by Bill Eidson
Jammer started to say something, and Geoff gave him a glimpse of the gun. “Think about it.”
Jammer’s face went white. “There are cops all over the Zone. All I have to do is raise my voice. You’ll be identified. Get you for what you did to Ball, too.”
Geoff nodded, smiling agreeably. “Absolutely. They’d roll you up to testify in a wheelchair, wearing diapers.”
“What about Ball?” Carly said.
“Later,” Geoff said.
Jammer’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “You don’t know?” he said. “This guy stuck Ball, killed him. The cops came by to tell me.”
She drew breath sharply, then regained herself.
Jammer said to Geoff, “What do you want?”
“I hear you’ve got a little cash stockpiled. About fifty thousand in a floor safe.”
The pimp gave Carly a disdainful glare. “You cunt.” He grinned at Geoff. “You believe that? I keep some cash there, a few thousand. But fifty thousand with sluts like her bringing johns in? You must be crazy. The rest is in my safety deposit box. You gonna hold a gun on me all the way there? What happens when we get to the cage, I gotta sign in, show my ID? They don’t let you bring your friends back for a party, you know.”
Geoff looked over at Carly. Her lower lip was trembling. She looked at him, scared. “He’s lying!”
“We’ll see,” he said, nudging her with his knee, telling her to calm down. He didn’t want her calling attention to them, especially now that he was thinking that maybe he should go back to his original plan, shoot them both up in the pimp’s apartment, make it look like a murder/suicide. Not that he particularly felt like shooting the girl, but it sure seemed like she was beginning to be trouble. And if the police had already found their way to Jammer, maybe it was in Geoff’s best interest to simply clear the thing out, pop Lisa and Steve in their sleep, and then hit the road. “Let’s go take a look,” he said.
Across the street, Lazar said to Bannerman, “That guy had his hand in the bag when he walked into the restaurant, too.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
“Kind of funny, whacking a guy with a chick along for dinner, isn’t it?”
Lazar shrugged. “Big city, you see lots of things.”
“You want to save his ass?”
Lazar looked at Bannerman.
Bannerman grinned. “We don’t know a crime’s being committed.”
“Damn straight. Let’s give them a few minutes, go upstairs, and say hello.”
Jammer was quaking deep inside, but he tried to keep his face blank as they stepped into his apartment. Darlene was out. There was something so cold about this guy. He looked like a goddamn yuppie, the clothes he was wearing, the white smile. But the gun was rock steady in his hand, and Jammer believed the guy had it in him to pull the trigger.
Jammer swallowed deep, looked over at Carly, and wished he could smack her across the head.
Dumb, dumb cunt. She had always been a dreamer, and now she was going to get them both killed. She couldn’t see that this guy was playing her.
What Jammer had said about the cash was true. He had five thousand in the floor safe, the rest in the bank. He also had a gun in the bag with the cash, for a situation just like this. Now he didn’t know if it was such a bright idea. He wasn’t sure if he could draw it in time, or if he should just try to reach in and shoot through the bag.…
He licked his lips. Best not to show he was scared. That first.
Think.
The guy figured himself a player. That was obvious—how many business types got in fights over whores, could disarm and kill a guy like Ball?
Maybe the guy would deal.
Jammer said, “You’re a pain in the ass, buddy. You’re gonna set me back a bit, the five grand in my safe. But it’s like killing the goose, you know? The chick here tell you what I’m setting up? How I’m gonna get behind the scale?”
“She mentioned something.”
“Yeah. Guy who’s the big distributor around here in the trade, you know?” Jammer tapped his nose. “Coke, crack, heroin, you name it. He and I got an arrangement. Most guys work their way up through the trade as sellers, pushing on the street, working for suppliers. That’s nickel-and-dime shit; you never get ahead until you’re a supplier working behind the weight scale, running the teams. Well, I got an agreement with the distributor. Guy who deals right with the fucking cartels, you know? I can scrape up two hundred thousand for my first weight, I can skip all the through-the-ranks shit, and he’ll set me up behind the scale for the whole Zone territory. He says it’ll show my commitment, scraping up that much. See, I’m a natural to take this over; I’ve got the contacts. Say you’re a john coming to the Zone to get his tubes cleaned, and you want a little coke to make it memorable, right? I’m going to be supplying all the hookers. We’re talking millions the first year.”
