The Second Life of Nick Mason

by Steve Hamilton

  I saw Harris meeting with them, Mason thought. Those were the guys in the suits that second day I was following him.

  “There’s a sergeant named Bloome,” Sandoval said. “Tall guy, pale, with gray eyes, looks like a fucking Russian border guard. If you see him coming, don’t even bother waiting for an introduction.”

  Mason could see him in his mind, standing outside that coffee shop with his arm around Harris. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You killed his partner, Mason. And you’re his biggest problem in the world now. He had to know that Cole sent you. You think Cole can protect you? Twenty-four/seven? You think you can hide somewhere? These guys go anywhere they want. I’m surprised they’re not here already. Couple SIS detectives from the city show up, tell the sergeant at the desk out there they’re gonna take you back? You wouldn’t make it halfway there. You would disappear. No body. Just gone.”

  Sandoval stood up and came up to the bars. “You’re public enemy number one, Mason. If I was a betting man, I’d be taking odds on how long you’re vertical. They’ll go after your family. They’ll go after anybody and everybody close to you. They’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Mason closed his eyes for a moment. He made himself take a breath. Then another. His daughter was out there, riding her bike or watching television or who knows what. But Mason was here, locked up in the cell. They could take her right now, he thought, and I couldn’t stop them.

  “You got one way out of this, Mason. Me.”

  Mason looked at him.

  “The wolves are loose,” Sandoval said. “They’re coming after you. I’m throwing you a line here. It’s the only way you’re gonna live through it. I know you’re just a soldier, Mason. You take orders from above. Help me take the whole thing down and I’ll help you. Tell me everything you know, I’ll send you somewhere they can’t get to you. You, anybody else in your life. Whatever it takes. But the offer expires as soon as you leave this cell. You walk out of here and I can’t help you.”

  “The offer was dead the minute you walked in here,” Mason said. “I’m not admitting to anything you say I did. But if even half of it is true, you know there’s no way I can talk to you.”

  Sandoval stayed there at the bars for a long moment, waiting for Mason to say something else. Then he turned and left.

  27

  The wolves were loose and Nick Mason had brought them to the two people he had most tried to protect.

  Parked on the dark street, Mason watched Gina’s house. He’d come here as soon as he was released from the Elmhurst Police Station after an officer had driven him down to his car. The whole way, Sandoval’s words echoed in his head.

  He got out and took a long look down the street in both directions. Then he walked up the driveway. A spotlight over the garage made an arc of light across the front yard. More lights shone from inside the house.

  The front door opened. Gina’s husband came out and closed it behind him.

  “Get out of here,” he said. “Right now.”

  Still in his soccer-coaching shirt, he stalked across the front lawn. Mason stepped up until he could see the man’s face.

  “Brad,” he said. “That’s your name, right?”

  The man had two inches and maybe twenty pounds on Mason, but the muscle was built in the gym, not on the street. Still, Mason had no interest in fighting him. Not tonight.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “About what? What you did at the field today?”

  “Listen to me,” Mason said. Then he stopped. What the hell was he going to say? How could he possibly explain this?

  “I’m calling the police, Nick. You can’t be here.”

  Mason was surprised to hear his name. He’d never met the man before. He’d never said a word to him.

  “You gotta leave,” Mason said. “All three of you. Now.”

  Brad just looked at him.

  “Go somewhere safe,” Mason said. “Don’t tell anybody where you’re going. Give me your cell phone number. I’ll call you when things change.”

  Brad listened to every word. When Mason was done, he shook his head.

  “What . . .” he said, drawing out each word, “. . . are . . . you . . . talking . . . about . . . ?”

  “I can’t tell you,” Mason said. “You just have to believe me. Take them and go.”

  Brad took a step away, rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head like he was waking himself from a bad dream. Turning back to Mason, he said, “Haven’t you caused us enough trouble?”

  “Yes. But, right now, I’m just trying to keep Gina and Adriana safe. And I need your help to do that.”

  “You know I’m trying to do the same thing, right? I’m trying to protect . . .” Brad hesitated and took a quick look back at the house. “I’m trying to protect your daughter. You want me to do that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So let me do that. Whatever this is you’re bringing here, you know it’s not good for her. This doesn’t belong in her life. You don’t belong in her life.”

  Mason had spent so much of the past few days hating him, but he knew this man would protect Adriana with everything he had. He’d give his life for her. That was Mason’s best chance to get through to him.

  “If I was in your place,” Mason said, “I’d be just as pissed off. But I’d listen if somebody like me said there was a real threat.”

  “Then let’s go to the police.”

  This man didn’t grow up where Mason did. He didn’t live through the past few days. Mason figured his last contact with a police officer in uniform was giving him his license, registration, and proof of insurance when he forgot to slow down at the speed trap.

  “You can’t take this to the police,” Mason said. “You have to trust me.”

