Land of Entrapment

by Andi Marquette

  “Yeah. I’m off work at three,” I lied.

  “Good. You’re on your own finding your way.

  Think of it as your first test.” He grinned like a wolf.

  “The way the meetings work is that we’ll take care of general business first and then the inner circle meets.”

  He looked apologetic then. “It takes a while to make it into the inner circle.”

  “Of course.” I tried to look somber.

  “Okay, thanks for your time. It’ll be good to see you Thursday. Rahowa.”

  “Eighty-eight,” I responded.

  He turned and walked over to Megan’s car.

  Skinhead Girl hadn’t moved from her position near Eight Ball’s front window. Ray-Bans followed Cody. I decided to try to pump Skinhead Girl for more information.

  “So are you in the group?”

  She treated me to one of her flat, vacant stares.

  “Inner circle,” she said, with just a trace of venom. I wondered if maybe Cody had a few women on the side. The thought pissed me off even more.

  “How long did it take?” I pushed her.

  “Long enough.”

  Ray-Bans finished talking to Cody and strode back over toward Skinhead Girl. Cody started Megan’s car and pulled out of the parking space. I watched as he turned right onto Central out of the parking lot. I acknowledged Ray-Bans as well. “Thanks. I’ll see you around.” I went back into Eight Ball, deciding that I’d leave through the back entrance. Maybe they’d think I was getting another tattoo or hitting the bathroom.

  Regardless, I had a very bad feeling about each of them as individuals. Together, the two of them were downright scary. I moseyed through the shop and went down the hall toward the bathroom. Someone was using it so I pretended to be waiting. I stepped away from the door back into the cramped hallway and glanced toward the front. From this angle, I could see a part of the front door. Skinhead Girl entered the shop. That was my cue. I headed down the hallway toward the scuffed and dented gray metal back door.

  Someone had spray-painted “Exit” in big, red puffy letters across it. Helpful.

  I pushed the door open and took barely three steps before I realized Ray-Bans was waiting for me. I turned to go back inside but Skinhead Girl was already outside pushing the door shut behind her.

  Fuck. Please, Chris, be listening.

  “Let’s have a little talk,” Ray-Bans said quietly in a soft, deep voice.

  “About what?” I asked, trying to keep panic out of my own voice.

  Skinhead Girl was suddenly in my face. She was roughly my height and might have looked like Sinead O’Connor except her lips were a tad on the thin side.

  “Think you’re somethin’ else, huh?” Her breath smelled faintly of stale cigarettes.

  I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to risk pissing her off more. I heard a soft click and knew without looking that Ray-Bans had opened a switchblade. Oh, shit. “What exactly do you want?” I somehow managed to keep my tone level.

  “Think you can just show up and start telling us how to run our business?” She pushed me. I took a couple of steps backward. “Think you and your fuckin’ down payment and fuckin’ attitude can just come in here and tell us what to do? We’ve worked long and hard preparing and you think you can just show us the way?”

  Think fast. Shit. “Look, I’m sorry if that’s what you think. As far as I’m concerned, we’re all working for the same goals.” I put my hands up in a “whoa, there,” fashion.

  “You’re full of shit,” she rasped. I was almost to the back door. If I could just get there—

  Ray-Bans grabbed my tee just below the neckline in his left hand before I even knew he was reaching.

  He pulled me toward him and I felt a knife blade against my cheek. Holy shit. He leaned in really close.

  “I smell a liar,” he said, in a tone that he might have used to say something like “I’ll take a Coke.” He put a tiny bit more pressure on the knife. I felt like I was going to wet myself.

  “Hey, take it easy,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as godawful scared as I was. “Put the knife away.”

  Chris, please!

  “Cody’s too soft with the ladies,” he continued.

  “His dick gets in the way of his brain sometimes.”

  “Fuck you,” muttered Skinhead Girl. “Be glad Cody didn’t hear you say that.”

  “Look—” I began when the back door flew open.

  “Is there a problem here, assholes?” Chris’s voice was low and icy.

