by Chris LeGrow
He pushed George toward the couch so that his knees were level with Jeff ’s forehead. “Harry, go down and watch the girls, will you?” George asked.
“Sure,” he said and was out.
“No need for another go-round with the hair-trigger Taser,” George said.
Tink nodded. “That’s for sure.”
They waited patiently for Jeff to come to.
His world spun. He blinked at the increasing light. Slowly but surely his surroundings came into focus. Jeff shook his head. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his forehead. “Ah,” he managed to get out and raised a hand to scrub at the pain
“Atta boy,” Jeff heard. “He’s coming out of it.”
Through a narrowed gaze, Jeff once again saw the men who’d entered his home. Their outlines were fuzzy, and they spoke to each other directly above him. “Hey. He’s looking at us.”
George reached down and lightly tapped Jeff ’s cheek. “Helloooo. You with us, Jeff?”
Jeff pushed up onto an elbow. “What’s going on?”
“You fell,” the man in the wheelchair said. “Smacked your head really good.”
Jeff struggled to sit up; two massive arms pushed him back down. The big man bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile.
“Just lay there a little longer, Jeff,” the man in the wheelchair said.
Jeff ’s head cleared, the two elderly men stared down at him. “Who…who are you?”
“You can call me George,” the man in the wheelchair said. “We’re here because we understand things have been kind of stressful here since you lost your job with the office cleaning business.”
Jeff shot George an angry look. “How do you know about that?”
Jeff tried to get up again.
“Jeff,” George said. “You still have the Taser darts attached. You looking for another jolt?”
Jeff froze, glancing from one man to the other. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m not.”
“Good,” George said in a softer voice. “You’re a smart boy. I’ll get straight to the point, Jeff. You’re letting the stress get to you and we don’t like what we’re seeing.”
“We?” Jeff asked. “You mean you old men—you thugs and henchmen who broke into my house and assaulted me? What do you know about my stress?”
“Settle down,” George said. “We didn’t break in. The door was open.”
Jeff warmed to his topic. “Who do you think you are?”
“That’s enough,” George said pointing a shaky finger directly at Jeff ’s nose. “You’re gonna start making some changes around here or you’re going to be the recipient of a lot more visits from me and my associates.”
Jeff stared hard at the men. There was no fear, concern, or weakness in their faces. They gave off a vibe of intimidation. Not like any old men he’d ever known.
“Can I sit up?”
The big man looked at George. He nodded and Jeff slowly sat up.
“Uh,” Jeff said, “are you guys robbing us? We don’t have anything.”
The big man started to chuckle. “Hey, George, he thinks we’re crooks.”
George laughed too.
“Then what do you want?” Jeff snapped a little too loudly.
George put his finger up as if to silence him. “I’m glad you asked. We’re here to keep you from destroying yourself and your family.”
Confusion flashed through Jeff again. His brows knit together and he shook his head. “What?”
“Let me make this real simple. You,” George jabbed his index finger at Jeff ’s chest, “are going to stop drinking. You’re also going to start taking better care of your children or I’ll have Child Protective Services in this house quicker than you can ever imagine. I understand your wife is almost finished with nursing school?”
The amount of information the man knew about him took Jeff aback. Where in the world had he come up with all this? Jeff nodded yes.
“Good! You’re going to be more supportive of her and you’ll start by helping run the house while she’s studying and at school. That’ll take a lot of pressure off and allow her to become a nurse. Yes?”
Jeff could only nod yet again.
“Of course it will!” George barked. “When she starts her job, the two of you can work out how you’re going to get some training in a field that interests you.”
“O—” Jeff said slowly, trying to gather in everything George was saying, “kay.” He strove to keep his tone as nonthreatening as possible. “But how do you know all this? About me and my wife?”
“Jeffey-boy,” George said, “We’re just some old men who overhear things in the park. Your daughters, Chelsea and Joy, are adorable by the way.”
“Ah,” Jeff slowly responded. “Thanks, but h—”
“We’re tired of seeing families break apart,” George continued, “so we decided to do an intervention this time. Hope you don’t find us too intrusive?”
Jeff spotted the walker with its little red button. “Not if you don’t come back.”
“Smart guy,” George said.
George gazed around the apartment. “You could definitely do more cleaning so everything doesn’t fall on Nicki.”
“How do you know—” Jeff stopped himself from asking how he knew his wife’s name, but decided to sit quietly and hope they left soon.
“Look at us, young man,” George said. “We’ve all been where you are: young, trying to provide for your family and all the pain and frustration that goes with it. You’ll pull through this but you’ve got to let your wife help. She’s very gifted at what she does and eventually you two will have a wonderful life together. But you’ve got to pull it together, man. You understand?”
Jeff ’s head throbbed and he looked at the darts still hanging on him. “Yes, I do.”
George nodded and the big man gathered up the walker. “We’re leaving now but we’ll be back if things don’t change,” he pointed at Jeff to emphasize his point, “for the better.”
The big man walked up to Jeff. He flinched and turned his head. “Don’t worry,” he said, “this will only sting a little.”
He grabbed the darts and plucked each one out of Jeff ’s upper chest and stomach. The first one hurt. “Ow! That’s more than a little.”
“Sorry kid,” he said and took a step back.
The big man pocketed the darts and turned the man in the wheelchair toward the front door. George put his hand up. “Wait.”