  Before Brad could say another word, the front door opened. A new rectangle of light was cast across the lawn and, for an instant, Mason saw Adriana shadowed against it.

  Then he saw Gina taking her away from the door and closing it. That one single moment, it hit Mason harder than any punch he’d ever taken. He had to close his eyes and swallow.

  “I need to talk to her,” Mason said.

  Brad shook his head.

  “I need to talk to my daughter,” Mason said. “We can do it right here. Wherever you want. With you or with you and Gina. I just need to see her for one minute.”

  “She’s been through a lot today, Nick.”

  “I’m asking for one minute.”

  Brad looked toward the house. “She was very upset about what happened at the field. But she thought she recognized you. She was asking if that was you even though Gina told her she’d never see you again.”

  Another gut punch. Mason took it and waited for whatever was going to come next.

  “I’ll be right back,” Brad said.

  He turned and went back into the house, leaving Mason to stand there in the darkness. When he came back out, he walked halfway down the lawn until Mason could see his face.

  “One minute,” Brad said.

  Mason closed his eyes and let out his breath. Then he followed Brad back to the front door.

  When Brad opened it, Gina was standing there. With Adriana.

  She was wearing pajamas—little elephants in a row, marching single file around her body, one elephant holding on to the tail of the next with its trunk. When he saw her at the field, her hair had been braided. Now it was wet and hanging down to her shoulders.

  “Hi,” his daughter said to him.

  All of the words Mason had thought he’d say to her when he finally got this chance deserted him. His mind was empty.

  “Hello,” Mason said.

  He looked up at Gina. She had her lips pursed tight, one arm folded across her chest, the other around Adriana’s shoulder.

  “Y
ou’re a good soccer player,” Mason said. “You’re very fast.”

  She nodded.

  “Faster than all the boys,” he said.

  “Except one,” she said. “Branden is faster.”

  Mason smiled.

  “I’m sorry about what happened today,” he said.

  “I saw you chase that man,” Adriana said. “He was taking my picture.”

  “I’m sorry if it scared you.”

  “He was creepy,” Adriana said. “I’m glad you chased him away.”

  There was a pause. Gina kept watching him closely. He wasn’t sure where to go next.

  “Adriana,” he said, “do you remember me?”

  “I thought I saw you at another game, too.”

  “Do you remember when we all lived together? When you were four years old?”

  “Until you went away to jail.”

  Mason looked up at Gina. “Yes.”

  “It was just me and Mom for a while,” she said. “Then we moved here.”

  “I know it seems like a long time ago to you,” Mason said, “but to me it’s just like yesterday. I hope you know how much I hated leaving you and Mom.”

  “What did you do?”

  Mason looked at Gina again. “You know how you mess up sometimes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well,” Mason said, “I really messed up bad. I did something I shouldn’t have done.”

  She nodded and looked up at her mother.

  “I just want you to know,” he said, “that all I ever wanted to do was to be with you every day. All I wanted to do was be your daddy.”

  She thought about it for a while. “Did the jail have metal bars?”

  Mason almost laughed. “Metal bars for the first four years,” he said. “Glass for the last year.”

  “A glass jail cell? Weren’t they afraid it would get broken?”

  He smiled again. “It was pretty thick glass.”

  She looked up at her mother again. Then back to Mason. “I bet you’re glad you’re out of jail.”

  He looked down at her. “I am.”

  “We should go to bed,” Gina said.

  Mason wiped his face. “Can I have a hug before I go?”

  Gina hesitated but then let go of Adriana’s shoulder.

  His daughter came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Mason closed his eyes and rubbed her back.

  Then Adriana let go.

  He watched her turn around and walk up the stairs with her mother.

  Mason watched her until she disappeared. The two men stood there in the entranceway. They didn’t say another word to each other. Brad nodded his head and that was all Mason needed. He went back out into the night.

  He sat in the car for a while, still feeling his daughter’s arms around him. Then he wiped his face again and turned the key.

  I’m ready, he said to himself. Whatever comes next, I’m ready.

  28

  Holding his daughter for the first time in five years had made Nick Mason more determined than ever to find a way out of this nightmare. It was the one thing giving him the strength to keep moving.

  When he was near the city limits, his cell phone rang.

  “Restaurant,” Quintero said. “Now.”

  The call ended.

  The restaurant meant one thing—Diana and the possibility that she was in as much danger as he was.

  She’s just as connected to Cole as I am, Mason thought. Sandoval said as much himself.

  But she has no idea who may be coming after her.

  He gunned the Camaro down the expressway, crossed the Kinzie Street Bridge, and turned up Rush Street.

  Quintero’s Escalade was waiting in the parking lot. The driver’s-side window slid down as Mason pulled in next to the SUV and got out.

  “Where is she?” Mason asked.

  “She’s safe,” Quintero said. “Inside, working. Don’t worry about her.”

  “What did you call me for?”

  “You need to find that woman who was with Harris.”