  Jesus God, thank you, thank you, thank you.

  Ray-Bans quickly released me and lowered the knife. I watched him retract the blade. Chris brushed past me, a controlled anger in her stride. She stood glaring at him in full cop mode. She was only a few inches shorter. He wavered. She slowly and deliberately reached up and pulled his glasses off his face and tossed them casually onto the asphalt.

  “I asked if there was a problem.”

  “No.” Skinhead Girl picked up the conversation.

  She sounded a little unnerved. Maybe it was the SIG

  Chris packed on her right hip.

  Chris slowly turned her cop glare to her and I felt a thrill to see Skinhead Girl visibly blanch. “I don’t think I asked you.” Her voice was hard and cold. I’d never heard that tone from Chris and it scared me almost as much as the confrontation with the two neo-Nazis. She reached and pulled her badge off her belt and in a motion that was so fast it almost didn’t register with me she had grabbed Ray-Bans by the collar of his shirt and shoved her badge in his face.

  “You see this? Get a good look. Because the next time you see it, you’ll be looking up after I beat the living shit out of you.” She shoved him backward. He stumbled a couple of steps, almost losing his balance.

  “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here and I could give a shit about a buncha low-life Nazi morons.” She glared at Ray-Bans then Skinhead Girl and me in turn. “And I might just be irritated enough to let the owners of this fine establishment—” she gestured at Eight Ball—“know about this little situation outside the shop. You think your white power amigos—” she put a deliberate emphasis on the Spanish word—“would appreciate that? You losers starting crap outside Eight Ball?”

  Skinhead Girl licked her lips nervously. Ray-Bans said nothing.

  “I didn’t think so.” She turned her attention to me.

  “Is there a problem here?” She was distant and formal.

  “No. Just a little misunderstanding,” I said, voice shaking. I felt Skinhead Girl watching me.

  Chris’s eyes narrowed slightly but she was too good a cop to blow anybody’s cover. To Ray-Bans and Skinhead Girl she said, “Get your stupid fucking gringo asses out of here. And hope you don’t run into me again.”

  We watched as Ray-Bans quickly retrieved his sunglasses from the parking lot and followed Skinhead Girl to one of the cars parked nearby, an older Ford Mustang. Skinhead Girl got into the driver’s seat and Ray-Bans took the passenger side.

  She gunned the engine and peeled out, whipping toward the alley. I sagged, my knees trembling. Chris pulled me into her arms.

  “Jesus Christ,” she said quietly. “You okay?”

  “Fine, now.” I was shaking. She was Chris again and I held on to her like she was a tree in a flood.

  “Fuck. Kase, I am so sorry.”

  “For what? It’s broad daylight. I didn’t think they’d pull shit like this.” I held on a bit longer then stepped back. “Maybe a skinhead scare tactic or something.”

  “I—” She stopped.

  “Chris, hey.” I held her hand. “I know you would’ve gone medieval on their asses if it wouldn’t blow my cover. Do I need to remind you that you’re a cop and you know what you’re doing? I’m okay. A little shaken up, but okay.”

  She was still really upset.

  “They just wanted to scare me. And it worked. But I don’t think they would’ve tried anything else because if Cody found out, they
’d be in deep shit and if Dragon or Eddie found out, all of ’em would lose their tat privileges and their free meeting space.

  Besides, I might’ve scored points ’cause I didn’t turn them in. Not that I wouldn’t like you to have the chance to open a can on their asses.”

  Chris started chuckling. She gave my hand a final squeeze and released it. “Dammit, Fontero. If anything happened to you, my life would not be worth living.”

  “I know.” I smiled sweetly at her but became serious immediately. “Thanks for watching my back.”

  She hugged me again. “For real. You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I still felt shaky, but I was all right.

  “Good. C’mon. I’ll buy you a beer.”

  “Damn right you will,” I teased her. “Meet you at Kelly’s.”

  “I’m there.”

  She followed me to my car and waited until I got in and started driving before she went back into Eight Ball.

