“You’re wrong,” Martin said as he leaned across the table and placed his hand on Toma’s hand. “I’m indebted to all of you. Daichi, can you please ask Officer Dye for some beverages, for all of us?” The stoic bodyguard nodded, stood up, and walked back to the door where Officer Dye was located.
“You know, at my age and my memory becoming as bad as it is, I can still remember the day we first met,” Martin told Toma as he looked back toward him. “I can remember it like it was yesterday.”
As Martin got older, Toma noticed he would reminisce—something he never used to do. The Lion’s mentality had always been to strive forward, never stop and live in the past. It came with the business that he grew up in; there was no time to dawdle on matters he had no control of.
At first, Toma thought it was from being in solitary confinement. But more and more, he felt Martin’s memory was failing him, and he was trying to retain what memory he had left. There were drawings, pictures, and notes scattered all over Martin’s cell. Their purpose, he suspected, was to help Martin remember important information from the past.
Toma stood from his seat, walked around the table, and pulled out the chair next to Martin. “We’ve been through a lot, my friend. You are like a father to me, Martin. If you didn’t save me that day, I would still be living on the streets, or worse.”
“Your perseverance, will, and character would have gotten you through if our paths hadn’t crossed,” Martin replied, as he turned in his seat to face Toma. “You and the rest of the pack are like sons to me. The sons I’ve never had. This lifestyle, it’s meant for people like Anthony and me. But for you and Daichi, I’ve always envisioned bigger, better things.”
The Lion took a deep breath and shifted in his seat. The topic of the safe wasn’t something he had ever planned to talk about. His uneasiness was clear as day, as he searched for the right words. He finally sat upright, facing his prodigy. “You weren’t supposed to find out about those safes until after I died. Throughout each pack member’s tenure with me, I’ve placed money in a storage container that I’ve buried at various locations in the southwestern United States. It was my parting gift to you all and, in regards to you and Daichi, it was my way of saying, ‘Retire from this lifestyle and enjoy the rest of your lives.’”
Toma stared blankly at Martin as he tried to process what he had just been told. It seemed unrealistic, like a dream. The news left him with more questions than answers. The wily old boss began laughing. “You should see your face,” he said in between breaths. “You look so dumbfounded, my friend. It reminds me of the time we had that job to heist one of the armored cars leaving Tony’s casino, back when we were uncivilized thugs.”
“I-I-I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if you’re pulling my leg or if you’re serious.”
“Rest assured, friend. I’m telling you the truth.”
“So, how much money is in each container?” Toma asked as he grabbed a pen and paper. The news had begun settling in.
“Each safe is different, depending on your time that you have worked for me. The exact numbers I can’t tell you off the top of my head, but each safe contains around five million dollars.”
Toma’s mouth and pen dropped in sequence as he stared back at Martin. He couldn’t believe that much money was stashed away for all of them. Quite some time had passed as he searched for the right words. “Well…how many safes are out there?”
“There’s a safe for each member of the pack,” he answered hesitantly, “including one for Carmine.”
“You made a safe for that rat?!” The Tiger questioned Martin intensely, his demeanor changing quickly as his blood began to boil. “He belongs six feet under with the safes! He is the reason why you are here, incarcerated!”
“Silence you,” Martin barked, causing Toma to recede back in his chair. “Had I known Puma was going to flip, I wouldn’t have made a safe for him.” The patriarch took a deep breath, calming himself down. “I filled these safes out for you all, so you no longer have to live this lifestyle, unless you want to. It appears that Carmine took that plan of mine to heart and got out before the lifestyle caught up with him. I did this all ‘for family.’”
“…first and foremost,” the Tiger replied, completing the creed all pack members swore by. He regained his composure and sat back in his chair. He pulled the unlit cigarette out from his jacket pocket. “Do you mind, sir?” he asked, waiting for approval.
“Go ahead. In fact, hand me one, too.”
Toma pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and handed it over to the Lion. He took a long drag from it. “It’s been a while since I had one of these,” he confessed.