The blond guy smiled skeptically. “We are, huh?”
“Definitely. Give you an example—Raul, the guy I’m telling you about—he carries about a million around in a briefcase just for payoff money.”
Geoff paused. “That’s what he says.”
“That’s what I’ve seen. Two, three times, I’ve been there when he’s opened the case, tossed some more in.”
“And I’m supposed to hold a gun on you for the next year while you earn this kind of cash?”
“Don’t even listen to Jammer,” Carly said. “Talking is one of the few things the man is good at.”
Jammer ignored her. “Shit, no. I’m talking investment. Hell, the reason Ball and I were gonna rip you off—besides the fact you cut me—was to raise some money. Figured you’d be worth another fifty to a hundred grand, easy. I’d be that much along on the two hundred.”
He looked the blond guy straight in the eye. Jammer couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he appeared to be listening. “You want in?”
The guy kept staring back, that cold little smile on his face. That steady gun. Ignoring the bitch who kept on yammering how he shouldn’t listen to Jammer, that Jammer could confuse the hell out of anyone.
Funny thing, that. As he had been talking, Jammer had started to listen to himself. And the fact was, for a goddamn tourist, this guy was as hard as anyone Jammer knew. And Jammer didn’t have any muscle now that Ball was dead, and the guy probably did have money. A partner like him might be handy for a while, and once the cash really started rolling in, Jammer could always hire somebody to take him out. He sure as hell didn’t feel confident trying to pull the gun on him now. So he took a deep breath and said, casually, “I’ll unlock the safe. You should have the bitch here get the money out. There’s a gun inside the bag.”
Jammer held his palms up. “Now, I wouldn’t have told you that if my offer wasn’t real, would I?”
“You would if you were a chickenshit,” the guy said. “Now open the safe.”
They followed Jammer into the bedroom, and the guy kept the Beretta to Jammer’s head while he pulled away the carpeting and did the combination. Then Carly pulled the bag out. She reached in and brought out the .38. She shuffled through the cash quickly.
“How much?” the guy asked.
“I dunno.” Carly flashed a look of pure hatred at Jammer. “I guess about what he said. Five thousand.”
The guy took the revolver and waved both of them into the living room. Jammer’s heart was beating a mile a minute. The cunt just seemed to realize that she was standing beside him now. The blond guy had both guns and he was smiling at the two of them. She started toward him and he backed away. “Hold it. All that Jammer said, was it true?”
“Don’t listen to him, Geoff—”
“Hush. Just answer the question.”
“Yeah, I told you. Jammer’s got this thing about getting into the trade. But Raul would chew him up, and he’d do the same to you.”
“Chew me up?” Geoff said. “Is that right?”
“You’re scaring me!”
Jammer figured his only chance was to shove the chick in front of him, let her take a few, maybe give him time to dive for the window. If he made it to the fire escape, there was a chance the guy wouldn’t be willing to shoot outside with people watching.…
That’s when the guy’s face eased up and he tossed the revolver into the black bag, threw his own gun in there, too. He said, “Let’s talk about this partnership.”
Jammer almost threw up, he was so relieved.
“You ought to consider a job in sales,” the guy was saying, his voice quiet and friendly. “Selling me a deal while I’m holding a gun on you.”
Right about then, the cops started pounding on the door.
Chapter 15
Geoff’s first reaction was to think that Jammer had someone backing him up, bluffing their way in. So he grabbed the Beretta from the bag.
But the way the pimp’s face blanched, Geoff figured maybe the cops were for real. He took a bunch of bananas off the table and threw them into the black bag, then stuffed the two guns underneath the sofa cushions.
