by Mark Harritt
Lazarus shrugged, “Okay, I have a Visa I can use. Do you ship?”
The man nodded, “Yeah, of course we ship. Not many people buy records anymore, so we do a lot of business on the internet. We send records out across the States.”
Lazarus continued to talk to the man, and he handed him the address that he wanted the records shipped to. As he did this, Jean stepped up and put an old Dizzy Gilespie record on the counter and paid for it. The man behind the counter put it into a bag for her and she walked away from the counter and out the door. Lazarus put his hands into several pockets, miming looking for his wallet. He put his hand into the pocket where the envelope had been stashed, and the envelope was gone. In its place was a piece of paper. He knew it was a note from Jean. He would wait until much later before he read it, not wanting to draw attention.
He paid for the two records and the shipping. It would arrive at Sam’s house in New York in three days. He walked out of the record shop and into an art gallery. For the rest of the day, he spent his time looking at various art exhibitions. At the end of the day, he stopped in a café and grabbed a latte to go. He walked down the street, and dropped the last paper onto a bench outside the hotel. Inside the newspaper was written a number. He didn’t look back, just kept on walking.
He entered the Ritz Carlton, dodging the influx of new customers. He walked to the elevator, stepped inside and hit the number to his floor. As he walked to his room, he fished out the room key, and slipped it into the electronic lock. He walked in and dropped the empty latte cup into the garbage can. He walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the toilet. He pulled out the paper that Jean had put into his pocket. On it was written the number four, the same number he had written on the last section of paper. It had a location and time on it as well. He smiled. He crumpled the note and dropped it into the toilet. He flushed the toilet and watched the paper flow into the drain.
He walked back into the bedroom and called Sam’s room. The phone range and Sam picked it up, “Hello?”
“I’ve been looking forward to Angelo’s pastrami sandwich all day,” Lazarus said.
“Come on down.”
----------------------------------------------------
“You weren’t entirely straight with me,” Sam accused Lazarus.
“What do you mean?” Lazarus asked.
The restaurant was bustling, with hotel guests and others from the surrounding area here for breakfast. Lazarus loved the coffee here. All in all, it was starting out to be a busy morning for the hotel.
“Angelo, you didn’t tell me about Angelo.”
“What about Angelo?”
“You didn’t tell me that Angelo was from Jersey.”
“And, your point being?”
“The pastrami was very good.”
“I told you it would be. See, you should trust me when I tell you these things.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t say Angelo was from Jersey.”
“Is there a point here, Sam?”
“Well, the reason that the pastrami is good, is because Angelo’s from Jersey.”
“That’s not New York, though. You said the best pastrami sandwiches come from New York.”
Sam nodded, “Yeah, I did, and I still believe they do. But then you have Jersey, and the Italians in Jersey make some pretty good food as well.”
“So, what you’re saying, in a very roundabout way, is that you really like Angelo’s pastrami sandwiches.”
Sam conceded, “Yeah, you could put it that way.”
“Are you done with the Angelo thing?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Lazarus looked at him, “You ready to go?”
“Yeah, I have everything packed, I just need to go back to the room to get it. Do you have a plan?” Sam asked.
Lazarus sat back, the plate in front of him wiped clean of anything that might have nutritional value on it. Still, he took the last piece of wheat toast and wiped the surface of the plate to make sure he got the last of it. He popped the piece of toast into his mouth. Then he picked up the coffee cup and washed the toast down.
“Of course I do. I always have a plan.”
Sam looked around the restaurant. The ATF agents were sitting around them, and they weren’t even trying to be stealthy. Sam was able to spot all eight of them. One of the agents seemed to take this as a challenge. He got up from the table and walked over to Lazarus and Sam. Lazarus looked up at the agent, and took another sip of coffee. He motioned to an empty chair at their table.
“Good morning, Agent Johnston. Care to have a seat?”
