I felt my neck and the dried blood from where Mikhail had tried to strangle me. I squeezed my eyes tight, pushing the grisly visions from my mind, but it didn’t work. They floated behind my eyes with each blink or glance.
The TV was still on so I watched, hoping for a distraction. A news anchor yammered on about President Obama’s trip to Israel. The case still sat on the coffee table, calling me to open it. Getting up off the couch I walked into the kitchen to make some coffee. I dreaded opening the case, but time was almost up. I couldn't image what kind of fucked up job I had to do next.
After my second cup, I decided it was time to face the music. I opened the case and immediately knew what it was. The only thing missing was the plastic explosives. Apparently Patrick had known I had some in the armoire. Next to the mechanism was a wireless detonator with a trigger switch. It could be detonated from a distance, but probably not from far enough to make a clean get away. I was up to my knees in shit with the Mexicans again.
The instructions stated that a meeting was taking place at one o’clock this afternoon in the same Argentinean restaurant where I saw Kenny and Angel. There were pictures of Angel and her black Range Rover, showing the license plate. Patrick wanted Angel blown to pieces, and wanted me to place the bomb under her SUV.
I couldn’t believe I had a crooked cop for a partner. Cohagen said there would be a big promotion in it for me. Was he full of shit? I really didn’t have a choice. It was kill or be killed.
The phone went off, vibrating on the coffee table. It was Cohagen. “You ready kid? I’ll pick you up in front of your building in fifteen minutes. Make sure everything is set up properly, we don’t need any accidents. I heard you have a knack for this stuff.”
“See you in a few.” It was time to arm myself to the teeth. I went to the armoire in the bedroom and unlocked it. The Beretta was too big, so I opted for a Glock. It had a smaller profile and was just as effective. I loaded two extra clips and placed them on the bed.
Pulling open the drawer, I selected a small combat knife and strapped it to my wrist. The last drawer contained explosives. I slid it open and looked at C4 on the left and grenades on the right. I removed a square of C4 and two grenades and placed them on the bed. I locked up the armoire, walked back into the living room, picked up the case, and brought it into the bedroom. Once I finished setting up the C4, I took out the detonator and locked the case.
I didn’t have much time left, but I needed a shower to regroup. After five minutes of scalding hot water, I was ready.
I dried off, and put on black jeans, a white shirt, and black boots. Just as I was trying to decide whether to shave off my beard, the phone started buzzing. Ignoring it, I brushed my teeth, put gel in my hair, and combed it back. Looking up from the sink, I had one last glance in the mirror, dark circles under blood shot eyes, and a straggly beard. I scanned down to the cuts on my neck and pulled up my collar. My face looked like shit, but my gelled dark hair gave me a little style.
I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You can do this.”
The phone started buzzing again. I picked it up this time. “Yeah.”
“How long you gonna keep me waiting down here?” Cohagen asked.
“I’m coming down now, just had to finish up.” I said and gathered my things.
I exited the building with the black leather case in my hand. The October air was cool, the fall season in full swing. A breeze blew out of the west and I closed my eyes, feeling the wind on my face, listening to the rustling leaves. I gazed up. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was a beautiful day.
A black Ford sedan with dark tinted windows sat at the curb. The passenger window rolled down “C’mon kid, let’s go,” Cohagen called out. I got in the car. “I picked up some coffee at the deli. You like regular, right?”
“Yeah that’s fine,” I said.
“We need time to get a good spot and check things out. I wanna be able to see the block before our special guests arrive.”
Cohagen pulled away from the curb and nosed the black sedan into traffic. He had the radio tuned to 1010 WINS news. The top story, several bodies found in a Brooklyn parking lot. When we arrived at our destination, Cohagen circled around for a while until he found a parking spot with a full view of the restaurant. We watched and waited.
At 12:50, Angel sat in the front seat of her Range Rover, watching people pass on the street. The busy city folk rushed around, shopping or grabbing food on their lunch breaks.
