Cole Shoot

by Micheal Maxwell

  “Not that kind, you silly. He’s a gangbanger.”

  “Like the guys in red?”

  “Yes, except they just have hats. They look silly to me. Their t-shirts are so big.”

  “You know a lot of stuff. I don’t know stuff like you.”

  “I just know he’s a bad kid. He tells my parents he’s not a gangster but I saw his hat one day when I went by his room. He was hiding it, but I saw him.”

  “I have a Giants hat. I left it at home,” Marco bragged.

  “I got an idea. Let’s eat and look out the window. Mei smiled.

  “OK.”

  The pair picked up their tamale, granola bar and juice box and went to the reception area. They chose a desk by a window and hopped up on it and put their food between them. All settled and admiring the view, they began unwrapping and eating.

  They sat for a long time looking out the window and eating their tamales in silence. Marco softly thumped his heels on the front of the desk. Mei looked out the window at the seagulls, seemingly motionless as they floated, wings spread on the wind, outside the fourteenth floor.

  Marco stopped bumping the desk and Mei stared at the door. They sat perfectly still leaning toward the sound beyond the door. Down the hall a door slammed. Moments later another.

  “Someone’s coming,” Marco whispered.

  “What should we do?” Mei replied.

  Before they could decide, a voice came from beyond the door.

  “Do we have to check every damn door in this building?” a man said loudly.

  From a distance another man answered, “Can’t have squatters.”

  The first man was even closer as he said, “Why do you think there’s squatters?”

  “The back door was open.” The second man was now louder than before.

  Marco couldn’t breathe. Mei held him tight by the arm. The doorknob shook, but the door didn’t open.

  “This one’s locked!”

  “Wish they all were. Can’t get in a locked door. OK, let’s go.”

  As the voices of the two men gradually faded, Marco sucked in a deep breath.

  “Who locked the door?”

  “I guess I did. I was trying out the button.” Marco shrugged.

  “We are soooo lucky!” Mei squealed.

  “I hope they don’t come back again,” Marco said worriedly.

  “Me too.”

  * * *

  Kelly was waiting at a table near the window when Cole arrived at Vicoletto’s. He couldn’t find a place to park on Green Street, so he parked around the corner. Her hair looked beautiful tied in a bright red and white silk scarf. She smiled and waved and Cole saw she wore lipstick to match. How did I get so lucky, Cole thought, as Kelly stood to give him a peck on the cheek.

  “Mrs. Mitchell, you look absolutely ravishing!” Cole’s compliment sounded more like bragging than a compliment.

  “Why thank you, sir,” Kelly said reaching across the table and taking both Cole’s hands. “I’m worried about you. Don’t lie, there is something eating you, and you need to let it out.”

  “Man, it is so good to be with you. It seems like a year,” Cole sighed.

  “It’s been three days. Don’t change the subject.”

  “How about we talk while we eat? I’m starving.”

  The waiter’s timing was perfect. He seemed to slide up next to the table.”

  “Hey Johnny, I got this!” a booming voice came from behind the waiter. He bowed and slipped away.

  “Sal!” Kelly said with smile.

  “Ma che bella signorina Kelly! Who’sa this ugly brute?”

  “No tip for you, Sal.”

  “Just a joke, Mr. Newspaperman! What? You can’t take a joke no more?”

  “Of course he can. What wonderful thing do you have for me tonight?” Kelly charmed.

  “For you, Sautéed prawns and cherry tomato brandy cream sauce.” Sal bowed his head ever so slightly.

  “Fantastico!”

  “And for you, Mr. Cole, Lobster Ravioli, your favorite.” Sal slapped Cole on the shoulder. “I know, I know, lots and lots of parmesano.”

  “Love ya, Sal,” Cole said, grinning up at Sal.

  Sal made his way back to the kitchen and Cole snapped a bread stick in half.

  “Here you go.” He offered.

  “No more stalling. You have never before in your life said can we ‘please’ have dinner. Please. I know something is wrong. How can I help? You need a hug?” Kelly gave a soft laugh.