“Martin, where are the locations of the safes?” he asked as he took another drag from his cigarette and brought the conversation back to the matter at hand.
Martin took another long drag and then smashed his cigarette on the table. He closed his eyes and leaned his head into his hands, on the table, in deep thought. “I can’t remember,” he finally confessed after a minute or two.
“What do you mean you can’t remember?” Toma asked, baffled by Martin’s admission.
The Lion stood from his chair and walked to his stack of papers, piled at the end of his table. He placed his hand on the stack. “I’m losing my memory, Tiger,” he began. “I’ve noticed it for a while now. I’m losing my edge. In an attempt to recall important information I’ve begun writing and drawing things to help me remember. When I saw the newspaper article about Mr. Brown’s discovery, I knew you would be coming. I knew I would have to tell you the truth, and I knew I would need to figure out the location of the remaining safes.”
“Who else knows about the safes?” Toma asked as he gazed at the stack of papers in disappointment.
“As of right now, me, you…and Carmine,” Martin answered disgustedly.
Toma stared at his master and the stack of papers that lay in front of him in disbelief. He was lost for words. The culmination of everything he recently discovered made his head spin. He grabbed another cigarette, lit it, and leaned back in his chair, trying to calm his nerves.
“I think it’s safe to say; Puma knows about Mr. Brown’s discovery,” Toma began. “And if we can assume that, we can assume that he’s already begun looking for the remaining safes and has a head start on the rest of us.”
Martin pounded his table in frustration and swept his arm across the table, knocking all of the papers to the ground. In the process he knocked over a stationery paper box. At the bottom of the box, he noticed that it appeared to be somehow unfolding. He bent down, grabbed the box, and pealed back the underneath of it, revealing a piece of paper that stuck out from under the flap. He removed the folded piece of paper and opened it up. The Lion’s eyes became huge with astonishment and excitement; all that frustration was swept to the side.
“Toma,” he said with a grin, “I know where the remaining safes are.”
***
A couple hours had passed since the pack left the Lion’s Den. Now Martin sat in his rocking chair with a drink in his hand, contemplating, while he watched the Nevada sun scorch the desert outside.
“Mr. Lazzero,” Officer Dye spoke from the doorway, breaking his train of thought. “I have a Mr. Griggs here to see you.”
It’s a good thing he was running late, Martin thought, I didn’t want any of them to know Mr. Griggs comes to see me also. “Okay, Officer Dye, thank you. Please let Mr. Griggs in,” Martin replied as a shrewd grin stretched across his face.
Chapter 4
Dawn broke over the small town of Goodsprings, Nevada. Tucked away, miles from the town center, John Davis lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t slept all night. His mind raced with a flurry of questions, but there was no one who could answer them. What he had seen in the barn bothered him. Why hadn’t Dad said anything about his discovery? How did he know about it? What’s through that door? All were questions that swirled through his head. Having no one to answer those questions made it insuf
ferable. I need to find out what’s down that hole.
***
Down the hallway from John’s room, Albert lay on his bed as the sunlight broke through his window and greeted his face. He had had a lot of late nights followed by early mornings in his life. He loathed having to wake up after nights like those. But, this morning was different. He was energetic and upbeat. I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. It was once a speck in the distant horizon, but now it’s growing. I think it’s time to go see Francisco.
Albert put on his old denim jeans, threw on a worn flannel jacket, and exited his room. What am I going to tell John? This is earlier than I normally leave for work. I’ll just tell him I have some errands to run before work and that’s why I’m leaving so early. He reached John’s door and knocked three times, opened it slowly, and called out, “John, I’m going into town already. I’ve got to run some errands before work.” Much to his surprise, John was already up and looking out his bedroom window.
“Oh, okay, Dad. I’ll see you later,” John replied as he turned around quickly to face his father
Albert walked toward John’s window and gazed out. “What were you looking at, son?”
“Nothing, Dad. I was watching the sunrise. What do you have to do today?”