A few minutes later she got out of her car and stood in front of the steak house. The restaurant door opened, and a familiar face appeared. Fat Paco. He whispered in her ear. She nodded and entered the restaurant. He stayed outside, watching the street and her SUV.
“Well kid, it looks like things just got a whole lot harder for you. They’re watching Angel’s ride,” Cohagen said, taking a sip of his coffee.
I opened the case and took out the detonator. “Let’s rock!” I said, putting the detonator in my pocket and jumping out of the car.
Crossing the street was the easy part. A city bus roared by and I used the distraction to quickly get close enough to Angel’s car. I walked low and pushed the case under the back bumper, then scurried off in reverse, never looking back to see if anyone noticed me.
It was 1:15 when I got back in the sedan with Cohagen.
“That was pretty smooth, considering that fat guy is scanning the street,” he said.
Time slowed down to a crawl. I could feel each minute tick by, my ears burning with a stress fever that left my face dripping with sweat. The clock on the dash showed 1:25; I took out the detonator and held it. At one 1:28 I looked at the dash and wiped the sweat from my face with the back of my sleeve. When 1:30 came my hands also started sweating and the detonator became slippery.
A white van pulled up and double-parked a few cars in front of Angel’s SUV. “What the fuck is this?” I said, knowing that this was either more Mexican gangsters or FBI agents.
“I don’t know kid, but we are running out of time. This place is getting too hot,” Cohagen replied.
“She’s gotta be coming out soon. This must be some kind of escort,” I said aloud to myself.
Paco held a phone to his ear and dark suits came out of the white van. They stood beside him as Angel came out of the restaurant.
“This is it! C’mon kid, press the button,” Cohagen shouted.
Once Angel was in the Rover, Paco got in the white van with the suits and eased forward a little.
“Hurry, press it!” He urged.
I had my thumb ready to press the button when I saw something that stopped me cold. A sudden chill went down my spine as Angel’s little girl popped her head up in the back window. She had a doll in each hand and was playing. I could see her cute little face smiling as she pretended the dolls could speak.
Fear and horror rattled through my mind. I shook my head in disbelief, and started yelling, “No this can’t be happening!” But it was happening and I couldn’t look away.
I panicked as the Rover started to pull out of the spot, and Cohagen shouted, “Press the fucking button! Press it!”
“No! We can’t! There’s a little girl. We have to abort!” I pleaded.
Cohagen reached over and squeezed my hand setting off the case. I screamed, “No!”
It was too late. A tremendous explosion rocked the street, with a deafening crash. Cars and store windows shattered on both sides of the block. The impact shook the sedan, and pieces of the Rover tumbled down from the sky and dropped all over the street. It was like air support in Afghanistan, FA-18 fighter jets that bombed targets while we fought it out in a small city northeast of the war zone. Our missiles hit too close to our position and friendly fire killed many of my battle buddies. I felt drained and helpless as I watched the smoking wreck.
I snapped out of it when Cohagen pulled out his service revolver and pointed it at my face. I was looking down the barrel of a steel blue snub-nosed .38 police special
.
“Now I’ll get the promotion and you’re fucked. You’re under arrest for the murder of Armando and Angel Sanchez. You have the right to remain silent…”
Deciding I wasn’t going to be arrested, I grabbed his wrist, pointing the gun away from me and smashing his hand hard against the dash several times. Cohagen grunted as the gun dropped to the floor.
Pulling my hand into my sleeve, I managed to get the combat knife out and sliced Cohagen’s wrist deep before grabbing his head. I rammed his face into the steering wheel with all my force, again and again, until he stopped moving.
Cohagen leaned over the steering wheel a bloody mess, his sunglasses bent, with shards of glass sticking out of his face. I bolted out of the passenger side and came around to the driver’s door. I dragged Cohagen’s unconscious body out of the sedan and got in the driver’s seat. I cooked the engine, threw the car in gear, stamped on the accelerator, and peeled out, tires smoking. People were running and screaming all over the block.
