Wondering if his phone’s battery was still charged, Jack punched in his best friend’s number. Galloway was probably off on some un-discussable trip that would make him big money, but who could tell?
The phone rang, and on its third ring, Shooter’s familiar voice demanded, “Where are you?”
“Lower Slobovia, where would you think?”
“You are home? Not in Bloomfield, are you?”
“No, Gabriel, I am in North Carolina, and I am well. Thank you for asking. I am driving north. I should arrive in about six hours, and I was hoping we could get together to open a box I picked up along the way.”
“Son of a bitch, you got it! You are The Man, Jack!”
Galloway’s enthusiasm smoothed Blackwater Jack’s sensitivities. Somebody cared! He was glad he had waited to examine the box’s contents. Hot damn! Good times were returning!
Galloway interrupted his gratification.
“Do not go home. I will meet you at Laugerman’s Harley-Davidson in York. That’s just off I-83 on Route 30-West. I’m not in Bloomfield either, but I’ll be at Laugerman’s before you are. Get there, Jack. It’s important.”
“What in hell are you talking about, Galloway? I’ve been in Shitsville for two weeks, and you begin some sort of 007 crapola that I don’t need. I want to sit in my chair in my chicken coop and watch my big screen TV. You can visit if you want to, but that’s where I’m going.”
Shooter’s voice was an exhausted sigh.
“Jack, you are not going home because you haven’t got a home anymore. Old Dog’s coop burned to its foundation three days ago. Total loss, Jack. Nothing was saved.”
Jack felt is eyes bug and his jaw sag. Before he could respond, Galloway went on.
“Nobody knows who or why. A lot of the locals are enjoying a chuckle about it. They say you living in a coop wasn’t up to Perry County standards anyway.
“The snicker going all over is that now you will have to move in with your mammy and your pappy or maybe join them in Florida.”
Blackwater Jack felt rage building, but Galloway was not finished.
“We can suspect who was responsible better than other folks can, but Jack, don’t come up here until we get together and figure out a few moves.
“It’s time to be smart, not brave or reckless. We’ll talk. I’ve got ideas, and by the time we meet, you will have others. Is all of that clear, Jack?”
Jack found his voice. “Everything is gone? Nothing got saved, Shooter?”
“Nothing, Timmy. The building was totally involved before the alarm even sounded. Maybe the fire had some outside help. That is suspected, but it was just an old dried-out wooden shack. By the time Bloomfield Fire Company got on the scene there was nothing left but embers.
“Not to blame them even a hint, Jack. They were fast, but nobody saw anything until it was way too late. The fire was reported at three a.m., and nobody is up scouting around at that time of night.”
“What about the barn, Shooter, my bike and the trike, what about them?”
“The barn is fine, Jack. So, is your folks’ house. If somebody did fire the place, they only went after your living quarters.”
Blackwater Jack’s voice was colder than Galloway had ever heard.
“I’ll be at Laugerman’s as soon as I can make it, Shooter. Probably I should stay clear of everybody until we work this out. It could be that I won’t want anyone to know that I have even heard about the fire.”
Galloway was clearly relieved. “Now you’re thinking, Jack. I’ll see you shortly.” He hung up.
Blackwater Jack found his sandwich less appealing. Instead of enjoying an earned respite in his own digs, he would don his armor and gird his weapons.
Of course someone had deliberately burned his place, and he did not doubt who was behind the arson or who had actually touched the match.
This time, Saltz’s people had pissed on him. Big, big mistake—as the ex-colonel and his cohorts would shortly discover.
Shooter Galloway might know more, and he would have strong opinions to lay out, but in Jack’s mind, there were no doubts. Saltz had sent him a powerful and hurtful message, but Blackwater Jack was a lot harder and far more bitter than the green, Corporal Carlisle Saltz had once commanded.
Jack began plotting his revenge.
No! It would be more than simple vengeance. It was time to put an end to all of the ex-colonel’s sorry-assed maneuverings.
