Babychain Blues

by Tony Masero

  Cole gave her an admiring glance. ‘You look great,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s go. So long, Carlo. Have a good time. Best to change hotels right now, if I was you.’

  They were across Steel Bridge and filling up with gas from a roadside Texaco station at the entrance to the freeway when Martha spoke.

  ‘Are you worried about Carlo?’ she asked.

  ‘I sure am,’ Cole agreed. ‘He’s a greedy little ass. It might be he’ll think there’s more to be made out of this.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘He’s too much into a good time. He’ll go hit a few swinger bars until he strikes lucky and when he wakes up tomorrow morning he’ll just go spend, that’s the way he is.’

  ‘Does he use his own product?’

  She pursed her lips and nodded, ‘Some.’

  Cole said nothing but he sighed heavily as he went to pay the attendant.

  ‘We have to cover ground,’ he said getting back in the car. ‘We’ll spell each other, an hour each. That way we’ll stay fresh.’

  ‘What do you intend?’ she asked as he pulled out onto the freeway access road.

  ‘I want to see Caitlin one time. Leave some cash with her, we’ll close up shop then and go as soon as we can.’

  ‘There’s some stuff I’d like to bring with me.’

  ‘You’ll have to let the hospital know you’re quitting, it’ll save them getting suspicious.’

  ‘Do we really have to head out so completely? Is it that dangerous?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Cole confidently. ‘We go and we leave no trail. Clean your apartment out. No addresses, no contact numbers, nothing for them to use as leverage if they come looking.’

  ‘You really think they will?’

  Cole was silent for a mile. ‘I think Carlo will not be able to resist. He will blab, I feel it. The guy’s too fond of cash not to. I saw the way he looked at all the money. One way or the other Penevale will get to hear and he will come after me.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ sighed Martha. ‘I’m sorry, Cole. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought him into it.’

  ‘Not your fault. I asked, it was my decision.’

  Martha looked at her own reflection in the side window. Freeway direction signage flashed by outside and the lights from houses and streets way in the distance vanished in a blur as Cole sped on. She was thinking on how her life was changing so rapidly. In a matter of weeks she had become a woman in flight and all for love of this man beside her. It was true; she admitted to herself, her earlier life had become lonely and boring with little prospect for change in sight when she had first met Cole. No man in her life then, just a series of loose relationships and a ruined marriage behind her. Endless sleepless nights on duty at the hospital; a world peopled by patients in situations of grief and pain, their interminable chain of sorrow doing little to ease her feelings of hopelessness. But now, in the space of hours it seemed, everything was about to change. The absoluteness of it all was just beginning to sink in.

  She should be excited, she thought. It was a chance for different things, for some kind of adventure to shake her out of the apathetic tedium of her life. But through all of those hopes the strain of fear was only now beginning to etch a line that scratched at those first thoughts.

  She leaned over and took Cole’s arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Don’t worry, honey,’ he murmured, sensing her distress. ‘We’ll be fine.’ He drove on into the night, ‘I’m real glad you’re here.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Actually, Carlo had no such plans of betrayal.

  He had spoken quite truthfully and his only ambition had been to celebrate his windfall, to get laid and go buy a new car.

  It was circumstances that forced him to change his mind.

  He had picked up the twins at a bar called ‘The Marker Saloon’ on Division Street, where the locals listened to live country music and dressed the part in checkered shirts and cowboy hats. The two were a long-limbed, large breasted pair of girls, wearing white, fringed buckskin jackets patterned with sequins and with tiny tight skirts underneath worn high and leaving little to be imagined. They giggled a lot and fluttered long false eyelashes at him, leaning close and pressing their ample breasts up against his arm.

  His display of cash had lighted their eyes and it had not taken much persuasion to guide them back to his hotel room. They smelt of cheap perfume and lacquered hair. The lipstick was thick and bright under the bedroom lights but Carlo had not minded in slightest. They were willing and able and he entered into the frolic with abandon as they shed their buckskins without a second thought and he caught sight of what lay underneath. The smack he had purchased at the bar was sucked up as if the girl’s had vacuum hoses rather than regular noses and the bottle of Jack he had in his room went just as quickly.

