OUR SECRET BABY

by Paula Cox

  “Good morning, Jerry. Stella Smith’s a good friend of mine: we’re supposed to be meeting her and her fiancée this afternoon for lunch. Could you tell me if she’s still in her apartment?”

  “Stella,” the old gatekeeper says. “Stella… Stella… Stella.”

  I hold my breath, forgetting how confident I was with each second that passes.

  “That’s Stella… Smith, is it? Dear Stella. But they got in at a helluva late hour, didn’t they?”

  My breath escapes through my nose and through my mouth in one big gust. Theo’s eyes go wide, pulling his wrinkles up and to the sides of his face. “Good God,” he says.

  “Yes, they did. Flight delayed because of the weather, you know.”

  “You’re tellin’ me! I ain’t never seen anything like it—not in sixty years. So she’s a good friend of yours, eh? Girl’s certainly got some strange friends, lemme tell you. And after seein’ all those fellows pull up last night, I didn’t know who was coming through my gate.”

  “Yes… but is she there still? This is urgent.”

  “Well if it’s urgent, lemme give ‘em a call. Any chance you know their address?”

  “No.” Sweat starts pouring off my head. Theo looks equally worried. “It’s just a big house. Reddish-pinkish. Sort of looks like a castle.”

  “That’s most of the places here, sonny. Hold on… I can find her in the directory. I’mma put you down a few seconds but you just hold on, and I’ll give ‘em a call right away. Sound good?”

  “Okay. But please don’t mention me. This is supposed to be a surprise.”

  “No problem.” The line starts to play a monotone beep. Wedging the phone in between my chin and neck I turn to look at Theo. He’s shaking his head, saying to himself, “My God… My God,” over and over again.

  The line comes back on. “You still there Mister… er?”

  I think for a minute, and then remember the disguise Maya picked out for me when we were rooming in at the Four Seasons.

  “Arnie. Arnie Smith—I’m Stella’s brother.” I only notice the misstep after I’ve said it. Hope Jerry didn’t notice it like I did.

  “Her brother, okay. And an old friend. That’s not a bad one, sonny. Okay Mr. Arnie Smith, your sister isn’t picking up the phone, but I can tell you now I’ve been here since midnight and only seen the one car come in and nothing else. Best bet is your folks are still there taking their sweet time. Want me to call again a little while later?”

  “No, thank you. You’ve done plenty.”

  “Glad I could help. Hope you have a good day. Be careful on those roads out there. A fellow will be taking a swim if he’s not careful.”

  I smile and hang up.

  “Good God, Quinn. So now we know.”

  “Now we know. But in an hour we might not. There’s no way Oren’s going to stay there any longer than he has to. He must know how exposed he is. We need to get over there as soon as possible.”

  “Then why all of this delaying? Why aren’t we already on the road?”

  “Because think about it. There are at least four men holding down the place aside from Oren. Three bodyguards and a driver. Probably more at the actual apartment working on defense just in case any of us get wise to what’s going on, which means we’re dealing with somewhere along the lines of at least eight men in there, probably more. You wanna go charging in there, just us two? I don’t even have a weapon anymore. I don’t even have a phone.”

  Theo had been pacing, but now he stops and sinks into his chair. “We can take care of that—the weapon, I mean. But other than that, you’re right. We’ll get shot to pieces the second we step foot through the doorway. We need backup.”

  “Yes, we do. And no offense to you, but seeing what’s happened with the men who’ve been working with you I don’t trust any of the guys you would call.”

  “I don’t either. But who else is there? The Ceallaighs are on lockdown after what’s happened to Theo. We’re alone here.”

  “If we’re thinking about mob men, then yes.”

  “But you’re not?”

  “No, I’m not.” It’s a crazy idea to ask them to fight again—one of my brothers just took a bullet the day before. But it’s the only idea I’ve got, and the only chance either of us has of saving Maya. “Can I borrow that phone again?”

  ***

  Theo insists on driving, probably thinking I’m still too far gone to manage on the roads. I’m still a little tired and wobbly but good other than that—good enough to do what I need to do. Adrenaline and desperation are giving me more than enough energy to work with. Long as I can keep it up, I’ll be all right.

  So I sit next to Theo as he threads the highway up and along the beach, climbing higher and higher into the gray of the skyline. The weather is bleak and ugly and the clouds so swollen with snow they look like overturned umbrellas. Miserable weather for any day except today. Snow means delay. The more of it we have, the longer Oren’s delay and the more time we have to work with.

  I put in another call to Jerry making him promise to let me know if anything changes or anyone leaves, and then I put in another call.

  “Bolt?”

  “That you, Q? Where the hell you been? Why the hell ain’t you here?”