In fact, Jack concluded, it was time to put an end to the ex-colonel himself.
26
Galloway heard his friend through. Then he asked for repetitions.
“You hit him square in the chest with your first shot, and the bullet came out his back?”
“Looked like it to me. The shot was seven hundred plus a few yards, but he sunk onto his heels, fell back, and looked dead. Chunks came off the stucco behind him. No real doubt in my mind.”
“Then you shot him again?”
“Yep, I didn’t want to discover how, through some divine intervention or something, he survived.”
“And that shot blew his head apart?”
“You got it, Shooter. Is this hard for you to understand?”
“Nope, I’m just savoring hearing about a job well done. Damned good shooting, too, Tim Carlisle.
“I guess you know that I didn’t give you much chance of even finding the bastard when you lit out for Afghanistan, but you did every damned thing you had planned on doing. That, Jack, is remarkable!”
Blackwater Jack’s grin was more than a little rueful. “To tell the truth, Gabe, I am a lot more amazed by it than you are. Sitting here now, with it all behind me, it doesn’t seem possible that so many things went right.
“Hell, nothing goes right in the whole Middle East, but every plane flew right, everybody did what they were supposed to, my rifle shot true, and the bad guys popped into view just when I wanted them to.
“Why, Shooter, I expected to lay out in the rocks for a number of days before I got a decent shot at the Sheik, but then he stepped right out into my sight all lit up as if he was on a stage. Cripes, even you couldn’t have missed that shot, Galloway.”
Shooter had moved on. “Look, Jack, I know you want to hear all about your place burning down, but the fact is that I don’t have many more details, and I am dying to see what is in that filthy pack just lying there on the desk.”
Laugerman’s had offered them one of their meeting rooms, and Shooter had forked over twenty bucks for the use.
Galloway had been waiting when Jack had finally arrived. They spent moments shaking hands and slapping backs before Shooter informed his friend that he stunk like a dead camel, and they had too much to talk about to waste time high five-ing each other. So they retreated to the privacy of the Laugerman office, and Jack told his story.
It was time to open the mysterious box. Still, Jack held back a moment longer.
“You know, Shooter, since I first saw it in Saltz’s paws, I have been aching to know what is in this box. I’ve put it off so long—my god, it’s been more than two years. It has been so long that I hardly dare to start for fear that it will be a horrible disappointment.”
Galloway touched the button on a long and dagger-like stiletto, and its two edged blade snapped into view.
He said, “Start cutting twine, Jack.”
Blackwater took the knife and examined it before using the razor-like blade. The knife was obviously an expensive and special piece.
He asked, “You been buying on the Knife Show, Galloway? I think I saw these sold for twenty bucks a dozen.”
“Just cut.” Shooter was as anxious as Jack to learn the box’s contents.
Jack sliced away the dried and stiff hemp cords protecting the wooden box. The wrapping fell, and the sturdiness of the box was plain to see.
They silently studied the cube-foot box.
Galloway said, “This is American made. I’ll bet if we measure it the thing will be exactly a foot on each side. Nobody
else uses feet and inches anymore.”
“So, it was made in the base hobby shop. What do we care, Galloway? It’s what is inside that counts.”
Galloway turned the box so that the top could best be seen. Hell, those are common Philips’ Head wood screws holding the lid on.” He bit his lip. “I hope Laugerman’s will loan us a screwdriver.”
Jack was deliberately contemptuous. “Do you think that I have lived with this box either in my view or in my mind since I first saw it without looking to see what held it together?
“I plan ahead, Galloway. I move while lesser men cogitate, I … “
He ceased annoying his friend and produced a proper driver from a pack pocket. “I picked up this fine tool from the display at Tom’s Truck stop just a dozen miles south of here. Since you are impatient, and you are my best friend, you can turn the first screw.”
Shooter screwed while Jack, pretending disinterest, went for soft drinks. When he returned, Galloway was still laboring.
