard not knowing if it could be traced but unwilling to chance it any longer.
“Well here we are Dolores, Pompano’s Beach,” Colin remarked and looked up the shoreline at docks that reached toward the channel from mangroves that hid all but the tiled roofs of what were surely nice homes.
They tied up to the fuel dock of an unopened marina and left the boat with the keys in it. They took a bus and two cabs west to Margate where they got a room in a small hotel that looked like it had been one swinging place in the thirties. Their room looked through jalousie windows onto a marl parking lot. There were twin beds with matching yellow and green banana leaf print covers, a thirteen inch black and white television, a mid-seventies model window unit air conditioner and pink and black tiled bathroom. Interior design consisted of two Florida map placemats (the diner version populated with waving water skiers, smiling sailfish and winking oranges) framed and hung above each headboard.