“Let them think you’re just a john, got it?” Jammer hissed. “You’re still wearing clothes—they’ve got nothing on you. Just shut up and look scared. Both of you, sit at the table.” He went to the door and unlocked it, yelling, “All right, all right, don’t break it down!”
The cops seemed to fill the room, just the two of them, a big black guy and a white guy. Both had drawn guns. “Hands on your head, all of you. Clamp those hands together now!”
Jammer, Geoff, and Carly did as they were told.
The white cop covered them.
The black guy walked through the apartment quickly, while Jammer shouted, “Hey, where’s the warrant? You got your free look last time, now show me a warrant!”
Geoff put a surprised expression on his face. Carly closed down, her face blank and eyes slightly averted from the cops.
“What? What?” Jammer was saying. “I have a couple of friends up, and I get the goddamn militia in here.”
“Doing okay, Jammer?” the white guy said. “We’ve been worrying about you and your family troubles.”
“Yeah, well, don’t. Where’s that warrant? Let me see it.”
The black cop went straight over to Geoff. “What’s in the bag?”
Geoff started to reach for it and found the cop’s gun in his face. “You first,” Geoff said, mildly.
The cop reached in and pulled out the bananas.
“Ah, Jesus,” the white cop said.
The black cop looked at Geoff, smiling a little. “You’re a funny guy, huh?”
Geoff smiled back. “Just a little hungry.”
The cop cuffed Geoff in the face.
It surprised the hell out of Geoff.
“Leave him alone!” Carly cried.
“You’re about to get your ass up on brutality charges, man,” Jammer said.
The white cop shoved Jammer against the wall and told him to shut the fuck up.
“What’s your name, funny guy?” Lazar said.
Geoff wiped the blood from his mouth and told the cop his name. “And what’s yours?”
“Detective Lazar. Now let’s see some ID.”
Geoff showed him his California driver’s license.
“Local address?”
Geoff gave it to him.
“Where were you last night?”
“I was with her,” he said, nodding to Carly. “And what’s it to you?”
Lazar looked at Carly. “You friends on a professional basis?”
“No,” Geoff interjected. “She’s my girlfriend. Period.”
Carly looked up at Lazar, a slight smile forming on her lips. “That’s right,” she said, almost shyly. “That’s exactly right.”
“Huh,” Lazar said. “You may look it, but you held yourself like a pro when we came in here.”
Geoff said, “That’s it. Anything more, I want to see a lawyer.”
“I haven’t arrested you.”
“You’re damn right you ain’t arrested anybody,” Jammer yelled. “You got nothing. Now get out of here.”
“Let’s go,” the white cop said. “I’m sick of holding this shitbird against the wall, Lazar. He stinks.”
Lazar nodded. “All right, I can understand that.” He backed to the door, and Bannerman shoved Jammer aside. Lazar winked at Geoff. “See you around. I like a guy with a sense of humor.”
“Yeah,” Geoff said, touching his jaw. “Me too.”
On the street, Bannerman said, “That’s it. Call this case, a closed case. Ball was mugged. Got himself into a little more trouble than he could handle. Nice ending for a guy like that. I don’t mind doing a little roust now and then, but breaking into that guy’s apartment, guns out, we got absolutely no probable cause. What are you going to tell internal affairs if that pimp brings us up on brutality charges? You saw that blond guy feeling up his bananas in the bag?”
Lazar looked up at the apartment window. The pimp was looking down at him. “I thought I was seeing something else.”
“Yeah, well, that shitbird, Jammer, he’s probably not smart enough to figure he can have us for lunch on this one. But I’m not pushing it.”
Lazar sighed. Bananas. He looked at Geoff’s name in his notebook. “I’m running this guy through the computer. Nothing comes of it, I’m with you. Ball’s dead, and that’s one for the good guys. Nobody else is getting hurt.”
Jammer crowed as he watched Lazar and Bannerman drive away. “They’re pissing in their pants, man. We want to, we could get a court order telling them to keep a frigging half mile away from us.”