“Damn it, Jack this must be iron wood. Each screw is an inch and a half long, and they’ve got threads that would challenge a power tool.”
Jack was undismayed. “That demonstrates that no one got the thing open since Saltz sealed it. Screw on, Galloway, it will develop your wrists.”
Finally the screws were out, but the lid remained stubbornly tight.
Blackwater said, “Hand me that blade you carry, and I’ll pry the top off. If we can’t do that, we will buy a hatchet and chop the damned thing open. I’ve had enough of this box to last for a long time.”
Shooter again produced his spring blade. “Be careful, Jack. This thing cost a lot of money. Don’t break the blade or hit a nail or something.”
Jack began gentle prying, and he could feel the lid weakening. It let go with a satisfying pop of failing glue, but Jack held it in place.
He grinned at the impatient Galloway. “I’m betting it’s a solid gold tiara from an ancient Egyptian princess. What’s your final guess before The Reveal, Galloway?”
Galloway remained serious. “I figure it might be a fancy pistol with gold plating and deep engraving. A lot of the A-rabs like that sort of thing.”
Jack was insulted. “And a pistol would keep Saltz piping hot mad for more than two years? Are you sure you are entrusted with valuable things, Shooter? I doubt I’d … “
Jack lifted the lid, and they both peered inside.
The box brimmed with small, soft cloth pouches. Blackwater Jack was bitterly disappointed, but Shooter Galloway had seen such packets many times and he gasped at the possibilities.
He covered the open box with a hand and suggested, “I’ll tell you what, Jack, I’ll just buy you out right now, sight unseen. What’s your selling price?”
“Nuts to you, Galloway. You’ve seen stuff like this before. I haven’t, but the box isn’t heavy enough for gold or silver so … ” Jack chose and unfolded a single wrapping.
Then he gasped, and Galloway whistled in awe. A jewel, almost certainly a diamond of immense size and sparkle lay before them.
Jack marveled. This was not the one or two carat stone common to engagement rings. This rock was BIG, and it flashed a thousand lights.
Galloway broke their silence. “Good Lord, Tim, do you suppose that box is full of gems like this? I’m no expert, but I’ve delivered a lot of precious stones to some very prominent people, and I’ll tell you right now that this jewel is worth a lot of money. I mean really big money.”
They both reached to open another packet, and they got similar results, diamonds of tremendous size and, as far as they could tell, superb quality.
Jack dared to wonder, “Might these things be zirconium or something like that, Shooter?”
Galloway had no doubt. “I’ve seen a ton of fake diamonds, Jack, but none of them look like this. More importantly, Saltz was desperate to get these into the right hands, and he hasn’t rested since the box disappeared.
“He wouldn’t act like that over fake jewelry. Nope, Jack, these are the real thing, and you my very, very best friend have become one super rich idiot.”
They opened a few more packets, and one held an even larger stone.
Jack put an end to it. “All right, Shooter, we know what I got. The next question is: what in hell do I do with them? I can’t run around cashing them in or even letting anyone know I have them. Hell, Shooter, it makes me nervous just looking at them. Whew, what a bunch of money we are sitting on.”
Galloway was quick. “Well, you could just hand it over to its former owner, Colonel Frank Saltz and be done with it.”
“Forget that one, Galloway. What else can you suggest?”
They sat back, admiring the glittering hoard, sucking on their soda straws and considering. Galloway chose to go first.
“You are right that you can’t just go trading stones like this for anything—including money. Word of a sudden store of gems of this quality would spread like a wildfire, and we can both accept that Saltz has been listening for just such a clue to track down his missing gems.
“Next, then is what to do with them. I think you have to hide them somewhere. A bank safe deposit box is pretty darn secure, but I don’t like the idea of Tim Carlisle opening a bank box anywhere around our area. It does not seem probable that Saltz would have the feelers to keep track of what banking you do, but there are few permanent secrets in Perry County, and it would be fatal to be wrong.
“Saltz would kill for this box, and we both know that, Tim.”
