North of Nowhere: An Alex McKnight Novel

by Steve Hamilton

  “Yeah, we got that part,” Vargas said. “Tell me why he couldn’t play.”

  “We don’t know,” Bennett said.

  “You don’t know. Okay. And last week, when he couldn’t play, you didn’t know why then either.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay. So we play with five last week over at Bennett’s bar and the game sucks and we would have played with five this week, but fortunately, Jackie just so happens to have this friend Alex handy who can fill in for Swanson.”

  “Leave Alex out of this,” Jackie said. “I asked him to play. So we’d have six. That’s all there is to it. We don’t know anything about Swanson.”

  “What about next week?” Vargas said. “Is Swanson going to play next week? Or will Alex be sitting in again? Because we certainly wouldn’t want to cancel the game, now would we? Because then my wife wouldn’t have an excuse to go have a night out with the girls.”

  “Vargas…”

  “Which apparently, gentlemen, doesn’t mean that she’s actually doing anything with the girls like she says she is, but instead is getting a little free legal advice from our good friend the lawyer Mr. Swanson, Esquire, in room one-seventeen of the Best Western Inn, even as we speak.”

  Nobody said anything. Vargas tried to pour himself another drink, dumping half the bottle into his little chip compartment. He looked down at the whiskey fizzing away on his brand new poker table.

  The dog started barking. We just sat there watching Vargas, while his miserable little rat of a dog barked its little rat head off.

  “Miata,” Vargas finally said. “What the fuck are you barking about?”

  We found out about two seconds later. Just when I thought the night couldn’t get any worse, the men with the guns broke down every door in the house.

  Chapter Four

  “Everybody facedown on the floor! Move it move it move it move it!”

  It all happened in a dreamlike unreality, something played out in slow motion, in another dimension where none of the rules apply. I had been in that place once before, the night my partner was shot and died on the floor next to me. I didn’t think I’d ever have to visit that place again. But here I was. Here we all were.

  “I said on the floor now! Are you deaf?”

  I heard the sound of a chair being upended, a body hitting the floor. It was Kenny, I thought. Somehow, I was already on the floor myself. I was trying to stop my own head from spinning, trying to breathe again and to make myself think clearly about what was happening.

  One man. Another there. Was there a third? Yes. Three men. Some of the lights went out. The Tiffany lamp above the table was still on, casting a bright circle in the center of the room. The dog was running around the place in a total frenzy, making more noise than a dog that size should be able to make.

  “Nobody moves. Are we clear on that, gentlemen? One move and we start shooting. All of you.”

  Handguns. Three men with handguns. Glocks, I think—that sleek, black profile. I didn’t see any faces. Why didn’t I see any faces?

  I was lying on the carpet, my face turned away from the table, away from the others. The other players must have been spread out behind me, I thought, all around the table in about the same positions as they were sitting.

  One of the men walked by me. His shoes were covered with green fabric. Like they wear in the hospital. That’s why I didn’t see any faces. Just a flash of…Yes, of green. They were wearing surgical masks.

  The dog took a run at one of them. I could see him tearing at the green fabric with his teeth.

  “Goddamn miserable little rat! Get away from me!”

  I needed to see the others. I needed to see Jackie, especially. I waited for the man to hop by me, trying to shake the dog loose. Then I flipped my head to the other side. I was facing Jackie now. His eyes were open.

  “You! I thought I told you not to move!”

  A gun was pressed to the left side of my head. I could feel the cold metallic sting of it. He pressed down on the gun, pinning me to the floor with it.

  “I believe I asked you not to move? Did I not ask that?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “You move again and I’ll shoot you in the head. Then I’ll pick somebody else and shoot him in the head. Are we clear on that? You have permission to nod your head now.”

  I nodded my head.

  “Good man.”

  The same man was doing all the talking. I could only see his feet as he moved next to Vargas and stood over him. “You,” he said. “Is this your dog?”

  “Yes.”

  “On your feet. But keep your eyes on the floor.”

  Vargas didn’t move. His eyes were closed.

  “I said on your feet.” A hand reached down and grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar.

  “Leave him alone,” Bennett said. He picked his head up.

  I saw the second man move toward Bennett. He kicked him hard, right in the ribs. Bennett dropped his head back to the floor, his face gone red with the pain. He fought hard to breathe.

  “Okay,” the first man said. “You’ve got ten seconds to get this dog off us and into a closet. Starting now.”

  Canadian, I thought. This one sounds Canadian. The other two, they haven’t said a word yet.

  Vargas came off the floor and grabbed the dog, who had gotten hold of one of the men’s shoes again. “Come on, Miata. Take it easy.” It took him a few seconds to pry open the dog’s jaws. Then the dog started barking again. “Good dog, Miata. Good dog. Good dog.”

  I heard a door open and shut behind me, and then the muffled sound of the dog barking and trying to tear the door down with its teeth and claws.

  “All right now, that’s better. You’re gonna go upstairs with this man here, and you’re gonna open up your safe. Make sure you keep your eyes on the ground, eh?”

  Keep your eyes on the “groond,” eh? Definitely Canadian.

  “We hear one funny noise, we start shooting your friends. Do you understand?”