“I just need to meet an old friend about some business. You’re going to be all right by yourself?”
“Yes, I’ll be all right.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later, John. Love you.”
“Love you too, Dad,” John replied hesitantly.
Albert tapped on the door frame and left the room. He bustled his way down the stairs, his heavy feet moving feverishly and making a loud thudding sound with each step. He left the house and entered his station wagon. Francisco won’t be there for another hour, but I can wait, he thought as he drove out of his driveway. He gave one last look in his rearview mirror and saw John, watching him leave from his bedroom window.
***
Francisco Lopez pulled up to his family’s store, Juan and Sons Gun Shop. His father Juan had started their family business years earlier to help local farmers in the area deal with coyotes and other trouble they might encounter on their property. After his untimely death, Francisco became owner and operator of the store. He made a lot of friends in his years of running a gun shop. Little did he know an old friend, whom he hadn’t seen in a very long time, was going to pay him a visit on this day.
Francisco hopped out of his car. He flung back his black bushy hair and threw on his tan cowboy hat to hold it in place. He finished drinking his cup of coffee and wiped off the remnants from his thick mustache with the sleeve of his shirt. The crisp, cool Nevada morning air felt good as he inhaled a deep breath and gazed out over the parking lot with hard, cold eyes. Life in Goodsprings seemed a little too slow for his taste. But it was a change the Mexican cowboy had gotten accustomed to ever since he’d moved back from glittery Las Vegas. He approached the front door of his store with a noticeable limp in his right leg, from an injury he got years ago. While fiddling with his keys, he heard a voice from behind him. “Good morning, Mr. Lopez. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Francisco froze, as a chill ran up his spine. “It can’t be,” he said to himself under his breath. Slowly, he turned around and looked in disbelief at the figure standing before him.
“What’s a matter, Francisco?” Albert asked with a chuckle. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“I…I don’t know if I am or not,” the gun shop owner stammered as he stared at Albert. “Carmine, I thought you were dead.”
“I haven’t been called that name in years,” Albert said as he looked around to see if anyone was within hearing range.
The two old friends walked toward one another and embraced in a big hug. “Carmine, they said you died. That the pack got to you once Lion got put away.”
“Let’s go inside, friend. There’s a lot that needs to be discussed.” Carmine threw his arm around Francisco’s shoulder, and the two men walked into the gun store.
Juan and Sons Gun Shop was very primitive. The interior hadn’t been refurbished since Juan still owned the shop. What Juan’s lacked in charm, it made up for in the quality of his merchandise. Three display cases formed a “U” on the store floor. A large assortment of hand-guns, rifles, ammo, knives, and anything else a hunter or farmer would need were locked in cages secured to the wall, behind the displays. Only a single item of what was offered was left out for display in all the display cases.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Carmine said sarcastically to Francisco with a smirk.
“What can I say; I have a taste for interior design.” Both men shared a laugh as they entered the store.
“You still have Big Betty?”
“Yes, I do,” Francisco answered as they reached the rear of the store. “Do you still have Big Bertha?”
“No,” Carmine answered, disappointment in his voice. “I had to turn over all my possessions when I got caught.”
“That’s too bad. We had a lot of memories with those two,” Francisco replied, disheartened by the news. He opened a wooden door. “Step into my office.”
The two men entered the hole-in-the-wall office. There were no windows in the small, ten-by-ten, room. The lighting was poor as a single light bulb hung above the desk that took up nearly half the room. Papers were piled all over the desk and file cabinets. Two pictures hung on the wall, above his desk. One was of Francisco and Carmine back when the two old friends used to own the streets of Las Vegas. The next was a photo of Juan and a young Francisco back when Juan first opened his gun shop.
“How long has it been since your dad left us?” Carmine asked as he stared at the two pictures.
“Too long…you still drink tequila, my old friend?”
“Here and there—not like I used to. But for an occasion like this, of course.”
