Squall

by Sean Costello

  The place was surprisingly busy, given the weather and the late hour, but she knew that could work in her favor. Gunfire meant panic and confusion, witnesses coming up with conflicting accounts in the aftermath, throwing the cops off the scent. She’d have to keep an eye out for security cameras, but doubted that a place like this even bothered.

  The Mercedes was parked parallel to the right hand corner of the building, the headlights off, no exhaust coming from the tailpipe, but there was no sign of Sumit or Sanj. There was no way they could have gotten into the store in the few seconds it had taken her to catch up, so they must still be in the vehicle. Probably waiting for the two white guys at the payphone to—

  “What the fuck?”

  It was Dale. Dale with the dope and the money, stamping his feet like the pussy he was. How in the fuck did he get here? And who was the guy he was with, dropping coins into the phone over there and grinning like an idiot? One of Copeland’s men?

  And why weren’t Ed’s monkeys getting out of the SUV? Could they have made it into the store that quickly? It didn’t seem likely; the entrance was at least thirty feet from the vehicle.

  Ronnie parked the Chevy at the other end of the long building, between a van and another pickup the owner had backed in, its low bed giving her an unobstructed view of the phone booth and the entrance to the store. None of these guys knew what she was driving, so the element of surprise still belonged to her.

  But she couldn’t figure out what was going on and the confusion was killing her will to act. Were Sumit and Sanj actually taking Dale back to his brother in one piece? That didn’t sound like Ed. And even if they were, why were they letting him anywhere near Copeland’s property?

  Where were those two bastards?

  She decided to sit tight and see what happened.

  * * *

  The phone looked pretty beat up, but when Tom dropped in a few coins he got a dial tone. He punched in their home number and got a recorded message telling him the number he had dialed was no longer in service, the message followed by a repetitive beeping sound.

  He said to Dale, “Storm must have taken out the lines,” hung up and scooped his change out of the coin return. “I’ll try her cell.” This time it rang and Tom flashed Dale a big smile; he couldn’t help himself.

  But the smile collapsed when he heard a man’s voice on the other end of the line: “Tom? Is that you?”

  Tom said, “Who is this?” But he knew; the accent was unmistakable. As if in a wind tunnel he heard Dale say, “Tom, what is it?” but he had to brace himself against the booth to prevent his legs from dropping out from under him, and when he tried to answer all that came out was a dry croak.

  The voice on the phone said, “You don’t remember me, Tom? I certainly remember you. That is one hell of a swing you got there, Mr. Mantle.”

  Feeling the fury rising in him now, Tom said, “It’s Sanj, am I right? Listen, Sanj, or whoever the fuck you are, if you hurt my family...” but the bluster in him shrank as the reality of the situation rushed in on him. He was miles from home, utterly helpless.

  He heard Sanj say, “My business is not with you, Mr. Stokes,” and in the beat of silence that followed Tom clung to a thin reed of hope.

  He glanced at Dale and realized what that brief silence was for: Sanj was giving his scrambled brain time to arrive at the obvious.

  Now Sanj was speaking again, saying, “Do I need to explain the rules?” and Tom said, “No.”

  Tom looked squarely at Dale now, a cold understanding arcing the distance between them. For a heartbeat it looked as if Dale was ready to drop his cargo and bolt, but Tom’s coiled posture told him there would be little point; Tom would run him down and stomp him into submission.

  He snugged the receiver to his ear and waited.

  * * *

  Sanj was sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed with Mandy’s cell phone pressed to his ear, his chill gaze fixed on the boy’s sleeping face.

  Mandy stood hunched next to the bed, her own gaze locked on this deranged intruder still in his overcoat, Mandy ready to pounce on him and gouge those black eyes out of his skull should he betray even the slightest intention of harming her boy.

  In the tense silence of the room she could hear Tom’s voice over the cell, just his words not their tenor.

  At least he was still alive.