Agent Johnston was tall and lean, about six feet, and maybe one hundred and eighty pounds. He had reddish, blonde hair. He was wearing khakis, a button down blue shirt, and a nylon jacket. He sat down and began speaking, “You think you’re smart?”
Lazarus pretended ignorance, “About what?”
Johnston leaned forward, “You think you can ditch us? You think you’re going to be able to operate without us knowing about it?”
Lazarus continued drinking his coffee. It seemed like the best choice at the moment. Sam picked up his glass of milk and drank what was left.
Johnston spoke again, “I don’t know what you were doing yesterday, but it didn’t work.”
Lazarus wasn’t about to let Johnston know that his operation yesterday, had in fact, been a success. If he did that, it would give the ATF agent an edge, give him information that he didn’t currently have. So he led Johnston in a different direction.
“Not entirely true. I learned a few things yesterday.”
Johnston sat back against the chair, listening, hoping to glean information from what Lazarus was about to say.
“I learned who your team is, all eight of them. I also learned that your operation isn’t sanctioned by your superiors. Otherwise, you would have had a lot more than four agents to throw at each of us. Therefore, you don’t have all the resources that you would ordinarily have. So, I have to say, that my operation was fairly successful yesterday.”
Agent Johnston’s eyes narrowed as Lazarus did his analysis. Johnston didn’t say anything. Now he was playing Lazarus’ game. They were both trying to elicit information, without giving any away. Lazarus calmly drank his coffee.
“Still, I want to give your guys kudos for their capabilities. They aren’t half bad at surveillance. Not as good as, say, the Stasi secret police before the Berlin wall fell, but good enough for the people that they hunt in the USA. I doubt many of the people that your agents hunt have training in counter-surveillance. So, all in all, not a bad job.”
Johnston’s face was stone. Lazarus just reminded Johnston that he was the superior adversary, with superior capabilities. Johnston was doing the calculus in his mind. He knew that Lazarus had something planned. He waited for more. Lazarus didn’t say anything, just kept sipping his coffee. Sam finished his milk and sat the glass down. Johnston looked at him, and then looked back at Lazarus. He realized that no more information was forthcoming.
Agent Johnston stood up, “This isn’t over.” He turned from the table and walked away. Johnston made a circular motion with his finger pointed up at the ceiling, and the other agents stood up and followed him to the cash register to pay for their meals. The restaurant patrons were startled, and a few looked apprehensive as they watched the seven men and one woman stand in unison and walk out.
Sam and Lazarus watched them go. Sam spoke first, “I don’t think that Agent Johnston is too happy with you right now.”
Lazarus smiled, “I think you’re wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think Agent Johnston isn’t too happy with us, right now.”
Sam thought, and nodded, “Ah, right. Yeah, I think you’re right.”
They stood and walked over to pay for their meals. They walked through the lobby to the elevator. Agent Johnston and two agents were sitting there reading magazines. The agents watched them as they walked to the elevators. Lazaru
s knew that all of the exits were covered. They wouldn’t be able to ditch the agents at the hotel. That would come later. It was a good thing that Lazarus had a plan.
----------------------------------------------------
They gathered their meager luggage, a back pack each, and went to the lobby to check out. Lazarus inquired about the shuttle to the airport. He was told that it would be back in about fifteen minutes. Sam was very cautious with his next question.
“Ah, Eli, I don’t think we can get on a plane.”
Lazarus knew what he was worried about. They both had their handguns with them. Lazarus shook his head, “Don’t worry, Sam, we aren’t going to be flying to our destination.”
Sam thought about it for a moment, then asked, “Rental car?”
Lazarus nodded, “yeah, rental car.”
