Babychain Blues

by Tony Masero

  ‘You did,’ growled Gil. ‘This is the one I made for Randy.’

  He slid the bar from his sleeve and before Weams could make a move, Gil slammed it point-first into the man’s chest. Weams gasped in shock and a bursting cloud of blood escaped from his pursed lips as the rod drove into his lung. Gil held him by the neck, his fingers digging deep into the tattooed swastika and he repeatedly slammed the sharpened rod in.

  Weams was on his knees, vomiting blood and Fazenda was stretched on the ground, hands clasped across his blood-soaked throat and stomach.

  Without a word to each other, Gill and Buck turned on their heels and ran back down the Breezeway heading for the hospital unit. Gunshots were beginning to sound out across the yard as the snipers in the towers let loose. Warning shots as yet but soon to be followed by more deadly firing if the fighting mobs did not desist.

  Demus inside the locker, peered through the locker’s ventilation slits as a guard ran past heading for the main door. He could hear the more vocal of the inmate patients raising a lot of noise from the ward. Metal rang against metal and a roar of support for the rioters came down the hallway.

  Demus cautiously opened the door and peeked in either direction down the hallway. It was empty. He was about to head towards the main door when, on a thought, he turned back and ferreted amongst the discarded tools until he found a hefty wrench. With it in hand he headed off again, his heart beating fast and the blood pounding in his head.

  He wished he had managed to organize some crack or something to calm him down as he could feel his teeth chattering together as he ran.

  The guard he had seen pass him earlier was standing before the door as he turned the narrow corridor corner. The man was peering out through the reinforced glass window set at head height. He was mumbling to himself and Demus could see he was jittery.

  ‘Oh, my,’ the man was whispering as he focused on the mayhem outside. ‘Oh, my, my.’

  Demus came at him on the run. There was no time to think or ponder on what he was about to do as he swung the heavy wrench in both hands and brought it around in a batter’s loop, slamming it against the guard’s head. The man jittered sideways, his head turning and glazed eyes opening wide as he saw Demus swing again.

  There was the thud of steel against bone and something gave in the guard’s skull and his eyes closed as he slid down the wall of the corridor.

  Demus was shaking in shock, almost in a dream he dropped the wrench and began to fumble with the door lock. It took him several seconds before he realized he needed the keys. Snatching them from the chain on the guard’s belt he turned the lock. There was more though, the door wouldn’t open.

  Wildly, Demus stared around. What should he do? Why wouldn’t the damned thing open?

  In desperation he looked out through the window in the heavy door and saw both Gil and Buck watching him from the other side. Gil was shouting something and waving at him urgently but Demus could not hear him through the door’s seal. He shrugged and raised his hands in supplication. I don’t know what to do, he mouthed in panic.

  Gil was indicating, pointing with his finger and Demus swung his head around to see the electronic release set in the wall. He slammed his hand down on the button and the door hissed open.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The whole thing was turning into a nightmare.

  First off, Martha wouldn’t be left out and that caused an argument, then Carlo put in his penny’s worth and wouldn’t hear of her being left behind. She was his guarantee he claimed. He requested a look at the stones but Cole had forbidden that, he had not wanted the man getting ideas. His job was the contact and nothing more. Carlo did not like it but that was his hard luck as far as Cole was concerned.

  The drive across to Portland had been a tiresome and boring event with Carlo rattling on the whole journey about University infighting amongst the faculty. His spiteful conversation on a subject that held no interest for Cole rubbed at his mind and it wasn’t until he lost his temper and told Carlo to shut up that things improved. There was no opportunity for him to clear the air between himself and Martha and that only irritated Cole more. She had said next to nothing the whole trip and Cole wondered what was on her mind.

  The fence was a man called Wesley Barnard. He lived in a high-rise apartment block on Broadway, in a select area of downtown Portland. It meant a vetting in the lobby by a concierge whose underarm bulge was only too apparent. Once past that particular barrier, courtesy of Carlo’s reassuring introduction, they took a ride in a slick elevator up to the penthouse suite and went through a thorough body search in the foyer given to them by a pair of heavyset goons who knew their business.