  And as long as he was alive Mandy knew he’d do everything in his power to get them out of this, whatever this was.

  Now Sanj said, “Do I have to explain the rules?” and she heard Tom say, “No.”

  Sanj said, “Excellent.”

  And then Tom, tinny and distant: “Can I speak to my wife?”

  Sanj looked up at her, his gaze measuring. “I’m not sure that would be such a good idea right now,” he said, still staring, a dim amusement in his expression that Mandy wanted to claw off his face. “She might be a little...strident. And we don’t want to wake the boy.” He stroked Steve’s hair, making him stir. “He’s sleeping soundly with his teddy, the one with the button eyes. Do you believe me?”

  * * *

  Shivering, tears freezing to his face, Tom stared at the convenience store wall and said, “Yes,” into the phone.

  “All right, then,” he heard Sanj say. “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Bring the asshole with you.”

  The line went dead.

  Tom dropped the receiver, letting it dangle on its cord, a dozen conflicting thoughts and impulses having their way with him as he huddled there unmoving, fists clenched into bludgeons. He thought, Rules? What rules? There are no rules, you crazy motherfucker.

  He glanced at Dale, hunched pale and trembling in the wind, understanding scribbled all over his stricken face, and wanted to kill him right where he stood, really kill him, snatch that briefcase out of his hand and beat him to death with it.

  Unable to look at the man any longer, Tom dropped his gaze and thought of calling the cops, have them send in a S.W.A.T. team, go in there hard and blow that sick bastard straight to hell. How dare he break into their house—

  Dale’s hand on his shoulder first startled then defused him, and in this mad, reeling moment he was glad he wasn’t alone.

  “He’s got my wife and son,” Tom said. “He was in my son’s bedroom.” And before Dale could respond, Tom knew what had to be done. He said, “Get in the truck.”

  Hesitating, Dale held the money and the drugs out to him. “Here,” he said, “take this and go. It’s what he’s after, anyway. If I go with you, I’m a dead man.”

  “If you don’t go with me, my family is dead. Now get in the truck.”

  “He’s going to kill us all anyway. You know that, don’t you?”

  “That’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

  But Dale still didn’t move, and in this frozen tableau Tom felt himself on the verge of just punching the guy, hitting him so hard in that dim, selfish face he wouldn’t wake up until that psycho Sanj had taken him in trade for Mandy and Steve.

  Raising his fist, he said, “This is your bullshit, Dale, you have to deal with it. Now get in the truck before I beat you unconscious and drag you in there myself.”

  Another tense moment, then Dale complied. And as Tom opened the passenger door for him, he thought he saw some real conflict in the man’s eyes, the old Dale ready to drop everything and run, a newer version realizing that maybe it was finally time to man up. Or maybe he was just kidding himself.

  Then Dale was belting himself in and Tom swung the door shut and ran around the hood to the driver’s side. As he climbed in and slotted the key in the ignition, he saw Dale reach into the open gym bag at his feet, pull out one of the guns he’d taken off the brothers and aim it right at his face.

  Tom raised his hands in the air.

  In a trembling voice, Dale said, “Don’t ever threaten me again.”

  Tom nodded, waiting.

  Then Dale let the gun spin on his finger and handed it to Tom, butt
first. “You’ll probably be needing this,” he said.

  Tom took the gun, tucked it under his seat and started the engine. Beside him, Dale dug the other gun out of the bag and stuck it in his coat pocket.

  As Tom accelerated across the lot, Dale said, “This is so fucked. How did that savage prick find your place? And how did he get there so fast?”

  “My pilot’s license,” Tom said. “I keep it on the visor.” He looked at Dale as the rest of it dawned on him. “The rescue helicopter. Jesus Christ, he hijacked the rescue chopper.”

  “Those poor buggers,” Dale said, raising his reddened hands to the warm breath of a dash vent. “How much farther?”

  “Little over an hour if the weather holds,” Tom said, pausing at the verge to let a Greyhound barrel past. “Half hour to the city, forty minutes to the house.”

