Babychain Blues

by Tony Masero

  ‘I really hope it won’t come to that,’ Carlo added doubtfully.

  ‘It’ll be alright,’ Cole reassured. ‘This is just insurance. Besides, you two will be waiting outside, you don’t come in with me.’

  ‘Is that wise?’ asked Martha.

  ‘Yes, it is. I don’t want to have to think about anything else but myself whilst I’m in there.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Beethoven’s Piano Sonata no.13 came out sweetly from the loudspeakers and Penevale sipped on a balloon glass of brandy whilst he listened.

  He was older, of course and the years had filled him out some. The once slender Southern gentleman had become a little florid around the edges and his thinking had also acclimatized to the advance of years. He tended to ruminate longer over problems now and to indulge himself more in liquor as he did so. His fair hair had thinned out and grown paler over time, so pale that it was almost white and now covered his large dome only in sparse flattened locks that, in rather a wasteful and vain manner, he combed laterally from side to side.

  ‘They’re here, sir.’

  It was Abraham Bones’ deep voice; he came in so quietly that Penevale did not hear him over the sound of the music. Penevale held up a finger for silence and Abe stood waiting patiently until the piece was finished.

  He was still a large black man, although wider around the middle and his broad thighs stretched tight the suit trousers he wore until the material shone in the dim light in the study. He seemed to have been compressed with the passage of time, so that he had become a solid block of a man. A block where the head barely rose above the level of the heavy shoulders and from where Abe glowered out at the world through red-rimmed eyes. His hair was graying and looked as if a gentle fall of early frost had fallen across the surface of the tightly cut crown. Abe stood and waited rock-still, like an attendant basilisk, his eyes lidding as his brain went into a patient, unthinking form. What he considered whilst in this state was impossible to tell, it was a condition that Penevale sometimes referred to as ‘donkey mode’ when his longtime lieutenant stood impassively still without an apparent glimmer of intelligent thought in his head.

  At last, when the music ended and silence filled the room, Penevale swiveled his black eyes to focus on Abe.

  ‘Come, you say. Whom exactly?’ The accent still held a trace of the South in its soft timbre and the polite tones were always maintained at a level of gentlemanly restraint.

  ‘The three from the Pen.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Penevale rolled the balloon glass between the palms of his hand. Not consciously warming the liquid but spending a moment considering the information. ‘Let’s see them, shall we? Keep yourself to hand, Abe. One never knows.’

  ‘Sir. Of course, sir,’ said Abe, who insisted, no matter how hard Penevale insisted he not bother, on maintaining the military protocol for addressing a superior.

  The three came in as a single file and lined themselves before Penevale’s back. He spun the chair around and studied them. They were all dressed in track clothing, simple gear ready to fit any size and Penevale could see by their glazed looks that they had only recently been received afresh into the outside world.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Congratulations on your new found freedom.’ He inclined his head, ‘Perhaps introductions are in order. I am Leeward Barton Penevale and my able assistant, whom you have already met, is Mister Abraham Bones. Now, you are….’ He waited expectantly.

  The bald headed one with the band of white hair falling over his shoulders stepped forward.

  ‘Mister Penevale, so pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Buck Newton; you may remember my brother who was in your employ one time. Just like to say how grateful we are….’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Penevale cut him off. ‘And you?’ he said turning his dark gaze to the heavyset one with the spider tattoo on his skull.

  ‘Gil Gurns,’ he said, and at the words it almost seemed that the big man subconsciously flexed his muscles as if size and brawn went with the introduction.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Penevale, the large brain behind his dark eyes racing, although nothing showed on his features to indicate that synaptic gaps were flashing at an inordinately fast rate. ‘Wrongly convicted, I think.’ Before Gil could say anything, Penevale’s attention was turned to the third member of the party. ‘And you are, Randy Goldstein? Are you not?’

  ‘No, sir. I ain’t. I’m Demus Barnes, Randy, well he…. Um….’ Demus paused waiting for Gil to explain.

  ‘He didn’t make it,’ said Gil sharply.

  ‘I see,’ said Penevale sucking his lower lip in under his top row of teeth. Small teeth, feral, like a rabbit or a rodent. ‘No matter, you are all here now. It was successful? Well, obviously it was, what I meant was were there any problems during your evacuation?’

