Hellhound On My Trail

by J. D. Rhoades

  “IT AIN’T much,” Karl Zaubermann said, “but it’s about as far off the grid as you can get.”

  “I can see that,” Keller said. They were standing in the yard of a low-roofed wooden house that looked as if it was about ready to collapse back into the primordial swamp that surrounded the higher ground on which it sat. The warped outside planking was faded to gray stained green with mold, and any windows that weren’t boarded over were streaked with grime. Keller had driven his stolen vehicle behind Zaubermann through what seemed like an endless maze of twisted gravel, then dirt roads, before reaching this desolate clearing.

  “You want to lay up,” Zaubermann said, “you can’t find a much better place. Only one road in and out, and it runs through a mile and a half of swamp. It’s got a generator that’ll run the fridge, a fan, and a couple of lights, but don’t push it too hard.”

  Keller nodded. “I wasn’t complaining. I’ve lived in worse.”

  “I reckon you have.” Zaubermann handed him a key. “Place is yours, for as long as you want it.”

  Keller took the key. “Thanks.”

  “You need anything else?”

  Keller went to the truck and reached into the cargo compartment of the black Escalade. He took out the pair of AR-15s he’d taken from Zavalo and his men and slung one over each shoulder. “I could use some more ammo for these, if you can get it. And I can pay.” Briefly, he described what he was looking for.

  Zaubermann’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “Yeah. I can swing that.”

  Keller nodded at the Escalade. “I need to get rid of that, too. Replace it with something cheap and boring. It’s a nice ride, but I don’t recommend driving it around. Maybe chop it up for parts. The former owners might come looking for it. I think I may have discouraged them, but you never know.”

  Zaubermann grimaced. “Jesus, Keller. Just who the fuck is after you? Feds? Cartels?”

  Keller shrugged. “Not feds, exactly. Maybe someone pretending to be a fed. And the cartels? Probably not. I hope I brushed them back a little.”

  “Brushed them back. The cartels.” Zaubermann shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus. You’re kind of pushing the envelope on this favor. I want you to know that.”

  “I know. And I won’t be here long. I just need some breathing room. Some time to figure out what to do.”

  “Fine. Just don’t take long. You’re startin’ to sound like trouble I don’t need.”

  Keller nodded. “I get that. But Karl?”

  Zaubermann had started walking back toward his own truck. Now he stopped and looked back.

  “If you’re thinking of asking around for whoever’s looking for me, and shopping me to them—”

  Zaubermann interrupted. “Man, you know I wouldn’t—”

  Keller cut him off. “Just remember. I’m very good at finding people.”

  He and Zaubermann regarded each other for a long moment. Then Zaubermann said, “You’ve changed, man. And not for the better.”

  “I know.” Keller reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. He peeled off several hundreds and held them out to Zaubermann. “Just get me the ammo and the vehicle.”

  Zaubermann took the money, still looking dubious. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Alone,” Keller said.

  Zaubermann nodded. “Absolutely.”

  ZAUBERMANN WAS as good as his word. He pulled up shortly after nine the next morning in a small white Ford pickup. The truck had rust showing at the corners of the bed and a minor dent in the front bumper. Keller had been up since before dawn, his sleep troubled by mosquitoes and uneasy dreams. He met Zaubermann on the front steps.

  “You wanted something no one would notice,” Zaubermann said, nodding at the truck. “Around here, that fits right in. Runs good, though. Dropped a new motor in just last month.”

  “Thanks,” Keller said. “And the ammo?”

  “In the back.” The two men walked to the bed of the truck. A pair of olive drab army surplus ammo cans sat side by side. “Two hundred rounds,” Zaubermann said. “Five point five six, just the mix you asked for. Hundred full metal jacket, fifty hollow points, fifty tracer rounds. Think that’ll do ya?”

  Keller nodded and hauled the heavy cans out of the truck bed. “If it doesn’t, I’m probably fucked anyway.”

  “I heard that.”

  “Thanks,” Keller said. “And you can keep the change.”