“Wonderful.” Francisco opened the top right drawer of his desk and pulled out two shot glasses and a half bottle of tequila. Big Betty lay in slumber at the bottom of the drawer. The jet-black .44 Magnum revolver had a shine to it that Carmine always appreciated. The stained, wooden grip reminded him of the cowboys in the Wild West. “Carmine, I know she’s not Bertha but take her. She’s rotting away in my drawer.”
He stared in disbelief as Francisco held Betty out toward him. His eyes fixated on the handgun. “Francisco, I can’t. She’s yours. You once told me the bond between owner and gun is a sacred one. It becomes a part of you. When you first told me that, I thought you were nuts. But after I lost Bertha, I now understand what you meant. I can’t break that bond you have with Betty.”
Francisco smiled. He placed Betty on his desk, leaned back, and poured tequila into both glasses. “My friend, I have a feeling you’re not just here to pay me a visit and share a drink with me. No, you’re about to embark on a journey, and I don’t know if I can join you this time.” Francisco looked up at one last photo on his office walls. It was a photo of his family. “But, she can join you. She will take my place, by your side,” he continued as he slid Betty across the table. “Take her, my friend.”
Carmine gazed at Betty. He grabbed the shot of tequila and gulped it down. “My friend, I found it,” he replied as he placed the shot glass back on the table.
Francisco stopped pouring and looked up. “Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about, Carmine?” he asked with a grin.
“Yes, I am, and if you’re interested in taking a piece of the pie, I’d be happy to share it with you—with your help, of course.”
“Count me in,” Francisco replied as he poured another shot of tequila into both glasses. The two longtime friends shared a toast together and gulped down another shot.
***
Outside Juan and Sons Gun Shop, Carmine’s watcher sat in his car. He had followed him as he entered town. When Carmine pulled into the shopping center parking lot where Juan’s was located, he parked in the corner of the
lot, out of sight. He finished his fourth cigarette when the two friends exited into the parking lot. He saw the two men embrace again and watched Carmine head to his car.
The man grabbed out his notebook and wrote:
“July 15, 1977
10:00 hours: Albert Davis leaves Juan and Son’s Gun Shop.
Embraces owner.
NOTE- -find out more on owner-”
The man placed his notebook down and started his car. Carmine started his car and departed the parking lot with the man following closely behind.
***
That was close, John thought as he watched his dad pull out of their driveway. Although Albert hadn’t known what John was looking at, his reaction and anxiousness were a dead giveaway that he wasn’t looking at the sunrise. His errand in town must have been important because he had hurried out the door and sped out of the driveway. I’ve got to move quickly, too. I don’t have all day to explore what’s down that hole.
John quickly changed into some old, worn clothes and ran down the stairs. He made the turn in the foyer and sprinted down the hallway. As he ran past the kitchen, breakfast was the last thing on his mind. He flew through the door and leaped from the stairs onto the cool sand. The anticipation of what was down that hole built with each step as John got closer and closer.
There was just enough sunlight that broke through the cracks in the barn walls to allow him to see. He slowly approached the hole and looked down. The hole was dark, cold, and deep. John looked around the barn. How am I going to get down there? I need to find some rope or a ladder to help me get down and back up. A shimmer caught the corner of his eye. It was from a flashlight that hung from a nail on the wall. On the ground was a ladder, tucked away behind some crates. Perfect -just what I need.
John placed the ladder down the hole and began his descent; his mind began racing as he contemplated what contents the hole might contain. With each step his heart rate picked up, his hands became clammy, his legs got weaker. When he reached the bottom of the hole, he could hardly stand. It felt like a ton of bricks weighed down on him. His breathing became heavy. He looked down at the metal hatch. The tarnished hatch door was cold to the touch. His sweaty palms and the rust on the wheel made turning it difficult. John’s muscles flexed from the strain and finally, with a yell, he got the wheel to budge. The wheel made a loud creaking sound at first, but rotating the rest of the wheel was fairly easy.
Of Kings And Pawns Page 4