  Demus sniggered.

  ‘Something amusing Mister Barnes?’ asked Penevale.

  ‘No, not really,’ confessed Demus, his lip quirked in an awkward half-smile. ‘Just that you said ‘evacuation’, you know? Like, well, I did almost. You know, shit myself when we was getting out.’

  ‘I see,’ said Penevale coldly, not amused in the slightest by the crude pun.

  ‘It was pretty straightforward,’ Gil said, cutting off any further comment from Demus. ‘Nothing to beef about.’

  ‘Good,’ said Penevale smoothly. ‘That’s what I like to hear. Now you men realize the grounds of our agreement, don’t you? You shall be fed and watered, as they say, given safe board and lodging but I shall make a call on your services from time to time in repayment. Is that clear?’

  They all nodded.

  ‘Your particular skills are varied I presume. I know about Mister Newton and Mister Gurns but what about you, Demus…. is it?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Demus. He was only in slight awe of Penevale, the man seemed so measured and confident and yet all Demus saw before him was a pudgy old man with a big head, talking fancy and lounging in a chair with a fat glass of liquor on his lap and the one fact seemed to belie the other. ‘I was up for assault and home invasion.’

  ‘Ah, so,’ breathed Penevale. ‘Very well. Now, Abe will see to your quarters and if you are hungry I’m sure the kitchen will provide for you. Later we’ll get you moved to more suitable accommodation. I hope that is satisfactory?’

  ‘Oh, yes sir, it surely is,’ fawned Buck. ‘That’s real civil of you. I reckon you’ll remember my brother, he always spoke most high of you.’

  Penevale paused a moment, ‘Yes, Mister Newton. Naturally I remember your brother, a loyal and courageous man.’

  Buck preened at the compliment, ‘He was that, Mister Penevale. Thank you kindly, sir.’

  Penevale dismissed them with a wave of his brandy glass saying, ‘Abe, a word.’

  When the three had left the room, Penevale turned to his black lieutenant. ‘Get them out of here as soon as possible. Tonight if it is feasible. See they don’t drink or eat too much, their stomach’s won’t hold it after all that prison slop they’ve been fed.’

  ‘Sir,’ agreed Abe, who knew his task full well as he had done the same thing many times before.

  ‘Fetch them some women, I presume their glands will be working overtime if they haven’t already developed an overriding sexual inclination for male company during their incarceration.’ Penevale shrugged dismissively, ‘Well, you can obtain them boys if that’s their preference. Oh, and find out what you can about Barnes. He seems the weak link there. What was Newton rambling on about? What brother was he referring to? Good Lord, as if remembered ever dumb son-of-a-gun that worked for me.’

  ‘Years back, sir. You remember, the Besafe job? It was his brother who gunned down one of the runaways and then was KIA himself.’

  ‘Yes, the biker, I remember now.’

  When Abe had gone, Penevale rested his large head on one fist as he looked into a dark past and brought up from memory the shades of an unresolved offence and substantial financial loss. The memory brought a bit
terness to the taste of his brandy and he set down the glass on a side table. With his remarkable mental ability, Penevale recalled the terrible anger that had coursed through him on hearing the news of that some of his men had absconded with the haul. It glowed in his heart like a heated coal and he mentally blew on the ashes and reinvigorated the resentment all over again until it shone bright and yet strangely filled him with an icy cold instead of any warmth. Heaving himself from his chair he went over to the record player and selected another vinyl disk.

  Brahms soothed his festering mind and putting aside the surge of resentment that the remembered violation raised in him, he reseated himself as the Symphony No. 3 eased his fevered curl of vengeance and he began to think more clearly again.

  Martha pulled up a hundred yards away and parked down the road from the tall building.

  They sat patiently, Cole with restless eyes searching the street for any sign of something out of place. It was busy with evening traffic and passersby on their way home but nothing shone out to him.

  Half an hour passed.

  ‘You two wait here,’ Cole said to them both. ‘I get the cash and we leave immediately. We’ll drive through the night. The sooner we’re away from here after the deal is done the better.’

