Mercy River

by Glen Erik Hamilton

  So where was Captain Fain’s mind now? And why had he sounded almost desperate?

  I realized I had decided, sometime during my short nap, to meet him in Pioneer Square like he asked. Time for us to conclude our business. All markers called in, all accounts paid. I didn’t want Fain’s unknown motives hanging over us, like a sword dangling from a single slim thread.

  Forty-Three

  Pioneer Square claimed the oldest buildings in the city, accommodating a constantly rotating lineup of the newest businesses. Tech ventures and gig economy start-ups, attracted by the allure of funky office space among the red bricks and cobblestones. Their companies either succeeded, moving somewhere bigger and less prone to crumbling, or they crumbled themselves.

  The chamber of commerce kept pressure on the city to clean the square up, keeping it safe for tourists to join the underground tour or to stroll along First Ave’s art galleries and Persian carpet showrooms. Still, homeless people drowsed under the arches of the Victorian-era pergola, and the local missions never lacked for lines at mealtimes. The square refused to take the coat of whitewash, to be modernized, homogenized.

  I watched from the shadows of a huge arched stone doorway, across the square from the Yesler intersection. Leo was across First Ave., watching from the inside of a café. Hollis waited with his Cadillac in a pay lot, three doors down from Leo. My chest throbbed, both on the surface and deep within. I couldn’t walk at much more than a stroll without my lungs pricking me with masonry nails. But I was still moving.

  At ten minutes to nine, Zeke Caton walked up First from the direction of downtown and stood at the corner, leaning against one of the pergola’s posts. I continued to scan the streets. No sign of Fain or Rigoberto or Big Daryll. Or of the cars their team had used at the armored car job. Zeke wore jeans, a white Trail Blazers sweatshirt, and a black rain jacket, unzipped. Enough room under the baggy jacket for a half a dozen pistols, if he chose.

  I could wait Zeke out, and follow him. Chancy. They’d be watching for a tail.

  At five minutes past the hour, I texted Leo and Hollis that I was on the move, and abandoned the cover of the stone archway to walk around the fenced triangle of ornamental green space and its sixty-foot-tall totem pole, coming up on Zeke’s five. He didn’t turn around. That didn’t mean he hadn’t spotted me.

  I stopped halfway between the totem pole and Zeke. A moment later he glanced my way, and derisively held up his empty hands as he walked toward me.

  “Where are the others?” I said.

  “Hey. We thought you’d been busted.” He made a show of looking around him. “Or maybe you were.”

  “If you or I were wired, we wouldn’t be strapped. The Feds don’t arm informants.”

  “Guess not.”

  “So whatever this is, let’s get to it.”

  Zeke showed his teeth. “No shoot-outs today.”

  He tilted his head toward the cobblestoned edge of Yesler thirty feet away, where a black Chrysler minivan pulled up to the curb. The side door popped out and began to slide open. I stepped to put Zeke between me and the minivan.

  “Take it easy,” Zeke said.

  Through the minivan’s open door I saw Fain, seated in the first row behind the passenger’s seat. Rigoberto was driving, both hands visible on the wheel. Daryll was not in the vehicle, and I scanned the square again for his huge form.

  Fain raised his hand slightly in greeting.

  “Move,” I said to Zeke.

  He did. I walked two arms’ lengths behind him to the Chrysler.

  There was something off with Fain. His tanned face carried a tallow-white undertone, even as his cheeks flushed pink. As we drew closer, I could see that his car seat was padded behind and underneath with folded beach towels. His legs had been propped up on a stack of pillows.

  “Shaw,” he said. I kept walking, to where I stood a little behind the door, in Rigo’s blind spot. Fain would have to turn if he wanted to see me. He stayed put.

  “We just want to communicate,” he said.

  “I got your last message fine. Straight to the heart.” I pointed at Zeke. “Get in the car.”

  He glanced at Fain, who nodded curtly. Zeke shot me one last mocking grin and climbed into the passenger’s seat and closed the door. With the three of them facing the other direction, I felt a micron safer. We waited as a knot of pedestrians hurried past, absorbed in their morning routines.