  Replete and quite stoned he had rolled into their fleshy ministrations energetically and they had seen to it that after a sweaty and ferocious coupling with both of them he had slept like a contented baby.

  He was not so happy when he awoke though.

  His complete stash was gone!

  The two girls had cleaned him out. They had even taken his credit cards and driving license.

  Carlo cursed bitterly. He was alone in a strange city without any means of transport. Without the possibility of either hiring a car or paying his way. All of the money. All of it. Gone. It burned Carlo.

  He went to the police but they did little to appease his concern, it almost appeared as if they thought it was all his own fault. He cancelled the credit cards and was promised new ones but that would take a few days. Only God knew when a replacement license would reach him.

  That was when he thought of Penevale.

  He dismissed all thought of Barnard. He had not liked his snide comments and besides it would be unlikely the fence would be forthcoming in any fashion after the dismissive way he had treated him.

  But with Penevale maybe he had something of value to sell.

  In a vain attempt to spot the two girls he returned to ‘The Marker Saloon’, there was no sight of them, of course. He doubted if they were even still in the city now, but at least he obtained information from the bartender. He found out how he could contact Leeward Penevale.

  The first hint Barnard had that anything was wrong was when he heard the strange thumping noises outside his office.

  His hand was on the automatic in his desk drawer when the door was flung open and a burly fellow with a spider tattoo on his bald head forced his way in. He held the bloody and sagging figure of one of the bodyguards up before him by the coat collar, taking a step into the room he dropped the beaten fellow to the floor and wagged an admonishing finger at Barnard, who promptly slammed the desk drawer shut.

  ‘Someone to see you,’ said Gil, stepping aside and allowing Penevale to enter.

  ‘Good evening, Mister Barnard,’ said a smiling Penevale, who breezed in with hands spread wide in greeting. ‘Such a long time.’

  ‘Penevale!’ gasped Barnard, a cold shiver running through him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  The room quickly filled as Abe followed his master in and both Buck and Demus stepped up behind, dragging a disconsolate Carlo with them.

  ‘Quite a party, huh?’ said Penevale.

  ‘Wh… what can I do for you?’

  ‘Oh, a question or two,’ said Penevale, strolling around the room and studying the decoration. ‘You know, it’s a little depressing in here, Barnard. Why all the black? You have an aversion to the lighter things in life perhaps?’

  Barnard arched an eyebrow and forced some affront into his voice, ‘What do you want, busting in here like this?’

  ‘You have something of mine, I believe,’ Penevale answered, his voice suddenly dropping a few degrees below zero.

  Barnard’s eye flicked across to Carlo. ‘This little prick been telling you stories?’

  ‘Um, yes. He has in fact, it’s an interesting tale he tells too.’

  ‘H
e’s a dope addict. Sells shit to children, what can you get from scum like that?’

  ‘Maybe, maybe,’ agreed Penevale, experimenting with one of the spindly chrome chairs before settling into it. ‘Yes, perverse little fellow, I agree, but he does have a fascinating story.’

  ‘Look, Penevale, I’m a businessman. You know me; we’ve dealt enough in the past. It’s not a matter of offense, nothing like that,’ Barnard pleaded. ‘You know I wouldn’t set out to cause distress. The fellow came to me with a deal, that’s all. He had some ice to move and I was here to oblige him, it was just business, what I do, that’s all.’

  Penevale rubbed a pensive finger alongside his nose, ‘I know that. I understand, believe me. Trouble is it was my goods you were dealing with. Mine,’ his tone hardened slightly. ‘And the way our friend here tells it, you had no intention of informing me.’

  Barnard cast a bitter glance across at Carlo, the dark eyes hard and glittering. Carlo withered under the look that promised an untimely end if he ever escaped from these people. He was regretting everything now. Cole had been right all along and sweat was breaking out on Carlo’s brow as he shivered under Buck’s firm grip.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Barnard, raising pacifying hands. ‘I’ll cut you in for a percentage. A generous percentage.’

  ‘I think not,’ smiled Penevale. He nodded at Abe and the big black man crossed the room swiftly.

  ‘Wait a minute, wait a minute,’ begged Barnard, backing away.