  ‘Why the hurry?’ frowned Carlo. ‘I was hoping for some fun-time in the big city.’

  ‘These people are not in it for fun,’ growled Carlo. ‘We leave right away.’

  Carlo shrugged, ‘But what’s the problem? Why in such a rush?’

  Cole ignored his insistence and taking the package he got out of the car. From the sidewalk he leaned in through the open car window. ‘You be okay?’ he asked Martha.

  She nodded.

  ‘Half an hour,’ he said. ‘If I’m not back, pull out. Don’t wait any longer. You hear?’

  She nodded again, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip anxiously.

  ‘Take care,’ she murmured.

  As Cole walked towards the building’s entrance he could hear Carlo behind him in the car beginning to question Martha. He hoped she knew enough to say nothing. The guy was a pain and the sooner they were free of him the better.

  He breezed past the concierge, who looked him over once and then silently pointed towards the lift doors. As Cole stepped out at the penthouse level the two heavies greeted him and once again they had him spread arms and legs and gave him the once over. He held the wrapped package in plain view but neither of the men thought to examine it and he was shown into Barnard’s office.

  The fence sat at his desk the sky darkening rapidly behind him and the lights of the city beginning to sprinkle the blackness.

  Barnard jerked his chin, ‘You got it?’ he asked.

  ‘You got mine?’

  Barnard spread his hands wide and Cole saw that the desktop was arrayed with a block of thousand dollar bills all neatly wrapped in banker bands.

  Cole unwrapped his parcel, taking out the Colt and slipping it into his waistband in front as he did so.

  Barnard eyed the weapon doubtfully, ‘They missed that, huh? I shall have to have a word.’ He held out a hand, calmly ignoring the gun, ‘Do you mind?’

  Cole handed over the parcel of diamonds. He was about to check that the dollar bills were genuine, when the door opened behind him. Cole had the Colt in his hand fast and was directing it at Barnard when he heard Martha behind him breath his name anxiously.

  Cole spun around to see Martha and Carlo being led into the room by the two bodyguards.

  ‘What’s this about?’ Cole asked nervously. ‘Why’re they here?’

  ‘We noticed your company outside,’ Barnard explained. ‘Thought it wise that we all got together; I don’t like loose ends. Now, if you pair of idiots will relieve the gentleman of his weapon I’m sure we can all get on with this in a businesslike manner.’

  Cole could see he was outmanned as the two admonished heavies held Martha firmly by the arm and he allowed the Colt to spin free on the guard and raised it as one of them stepped forward and relieved him of the gun.

  ‘There, that’s better,’ said Barnard, returning his attention to the diamonds. ‘Count your money, mister,’ he said to Cole.

  As Cole checked the stacks of cash, Barnard raked a finger through the diamonds lifting the tiara and peering through his loupe at each stone.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how you came by these but Penevale must be truly riled at not having them. He’s here, you know? Here in Portland, not many blocks away as it happens.’

  ‘So you’ll be telling him you’ve got the stones then?’ Cole asked cynically.

  Barnard chuckled, ‘Not on your life, fella. Why would I want to do that? Knowing Penevale like I do, he’d want it all back or at the very least a large cut of the take. No, no, this stays quiet and I hope you and your friends will keep it that way too. These pretties will vanish like they never existed, that I can promise.’

  ‘Who’s Penevale?’ Carlo asked curiously. ‘What’s he got to do with this?’

  Barnard looked up from his examination, ‘You the guy that called?’ he asked coldly.

  ‘Yes, I set it up,’ Carlo answered.

  Barnard was dismissive and disdainful, ‘The drug dealer, I hate you guys. Listen, friend, just keep your nose out of this. Once we’re done here I never want to see or hear from you again. We clear on that?’

  Carlo nodded resentfully.

  ‘How’d you get to deal with the likes of him?’ Barnard asked Cole.

  ‘Necessity,’ Cole said as he fanned bills with his thumb. ‘This looks good, you got a bag or something?’

  ‘It’s all kosher,’ Barnard reassured him. ‘It’s no good for me in my business to double deal, I have a righteous name to maintain.’