  “You remember me telling you about Whisper Lopez? Anthony Lopez, the kid I gave Ellie’s Scholarship to? He surprised me the day of Chris’s funeral. He is my new intern.”

  “Isn’t it working out?”

  “No, no it’s not that. There is a problem. A big problem. Listen, Kelly, I’m really serious. You cannot tell a soul what I’m about to tell you. I don’t want any Kellyisms. I need to tell somebody. I need to tell you because I love you and I trust you.” Cole looked at his napkin.

  “Did you just say you loved me?” Kelly’s face seemed to radiate light. Her smile looked like a kid who just got her, first bike, or a dad whose kid just hit his first home run.

  Cole looked up into her eyes and nearly wept. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. In his deep despair and worry, he said the words he’d been dying to say, and they just came out. He’d been waiting for a special moment. This certainly wasn’t what he had in mind.

  “I guess I did.” Cole smiled.

  “I love you too, Cole Sage.”

  They sat for a long moment holding each other’s hands across the table.

  “Whatever you have to tell me, can you wait a bit? I just want to...” Kelly’s voice trailed off.

  “If I’d known I would get this reaction, I wouldn’t have waited so long.” Cole gave a self-conscious grin.

  “Antipasto,” Waiter Johnny said, setting the plate awkwardly beside their clasped hands.

  Neither one of them looked up.

  “Kiss me,” Kelly whispered.

  Cole rose from his chair, leaned across the table and gently kissed Kelly’s crimson lips.

  “Straciatella,” once again the waiter’s timing was awful, but the soup looked delicious.

  “Would you like to try again?” Kelly giggled.

  “The kiss or the story?”

  “Maybe the story, I think another kiss might cause a scene.”

  “Anthony has been abducted.” Cole just dove in head first. “I sent him to get some background on the reaction in Chinatown about the parade shootings and the Firecracker Boyz snatched him.” Cole sighed deeply. The relief of saying it out loud was an almost physical weight lifted from him.

  “Cole,” Kelly said softly.

  “I didn’t know what happened until I went to Chinatown the next morning asking around. The next thing I know I’m in the little Dim Sum joint across a table from the little punk who has him.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “No.”

  “Why not, for heaven’s sake?”

  “These are unthinking, uncaring gangbangers. They will kill him in the blink of an eye and dump him in the Bay.” Cole paused. “Here’s the thing. Anthony came from that life. He knows who these guys are and how they work. Cops will get him killed. I know it, he knows it, they know it.”

  “What are you going to do?” Kelly interrupted.

  “I already did it. That’s what’s gnawing at me.”

  “For the lady!” Sal stood at the end of the table. “What’sa matta? You don’t like the soup?”

  They hadn’t touched the soup or the antipasto. Kelly looked up and winced. Cole reached for his spoon.

  “We were so busy talking, we forgot. Not forgot, just...” Kelly picked up her spoon.

  Sal set the plate of prawns in front of Kelly. Cole moved his soup bowl over and made space for the ravioli.

  “Try to remember this is on the table, eh?” Sal walked away, obviously miffed.

&
nbsp; Cole exhaled hard and his lips kind of flapped. “I called Anthony’s old number-two man, Luis. He will be here in San Francisco any time now. He’s coming to get Anthony back.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

  “He’s kind of a psychopath.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He will do whatever it takes. He saved me from probably getting really hurt, if not killed.”

  “How?” Kelly wasn’t smiling. She was showing no emotion at all.

  “He sliced a man’s head front to back with a box cutter until his partner let me go.”

  “And you called him for help?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  “Like the man said, ‘don’t bring a knife to a gun fight’. This guy is fearless and lethal. He will get Anthony back. The gangs will keep killing each other and Anthony will be alive.”

  “But at what cost?” Kelly said leaning forward, her brow furrowed in concentration.

  “Whatever it takes.”

  Kelly picked up her fork and began eating her prawns. She didn’t look up and Cole couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. She took a drink of water and took a long deep breath though her nose.