  When it came to it, Cole was the only one allowed in.

  Barnard was busy on the phone when Cole entered. He sat on a high-backed executive’s chair behind a wide desk and in front of a set of patio windows leading out onto a roof-garden area and walled terrace. The terrace was flagged with antique looking stone slabs and even had a decorative birdbath set on a stand at the center. The view beyond the terrace looked east and Cole could see the stretch of the Willamette River and the Morrison Bridge below. The large office apartment that surrounded him spoke of streamlined luxury and wealth. Everything was in shades of black or gray with the silver gleam of chrome and glass intermingled. To Cole’s eye it was more nightclub décor than business premises.

  Barnard indicated with a royal finger that Cole should approach as he made his phone call. He pointed Cole into a spindly-looking leather and chrome designer chair and eyed him solemnly as he concluded the call. Dropping the handset into the cradle he jerked a chin in Cole’s direction.

  ‘You got something for me?’ he asked abruptly.

  He was a narrow, pale-faced man with thinning black hair combed back sharply from his shiny forehead. His clothes were all Dracula dark. A snappy black suit with a deep, blood red tie over a black silk shirt. The light from the windows behind gave him a gloomy cadaverous appearance and it was hard to make out his eyes in the shadow. Cole guessed they were as black as the rest of the room.

  He laid his package on the desktop and Barnard used an ivory letter opener to shunt the box over towards himself. It was a disdainful act almost as if the package held something unsavory and was beneath his consideration. Eventually, he sniffed, pushed himself forward in his chair and deigned to open the parcel, flicking back the folded cloth covering the box with the letter opener.

  Cole watched the reflected glitter of the diamonds highlight the narrow face like a scattering of snow. He saw the black-pebbled eyes light up with a sharp gleam. A jewelers loupe appeared in the fence’s hand as if by magic and slowly he went through every piece on the cloth one by one.

  ‘Very nice,’ Barnard admitted finally. ‘Settings look like old school, Tiffany and Lalique perhaps. Twenty-four small diamonds I count on the tiara, fifty-six to sixty carat each, I’d say. Couple of hundred carat sapphires set in gold brooches. The peach is this blue sapphire. Must be at least two-hundred and sixty carat.’

  He allowed his eyes to rise from the haul and stare at Cole. ‘This is classic stuff,’ he allowed. ‘The Besafe Securities haul, I was told. That would make it back in the 70’s sometime, it was in 1973, I think. If so, and I believe it was, then the whole collection was on its way for exhibition. A member of the Romanov family, as I recall. Baroness Sophie Baratsky, some distant cousin of the Czar. Dead now, I reckon, so she won’t miss them.’ He wheezed a slight chuckle. ‘And you’re looking to move this, is that correct?’

  Cole nodded.

  ‘Been in cold storage a long time,’ Barnard observed.

  Cole said nothing but kept his gaze fixed on Barnard.

  ‘And you are?’

  Cole shook his head, ‘Name’s don’t matter. What’s it worth?’

  Barnard wrinkled his lower lip, ‘Insurance price about nine point six mil, I would say. Of course I can’t move it for that kind of money. They’ll have to be dismounted and re-cut, altho
ugh the big one would be a shame to break up. Maybe I can find a buyer for it intact, I don’t know, I’ll have to look around.’

  ‘Bottom line,’ Cole said. ‘I don’t have time to wait.’

  ‘I can run to two million.’

  ‘I think twice that would be more to my liking,’ said Cole.

  Barnard shook his head. ‘No, it won’t be worth it my end at that figure. I’ll have overheads to clear this. Re-cutting and marketing it all over the place, it won’t be easy.’

  Cole watched him steadily, ‘Don’t fucking bullshit me,’ he said in an icy tone. ‘You’ll clear at least seven mil by the time you’ve finished. What I’m asking is reasonable, we agree or I go elsewhere.’

  Barnard snorted a laugh, ‘Seven mil! I wish. This ain’t Cartiers on Fifth Avenue, you know? And where else might you go? There’s no one on the west coat will do better.’

  ‘Then I’ll go east. I hear there’s a fellow in Chicago that’s a real winner.’ Cole was chancing his luck and lying through his teeth. He had no other contacts but he didn’t think that Barnard would know that.