  ‘Okay,’ smiled Cole, pleased to see that things were turning out alright as he packed the bills into the briefcase Barnard handed him. ‘We done?’

  ‘We’re done,’ agreed Barnard. ‘Nice doing business with you, fella. Next time though, don’t bring any company.’

  ‘There won’t be a next time,’ said Cole. ‘This is a one-time deal.’

  Barnard shrugged and dismissed them with a wave of his hand, ‘Whatever you say.’

  At the entrance to the building one of the bodyguards expertly emptied the Colt and handed it back to Cole.

  ‘You got me in a lot of trouble over this,’ he growled.

  Cole pulled a face, ‘Sorry,’ he said without any real show of apology. Fellow couldn’t blame him for not doing his job properly.

  The guard watched them walk away down the street towards their car. ‘Be safe,’ he called after them.

  Be safe! Besafe! The word echoed hollowly in Cole’s mind.

  ‘We got it,’ whispered Carlo, excitedly. ‘We got the money.’

  ‘That we did,’ Cole agreed.

  ‘They took us by surprise,’ Martha explained.

  ‘They must have been watching us all along,’ said Cole. ‘I should have guessed and parked a block away. Getting lax in my old age.’

  ‘What’s it matter,’ grinned Carlo. ‘We got it, didn’t we?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Cole, opening the car door for Martha. ‘Let’s get back to the hotel. You’ll get your cut there, Carlo. Like we promised.’

  ‘Great,’ Carlo smiled hungrily. ‘Can I hold it?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Cole, tossing the bag into the back seat next to him. ‘If it turns you on.’

  ‘It does,’ said Carlo, stroking the leather face of the flat briefcase. ‘Almost gives me an orgasm to think on what’s inside here.’

  Cole pulled a face across at Martha, ‘Cheap thrills,’ he said.

  Martha smiled back and started the car.

  ‘Nothing cheap about this thrill,’ advised Carlo.

  Back at the hotel, Cole opened the suitcase on the bed and began counting out Carlo’s cut.

  ‘Martha,’ he said. ‘Pack your stuff, we’re leaving when this is done.’

  Carlo spread his hands
and scooped up his winnings. ‘Oh, come to me, you lovely things,’ he said, fawning over the spread of banknotes.

  Cole snapped the briefcase closed, ‘You ready, Martha?’ he asked.

  ‘Almost,’ she called from the bathroom.

  ‘Hurry it up,’ Cole said, taking the Colt out from his waistband and reloading from an extra magazine he had kept in the bedside table. ‘You set, Carlo?’

  ‘Listen guys, I think I’m going to hang around in Portland a while. I want to have a good time before heading back to the dull environs of Smallville.’

  Cole frowned, ‘Not a good idea. It’s dangerous here.’

  ‘You mean this Penevale character they spoke of?’

  Cole nodded doubtfully, wishing that Barnard had not made mention of the man.

  ‘Not to worry,’ breezed Carlo. ‘He doesn’t know me, nor I him. Why should our paths cross? It’ll be fine.’

  Cole thought it through. Carlo knew Barnard but Barnard would keep things quiet. If Carlo was stupid enough to approach Penevale he might tell him about Barnard and the diamonds. Penevale would go get the diamonds but that was not Cole’s problem. If Carlo ratted out him and Martha it would be too late because they would be in the wind and long gone. He planned to be far away by morning and then headed where Penevale would not reach him.

  ‘Your choice,’ he said. ‘But be aware, you go see Penevale and you won’t walk away alive.’

  ‘Why should I go see him?’ frowned Carlo.

  ‘Because you’re a greedy little sucker, that’s why.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Carlo, cupping the blocks of dollars in his hands. ‘I see no advantage in it. I have all I want, don’t you worry, I’m just intent on having a good time here.’

  ‘Listen to me, Carlo,’ Cole said forcefully. ‘Penevale is not a man to mess with; he is one real mean piece of work. He will gut you like a fish and go drink tea afterwards. Stay away from him, I mean it.’

  ‘Cole, Cole, please. I don’t want to have anything to do with the man. Really.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ interrupted Martha. She had straightened her hair, put on perfume and changed into tight pants and a jacket. She looked good.