  “I’m grateful you made it out,” Fain said. “When you came toward us, you raised your weapon. Everything at that moment seemed like a threat. I overreacted.”

  “Tell it like it is, boss,” Rigo said flatly. “You fucked up.”

  I kept checking the streets. Leo was watching from across the avenue, but one man couldn’t cover me from every direction on a busy thoroughfare.

  Zeke knew what I was doing. “Daryll’s dead, dude.”

  I looked at him. “The cops?”

  Fain paused, and for an instant I thought it was emotion choking him up. Then he exhaled long and low, as some kind of agony released its grip on him.

  “Jaeger’s killed him,” he said. “After Chinatown, Daryll and I got away in the pickup while Zeke and Rigo covered us.”

  “I caught that part of the show from my floor seat.”

  “Jaeger and two of his animals spotted us a few minutes later. Pure chance. We were blocks away from the bank, trying to reach Rigo on the comm. They carjacked us. Pistol-whipped Daryll and took him, along with the pickup and the few bags of cash in back.”

  “And Jaeger left you there.”

  “He shot me. One round missed the armor and hit my gut. More bad luck.” He clenched in pain again. Somebody behind the stopped van honked. None of us acknowledged it. “I’m patched up for now. The general has a doctor waiting in Mercy River. He’ll keep it quiet.”

  I wasn’t positive Fain would survive the six-hour drive, but nobody would profit from hearing me say it out loud.

  “You’re sure they aced Daryll?” I said.

  “Jaeger called me last night, using Daryll’s phone. He knows who you are now. Who all of us are. That’s why you and I had to talk.”

  Fain didn’t have to spell it out. Jaeger had made Daryll talk. Daryll Abernathy, former All-American, had suffered through a long day and a bad death.

  “Jaeger said he’d let us live, if we handed over the rest of the cash,” Fain said. “I told him to cram it.”

  “Pretty much your only option.”

  Jaeger, our target, had wound up with the only money anyone had managed to lift from the armored car. Outcomes like that made you question what sort of people Lady Luck favors.

  Fain indicated his remaining men. “My team can watch each other’s backs in Oregon. I have to assume Jaeger forced Daryll to tell him about the Rally, and the general. He’ll be coming for us. We have time to prepare. You deserve the same. I figured I owed you that.”

  A bright blue Interceptor SUV glided through the intersection. The city cops had bigger concerns than a minivan holding up the morning commute. We watched it go.

  “You saw Jaeger’s men?” I said. “They might be his last survivors.”

  Fain grunted. “A skinny turd with bleached white hair. The other was an iron freak. Too many muscles to move. I didn’t have time to see more than that.”

  He exhaled another long release of pain.

  “We should have taken Jaeger when we had the chance,” he said.

  I didn’t reply. Fain didn’t mean it as an apology.

  “Next time,” he said, closing his eyes. “Next time we won’t hesitate.”

  He pressed a button and the minivan’s door began to slide closed. Rigo put the van in motion. They drove straight down Yesler toward the waterfront and out of sight.

  I stood on the corner, letting foot traffic swirl around me, allowing myself a long moment to assess exactly how screwed the situation was. I had to assume Jaeger now knew everything Daryll had known. The names of Fain’s crew, including Leo. My n
ame and background, too. Aaron Conlee’s relation to Macomber. Every detail of the Rally’s robberies, down to the cash taken. And more. How Macomber was the man who had forced Jaeger’s First Riders out of Mercy River. Dez and her relationship with Leo. Maybe even details about Leo’s family in Utah.

  And Luce. Macomber had met Luce, knew her name. Had he mentioned her to Fain’s team? She could be vulnerable now, too. I cursed myself for introducing them, and then set my recriminations aside.

  Fain was right about one thing. No percentage in second-guessing our past decisions now. They hadn’t worked out well for any of us. Especially Big Daryll. All we could do now was prepare for the fallout.

  Forty-Four

  Leo and I met Hollis at the Cadillac. Hollis rolled down his window, and Leo sat on the hood while he and I kept wary eyes on the street.