  Numb, Tom guided the GL onto the highway, the pickup truck pulling out behind him barely registering in his frantic mind.

  36

  Back in the office Sanj sat the woman at her desk, draped his coat over the back of the couch and sat in the matching arm chair to call Ed. The part of him that should have been grieving his brother’s death tugged at him again, but for the most part his primary instinct was to stick to the plan. Business as usual. It would be what Sumit would expect of him. He could concern himself with his brother later.

  His reaction to losing his parents had been essentially the same—contrasting sharply with Sumit’s open glee in anticipation of the sizeable inheritance they were about to share—but on the surface at least, Sanj attributed his attenuated emotions to simple professionalism. The ability to compartmentalize one’s emotions was essential to this kind of work. You were given a task and paid extremely well for carrying it out. You had to think on your feet and remove obstacles as they appeared, whatever those obstacles might be, and without hesitation.

  When the topic came up between him and his brother, Sumit was generally more blunt in his assessment. “We’re sociopaths, bro. All predators are. It only makes sense. It keeps things tidy and neat. Filet a motherfucker with a blade and an hour later you’re sipping cocktails and bird-dogging bitches without a care in the world. Unless the fucker got blood on your boots.” And my, how he would laugh...

  Sanj noticed the woman staring at him, grimacing and holding her belly, and averted his eyes to punch in Ed’s number on the cell. He hated this homey fucking place and wanted only to get it over with. The only good thing so far was that the kid had remained asleep in his bed. He hadn’t yet made up his mind about what to do with these two, and having to put up with a bawling kid would almost certainly hasten a decision.

  * * *

  Mandy ground her teeth against a cramp that felt like a hot poker thrust in through her back and out through her vagina. Dear God, she thought, please...not now.

  She held her breath and gradually the pain subsided. Sweat beaded her brow in spite of the chill in the office. She felt like she had to go to the bathroom.

  Instead, she watched Sanj, listening as he explained the situation to someone named Ed, his boss, Mandy assumed, given his tone. Tom had crashed the Cessna into a cottage and had somehow gotten mixed up with this other guy, Dale. Sanj and someone else had intercepted a woman named Ronnie and retrieved the ‘package’, but Dale and Tom had killed the someone and gotten away? Was that what he just said? None of it made any sense.

  She prayed that Steve wouldn’t wake up.

  Please, baby. Please, whatever you do, don’t come down here...

  * * *

  Speaking into the phone, Sanj said, “They’re on their way here now,” and heard Ed say, “Good. See if you can’t get it right this time. And Sanj...”

  “Yes, Ed?”

  “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll take care of the mess at the cottage, soon as we hang up. I know some people up there; they’ll handle it. No trace.”

  “Okay, Ed.”

  “And tell you what. I’ll look after the arrangements for Sumit. You know. He was a good kid. He deserves the best.”

  “I appreciate that. Thanks very much.”

  “Okay, Sanj. Call me when it’s done. I’ve got to square this with Copeland by mid-afternoon tomorrow. I need that shit back here a-sap. Morning at the latest.”

  Sanj said, “Consider it done,” but Ed had already hung up.

  He stood, set the cell phone on the hardwood floor and crushed it under his boot heel. In the same instant the woman screamed at the top of her lungs, sprang out of her chair and a great gush of fluid splashed onto the floor beneath her, soaking her night dress and bare legs.

  Sanj said, “What the fuck is that?”

  But Mandy only groaned, her face a taut sketch of agony.

  Rubbing sleep from his eyes, the kid came padding into the room now, his teddy dangling from one hand.

  “Mommy?”

  37

  By the time they reached Elm Street, the main drag through downtown Sudbury, the blizzard had all but stopped, just a few lazy flakes now, drifting from a low sky tinted orange by the city Halogens.