  Zaubermann grinned. “I was planning to.”

  “Here’s the keys to the Escalade.” Keller handed them over. “Remember, you may want to get rid of it.”

  Zaubermann took the keys. “Seems a shame to cut up such a nice ride.”

  Keller shrugged. “Your choice. But it didn’t bring much luck to the last guy who had it.”

  “Understood. Hey, have you thought over what we talked about yesterday? About maybe doing some work?”

  Keller picked up one of the ammo cans and walked toward the house. “Depends on the work.”

  Zaubermann picked up the other can and followed. “Nothing heavy, I promise. I was thinking about a meeting I have coming up. I could use a little extra security.”

  Keller walked up the rickety steps and opened the front door, which squealed on rusty hinges as it swung. “You expecting trouble at this meeting?” He put the ammo can inside the door.

  “No, not really.” Zaubermann handed his can to Keller, who put it next to the first one and shut the door. “But trouble’ll be even less likely the more serious we look. Hey, all you’ll need to do is stand in the corner and look mean. You’re good at that, right?”

  “I guess. Is this some kind of sit-down?”

  Zaubermann shook his head. “Straight delivery. In and out. Won’t take ten minutes if it’s done right.”

  “So why extra security? What’s the delivery?”

  “Best that you not know about exactly what the delivery is. Not yet. But like I said, the extra security is just for show. This is a new, ah, partner we’re dealing with here. Everybody wants to, you know, look their best.”

  “New partner, huh? Anyone I might know?”

  Zaubermann raised both hands, palms out. “Not cartel. At least not on this level. Maybe a couple links up the chain, I dunno. But the people I’m meeting with represent an MC out of Tallahassee, Florida.”

  “Bikers,” Keller said.

  Zaubermann nodded. “Tough motherfuckers by reputation, but I checked them out with reliable sources. They’re all about business. No drama.”

  “Good to hear,” Keller said. He thought it over. “When and where’s the meet?”

  “At the bar. Tomorrow night. After closing. Be there about one thirty.” Zaubermann shrugged. “Who knows, you might meet some new friends. And I’ll make it worth your time. That bankroll of yours isn’t going to last forever, Keller. Not at these prices.”

  Keller looked off into the distance. Finally, he said, “Yeah. Okay.” Something inside him told him it was a bad idea. He still didn’t know if he completely trusted Zaubermann. But a night spent by himself had left him feeling as if he was slipping back into the fog, the numbness that wrapped around him if he didn’t get out ahead of it. He needed the burst of adrenaline he used to get by chasing and taking down bail jumpers. Standing watch over a drug buy might well be a poor substitute. But it was something.

  “Okay, then,” Zaubermann said with satisfaction. “See you there.” He walked to the Escalade and got in. Keller stood watching as he drove away down the narrow rutted drive. He waited five minutes, then got into his own new ride and drove out the same way. He had some shopping of his own to do. Some items that Zaubermann didn’t need to know about.

  KELLER PULLED into the bar parking lot as promised at 1:30 AM. There were still a few stragglers leaning against cars and pickups, and there seemed to be a low-pitched but intense argument going on between two vehicles between a man and a woman. As Keller walked through the parking lot, the pair stopped and glared at him. He passed
without making a remark and heard the fight start up again behind him. As he approached the front door, the bouncer who’d greeted him that first night stepped out. He squinted at Keller. “Hunh,” he grunted. “You.”

  “Yep. Me.”

  The bouncer gave him a hard stare. Keller gave one back. The other man broke first. The bouncer’s eyes slid away as he held out his hand. “Hey,” he said. “Sorry about the attitude the other night. Didn’t know you was a friend of Karl’s.”

  Keller took the hand. “I’m not. But it’s no problem. You were just doing your job. My name’s Jack Keller.”

  The bouncer didn’t try to crush Keller’s hand. Keller hoped that meant they were beyond the tiresome dick-measuring stage. “My name’s Will,” he said. “But people call me Tiny.”

  “Of course they do,” Keller said, his smile letting the man know there was no mockery intended. “Which one you prefer?”