  “What did those bastards want?” Hollis said.

  “To offer an olive branch.” I told them about Daryll’s death, and Jaeger learning about the Rally and where its money came from.

  “Damn, Daryll,” said Leo. “He’s got parents in Iowa. Who’s gonna tell them?”

  “We’ll have to leave that for the cops,” I said. “Jaeger’s still out there. He’s aiming to settle scores with the general before he goes underground.”

  Leo stayed seated on the hood, leaning back on his palms like he was enjoying the uncommon day of sun. His posture didn’t match the tension in his face.

  “Hey, I know Daryll wasn’t one of your guys, Van,” Leo said. “But he was one of us. Still is.”

  I swallowed the first reply that came to mind, that I didn’t owe dead Daryll shit after he and the rest of Fain’s crew had left me for the wolves. That might be true. But Leo was equally right.

  “Okay,” I said. “I shouldn’t breeze on past it. Daryll was a brother. We can help his family once we’re clear of this. Fair?”

  “For now, yeah.”

  “Fain’s headed to intercept Jaeger in Mercy River.”

  Leo grunted. “Hard for me to see from across the street, but Fain didn’t look right.”

  “He’s dying. Gutshot.”

  “Sounds more than right to me,” said Hollis, surprising me with his vehemence.

  “Daryll dead and Fain down,” Leo said. “Bad odds, if Jaeger has many men left.”

  I didn’t say anything at first. I’d promised Leo and Dez no more secrets. We’d had enough evasions and half-truths and outright lies between us to fill a lifetime. But I was wrestling with that promise now.

  “Should we back Fain up?” Leo pressed.

  “I need a favor,” I said. “A tough one.”

  He shifted uncertainly. “Guess I owe you that.”

  “No. It can’t be about owe. If you do it, it’s because I’m asking, not because you’re forced.”

  “No second thoughts after. Is that what you mean, lad?” Hollis said.

  “That’s what I mean.”

  “All right,” said Leo. “Shoot.”

  I handed Leo my apartment key. “I want you and Dez to head out for Utah. Take your family on a short vacation. The kitchen cabinet across from my stove has a false top. You’ll find cash. Take what you need to stay on the road awhile.”

  He frowned. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to Mercy River.”

  “Not a chance. Not without me.”

  “It’s what I want.”

  “Come on, man. Don’t ask this.”

  I waited. After holding my stare for another moment, Leo slid off the hood.

  “I thought you were done with that protecting-me bullshit,” he said.

  “It’s not to defend you from Jaeger. You can handle yourself.”

  “Then what?”

  “This is going to get worse, Leo. Jaeger’s hunted by the Feds, Fain’s team is a wounded animal. Insanity and desperation. When it goes down, every one of them is likely to be dead or headed to prison for halfway to forever. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want Dez to lose you just when you’re free again.”

  “Nobody wants that. It’s better odds that you live through a fight with me around.”

  “I’m not going in guns blazing. I’m looking for the angle, like I always do. You said as much.”

  “So I should let you go alone?”

  “That’s what I’m asking.”

  He swore again and turned to Hollis for support. Hollis shrugged.

  “Van’s grandfather was as much a bastard,” he said. “I gave up trying.”

  Leo clenched a fist.

  “I’ll do it,” he said, “if you can swear to me this isn’t some suicide run. I’m not standing aside for that crap. And I won’t be the one who tells the old woman, Addy, or Luce, that I let you get dead.”

  “I’m planning to survive this one. Promise.”

  He walked around and got into the passenger’s seat of the Caddy. “Then good luck, brother.”

  Hollis put the Eldorado in forward and let it ease into the street. Leo didn’t meet my gaze all the way out.

  He would forgive me. If I lived.

  I walked to the opposite side of the lot, through an alley and down to Western where I’d left the Dodge. My chest burned with the effort of quick movement. I ignored it, gunning the truck’s engine into a snarl to catch a gap in the traffic.