  Abe did not hesitate; he grabbed Barnard by the scruff of the neck and slammed his head face down hard on the desktop. When Abe lifted him, Barnard’s nose was pumping blood and his eyes trying hard to focus.

  ‘I have your attention now?’ asked Penevale, in a calm considered voice that would not have been out of place in a retired ladies brunch.

  ‘Yes,’ slurred Barnard. ‘Don’t hurt me, please.’

  Penevale studied a fingernail. ‘You have any decent brandy here, Barnard? You’re not a very hospitable fellow, are you? Mister Gurns, will you see if he has a decent liquor cupboard somewhere here, please?’

  Gil had been leaning casually against the doorframe and pushed himself away and came into the office. He went to the first sideboard and with apparent ease ripped the fragile door from its hinges. There was nothing inside but neat rows of hanging files. Gil went to the next door and repeated the operation, moving on down the line until he discovered a liquor cabinet.

  ‘Ah, finally,’ said Penevale. ‘A glass if you will, Mister Gurns. I do find I think better over a drop of alcohol these days. Do you find that, Mister Barnard?’

  Still held forcibly by Abe, Barnard muttered something unintelligible.

  ‘What did you say, old fellow? I apologize, I didn’t quite catch that.’

  Abe slammed Barnard’s head down on the desktop again. ‘You speak clear when the officer speaks to you,’ Abe grumbled.

  Barnard’s face was swelling up and blood running from a cut on his brow. ‘I…. I don’t know. Yes,’ he panted. ‘No, I don’t know.’

  ‘Tut-tut, so indecisive. Why, thank you Mister Gurns,’ Penevale accepted a full brandy glass from Gil. ‘A little overzealous in the pouring, but never mind.’

  ‘I think I’ll have one of them,’ said a leering Demus, feeling excited and powerful in the charged atmosphere.

  Scathing eyes turned on him and Demus fell awkwardly silent.

  ‘Now, to continue,’ breathed Penevale after taking a sip of his drink. ‘You have the diamonds here?’

  ‘No, no. They’re gone. Already gone.’

  ‘So quickly,’ breathed Penevale. ‘Abe, if you would be so kind? Cut off one of Mister Barnard’s fingers, will you?’

  In a flash a knife appeared in Abe’s free hand, the blade flicked open and before Barnard could make an objection, his wrist was seized and the hand flattened on the desk. Abe levered the blade and Barnard screamed piteously as blood spurted and his dissected pinky flew away across the blotter.

  Barnard sobbed loudly and was only held on his feet by Abe’s strong grip.

  ‘Now, shall we start again?’ asked Penevale. ‘You have the diamond’s still? I’m sure you will.’

  Barnard let loose a strangled cry. Tears streamed down his beaten face and he began a begging rant.

  Penevale raised his eyebrows in a display of tiresome irritation. ‘Abe, again, if you don’t mind?’

  As the blade crunched through a ring-finger joint, Carlo, pale and drained, mumbled, ‘I got to be sick.’

  Buck pushed him aside and Carlo staggered out into the foyer and vomited into a standing metal ashtray stationed there.

  ‘The diamonds?’ Penevale pressed. ‘I tell you, Mister Barnard, we have eight more fingers and then the toes. There’s all night long we can spend on this, I really advise you to come clean, my dear man.’

  ‘The safe,’ Barnard panted through bruised lips, nodding his head towards a framed painting of a rather lugubrious landscape on the wall. ‘The safe, they’re in the safe.’

  ‘There,’ said Penevale contentedly. ‘Much easier, isn’t it? And the combination is?’

  Barnard babbled numbers and Penevale pointed to Demus. ‘Do the honors, will you, young man?’

  With a pleased grin, Demus proudly crossed the room, swung aside the hinged painting and spun the dial underneath.

  ‘Holy shit!’ he cried, once the door of the safe was open. ‘Will you look at this? It’s like the Federal Bank in here.’

  Stacks of money were neatly piled inside on two shelves and next to them heaped packages and envelopes.

  ‘Put it all on the desk,’ ordered Penevale. ‘But take care, mind that blood there. How ghastly! You really should have owned up earlier, Wesley. Will you sit Mister Barnard down, Abe? I fear he is a little faint.’