  Chapter Seventeen

  AN HOUR LATER I pulled up in front of Sage and Jeff’s. My disposable cell phone rang. I checked the number. Megan’s pay phone. “Hey. How are you doing?”

  “God, K.C., I am so glad you’re here. I don’t know what to do. He took my car and I don’t know where he went. I can’t get away from him. There’s never enough time and there’s almost always somebody watching me. I thought about telling somebody at Allsup’s, but they know I’m his girlfriend and they wouldn’t get involved.”

  “Are you ready to leave, then?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation. “Oh, God, I’m so fucking stupid. I can’t believe—”

  “Time enough for that later,” I interrupted gently.

  “How often can you use the phone?”

  “Not very. Fortunately, Timmy—one of the guys who’s always around—smokes and he’s addicted to PlayStation. That’s all most of them do all day. So he sends me out for cigarettes and other stuff and he times me. If I’m longer than twenty minutes, he sends someone looking.”

  That sleazy son of a bitch. I tried to keep my voice calm. Megan needed cool heads right now. “Okay, I heard there’s an ADR meeting there on Thursday.”

  “Yeah. That’s all they’ve been talking about because they’re also planning something big. I think they want to blow something up but I don’t know what.”

  So they do have Armageddon fever. “Do you know what time the meeting is?”

  “Eight. Timmy was talking about it yesterday.”

  “Will Cody be there?”

  “Oh, definitely. He lives there.”

  Really. How convenient.

  “I have to go. My time’s almost up.”

  “All right. Now I need you to hang in there. We’re working on some stuff on this end and we’ll see how things go come Thursday. Do not do anything out of the ordinary. Promise?”

  “Promise. Bye.”

  She hung up and I fervently hoped she got off the phone in time. Rage crept through my veins until I felt like I honestly could dismember each and every one of them with my bare hands. I got out of the car and headed down the walk to Megan’s. Neither Sage nor Jeff was around so I settled in and called Mark. I got his voice-mail and I left a message, telling him to check with Chris about the wire and about what happened today. I automatically left my cell phone number though he probably had it.

  I went into the kitchen and started working on getting the temporary tats off my arms now that I wouldn’t need them anymore. Chris and Mark weren’t going to let me attend any kind of meeting with white supremacists. Especially not one where guns were being stockpiled. They’d get a real cop to infiltrate. Plus, Megan said the meeting was at the Partridge address. She might not be able to pretend she didn’t know me. And what if that asshole Watkins was there? He could recognize me, if he was the guy who tried to break in. This situation was on its way to being a stake-out and sting operation. Still, I wanted to be involved somehow. Had to be. I owed that to Megan. The Sharpie ink was proving stubborn and I scrubbed harder. Anything to keep me from driving to Edgewood and ripping Cody’s head off. My Austin phone rang while I was engaged at the sink. I turned off the water and checked the ID. Chris.

  “What’s up? Can’t get enough of me, huh?” I teased.

  She gave a little laugh. “I just heard from Cody’s probation officer in Colorado and they’d sure like him to return and do some time for skipping town without permission. APD has the go-ahead to pick him up.

  And I called my guy in Utah and we’ve got the go-ahead to pick Watkins up, too. I’m thinking we should do it Thursday at the meeting. Have us a nice, big, New Mexico-style rodeo.”

  “That is the best news ever.”

  “I have to make some calls to figure out how it’s gonna go down. And no, you are not going to the meeting. Not with these guys. Not on my watch. So get those damn things off your arms.”

  I looked down at the faded Sharpie tats and sighed. “Gladly. But I have to be there in some capacity.”

  “Kase—”

  “I know these guys are dangerous. Today proved that. But Megan’s in a freaky place right now and I think it’s best for me to be there for her. I don’t have to be anywhere near the action.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  She was noncommittal but I knew Chris would make a good decision and she would have excellent reasons, whether I agreed with her or not. I also knew that what happened today would not play in my favor for going with them on Thursday.