  The man grinned. “Tiny’s fine. But thanks for asking.” He looked past Keller into the parking lot. “Go on in while I get rid of these last few losers. Get yourself something to drink. On the house.”

  “Thanks.” Keller stepped inside.

  The only people left inside were Zaubermann and a skinny woman with a deeply lined face and long frizzy blond hair who was wiping down the bar. Zaubermann was pulling a pair of small bar tables together. He looked up and nodded at Keller. “Right on time,” he observed. He turned to the blond. “Okay, Trina. You can take off. We’ll finish up.”

  Trina was looking at Keller appraisingly. When she spoke, it was in a voice roughened by liquor and cigarettes. “Sure you don’t need me to stay? And who’s your friend?”

  “Jack,” Keller said.

  Zaubermann was smirking. “Maybe some other time, Trina.”

  The woman shrugged. “Okay. Night.” There was a door behind the bar and she walked to it, pausing as she reached it and looking at Keller. “Nice meeting you, Jack.”

  “Nice meeting you.” But she’d already gone.

  When he looked back at Zaubermann, the man was grinning. “I think she kinda likes you, Jack.”

  “Maybe,” Keller said.

  “She’s got some miles on her,” Zaubermann went on. “But she knows some tricks. She can make you forget your name, let me tell you.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” Keller said. “This meeting still on?”

  “Yeah.” Zaubermann motioned toward the bar. “Why don’t you stand back there?” he said. “I’ll have Tiny watch the door.”

  Keller felt a crawly feeling up his spine. “Only three of us? How many are the other guys bringing?”

  Zaubermann rolled his eyes. “Will you relax? Like I said, these guys aren’t into drama.”

  “That’s great. But what if they decide to change their minds?”

  Zaubermann’s grin was like a wolf baring its teeth. “Then there’s a twelve-gauge scatter gun behind the bar. Loaded with double aught.”

  Keller stepped back and found the shotgun lying on a shelf above the bar well. He hefted it and looked it over. He jacked a round into the chamber.

  “There,” Zaubermann said, “you feel a little more secure?”

  “Yeah,” Keller said. “I’d feel better if you and Tiny were carrying, too.”

  “Don’t worry,” Zaubermann said. He reached down to his boot and came up with a stubby little revolver. “Charter Arms Bulldog snub nose .44. Can’t hit a fucking house with it at range, but close up, it’ll blow a big enough hole to do the job.”

  “What about Tiny?”

  Zaubermann shrugged. “Tiny’s Tiny.” He chuckled. “Anyone shoots him, he’ll fall on them and crush them. Seriously, man, will you just relax? I know these guys. They’re brothers.”

  “Brothers?”

  “You know. Bikers. Like me. We get one another. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Tiny came back in. “All clear, boss.”

  “Excellent,” Zaubermann said. “Jack, why don’t you pour us some drinks while we wait?”

  Keller looked at the well, saw the bottles of cheap liquor there, then thought what the hell and turned to the shelves behind the bar. He pulled down a bottle of Gentleman Jack and took out three glasses. “How do you take it?” he said.

  “How do you think?” Zaubermann said.

  Keller nodded and poured two fingers of the amber liquid into each of the glasses. He slid two to the edge of the bar and kept the third for himself. Zaubermann stood up and Tiny came over to collect his. Zaubermann raised his glass and the other two followed suit. “To new business,” Zaubermann said. “New bidness,” Tiny echoed. Keller was silent, but they all drank.

  There was the sound of a car engine outside. Through the door, it sounded like a big vehicle. Zaubermann was still smacking his lips. “Tiny,” he said, “go on and let them in.” He turned to Keller. “There’s a briefcase over there by the fridge. Hand it to me, will you, Jack?”

  Keller located the case and handed it across the bar to Zaubermann, who walked over and put it onto the impromptu conference table he’d made by pushing two bar tables together. He turned to the door. Keller couldn’t see his face from where he stood at the bar. The door opened and Tiny came in. The look on his face made the hairs rise on the back of Keller’s neck. Something’s wrong.