  Mason thought back to the strip club. The blonde who ran interference with the bodyguard and gave Mason his chance at Harris alone in the bathroom.

  “What about her?”

  “Track her down and give her this,” Quintero said.

  He reached over to the passenger’s-side seat, picked up a black leather carry-on bag, and handed it to Mason. The bag wasn’t big, but it was densely packed with something and had to weigh twenty pounds. Mason didn’t ask how much money was inside.

  “She was supposed to bring something to me,” Quintero said. “Now she’s disappeared. If you find her, make sure you get what she has and bring it to me right away. Do not waste a minute, you understand?”

  Mason thought about the routine he’d seen over the two days of following them. “There’s only one place I can think of finding her. If she’s not there, I got no idea.”

  “Then you better hope she’s there. Her name’s Angela.”

  “You gotta listen to me,” Mason said. “I don’t know what this woman has that you want so bad, but I’ve got something a lot bigger to worry about.”

  “No you don’t,” Quintero said. “Stop wasting time, because the same people after you are after her.”

  Mason didn’t bother asking him anything else. He’d been dealing with these cops for years and he must have known what would happen once Mason started doing his job.

  Would have been nice if somebody had told me, Mason said to himself as he looped the bag over his shoulder.

  “Hey,” Quintero said. “Before you go, what the fuck were you doing getting arrested today?”

  Mason remembered what Quintero had said to him. That first day, sitting in his car in front of the town house. You get picked up for anything, now you’ve got two problems. The one you got picked up for . . . and me.

  “He went after my daughter,” Mason said.

  “If you were held overnight,” Quintero said, “then everything would be fucked right now.”

  Mason put a hand on the car and leaned in. “Did you hear what I said? It was my daughter.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “What’s his fucking name?”

  “McManus. Jimmy McManus.”

  “The best thing you can do for your family is to do your job,” Quintero said. “My job is to handle anything that gets in the way of you doing that. McManus is my problem now.”

  Mason looked him in the eye. He didn’t know exactly what that meant, but it probably wasn’t good news for McManus.

  “Go find that woman,” Quintero said. Then he backed out and drove away.

  On his way back to his car, Mason saw a man and a woman walking in through the front door of the restaurant, going inside to sit down and have a nice dinner. Normal, happy people. Diana was inside, doing her job.

  I need to tell her, Mason thought. She needs to know about the wolves. Tonight. After I do this.

  Mason got back in his car and headed down the street. He took a few breaths, thought about where he was going, and tried to imagine what he might find when he got to Harris’s house.

  What could this woman have that every dirty cop in the city would want so badly? As he got onto the Dan Ryan Expressway, a squad car came up behind him. Mason tensed up and ran through his options. Gun it and try to make the next exit. Or look for a break in the median so he could turn and go in the opposite direction. But then the squad car blew by him.

  Mason let out his breath and kept driving.

  When he got to Fuller Park, he slowed down to a crawl as he approached the house. The street was just as empty as the last time he was here, the night he had followed Harris. There were no lights on in the house itself. Both black Chrysler
300s were parked out front, but there was nobody sitting in either of them. No need to provide security for Tyron Harris anymore. He was probably still lying on a metal table somewhere downtown.

  Mason watched the house for a while. Then he turned and parked a block down one of the side streets. He turned off the interior light in his car and waited a few minutes. Let your eyes adjust to the dark, he told himself. When you get out, move fast, but not too fast. Look like you belong here.

  Mason took out the flashlight from the glove compartment. Then he eased open his door, got out, and closed it quietly behind him. He walked back toward the house—a long minute of feeling exposed and vulnerable.

  His cars are here, Mason thought. So where are his men? The house looks deserted.

  An old chain-link fence, half-collapsed in on itself, bordered the backyard. He looked up and down the street and then found a spot where he could step over it. Mason went to the back door, gave another look in every direction, then tried the knob. It was locked.

  The door window had nine panes of glass. Mason hit the bottom right pane with the heel of his hand, felt the glass break, and heard it falling on the floor inside. Then he reached through to unlock the door.

  He pushed the door open an inch and listened. Nothing.

  Absolute silence.

  He turned on the flashlight and covered most of the lens with his hand so that only a thin beam of light was cast into the kitchen. The first thing he saw was the wreckage. Both doors of the refrigerator were open and all of the contents had been spilled out onto the floor. Every cabinet was open, every dish broken.

  Taking another step, he felt a shard of glass break under his foot. He stopped and listened until he picked up on a noise from somewhere above him. A creak. Then another. Could be the house settling, he thought. Probably makes sounds like that all day and night.

  He stayed still and waited. He didn’t hear another sound. Then, as he swung his flashlight, he saw the door that led down to the basement. He opened it and shone his light down the stairs. The smell of damp air and mildew came rushing up at him.

  And something else.

  The four bodies were all piled up at the bottom. All black.