  Barnard drew a deep breath and ran a finger through the glittering heap with his forefinger. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘I’ll go to three, happy?’

  Maybe there was a guy in Chicago after all, thought Cole.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘When will you have the cash? Used notes, nothing new.’

  ‘Of course. I can give you two hundred and fifty thousand now and have the rest by this evening. But I’ll need to hold the stones to check with my buyer.’

  Cole smiled thinly, ‘You give me all the money, and then you get the stones. Otherwise they stay with me. You don’t have the cash by tonight, I go elsewhere.’ Cole got up and leaned across the desk gathering together the sparkling heap, ‘We have a deal?’ he asked.

  ‘We do,’ answered Barnard, staring up at Cole from beneath lowered eyebrows.

  ‘Don’t go silly on me, will you?’ asked Cole.

  ‘Sir, I am a business man,’ said Barnard, sitting back and pressing his long fingers together in a steeple. ‘Money and goods, that’s all I’m interested in. It does me no good to interfere further than that. Unless….’ He paused. ‘I get mistreated, of course.’ The last was delivered with a hint of menace. ‘Then things are different.’

  ‘Play it straight and there’ll be no trouble from my end,’ Cole promised.

  ‘Where can I reach you?’ Barnard asked.

  ‘I’ll call you.’

  Barnard nodded and picked up a business card, he reached across the desk and handed it to Cole. Cole looked at the number and turned to leave.

  ‘I heard Penevale was really pissed over that deal,’ Barnard muttered.

  Frowning, Cole turned back to face him, ‘Maybe I came to the wrong place after all.’

  Barnard fluttered his hands, ‘Don’t get me wrong; I couldn’t give a tinker’s cuss for Penevale. This is our business, between you and me, it doesn’t involve anyone else.’

  ‘Then why bring it up?’

  ‘Just so you know, I know.’

  Cole pursed his lips. ‘You have the money here tonight. If it has bad company, then be advised….’ He paused for effect. ‘Things might get different.’

  Barnard snorted a laugh. ‘Okay, my nameless friend. Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen. I detest unnecessary complications. As I say, I’m just here to offer a service and make money, that’s all.’

  ‘Lets hope so,’ Cole said as he opened the door.

  They were back in the car when Carlo could contain himself no longer.

  ‘Well?’ he asked excitedly. ‘How’d it go? You make a deal?’

  ‘We made a deal,’ Cole allowed him. ‘Three million. Your end is sixty thousand.’

  Carlo breathed a sigh, ‘Three million dollars. Phew! That’s a lot of money.’

  ‘Like I say,’ Cole stressed. ‘Yours is sixty thou.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Carlo agreed. ‘I know, I know. But three million. That’s something else, no?’

  ‘Don’t even think about it, Carlo,’ growled Cole as Martha put the car in gear. ‘Be happy with what you’re getting.’

  ‘I’m not, I’m not thinking about it like that. Just rolling it around in my head. You did a great deal, Cole. Really great.’

  Cole wished he could see Carlo’s eyes because he didn’t like the sound of his voice. He sounded greedy.

  ‘What now?’ asked Martha.

  ‘Now, we sit still until tonight. He has the money by then. I’ll make a call.’

  ‘So where do we go until then?’

  ‘Find us a hotel. We’ll get a room and wait it out there.’

  They found rooms nearby at a hotel on Clay Street and Cole settled in to make peace with Martha whilst Carlo went out to get something to eat.

  She stood by the window, arms folded and looking out. Cole came up behind her and put his arms around her and she did not pull away.

  ‘You pissed at me?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I guess its stressful all around. I’m just wondering why I got involved in the first place.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering that all along.’

  She turned in the circle of his arms to face him.

  ‘Maybe I just like you,’ she said, her eyes fixed on him. ‘I don’t want bad things to happen.’

  ‘And you can stop them by being here?’

  Martha bit her lower lip, ‘Maybe,’ she allowed.

  He kissed her lightly in gratitude for the thought.

  She pulled his head down towards her and kissed him back full and hard, pressing her body close.