The white van didn’t explode, but was thrown onto its side, hitting some parked cars from the impact. As I sped off I could see the suits scrambling around the burning hulk of Angel’s Range Rover. They tried to help, but the smoke and heat from the fire kept them back.
I didn’t have much time, but needed to get my money and supplies before the FBI tried to arrest me again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Before I ditched the sedan I called Jimmy, and rambled on about the job gone wrong. “The job was fucked, I should’ve known it. Cohagen killed the little girl, he fucking killed her. Oh my God, that poor little girl. What the fuck was she doing there?”
“Bill, what are you talking about? What job? What girl? Have you lost your mind?”
“That fucking crooked cop tried to set me up, but I got him good.” “Okay, calm down and tell me slowly so I can understand” he said.
I told him everything and he was quiet for a minute. “Why would she bring her kid along?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but it’s fucking crazy,” I blurted.
“How do you know Patrick was in on the frame up? You gotta call him,” Jimmy reasoned.
“I can’t. I gotta get out of town now. I need your help. I need someplace to go and a way out fast.”
“Okay, stay calm. I’ll meet you at a bar on Ninth and 44th. Odin’s Hall,” Jimmy said, in a calm tone.
I left the sedan by a park on 18th Street and rushed uptown to my apartment. There I found two black duffle bags in the closet. Unzipping the bags on the bed, I opened the armoire and loaded in weapons and supplies. In the one bag I put several handguns, a couple boxes of bullets, grenades, knives, and explosives. If a war was coming I had to have a mobile arsenal.
In the other bag I dropped in the rest of my money, around fifty thousand dollars, and some clothes. I headed into the bathroom and shaved my face and head. I raced out to meet Jimmy. Odin’s Hall had that trendy bar feel with a polished wooden bar, a giant mirror sitting behind racks of high-end booze, and framed pictures of old Manhattan on the walls. Full-length windows gave a panoramic view of the street from anywhere within. I entered and sat on a stool at a small wooden table against the wall. I faced the street and eyed the front entrance. As I scanned the interior I noticed that they had a good selection of bourbon.
A very attractive young waitress came over and looked down at my bags before taking my order. She wore blue jeans and a short sleeve white top that clung and emphasized her small perky breasts. Her dark blond hair was pulled neatly into a bun. She had a pretty long neck and hanging earrings.
I guess I stared a little too long while I pondered her beauty and she let out a slight giggle. “Good afternoon. Are you staying for lunch?” she asked.
“No, just some Knob Creek, please. About three fingers. And some ice water.” I replied.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
She came back after a few minutes with the drinks on a tray and placed them on the table.
“Are you sure you don’t want to hear our specials? Some food might help a little.”
I felt completely depressed and worn out as I took a sip of the bourbon. I probably looked like a wreck. “Maybe when my friend gets here. I’m okay for now.”
Her eyes darted to my black duffle bags. “Are you traveling today? Oh sorry, didn’t mean to pry,” she said, smiling.
“Yeah, I’ve had enough of this town for a while.”
“This city can wear on your nerves. Sometimes I feel like running away to a new city or country,” she said.
I wanted to be polite and buy some time without being rude, so I asked for the menu.
“Here you go,” she said, perking up. She placed the menu on the table.
“I’ll give you a few minutes.”
I took another sip and pretended to look for something to eat while I reflected on the recent events. Sadness overwhelmed me as visions of the little girl flashed in my mind. Her apple cheeks, bright eyes, and vibrant smile. So innocent, so fragile. Tears welled up in my eyes; pain and anguish filled my thoughts. Another wasted life and for what? All to help kill low-life bottom feeders. I should have killed that fucking cop.
I hit the bourbon again and swallowed a big gulp. The burn immediately snapped me out of the grief as I choked and coughed. Jimmy came rushing into the bar and walked right past me into the back. He turned around and sat at the bar.
“Don’t you even recognize your own cousin?” I barked.