“We’re going to drop it,” Geoff said, rubbing his jaw. “Bad enough that the bastard has my name.” He was irritated with himself. He shouldn’t have moved on Jammer until he had those fake IDs in his pocket.
Jammer nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure. Don’t want to bring down any more trouble. I’m just saying we could.” He looked worried, but kept his mouth shut, as Geoff took the two guns out of the sofa and put them in the black bag.
Geoff pulled up a chair. “All right, let’s talk about this Raul.”
“You’re working with Jammer,” Carly said. “Are you crazy?”
Geoff just looked at her. “How about you sit down and listen this one out.”
Her face flushed, but she sat.
Jammer held his arms wide. “What do you need to know? I’ve got the contact.”
“I want to meet him.”
“Wrong. We meet him when I’ve got the cash, the full two hundred thousand. That’s the agreement. What you and me have gotta talk about is getting the rest of it together. You got it in the bank? Or are you going to have to sell something?”
Geoff shook his head. “I don’t have that kind of lump, not anymore.”
“What? No stocks? No investments?”
“Plenty. Worth shit right now.” Geoff grinned. “Part of the reason I’m sitting here talking to you.”
“How about the condo? Get a second mortgage on it or sell it.”
“It’s an apartment.”
Jammer looked skyward. “Start by dumping that car of yours. You’ve got thirty or so right there.”
“Leased by the company.”
“Jesus Christ!”
Geoff held up his hand. “Relax. I know where to get it, take us less than a week. Sometime in there I want to sit down with Raul.”
Jammer waved the bit about Raul away. “What do you mean, ‘us’?”
“Yeah, us.” Geoff grinned. “It’ll take a little planning, but it’ll be fun, you’ll see.”
“Fun?” Jammer looked at Carly. “What’s he talking about?”
She didn’t answer him.
“You still have that van?” Geoff asked.
“Hell, no. That was Ball’s. I dumped it in a downtown garage, wiped it for my prints.”
“Well, I expect you’ll know how to steal another.” Geoff hefted the bag with the five thousand dollars. “And this should take care
of us for seed money to set the thing up.”
“That’s mine,” Jammer snapped. “Your cunt girlfriend here earned it on her back.”
Geoff kicked Jammer in the balls, sending the pimp to his knees.
Geoff slipped out of his chair. He wound his hand in Jammer’s ponytail and jerked his head back. Geoff put his own face inches away and said, “There are rules. For a start, you don’t talk about her like that. Next, what’s yours is mine. And finally—you will do what I tell you or I will hurt you, then I will kill you. Understand?”
He shoved the pimp’s head forward and back, making him nod. “I thought so.” Geoff looked over at Carly, who was standing beside him now, a cold little smile on her face. She laid her hand on his shoulder.
“Cheer up, sweetheart,” he said. “We’re going shopping tomorrow. Starting at the junkyard.”
“Oh, I’m cheered up,” she said. “You don’t know how much.”
Chapter 16
Two days later, Lisa left the boat and headed up the dock toward the marina parking lot. She held a clipboard with a list of things to do, starting with a visit to the construction site. The summer breeze was warm on her face and when she glanced back at The Sea Tern, the boat was trim and beautiful against the Boston skyline. If Lisa had been a different person, she might have felt smug. As it was, she felt very good and just a little scared. It’s going to be even better, she told herself.
She hadn’t been brought up for this kind of life, of sailboats and new houses. She had been the oldest of three, her parents divorced. She had put herself through college on a partial scholarship on the swim team in Baltimore before moving down to Charleston, where she had bounced around from job to job before landing in real estate.
She smiled to herself, noticing how already those years in Charleston were taking on a sepia cast. How she had first met Steve as a client, when the local office of his own company— Geoff’s division, as a matter of fact—had been unable to find Steve a new condo to his liking. She had decided to handle his placement herself instead of leaving it to one of her salespeople, in the hopes of securing some of his commercial work as well. Blue Water’s success was already good local news.