“How much do you think we’ve got here, Shooter? I know you can’t be accurate, but make a guess.”
Galloway was careful with his answer. “First of all, Tim, WE don’t have this. The jewels are yours. You went after them, and you got them. Keep that in mind in your calculating.
“Second point is my estimate. The sorry fact is that I do not have a reliable clue, and I wonder as much as you do. So, my guess is that you have millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds in that box.
“The next fact to recognize is that no matter what the retail price for these diamonds, you will never, ever receive it. Considering all of the middlemen that will be involved, no matter when or where you sell, it will cost you … oh, probably forty percent of their retail value. It could be more.”
Shooter grinned. “All that weighed and measured, you are still going to be richer than anyone I can name in this county or far beyond.
“Jack, your money worries are over. All you have to do is act wisely and with patience. And we will start working on those details right now. I’ve got a big suggestion that can help you a lot—when you are ready to listen to it.”
Jack’s attention had wandered. “I wonder where Saltz got this pile, Shooter? It was certainly not on paper, so … “
Galloway said, “My guess is that we are looking at part of old Saddam Hussein’s treasure. They’ve found money, art, and weapons, but I never heard of anyone recovering jewels. But Jack, why wouldn’t he have diamonds?
“Saltz was always part of the military police and the military government. We know that he is a crooked son of a bitch. Somewhere he fell onto these, and he hung on.
“How he kept it quiet, I would not care to guess, but remember that he had a Lieutenant and a Non Com in with him, and since he has been out of the service he has hired other ex-military, none of whom I would list on honor rolls. Plus, it appears that he has some kind of cooperative contact with the Philadelphia mob.
“Saltz and the Sheik had an underhanded deal working, maybe in the drug trade, possibly just getting Saddam’s jewels to market. We will probably never know, but it had to be big—really big judging by his never easing rage and concern over the contents of this box.”
“So, we just keep it all?”
“No, Jack, you just keep it. I told you, this is your find, not mine. Do you keep it? Of course you do! Who would you give it to? How would you explain having it?
“And, no matter who got the jewels, they would never be returned to legit
imate owners. These gaudy trinkets are yours, Carlisle. So speak no more of ownership. Concentrate on what you are going to do with them.
27
Hunger again struck. The jewel box was returned to Jack’s trunk, and they retired to a nearby Hardy’s. They chose seats where they could see and reach Jack’s vehicle in a hurry.
Details of Jack’s home burning remained undiscussed. Shooter Galloway’s suggestion for disposal of the diamonds would be next on their agenda.
At Hardy’s you ate roast beef sandwiches; otherwise, why go there? Jack ordered two and a milkshake.
Jack doubted Shooter even tasted what he had ordered. Galloway was most concerned with the diamond disposition.
Galloway asked, “So, until it is time to begin selling, what would you like to do with your ill-gotten gains?”
Jack was ready. “We’ll do just what pirates of old did. We will bury the box where only we know its location.”
Shooter snickered. “We can draw a map with an appropriate X marking the burial spot?”
Jack could enjoy the game. “Of course, and we will draw it in blood pricked from our palms. I always liked having maps hidden in the barrels of old guns. How about adding that?”
“So, where do we do the burying?”
Appearing to change the subject, Jack asked, “What is the name of that farmer Jacque uses on her Outdoor Show?”
“Who? Oh, you mean Michael Maloney? What about him?”
“Doesn’t he live around here someplace?”
“Yes, a few miles west out on Route 15. He has some kind of a scrabbly-assed farm where he kills time. Are you suggesting we bury out there?”
“Well, that too, but I remember him owning a huge farm tractor with a snowplow on the front that he never bothered to remove.”
“That’s Maloney, but so what?” Shooter allowed irritation to creep into his voice.
Jack paused before going on. Even then his mind seemed to be wandering.
“Do you remember back when we were young and someone bulldozed the Elder family’s home right off the top of a cliff and into your notch?”
The Making of Blackwater Jack Page 22