  ‘Oh, Cole,’ she sighed as they separated.

  They made love then, as a cold light came in from the overcast afternoon sky outside and played across the rumpled sheets. It was a passionate lovemaking full of generosity and tenderness. The act warmed Cole’s heart and made him think how maybe he was being foolish to risk all this for Caitlin. He rolled away afterwards, sweat beading his brow and Martha stroked his chest and kissed his shoulder gently.

  ‘That felt like you meant it,’ she said.

  He twisted his head and looked at her. ‘I did,’ he agreed, then cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her lips. ‘Maybe I’m getting to like you too.’

  ‘Dandy, isn’t it?’ she smiled.

  ‘It’s more than I expected.’

  ‘So where do we go from here?’

  ‘I get the money, pay off your buddy Carlo then we go back to where we came from. I’ll set up a trust for Caitlin, see she’s alright and then maybe you and me can take a trip somewhere.’

  ‘I don’t think we can stay in Rivers Bend,’ she advised.

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Maybe not. It wouldn’t be wise after this.’

  ‘Not safe, you mean?’

  Cole breathed deeply through his nose, ‘I’ve raised my head. Things could get awkward. When those stones make a show, it’s unlikely I know but there’s a possibility the wrong people will get to hear of it.’

  ‘Sounds ominous.’

  ‘No, just cautious. Don’t worry, we’ll go somewhere far.’

  ‘You mean leave everything? What about Caitlin?’

  Cole shrugged, ‘The less contact I have with her from now on the better it’ll be for her.’

  ‘That’s a shame, I think she’s grown fond of you.’

  ‘And me her, but I won’t risk her future,’ he paused. ‘Maybe later. Maybe after some time has passed and I’m sure we’re safe. Then maybe I’ll get in touch.’

  Cole looked at his watch. ‘Where’s that dumb friend of yours? It’s getting late.’

  She stretched her arm across and pulled him close to her in the bed. ‘There’s time,’ she whispered in his ear.

  Her legs crossed his under the sheets and he felt the smooth skin of her limbs slide over and a trickle of anticipation stirred in the pit of his stomach. Martha rose and sat astride him, her hands resting on his chest.

  ‘The
re’s time,’ she said again, reaching down and placing him inside.

  They moved together slowly and Cole watched her eyes close and her head tilt back in pleasure. Her breast swayed before his eyes as her movements quickened and he reached up and took their tips in his mouth one at a time. Martha gasped and pressed hard and deep before lowering her head and kissing him, sliding her tongue invitingly between his lips.

  Cole caught her by the waist and swung her over down beneath him. It was another hour before they rested again.

  As Martha showered, Cole made the call.

  ‘We on?’ he asked.

  ‘Everything’s here,’ Barnard confirmed.

  ‘I’ll be there in an hour,’ said Cole, then he hung up. Cole got up from the bed and naked, he took out his .45, checked the full load then hid the weapon under his clothes again.

  Martha came out toweling her hair. ‘When?’ she asked.

  ‘We go early, in half an hour,’ Cole answered, passing her on his way to the shower.

  ‘Why early?’

  ‘To watch and see,’ Cole said, with one eyebrow raised in warning.

  She nodded understanding, ‘I’ll go see if Carlo’s back yet.’

  When Cole finished his shower and returned to the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, Carlo was there, a broad grin on his face.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ Cole asked.

  ‘He’s been shopping,’ said Martha, combing her hair and pointing at the heap of shopping bags from fancy clothing stores lying on the bed.

  ‘I couldn’t resist,’ said a smiling Carlo. He rubbed his hands together, ‘Just had to spend some of that lovely moolah.’

  ‘You haven’t got it yet,’ said Cole, putting a leg into his trousers.

  ‘When do we collect?’ asked Carlo.

  ‘Now,’ Cole answered, surreptitiously sliding the Colt into the pack of diamonds.

  ‘You really need that?’ frowned Carlo.

  ‘I’d hate to find out we did when it was too late.’

  ‘I hate firearms,’ niggled Carlo. ‘Such nasty things.’

  ‘Especially when you’re looking down the barrel of one,’ agreed Cole.