  They left the room. There were five of us on the floor now, with two men watching over us. They paced around the table, moving silently in their green slippers. Miata kept attacking the closet door.

  I could see one shoe, where the dog had ripped the fabric. Old athletic shoes, a dirty shade of gray, with blue diagonal stripes. I couldn’t guess the brand.

  I looked at Jackie. He looked good, all things considered. He was calm. He returned my look, giving me a slight nod.

  Bennett was still catching his wind, his eyes closed.

  Kenny’s eyes were wide open. He was shaking, and obviously scared out of his ponytailed head. I didn’t dare say anything to him. Look over here, I thought. Goddamn it, hold yourself together. I willed him to look at me. His eyes didn’t seem to be focusing on anything at all.

  I couldn’t see Gill’s face, but his body was still. I’m sure Gill is just fine, I thought. It’s Kenny I’m worried about.

  And Vargas. I hope he’s cooperating up there.

  Maybe five minutes passed, though it could have been five hours. The two men kept pacing. I looked at their legs, tried to measure their stride. Both around six feet tall, I thought. The one with the athletic shoes a little heavier than the other. So let’s say maybe 180 for Man Number One, the man who sounded Canadian. A little over 200 for Man Number Two, with a description of his shoes that wouldn’t be much help to anybody. Definitely Glocks they were carrying, now that I got a little better look, and both identical. I tried to remember the most common model numbers—Glock 17, 21,31…I didn’t know the gun well enough to say.

  Man Number One went to the window. As he moved away from the table I got a better look at him. He was wearing blue jeans and some sort of black, shiny plastic coat.

  No, a garbage bag. He had a black plastic garbage bag on. Along with the surgical mask, and the cap made from the same green fabric. As he turned around, I saw his eyes. I could see that he had fair skin, and eyebrows so blond they w
ere invisible.

  He looked right at me and saw me looking at him. I quickly looked away, but it was too late. I heard him come toward me, and then once again I felt the weight of the gun press against my left temple.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  This is it, I thought. This is the last thing I feel. The carpet against one side of my face, the gun against the other. A dog scratching at a door, the last sound I’ll ever hear. Until the gunblast.

  I waited for it. The gun didn’t move.

  “What’s taking them so long?” the other man said, his first words. This man didn’t sound Canadian. “Maybe one of us should go check on them?”

  “Just relax,” the man above me said. I felt the gun leave my head. “Give ’em another minute.”

  “I should have shot that dog.”

  “You don’t shoot dogs.”

  “That one I would shoot. It’s not even a dog.”

  “Thing’s so small you would have missed it.”

  There was a sudden commotion from upstairs. It sounded like glass breaking.

  “The fuck’s going on up there?”

  “It’s okay. He told you to expect that.”

  “Sounds like he’s destroying the place.”

  “You know what he’s doing.”

  There was another crash, and then another. A few seconds passed, and then there was another crash that had to be a window breaking.

  A minute later, the third man came back into the room.

  “Where is he?” the first man asked.

  There was no answer, not one that I could hear.

  “Are we done?”

  Again, no answer. Maybe the man was just gesturing with his hands, or nodding his head.

  “All right, let’s get the hell out of here then,” the first man said. “Gentlemen, here’s what you’re going to do. I see a very fancy oven in that kitchen. I’m sure it has a timer on it. I’m going to set it for fifteen minutes. During that time, you will not move, eh? Do you understand me? You will not move a muscle. I hope you appreciate the fact that we didn’t shoot anybody. In fact, you’ll notice that you still have your wallets, your watches, your wedding rings. Please don’t make us change our minds. It would really spoil the evening, don’t you think?”

  On that note, they left. We heard the door close. A vehicle started up in the driveway and then drove away. We all kept lying there on the floor. There was no other sound except the dog in the closet.

  “Like hell I’m staying here for fifteen minutes,” Jackie said.

  “How’s everybody doing?” I said. “Bennett? You all right?”

  “I think so,” he said, sitting up.

  “Get down!” Kenny said. “Didn’t you hear what they said?”

  “Kenny, if they come back,” Bennett said, “I’ll be sure to tell them not to shoot you.”

  “Where’s Vargas?” Gill said. “I don’t think he came back down.”

  We all looked at each other—not including Kenny, who still had his nose buried in the carpet. “Why don’t you guys make sure they’re gone,” I said. “And call the police. Jackie and I’ll go see about Vargas.”

  “You got it,” Bennett said. “C’mon, Gill.”

  Jackie rubbed his legs as he stood up. “I’m too damned old for this,” he said. “You reach a certain point in your life, you shouldn’t have guns pointed at you.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” I said. We went up the stairs.

  Jackie stopped midway up, leaned over with one hand on his knee, the other on the rail.

  “Jackie, are you all right?”

  “Is this what it felt like, Alex? When you were a cop and that man was pointing the gun at you?”

  “Yeah, it was,” I said. “Right up until he shot me.”

  “Do you think they would’ve shot us if they had to?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m glad we didn’t have to find out.”

  “Which room is he in?” Jackie said, pulling himself back up. He went to the first door and pushed it open. “He’s not in here.”