They hopped onboard the airport shuttle and settled in for the quick ride to the airport. Lazarus pointed out the three cars the ATF agents were using to trail the shuttle. Twenty minutes later, they were at the counter in front of Dollar rental cars. Lazarus rented the cheapest car available, which was also the smallest. They walked out to the parking garage where the cars were located, and walked down the rows until they found the numbered parking spot until they found their rental car. As they walked, Lazarus noticed two shadows following them. Johnston was making sure that they weren’t going to escape his surveillance. Lazarus had no doubt that one of the ATF agents was talking to the rental agent right now.
Sam wasn’t too happy about the comfort factor. It was a Dodge Dart. He and Lazarus deposited their bags into the back seat. Sam opened up the door and looked dubiously into the interior. He had trouble folding his legs so that he could fit into the front seat. The car listed to one side as his bulk settled. He was a man built for trucks.
“Eli, please tell me we aren’t going too far in this rental. If I have to ride all the way to Arizona in this skateboard, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Lazarus grinned at his companions discomfort, “Oh hush, you big baby. Don’t worry, we won’t be going too far in this car. I told you, I have a plan.”
Sam frowned at the big baby comment.
Lazarus fired up the engine and they drove out of the parking garage. He drove towards the Interstate. He drove slowly, so that the ATF agents could keep up with them. He didn’t want to spook them too soon. He wanted them to think he was on a short leash. He needed the element of surprise on his side.
They drove north and west away from the airport, and then Lazarus took a side street north off of Interstate 70 called Earth City Expressway North. He passed by an industrial area called Earth City. He made another turn to a smaller street, St. Charles Rock Road. He checked and made sure that he still had all three ATF cars behind him. They were trailing a little bit behind, but they were still with him.
“So, what’s the plan?” Sam asked, “Are we just going to drive around the city all day?”
Lazarus smiled and shook his head, “No, we’re driving to one of the oldest highways in North America. One that’s been in use for thousands of years.”
“A highway? In use for thousands of years? What the hell are you talking about?”
Lazarus pointed north through the buildings with a nod of his head. Off in the distance, the Missouri river waters rolled through to the Mississippi.
“I’m talking about a taking little cruise. We have a boat waiting.”
“I didn’t know there were docks around here.”
Lazarus smiled, “There aren’t. That’s the point. No docks, no boats for the agents.”
He slowed as he passed a semi-truck and trailer, and gave a wave. The semi pulled out as he drove past, blocking the road and the ATF agents. Lazarus hit the accelerator and drove like a demon down the road, then turned onto a smaller cut, a spur that headed down to the river.
“Get ready to bail. I’m going to hit the brakes, and you need to peel out of this car and run down to the boat waiting for us.”
“Okay, but I’m gonna need a shoe horn to get my butt out of this car.”
“You’re young, you’re limber. You’ll make it.”
The boat was there. Jean still had her blue hair. Lazarus had no doubt that it would be back to the normal brown before she had to face her parishioners tomorrow. He hit the brakes, and opened the car door. He turned around and grabbed his bag off of the back seat and tore out running for the boat. Sam had to use a different technique, one that wasn’t quite as elegant. He opened the door, grabbed the roof, and pulled himself up and out of the car. He grabbed his bag, and was right on the heels of Lazarus.
The boat couldn’t come all the way in to dry land, so they ran out into the water. The boat was pointed away from shore, and there was a ladder on the stern. Lazarus scrambled up like a monkey, threw his backpack onto the floor, turned around just in time to keep Sam’s backpack from hitting him in the face. He caught the backpack, and threw it next to his. He leaned towards Sam as he was trying to get up the ladder. Lazarus lunged to grab him as he screamed, “Hit it.”
The boat’s engine roared to life as Jean rammed the throttle forward. Sam’s eyes grew wide as he felt himself start to lose his grip on the ladder because of the sudden acceleration. Lazarus hooked his hands around Sam’s arms, stabilizing him. Sam was able to hold on, but just barely.
As they sped away across the Missouri River, the ATF cars raced in and gravel flew as they braked hard next to the Dodge Dart. They boiled out of the cars. The agents pulled pistols, but the boat was well out of range. There was nothing they could do. They were out foxed, and they knew it. By the time they drove to the other side of the river, Sam and Lazarus would be long gone.