  “Okay,” I continued carefully. “I think you’ll need more than a couple of cops on this because I think they’re stockpiling. Megan said that she thinks they’re planning to blow something up and if they have explosives on the premises...”

  “Fuck. Okay, listen. Let me consult. I know Mark’s had Edgewood under surveillance for a while now and I told him about the Partridge house. He knows the address. Let’s see if he thinks it makes sense to go in now or if we need to hold off. I’ll let you know.

  Right now, I need to go home and grab some sleep, which I think you need, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Esa,” she began. She paused for a bit, then continued. “Promise me you won’t do anything else between now and then.” She didn’t have her cop tone on, but she was serious and this was her way of telling me that what had happened bothered her and that she was really worried about me.

  “No, ma’am,” I said meekly. I trusted her judgment.

  Her voice softened. “What happened today—I can’t put you at risk like that again. It scares me. And if you go running off, you could also fuck it up for Megan. Do you understand where I’m coming from on this? Did what happen today tell you something about these assholes?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted.

  “And if anything else happened to you, I would never forgive myself. I’m serious. I can’t imagine not having you around. This is bad shit. Are you hearing me?”

  “Yes.” I felt like a kid getting lectured.

  “And I feel so bad about even suggesting that you go ahead with that meeting. Fuck, I even asked you to wear a wire. What the fuck was I thinking? I am so sorry.”

  I heard pain in her voice. I tried to put her at ease.

  “We’re both adults. I was going to meet with them regardless. Think how pissed off you’d be if I didn’t tell you what I was doing and all that shit went down.”

  She didn’t respond for so long I thought the call got dropped. “Chris?”

  “I cannot even think about that. Oh, my God.

  Please, Kase. Don’t do anything for a while. Let me get some stuff figured out and we’ll see where we are on Thursday.” I heard her swear in Spanish before she continued with me. “I mean it. Please don’t do anything for a couple of days. Please?”

  “I won’t. For real.” I meant it.

  “Good. I would never—well, if my never forgiving myself isn’t reason enough, Sage would kick my ass, too.” I heard a chuckle in her voice and I relaxed. “I’m on my way home now. Are you okay there?�
��

  “Yeah. Fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Call if you need me.” Her voice had softened.

  “I will. Bye.” The reference to Sage made me feel sort of goofy. I hung up and examined my forearms.

  Though faded, the temporary tats remained visible.

  Ick, especially after today. Back to work. I was scrubbing at my arms when I heard a gentle knock at the door.

  “K.C., it’s me.”

  “Door’s open,” I yelled above the water.

  Sage appeared in the kitchen doorway. “I was coming over to see if you were hungry and here you are playing in the kitchen sink.”

  I turned to look at her and smiled. “Damn Sharpie.”

  She joined me at the sink. “I have some stuff at the house that’ll take care of it. Come on. You’ll rub your skin off this way and you might actually need it.” She grinned and reached past me to turn the water off.

  I followed her and locked the outer door. I was grateful she had come by. I really wanted not to think about today for a little bit.

  She sat me down on the back porch and went inside for a minute. When she returned she had a box of baking soda, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a bottle of what looked like lotion, and a soft damp rag. She pulled a chair up next to me and poured some of the baking soda on the rag. She set to work on my right arm, talking as she did so.

  “River once decided to paint his arms. He must’ve been about eight. Well, he used this blue paint he found in the kitchen. He pried the can open and finger-painted stripes and polka dots all over his arms. Then he started in on his legs. And holy shit, it was all over his face. When my mom got home, she about had a cow right there. I mean, he was a fucking train wreck. He looked like what everybody says the Roswell aliens looked like.”

  Sage looked up at me, her eyes twinkling.

  “Anyway, my mom got out the baking soda and rubbed him down and most of it came off. He looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy for a minute. What didn’t come off with that came off with alcohol.” She began rubbing again. “He screeched like a dog in heat while she was doing it. It took a couple of weeks for it to wear out of his hair so I called him Smurf for months after that. When he gets on my nerves nowadays, I’ll just say ‘what’s that, Smurf boy?’ ”