  Tom braked for a red light at the corner of Elm and Lisgar and a cop car pulled up next to him in the left hand lane. Tom fixed his gaze on the road ahead and said, “Oh, shit,” repeating it again and again through clenched teeth.

  “Relax, man,” Dale said. “No reason for them to be interested in us.”

  “The psychos that own this vehicle, you think you can say that? They’re probably running the plates right now.”

  “On a night like this?” Dale said. “That’s unlikely in the extreme.” He pointed up the street to the Tim Horton’s at the next intersection. “See that Timmy’s up there?”

  Tom nodded, both fists clamped to the steering wheel.

  “Ten to one that’s where they’re headed. Just be cool. Don’t give them a reason to be suspicious. A good cop is like a dog...he can smell fear.”

  “Your brother tell you that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tom froze his gaze front and center for as long as he could, quietly cursing the needlessly long red light at this time of night...but he couldn’t help himself.

  He looked out his side window and saw the cop in the shotgun seat staring up at him. His instinct was to look away, but he smiled and nodded, thinking, Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?

  The cop held his gaze for a long beat, not responding, then turned to face the road.

  Now the light changed and the cruiser pulled away.

  Tom just sat there, idling.

  Dale said, “It’s green.”

  Then the car behind them honked, breaking the spell, and Tom eased ahead, letting the cruiser gain some distance on them. Exhaling, he said, “How well do you know this guy?”

  “Sanj? The man’s crazy as a shithouse rat, that much I do know. What I didn’t know was that he and that other greaser were brothers. They’re always with Ed, as in always, but before tonight neither one of them even said boo to me. They just sit there, looking dense. I think that’s part of why they’re so good at what they do. You just don’t expect it...and then boom, you’re dead. Call me a racist, but who expects a parking lot attendant to pull a gun on them?”

  “I get the picture.”

  “Sorry, man. I’m a touch A.D.D. And I’m scared shitless.”

  “Most of those parking lot attendants you’re talking about have degrees in physics or engineering.”

  “I know. They’re not stupid.”

  “What I’m getting at is, on the phone he made it clear that we should come alone...but should I involve the police anyway?”

  As they tracked through the next intersection, watching the cruiser pull into the Tim Horton’s drive thru, Dale said, “Truthfully? The last thing I want is to have to face that fucker again. So yeah, my first impulse is to say ‘Absolutely. Hell, yeah, call the cops, let them handle it.’ But he’ll see them coming, Tom. And he’ll waste your family. He
’ll do that without even blinking and then he’ll take down as many cops as he can before they stop him. I have no idea what makes people like him tick or how they find their way to guys like my brother...but I’ve seen what they’re capable of and it scares the hell out of me.”

  “He doesn’t look like much.”

  “You know what they say about looks. I noticed a weird tattoo on his wrist a couple years back and did a little research on the Internet. It took some doing, but it turns out it’s an Indian Special Forces tat, the insiders’ insignia of the nastiest branch of the military over there, the Bharat something or other; I forget now. Mean mothers, anyway.”

  “Never judge a book by its cover.”

  “Exactly.”

  Tom said, “Just like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re clearly a lot smarter than you let on.”

  “I read.”

  Tom gave him his best ‘Come on, man’ grin.

  “It’s what’s expected of me,” Dale said. “And it worked for Ronnie. She likes to run the show.”

  Tom said, “Just like your mom,” but he could see that Dale had had enough.

  “So what’s the plan?” Dale said.

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  38

  Mandy leaned against the desk, clutching the hem of her night dress, amniotic fluid dripping from the fabric into a creeping puddle at her feet. She was having another contraction and the pain was extreme, much worse than it had ever been with Steve...and when she looked down she saw streaks of bright red blood in the mess on the floor. Not a good sign.

  As the contraction heightened, Mandy closed her eyes and howled, making a sound she’d never heard before, let alone uttered. She looked up and saw Sanj standing there with his mouth hanging open, pointing the gun at her from ten feet away as if he feared something alien might slither out from between her legs and eel its way across the floor at him.