  “Long story. Went for a swim and wrecked a car of Theo Butler’s. I need you guys’ help. You at the hospital right now?”

  “Yeah, we’re here: Kirill and me. Other guys are over at the Clubhouse. Watcha need?”

  “Everyone I can get. We’ve got an emergency.”

  “Who?”

  “Hostage and a psychopath.”

  “How many?”

  “Eight. More probably.”

  “Eight psychopaths?”

  “It might just turn out that way.”

  “Shit, Q. You never stop having fun. Need to take it easy, or you’re gonna end up in a fight one of these days.”

  I laugh. It’s the first real life I’ve had in what feels like a hundred years. It feels good to laugh and when I listen in Bolt is laughing on the other end of the line. Then I remember where he is and why he’s there, and I get serious again.

  “By the way, how is he?”

  “Who? Glass or Miles?”

  “Both.”

  “Palmer’s fucking indestructible, like always. He was up and around two hours after they dug the slug out. He’s got a hell of a limp, of course, and he hates the crutches. Doctor says he’ll need them at least eight months but I betcha it doesn’t take half that time. Miles is sure as hell taking his sweet time. I wouldn’t count him in.”

  “So nothing’s permanently damaged with Palmer?”

  “Hardly even temporarily damaged. He’s got skin of steel. Hey—you wanna talk to him? He’s just right in the other room.”

  I think hard about it, but I can’t get distracted now. I can’t afford to start thinking that everything’s going to turn out all right. Every second I’m taken out of danger is a second I get weaker. Just think of Maya, and that’s all you need to do.

  “Not right now, Bolt. Not until this is over. Right now this is war.”

  “Sure as hell sounds like it. Waddya need me to do?”

  And I tell him. Round up all and any Stitches he can, young and old, experienced and greenhorn. Numbers, speed, and weapons are our best friends now. I’ve no idea about how much time we’ve got, but in those cases, it’s always best to assume the least, so an hour or two at the most. Everyone to make it out to Sunrise Apartments as soon as possible. Speed limits: fuck ‘em.

  “C’mon, Q. You know we’ve already got targets on our backs. You really want a cavalcade of pigs over there stinking up the rescue attempt with you?”

  “Quinn?” Theo whispers. I tell Bolt to wait a moment, but Theo is motioning for the phone. I hand it over.

  “Yes—hello? Bolt, is it?”

  “Sure thing. Who’s this?”

  “Theo Butler. I head a local organization known as the Family. Perhaps you’ve heard of
me?”

  The silence that comes through the receiver is answer enough. Even if you’ve been living under a rock the last fifty years, you know the name of the Family. They were probably the ones who put you under the rock in the first place.

  “Understand: you are executing affairs under my name. This makes you one of my employees, all of whom enjoy a certain privilege with the local police force. Any problems you have, you are to communicate directly to me by this number. This goes for the rest of you, as well. Is that understood?”

  “Yes,” Bolt pretty much squeaks back through the receiver.

  “Good,” Theo hands me back the phone. “Hello? Hello?” But Bolt had already hung up.

  “I think you scared him.”

  “A hitman scared by a mob man? I don’t understand that at all.”

  “Not a mob man. You.”

  Theo doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. I can see the little smile he made, even when he thought I wasn’t looking. So much for not being feared.

  It’s not long before I begin to recognize the area we’re in. It’s in a different cast because of the weather. Sadder. Bleaker. Uglier. The eighteenth-century dollhouses don’t look quaint or curious, but sinister, like murder houses out of a horror movie. Then Hammond’s exit. Then, on the right, the green and white sign of the complex.

  “This is it,” Theo says.

  “This is it.”

  “Do we have a plan for what we should do now? Or are we simply going to wait?”

  “Go through the gate first.”

  We stop at the pavilion. Jerry comes waddling forward, combing his mustache.

  “Af’ernoon, folks.”

  “Arnie Smith, and Gary.” I indicate to Theo. “Her father. We spoke to you on the phone.”

  “That you did. Come to collect her yourself, eh?” He winks.

  “We hope so.”

  Jerry notes down our names and then raises the bar. “Good luck to you then. And have a fine day.”

  “You, too. And—yes, could you show us her address? It’s been a long time since we’ve been here.”

  “Not a problem. That’s number eighty-three. Down the way and a bit on your right. Shouldn’t be taking you more than two minutes to get there.”

  “Thank you.”

  We drive slowly, methodically craning our necks from side to side. Thirty-four. Thirty-nine. Forty-three. Fifty. Sixty-two.

  “Stop right here.”

  Theo puts the car into park, shimmying it up curbside. He moves to turn the ignition off, but I stop him. “No—turn around.”

  “What?”

  “Around. Go back to the pavilion.”