  Carlo ambled back into the office wiping his mouth on his sleeve as Buck and Demus collected the contents of the safe and laid them out on the desk. Penevale leaned forward in his chair and watched the process with obvious pleasure. He studied each stack of notes and toyed with the packages, uttering a small cry of pleasure as the tiara was exposed.

  ‘Good, good,’ he muttered. ‘Now, just one more thing, Mister Barnard. Who brought you my diamonds?’

  The crumpled figure of Barnard sat in his office chair, his wounded hand couched in the crook of his other arm. ‘I don’t know his name. He wouldn’t give it.’

  Abe made a slight movement beside him and Barnard screamed wildly, ‘Really! I don’t know! God! Believe me, I’d tell you if I knew. I got him on camera though. You can see him.’

  ‘You’ve got him on camera?’

  ‘Yeah, closed circuit TV. There look,’ he nudged his head in the direction of one corner of the room. ‘There’s a hidden camera there. I record every one who comes in here.’

  ‘Really? How unique,’ said Penevale in a slightly bemused voice, ‘Then show me.’

  Barnard, only too pleased to comply, staggered across the room and with his good hand played back the recording on a TV screen situated on the wall shelf.

  Carlo bit his lip and tasted the bile of his own puke as he recognized the figure onscreen entering the office. He had kept back Cole’s identity in case he needed an ace in the hole later but now Cole was exposed for all to see.

  There was a long silence in the room and then Demus spoke, ‘I know that guy. That’s the damned plumber. Cole something, I can’t remember. What’s his damned name?’

  ‘Cole Junger,’ Carlos admitted quietly.

  ‘That’s him!’ shouted Demus. ‘Cole – the fucker – Junger!’

  ‘Yeah,’ added Gil. ‘Isn’t he the one busted your knee?’

  ‘The one you told us about in the joint?’ added Buck.

  ‘Aha!’ said Penevale, looking up brightly. ‘It seems you all have a tale to tell. Although….’ He paused, squinting at the screen. ‘He looks vaguely familiar to me.’

  ‘He should do,’ rumbled Abe.

  ‘Why’s that?’ as
ked Penevale.

  ‘He’s one of the guy’s that was on the Besafe job, sir. The one that got away.’

  ‘Bless my soul,’ breathed Penevale. ‘After all these years. The fellow must be in a hard way to come to the surface now. But he comes bearing gifts, doesn’t he?’

  Penevale allowed his eye to range away from the screen and over to the spread of cash and jewels on the desk. ‘Yes, indeedy,’ he said, his eyes glittering malevolently. ‘Gifts indeed.’

  Barnard slunk back over and slumped tiredly in his chair. ‘There,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve got everything. Can I get to a hospital now?’

  ‘Oh, I think we can do better that that,’ said Penevale with a slight nod in Abe’s direction.

  Barnard screamed a high-pitched strangled cry as he saw what was coming. He tried to ward of the impassive Negro but there was no stopping the large black man and in a single slash Abe sliced a bloody opening across Barnard’s throat. Blood pumped and Barnard clutched his throat, gurgling and spitting as a stream jetted out across the money on the desk.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ Penevale complained. ‘Turn him away, will you?’

  Apologetically, Abe spun the office chair around and Barnard’s death throes were only evident in the reflection on his patio windows.

  ‘Pick up everything,’ Penevale ordered, leaning to one side and retrieving his brandy.

  As the littered desktop was swept into a waste bin standing alongside the desk, Penevale turned his attention to the shaking Carlo.

  ‘You knew that, did you not? You knew his name all along.’

  ‘No,’ Carlo managed in a pleading voice. ‘No, please. But I can take you there, I can lead you to him.’

  ‘Don’t need you,’ sneered Demus. ‘I know where the bastard hangs out. He’s in Rivers Bend or he’ll be up at Caitlin’s.’

  ‘It appears we do not need you after all, Mister Bennuci,’ observed Penevale.

  ‘Look I can be useful,’ Carlo begged. ‘I know his girl, Martha. I know where she lives. They’re a couple, she’s all over him, you get her and you get him.’