  “He means that much to you?”

  “I have invested nearly five years in him. He is a journalist, or will be, because of me. He is the phoenix that rose from Ellie’s ashes, so to speak. Yes, he means that much to me.” Cole sat straight and cleared his throat. He was resolute in his decision. He told the woman he loved. Her reaction would cement or destroy their relationship.

  Kelly looked down at the floor next to their table, then up, and met Cole’s eyes. “I can’t say I approve of what these men may do. I don’t know how their world works. Thanks be to God I have lived a pretty sheltered life. But, if I am going to love you, I have to trust you. I have to believe that you would protect me, no matter what it took.” I love you Cole, and you have made the best call you know how to make. But I swear, if you end up behind bars, I am not going to be happy!” Kelly gave him one of her 100 watt smiles and poked another prawn with her fork.

  “Pssst. I love you!” Cole whispered.

  NINE

  Jorge Ruelas answered on the third ring. The sound of machinery in the background made it difficult for Luis to hear Jorge’s thin reedy voice.

  “This is Hernandez,” Luis said loudly.

  “I can hear you homie. No need to shout. Damn, I be deaf.”

  “You got something for me?” Luis lowered his voice. “Ready to go.”

  Ruelas gave him the directions to his shop. Luis ended the call without saying a word. One call down.

  Tiko’s Paint and Body Shop looked like a thousand others. San Francisco style was a bit more cramped than LA, but the signs were all the same. Half-finished Bondo covered cars, primered windowless vehicles with for sale signs, and shiny, freshly painted cars waiting to be picked up lined the street in front of the yard.

  “Shitty painter,” Luis said to Chuy, as they walked past a finished car. “Look at the overspray.”

  “You could give ‘em lessons, Holmes.” The men laughed as they walked into the fenced in yard.

  A man approached the pair a few yards inside the gate. He wore a greasy, Oakland Raiders t-shirt and jeans. His arms, neck, and face were covered in faded, green-hued jail tattoos. Above his right eye read XIV. Under the same eye were three tear drops. If this was the face of customer relations, it was not like a thousand other body shops.

  “We’re here to see Ruelas,” Luis spoke first trying to show dominance.

  “He know you’re coming?”

  “Where is he?”

  Luis would not answer questions. He saw and treated this flunky as an inferior and would deal with him as little as possible.

  The man knew he was dealing with someone he needed to show respect. He turned, and took about ten steps before shouting, “Big Head!”

  From one of the open bays a tall, fair-skinned Latino appeared. He wore baggy blue jeans and a khaki work shirt.

  “Luis?” said the reedy voice from the phone.

  “Hey!” Luis smiled in greeting.

  The two clasped hand and gave each other a one-armed hug.

  “How’s that réprobos primo tuyo?” Ruelas asked, with a wide grin.

  “He told me to kick your ass,” Luis replied.

  “Only because he can’t do it!” Ruelas laughed.

  “Prob lee.”

  “Lemme show you what we got.”

  As Ruelas led the way, it was apparent where he got his nickname. He possessed a cranium that looked half again larger than a head should be for such a tall slender man. He took Luis and Chuy to the last work bay of the four lining the building. Inside was a dark green Toyota Corolla with tinted windows and very little chrome.

  “Ruelas reached through the open driver window and removed the keys and a piece of paper from under the visor.

  “Here you go, clear as crystal and phony as hell,” Ruelas said, handing Luis a pink slip and keys to the Toyota. “Got one for me?”

  “Signed sealed and delivered,” Luis said, taking a similar document from is shirt pocket.

  “Then we’re done. Leave the keys under the floor mat.”

  Jorge “Big Head” Ruelas turned and walked back toward the front of the building. Luis and Chuy looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Tell your cousin we’re even,” Ruelas said over his shoulder without breaking stride.

  The Corolla was smaller, but the stereo was nicer than the Buick’s. Chuy started the car and pulled out into the yard. The tattooed man watched them from the side until they were out the gate.