  Fain’s team would probably stick to I-90 and the fastest route for their wounded captain. If I pushed it, I could reach Mercy River before them. If I was lucky, I would beat Jaeger there, too.

  Jaeger didn’t give a shit about the Rally’s money. It was blood he was after.

  I couldn’t clearly express how I was so certain of Jaeger’s resolve. But I’d seen the man in person, and recognized what he was. An emptiness. Other humans didn’t count. Not the HaverCorp guards he’d murdered, or even his own men whom he’d abandoned at the bank. Only Jaeger mattered to Jaeger. He was singular and untouchable. And I’d shaken that certainty.

  He had a couple of million in ready cash now. Properly laundered, enough money to keep himself invisible from the FBI manhunt until he chose to strike. Sooner or later, he would appear.

  Sooner would be better. If the skinheads were headed to Mercy River, I would be ready. That small town was drawing the remaining enemies together, as if it exerted some sort of evil gravity. As if it wanted to see who would be left standing in the end.

  Forty-Five

  Driving was harder than I had imagined. I had chosen to roll down I-5 and the slightly longer route on Highway 26 out of Portland, counting on speed to make up the difference in time. Taking a more direct route was almost certain to cross paths with Fain and Zeke and Rigo. I didn’t want them to know I was coming. Not yet.

  Following the relatively straight line of the interstate had been no problem, but the state highway’s curves meant moving my arms and shoulders to turn the wheel. Within an hour, the Vicodin I’d taken couldn’t keep pace with the throbbing in my chest. I realized I was sweating when the blowing AC made me shiver. As if taking pity, the next highway sign promised a rest stop in six miles.

  I parked the Dodge between two moving vans and waited in line as a family with sugar-crazed young children finished at the restroom sinks. A red cross painted on the side denoted the rest stop pulling double duty for the gentle ski slopes above its parking lot. Too early in the season for snow now, but the way station was still busy with commercial truckers and people getting a jump on the weekend.

  I washed my face and felt better. I’d be in Mercy River before nightfall. One more pill, one more cup of coffee, and I’d go the distance.

  As I exited the restroom, a white-and-red Chevy Tahoe pulled off the eastbound highway into the rest stop.

  I reversed direction, walking around the long A-frame of the building and into the trees nearby. Concealment. Evasion. I was in no shape for a fight.

  The Tahoe parked twenty yards off. Peroxide and another goon with an oily black ponytail and denim jacket clambered eagerly from the back. The
muscle-bound skinhead who’d shot at me in Chinatown rolled himself out from behind the driver’s seat. A moment later, Jaeger stepped out of the passenger’s side.

  Had they followed me? Doubtful. I’d hit the rest stop at least ten miles ahead of them, and had kept a close watch when I’d filled the truck’s gas tank near Longview. They weren’t looking around the rest stop parking lot like they expected to find me.

  There were only so many roads into central Oregon, fewer as you drew closer. My bad luck to pick the same route and time as the men who wanted to kill me.

  The three thugs began walking toward the building with the restrooms. Jaeger stayed where he was, by the open door of their car, apparently gazing up at the dry slopes of the ski area.

  My Dodge was still out of sight between the moving vans. I made my way through the evergreens, and when I was as close as the forest allowed, I stepped from the tree line and walked quickly to the truck, keeping my face averted. The thugs were still inside the men’s room. Jaeger still standing by the Tahoe. As motionless as ever.

  I could be out of the lot before he spotted me.

  But there was a question I wanted to put to the white power leader. Now might be my only chance.

  I brought the Dodge around in a big curve—my chest twinging only a little—and flirted briefly with the idea of running the son of a bitch over, witnesses or no witnesses. Instead I pulled up parallel to the Tahoe, only twenty feet away from Jaeger himself.

  He turned his head. I was fairly sure he was surprised to see me. It was hard to tell with Jaeger.

  “You’re even uglier without the mustache,” I said.

  “Shaw,” he said. His eyes flicked in the direction of the building. His thugs weren’t in sight, but two carloads of teenagers had descended on the restrooms. “You won’t shoot me here.” His whispery voice managed to carry over the mountain wind.