Lazarus helped Sam up over the side of the boat. Sam clambered on and was swearing as he climbed up, “Think you played that one a little bit close there, Eli?”
“Well, if we were slower, we’d still be in pistol range. Better for us to get the hell out of there.”
Sam nodded, though he still wasn’t too happy with his exit from the car and the entrance onto the boat. He just chalked it up to working with Eli.
Lazarus walked over to the pilot’s chair, “I guess you got the message?”
Jean snorted, laughing, “Yeah. Things weren’t too hard to set up, you had everything written out how you wanted to proceed. The hardest part was getting a boat to pick you up.”
“I didn’t know you had a boat license.”
She said in a sarcastic, droll voice, “Well, I could involve my friend, who owns this boat, in a scheme that had the potential to get us arrested. Or I could get pointers from him and tell him that he didn’t want to have any part of this. Guess which option I chose.”
Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, you have a point.”
Sam walked over, and Lazarus introduced him to Jean. Jean looked Sam over with an appraising eye. Her expression gave Lazarus the impression that Sam passed with flying colors. Sam noticed and blushed.
“My, my, what do we have here? Sexy hunk of man, and he blushes as well.”
Lazarus laughed at the red on Sam’s cheeks, “Sorry Sam, Jean is Methodist, which means she can marry. Not like your Catholic priests and nuns. Of course, Jean isn’t like most of your Methodist pastors, either.”
She laughed, “Chalk it up to my Irish Traveler upbringing.” Jean leaned over and patted Sam on the arm, “If you’re ever in the area again, come by, I’ll take you out to dinner.”
Sam was a perplexed by Jean. Lazarus could see it on his face, “Come on now, Jean. Give him a little space. I don’t think he’s ever been hit on by a pastor before. It might take some time for him to get used to it.”
Jean was attractive. Sam smiled at her, and nodded, “Certainly, Jean. The next time I’m out here, I’ll make sure I don’t have ATF agents on my trail, and I’ll stop by and take you up on your offer.”
Jean returned his smile, “You’re on. I’ll give you my number and you can give me a call when you’re in Saint Louis again
.”
They rode the choppy waters across the Missouri to a small town. A few hundred feet from the edge of the river, Jean took off her wig and stuffed it into a bag. There was a dock with several boats tied up, and she maneuvered the boat into the slip. There was a man waiting there, and he tied the boat up expertly. Lazarus assumed he was the owner.
“Are you going to have problems with them tracking the registration of the boat?”
Jean shook her head, “No, not at all. The numbers you see aren’t the registration. Mike and I’ll put the real registration back on when you’re gone.”
Lazarus nodded, “Okay, whatever you need, you let me know. Thanks for the help.”
Jean laughed again, “Oh, don’t worry, you owe me. I have thirty seniors that want a trip to Israel. I’m thinking, you’re probably going to be footing most of that bill for me.”
Lazarus grinned, “Okay, I can do that.” He pulled out a card and handed it to Jean, “Call these people, and tell them that I authorized it. They’ll take care of the entire package for you, and get you a decent guide to take you around Israel.”
Jean leaned over and handed him the keys to the van. “It’s on the street. Just walk up, you can’t miss it.”
Jean gave him a hug for goodbye. She gave Sam a peck on the check. He and Sam walked up the street to find the van. The town had seen better days. The economy was a struggle for many small towns, and more than one had to reinvent itself to be relevant to the new realities.
They found the van, and pitched their bags inside. Sam settled into the driver’s seat, and Lazarus thought he heard a sigh as Sam buckled up.
“I thought you didn’t like this van?” he asked.
Sam turned his head towards Lazarus, “At least it’s not a Dodge Dart. I have room to move around in this.” Lazarus laughed.
“So, you think we’ll see the ATF agents again?”