  A man followed Tiny in. He was slender, dressed in an expensively tailored suit. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, and his short, neatly trimmed beard was a mixture of salt and pepper. His head was shaved.

  Keller saw Zaubermann’s shoulders tense. “Wait a minute,” Zaubermann said. “Who the hell are you?”

  The man smiled as he stepped inside. He was joined by two other men, each of them a match in sheer bulk for Tiny, but they seemed in much better condition, muscles bulging against their tightly cut suits that looked at least as expensive as their leader’s.

  “My name is Vasily,” the man said in a silky Russian accent. “I am your new partner.”

  SLOWLY, SO as not to draw attention, Keller reached down and laid a hand on the shotgun. He sized up the two guys who’d come in with Vasily. They gave him the same careful regard.

  “Wait a minute,” Zaubermann said. “Where’s Hardway? I was supposed to be talking with him.”

  Vasily shook his head. “Mr. Hardway took, how you say, early retirement. We’ll be fulfilling his contracts. How do you say it? Stepping into his shoes.” He grinned, showing a couple of gold teeth. “Don’t worry. Our product is better than that motherfucker’s. You’ll see.”

  He saw the table Zaubermann had set up, with the briefcase on top, and nodded approvingly. He walked to the table as if he owned it and sat down. His two bodyguards followed and stood behind him. Zaubermann hesitated, then went and sat down as well. Keller could see the sweat that had broken out on his brow. Tiny was still standing by the door, looking from Zaubermann to Vasily and back again, confusion evident in his small, deep-set eyes. He looked like a hog who’d just been asked to split the atom.

  Vasily looked at Keller standing behind the bar. “Could I trouble you for a drink?” Vasily said with elaborate courtesy.

  Before Zaubermann could react, Keller answered. “Sure. Let me guess. Vodka?”

  Vasily smiled. “I don’t like stereotypes.” He nodded at the bottle on the counter. “I will take some of that whiskey, though.”

  Keller looked at Zaubermann. “You’ll have to ask the boss.”

  The words seemed to jolt Zaubermann out of the funk that seemed to have paralyzed him. “Yeah. Sure. And pour me another one.”

  Keller nodded at the two men behind Vasily. “What about your pals there?”

  Vasily looked back. “Kolya? Luka?” Each of them shook their heads almost imperceptibly. Vasily turned back. “None for them. They are driving tonight.”

  “Okay then.” Keller poured the whiskey and delivered the glasses to the table on a tray.

  “Spasibo,” Vasily murmured as he took his. He arched an eyebrow at Keller. “And you are?”
/>
  “Jack,” Keller said.

  “He’s new,” Zaubermann volunteered.

  “Hmmm.” Vasily took a sip. “Interesting.”

  “How so?” Keller asked.

  Vasily made a dismissive gesture with his free hand. “Nothing.”

  Keller had poured a drink for Tiny, who was still standing by the door, looking confused. He took the glass over and delivered it. “Get your head out of your ass,” he whispered. “Whatever’s happening here, it’s not good.”

  Tiny looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, then nodded. He downed the glass in one gulp. Somehow, it seemed to bring him focus. He nodded again at Keller, more strongly this time. Keller walked back to take his place behind the bar. He put his hand back on the shotgun. Vasily was speaking. “You brought the money, yes?”

  “Yeah.” Zaubermann seemed to be getting his own composure back. He patted the closed briefcase on the table. “So let’s see the product.”

  “Sure,” Vasily said. His smile was as phony as a stripper’s. He raised a hand. “Kolya. Go get the cooler.”

  The bodyguard to Vasily’s left walked to the door, stepping past Tiny without acknowledging the man’s presence. Vasily took the briefcase and turned it around. He reached for the catches.

  Zaubermann placed a hand on the lid. “When we see the product.”

  Vasily leaned back, an amused look on his face. “Mr. Zaubermann. It’s like you don’t trust me.”

  “I just met you,” Zaubermann said.