  “All that glass breaking,” I said. “I’ve got a feeling he’s down here…” I led him to the last door in the hallway. It was closed. I gave Jackie one more look, and then I pushed the door open.

  Vargas was on the floor, his hands on his face. The rest of the room was in a complete shambles. All the maps had been torn off the walls. The display cases had been broken, every single one of them. The window overlooking the river was shattered.

  “Vargas!” I said, bending down next to him. I put my hand on his back. He was alive.

  “Oh God,” he said. “Oh God oh God oh God.”

  “Are you all right?” I helped him up. He got halfway up and then sat back down against the wall. He looked at me, and then at Jackie, and then at what was left of his room.

  “What happened downstairs?” he finally said.

  “Everybody’s fine,” I said. “They just left.”

  “The dog’s still in the closet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anybody call the police yet?”

  “Bennett’s probably doing that right now,” I said.

  “He put the gun on the back of my neck and said, ‘Open the safe, or this bullet will come out right between your eyes.’ When I opened it, he made me get down here on my knees and cover my face with my hands. And then he started smashing everything. I was afraid to look.”

  “You did the right thing,” I said. “Nothing else you could’ve done.”

  “He knew about the safe,” Vargas said. “He even knew what room it was in.”

  I turned and saw the open safe on the far wall. It had been hidden behind one of the maps.

  “Why destroy the place?” Vargas said. He pushed himself up against the wall until he was on his feet. “Why did he do that?”

  “Look down here,” Jackie said. He was standing by the window.

  Vargas crunched through all the broken glass, picking his way across the room. When he got to the window, he stood next to Jackie and looked out. A breeze brought the damp smell of the river into the room.

  I went to the window, making the same sounds as Vargas on the broken glass. Peeking over their shoulders, I saw the wreckage on the ground below. One of the maps was halfway out of its frame, a corner flapping as the wind picked up. Vargas’s telescope lay a good thirty feet from the house, right on the shoreline, half of it on land and half in the dark water. A thousand shards of glass twinkled in the light from the back deck.

  Vargas looked out for a long moment. Then he looked at Jackie and me again. “They knew where the safe was,” he said. “That’s the thing. How did they know that?”

  I didn’t think it was a question we were supposed to answer, so I didn’t even try.

  “How did they know that?” he said again.

  “Come on,” Jackie said. “Let’s go downstairs.”

  He took Vargas by the arm. Vargas didn’t seem to want to move at first, but finally he did. We all crunched our way out of the room and down the stairs. Kenny had finally gotten off the floor, God bless him, but he still looked like somebody needed to slap the color back into his face.

  “Win!” he said. “What the hell happened up there?”

  “He made me open the safe,” Vargas said. “Then he smashed the window and every fucking thing in the room.”

  “Police are on the way,” Bennett said. “Gill is outside.”

  “Where’s my dog?”

  “They broke one of your doors,” Bennett said. “I guess the other two must have been unlocked.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t figure on getting invaded,” Vargas said. “If they hurt that dog…”

  The shock was wearing off, I thought. I’ve seen this before. Now it’s time for him to start getting mad…

  “Come here, Miata,” he said, opening the closet door. The dog came bolting out into the room, ready to kill somebody. He ran out into the kitchen, legs skittering all over the place, and then back into
the poker room, the living room, every room in the house, barking himself hoarse.

  “Is that the bravest little fucking dog you’ve ever seen or what?” Vargas said. “At least somebody put up a fight.”

  “I seem to recall Bennett taking a nice shot for you,” Jackie said.

  “When was that?” he said.

  “For God’s sake,” Jackie said, “when they pulled you off the floor, he told them to leave you alone, remember? They kicked him right in the ribs.”

  Vargas looked at Bennett, and seemed to be playing the scene back in his mind.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Bennett said. “It was stupid, anyway.”

  Vargas kept looking at him, and was about to say something when Gill came into the room. “No sign of the police,” he said. “They should be here by now.”

  “Did you call the Soo police?” I said. “Or the state troopers?”

  “Soo,” he said. “I mean, that’s where we are, right?”

  Vargas picked up the bottle of Jack Daniels from the poker table and took a hit off it. Then he went to the sliding door, opened it, and went out onto the deck. The thought of fresh air must have appealed to everyone at that point, because we all followed him.

  I was the last one out. By the time I was on the deck, Vargas had already walked down the steps to the river. He picked up the telescope from the shoreline and held it in his hands.

  Kenny went down and stood next to him. The rest of us stayed on the deck, watching over them. “What did they take?” Kenny said.

  “They cleaned out the safe,” Vargas said.

  “What was in it?”

  Vargas looked at him, and then up at us. “You all know what was in the safe,” he said.

  “How much money was in there?” Kenny said.

  “When the police get here,” he said, “let me talk to them about the safe. Everybody got that?”

  Another freighter came moving down the river. It was at least seven hundred feet long, moving too quietly for something that big. Bennett, Jackie, and Gill all leaned against the rail and watched it pass. The flag was American.

  “What else did they take?” Kenny said. “Anything?”

  “It looks like they just threw all this shit out the window,” Vargas said. “Some of it made the water. The rest of it…”