“Holy shit, Bill. I thought you were some Neo Nazi or something. Where did all your hair go?”
“I guess the new look is working then,” I said
“Let’s get out of here. You can’t be on the street. I know a place you can stay for a while,” Jimmy said.
Jimmy picked up one of my bags. Finishing what was left of the bourbon I put a twenty under the glass and walked out.
Jimmy hailed a taxi and we headed up to the West 80s. He paid the driver and I followed him down a ramp to a basement apartment. The smell of urine assaulted my senses. Any slightly hidden space in the city was fair game as a bathroom for street people. Jimmy ignored the odor, took out keys, and opened a heavy metal barred storm door. Behind it was another door, also made of metal. He unlocked three dead bolts and we entered.
“This is Tracy’s old apartment. We never got rid of it. You never know when you might need a place to crash,” he said.
It was far from what I had expected. I thought it would be a dump like Jimmy’s old apartment, but once inside it clearly had a women’s touch. In the main room sat a nice couch with a floral pattern and a patterned rug. On either end of the couch were small end tables with nick-knacks and coasters. On the walls were framed pictures of flowers and birds. It had a small clean kitchen and bedroom, complete with floral comforter and matching skirt.
“Wow, Tracy really knows how to dress up an apartment. I thought this was a total dump from the outside,” I said.
“Yeah, Tracy’s a real keeper. She really helped me to clean up and learn to be proud of myself,” Jimmy said, with a slight smile.
“I have to speak to Dana before I leave.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Bill. She’s living with Kenny, and I’m not sure that talking to her is going to win you any points after all this time,” he said.
Jimmy pulled out his lighter and lit a cig. “Here’s what I found out about Viktor. He left the country and is now in Russia living with his brother. Viktor’s brother is a big wig in the Russian mob, based somewhere outside Kiev. Dmitry’s gone back to being in charge of the Brooklyn area. The civil war between the groups was crushed once Viktor left to hide under his brother’s wing.”
“I don’t care where he is or who’s wing he is hiding under, I’m gonna kill the fucker for ruining my life,” I said, through gritted teeth.
“Hold out here for a few days, until we can get a plan together,” Jimmy said.
“I can’t fly out of any major airports or go through customs. T
he FBI will be looking for me. I need a way out where no one will notice,” I said.
“I know this guy who works on the docks. Give me a day or two to check on a couple of things and for fuck’s sake stay out of site,” he said.
“Okay, I’ll try.”
“You better, because if they find you it will lead to me and Tracy. Then we’re all fucked. I’ll be back tonight with some food. Just try to forget about today the best you can,” Jimmy said.
He walked out and I locked the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I sank into the couch and buried my face in my hands. I was filled with sadness. Thoughts of self-pity swirled through my mind. Lifting my head, I leaned back and stared at my hands. I searched the lines of my palms for some kind of sign that my life would change for the better. I turned them over and followed the veins to my fingernails dirty with dried blood around the edges. I felt another wave of sadness wash over me; large tears fell from my eyes. I was reminded of the senseless death of an innocent little girl.
The sound of my phone vibrating on my hip snapped me out of the gloom. It was Patrick Sullivan. I blinked at the phone trying to decide whether to answer. “Yes?” I said.
“Bill, what’s the deal?” Patrick asked.
“The job is complete,” I said, not offering any details.
“Yeah, but Eddie was found dead on the street. He bled out from glass cuts. His car was located abandoned on the West Side, only a few minutes ago.”
“We were too close to the blast and glass from the impact cut him up. The place was crawling with FBI agents and I had to get out of the area quickly,” I said.
I should have known that Eddie would screw this up. He always had a way of complicating things. Even when we were kids he pulled this kind of shit. Meet me and I’ll compensate you for your troubles,” he said, sincerity in his voice.
“I have some loose ends to take care of first,” I said.
Bourbon & Blood: A Crime Fiction Novel (Bill Conlin Thriller) Page 15