  Luis tossed the key to the Buick to Juan Lopez, Anthony’s second cousin, and told him to put them under the driver’s side mat. Juan and Carlos Prasado, the fourth member of the crew, got in the back of the Toyota. They drove away and didn’t look back.

  At eight-thirty, Cole’s cell phone rang. He had been sitting in the dark waiting for the call. Kelly went to watch Jennie while Erin and Ben went for a late super with friends. Cole fumbled for the phone.

  “Sage,” He said on the third ring.

  “We’re here.”

  “That took a while.”

  “I had business,” Luis stated flatly. “Tomorrow at noon, meet us at the Fisherman’s Wharf sign.”

  “Us?”

  “You didn’t think I would come alone did you?”

  “Guess not,” Cole said.

  The line went dead.

  * * *

  Hannah was standing behind Cole’s desk when he arrived. There were neat stacks of folders on his desk. Each stack was labeled with a post-it note, each note contained a bold message in bold black sharpie: FILE? TRASH? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WTH?

  Hannah looked up as Cole stopped in the doorway of his office.

  “I know they say a cluttered desk is the sign of a clever mind, or some such nonsense. But no one can work with this much crap under their nose.” Hannah waved her arms over the four stacks on the desk. “I’ve done the hard part. You need to decide what’s what. Toss, file or whatever, I’ll do it, but for goodness sake we cannot work like this.

  “Well, alright! Good morning to you too!” Cole put his hands up palms out in surrender.

  “Too brusque?”

  “No. No, I’m just not used to having anybody care if this door is open or shut. Thank you. I have been a bit out of sorts lately.”

  “I heard about the editor’s partner. Did you know him?”

  “Not in the Biblical sense, but we were friends,” Cole laughed. “He would have liked that joke.”

  “Messages.” Hannah pointed at three pink message slips impaled on a very spiked memo holder. Hanna responded to Cole’s inquisitive look with, “Ebay. I got thinking it would come in handy. Six bucks. I think it’s really old.”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Cole asked.

  “Why do you?” Hanna replied.

  “No, I heard it make
s hyper people mellow out sometimes.”

  “Too much?”

  “No, I’m just feeling my way.” Cole moved to one of the chairs in front of his desk and sat down. “Have a seat.”

  “Here?” Hanna asked.

  “Sure. why not?”

  “You said you want something important to do. What was it you said about not just filing and answering phones? I got something for you. But first, a few ground rules.” Cole waited for a response.

  “OK”.

  “First, what we do stays in this office. No matter how small or insignificant. I will, whenever possible, give you the hows and whys of what I ask you to do. Sometimes I won’t.”

  “Any problem with that?”

  “Loose lips sink ships,” Hanna said brightly.

  “Exactly. I don’t trust anybody. I want to trust you.” He paused as Hanna grinned anxiously. Cole continued. “We’ll see. Here’s what I want to you do. Find out everything you can on a fella named Zhuó, I don’t have a first name. And a Chinese business man named Cheung Chou.”

  “How do you spell...”

  “Figure it out. In the basement there is a kid that is on our team. Tell him you work with me and he will be a great help if you get stuck. But, make sure you have done everything you know to do first or he’ll make you feel like an idiot. He has me. His name is Randy Callen. Good guy, but a bit of a show off. OK, are we good?”

  “When you say ‘everything’,” Hanna paused. “Do you mean, everything?”

  “Like, do we break the rules a bit?”

  “Sort of.”

  “If need be, shred them. Is that a problem?”

  “Is that legal?”

  “You have a problem with doing a little cyber skullduggery? Say so now. If you are really on board, buckle up. We play hard, fast, and some would say real loose with the rules. I’m so-so with it. I turn a blind eye. Randy gets off on it. Where do you fit in? In or out?”

  “In like Flynn!” Hanna’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “How old are you? Never mind. Reference understood, and appreciated.”

  Hanna stood to her feet. She started to speak and thought better of it. As she made her way around the desk she gave Cole a nod. “I’ll have it for you yesterday. Thanks.”