  He’s confused, but he does what I say and takes us back until we’re facing the exit gate.

  “You didn’t tell him we’re expecting other people.”

  “He wouldn’t have let them in. Or he’d have called the apartment first to tell them who was coming. I need some rope and a weapon.”

  “Jumper cables in the back.”

  “Weapon?”

  “Glove compartment.”

  He’s got a beast of a thing stashed away there. I reach in and take out the thirty-four magnum, its sleek barrel long as a diving board, and gleaming like silver.

  “Never even held one of these before.”

  “And you’re not going to now, God help us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is my turn. I’ve been behind a desk giving orders since before you were born. But out in the field—taking matters into my own hands. Doing what I’ve mostly only told others to do—I need to freshen up. Give the gun to me.”

  “You’re sure about this?” I hand him the magnum.

  “Are you sure about this? You’re about to involve yourself in a matter that goes far beyond the pay grade of a hired bodyguard. You’ve helped me more than anyone else, and I’m grateful, but if you have any misgivings, now is the time to express them. You’ve said so yourself how many men might be in there. Why get killed for a contract’s daughter?”

  “It’s not like that. It’s not just that,” I correct myself. “I care about Maya. Like a sister.”

  “Kirill’t feed me that.”

  “What?”

  “I mean don’t feed me that bullshit. Perhaps I didn’t know the extent of it during the beginning, but before long it became too obvious to ignore. Nothing about your relationship has been familial, I can assure you.”

  He leans in, snatches the clip, and locks it in.

  What the hell do I say? My mouth is shaking. Theo knew? This entire time he knew and said nothing about it?

  “To whom my daughter gives her heart is none of my business, provided it does not infringe upon the interests of the Family,” he says. “You served my daughter as she needed to be served. I felt no need to remark upon it, assuming that it would not last longer than was acceptable.”

  “So you had us followed? Is that how it was you found out about us?” Curiosity gives way slowly to anger. My fists bunch up. I’m not going to fight, though. Definitely not with a man who has a loaded Item bigger than I am anyway.

  “I found out—by her.” He looks at me and what I see in his look is not the anger or the dismissal his words had suggested, but acceptance. Coming from another person other than Theo I would have thought it was gentle.

  “Kirill’t make the mistake of believing you’re the only person who knows something about Maya. I knew it by the way she looked at you and even by the way she avoided you when you were in my presence. Oh yes. I knew it all, but through silences and intimations. For a man who may accurately judge the duration of his life by the amount of secrets he keeps and tells, what is communicated by silence is far more valuable than words.”

  Theo doesn’t wait to hear anything from me. He was out the door and fishing through the trunk before I knew it. Surprisingly quick for a man of his age. And then, with the gun secured safely beneath his coat and cables dangling from the hook of his hand, I see him approach the pavilion and disappear inside.

  Chapter 30

  The minutes chip away and still no sign of Theo. No sounds at all. Not a shout. A scream. There wouldn’t be, I tell myself. Not when they were inside the building, and I was inside the car. Not in general, if Theo is going about doing it right. But silence is much more ominous than sound. It leaves room for so much more that might happen or that you worry will happen, no matter how irrational it seems.

  So you go on telling yourself that. That your fears are irrational. That the time you imagine moving extra slowly is really moving at the normal pace and that you’re only just more tuned into it. That everything is all right like you’ve told yourself already over and over again and will keep on being alright but only if you remain calm and do your job. Even if your job is waiting, holed up and useless.

  Then, finally, Theo comes out of the pavilion. No jumper cables in his hand. Item hidden back beneath his coat. He’s not walking with a limp, which is something I was sure he’d have when he came back out, though I don’t know why.

  “Everything cool?” I say when he gets back into the car.

  “No problems at all.” He puts us back into drive. “Your men are to press in a number on the keypad outside the gate, and it will open automatically for them. Your friend, the guard, is unhurt for the most part. Only several very nasty bruises on the front of his head. I misjudged the weight of the gun, you see, otherwise, it would have been only one.”

  “What’s that number?”

  He tells me, and I text it off to Bolt, and that’s that. Bolt responds instantly.

  “Fifteen minutes away. They’re taking these roads like fucking speed-racers.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if they were already here?”

  “No. I need to run surveillance first. The fewer guys you got for that, the better. Park here, next to sixty-eight. That road to the left there—that’s the one we want.”

  “I see.”

  He pulls up and stops abruptly,
no skid this time.

  “Number eighty-three?”

  “That’s what the man said.”

  “Okay. I need to get my bearings for the area around: sort out some territory and so on. Number of guards. Entry points. Weapons. I remember some big columns on the porch at the front. I betcha they’ll have someone there for cover. And someone else on either wing of the house, second floor, on the lookout for guys like us.”