The man pushing turned him around to face Jeff. “If I ever hear so much as a peep about you touching Nicki in anything but a loving manner—you ever hurt her in anyway, we’ll be back and those electrical darts? That’ll be nothing compared to what we’ll do.”
Jeff swallowed hard. He didn’t know who they were, but they came off like a white-haired SWAT team. They actually scared the crap out of him!
The door swung open and two little girls clambered through followed by Harry who looked more than a little frazzled. “Chelsea and Joy wanted to come up for a snack,” he said.
“Hi,” Chelsea said with a bright-eyed smile.
Jeff watched the men who’d terrified and threatened him moments earlier melt into a puddle of grandfatherly love.
“Well, hello there,” George said. “Aren’t you two the cutest I’ve ever seen?”
“Wow,” Joy said and bounded up to George. “Three kid’s grandpas!”
Smiles lit each man’s face.
“What are you doing here?” Chelsea asked.
George’s smile widened. “Oh I’m just an old grandpa and I got confused. I thought this was where a friend lives but it’s not. When you get older, sometimes you forget; I’m sorry.”
The girls beamed at the visitors. “That’s okay,” Joy said. “Right, Daddy?”
The men all turned a threatening look at Jeff. Message received loud and clear. “That’s right, baby. Daddy was just showing them out.”
George waved at the children. “But we did give your daddy
a little direction of our own.”
George glanced up at Jeff. “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Jeff answered.
“Good.”
The three men left the apartment without another word.
Jeff watched them from the living room window. He lost sight of them once they left the park. His mind whirled trying to make sense of what had just occurred.
“I’m hungry, Daddy,” little Chelsea said.
“I’ll get the cereal,” Joy said.
Jeff watched his small children moving around the kitchen and a wave of shame hit him. What had he been thinking, let alone doing? The old men were right—on all counts.
“Wait a minute,” he said to his daughters. “How about Daddy makes some pancakes?”
The girl’s eyes widened and they smiled at one another. “Yeah!” each one said with a giggle and bounced up and down.
Jeff had forgotten how good it felt to do what was right. He twirled his fingers in Chelsea’s silky hair. “Who wants theirs in a heart shape?”
Still bouncing around the kitchen, each girl raised her hand. “Me!”
“Me!”
Giggles trilled through the apartment.
Jeff gathered the ingredients and put each one on the counter.
“I didn’t know Daddy could make pancakes,” Chelsea said to her older sister.
“Daddy hasn’t made pancakes in a long time.”
ABRAHIM’S PROBATION OFFICER SHOT THE YOUNG MAN A sharp look over the reading glasses perched at the end of his nose. “Why are you so interested in volunteering at the police officers’ retirement home?”
“I enjoyed our last outing,” Abrahim lied smoothly. “Those old men are cooler than you think.”
The PO’s stare intensified. “Seriously? Since when are police officers cool?”
“Since I spent time with ’em.” Abrahim met the PO’s direct gaze with one he’d perfected a long time ago. One that until recently had gotten him out of more scrapes than he had fingers and toes.
The PO shifted in his seat behind a desk piled with too many files. “Not saying I believe you,” he said, “but it’s a great way to work off your community service. If you mind your manners, it could get you off probation a little sooner.”
The PO directed what Abrahim thought was supposed to be a stern look. Didn’t make it; it only made the PO seem like a jerk.
“Kind of odd that this struck you so suddenly when you hardly did anything for the four months before.”
Abrahim shrugged off the suggestion, “My mom wants me off probation, she’s always nagging me about it.” He pasted on a wide smile that he definitely didn’t feel. “’Sides,” he said, “I kinda liked taking ’em out and working with them. I thought if I could do it some more, it would help us both.” The fabrication slid off his tongue smooth as hot butter. He hoped it was enough to satisfy the officer.
The PO’s face still didn’t look convinced, but he shoved a set of paperwork at him. “Give the top one to your driver and have the nurse sign the other one.”
This time the smile that split Abrahim’s face was genuine. His cousin would love how this whole thing went down. After all, he was the one who’d taught Abrahim all he knew about manipulating people. It was the only way to get along in the justice system.
Three days later, Abrahim’s driver pulled to a stop outside the home. “Okay, Abrahim, we’re on from noon to four o’clock every day. I’ll pick you up at four. Make sure the nurse signs the community service sheet or it’ll be like you never completed the hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Abrahim said. He hopped out of the car and waved as his driver pulled away. “Fools!” he said to himself. “I’ll know everything I need to about these guys in one week; Clubba will know too.”
The Sarge glanced at the security monitor and smiled. “Well, well,” he said. “Look who decided to give some community service. Hey, Tiny,” he called across the lobby, “you gotta see this.”
“What?”
The Sarge pulled the unlit stogie from his mouth and pointed. “Know who that is?”
Tiny took one glance and made a disgusted sound. “Sure do. What’s he doing here?”
“Best guess is killing two birds with one stone,” the Sarge said and shoved the cigar butt back in his mouth. “Spying on us—you in particular—and being his cousin Clubba’s eyes and ears on the ground.”
“No coincidence here,” Tiny said.
“There’s no coincidence period,” the Sarge said. “We’ll have to make sure he gets educated correctly so when Clubba gets out—”
“—we’ll have a little surprise for him,” Tiny said with a harsh laugh.
“He’s getting signed in with his paperwork so I’ll make this quick,” the Sarge said. “Make sure he knows you have a nightly walk around the grounds every evening. That should interest Clubba. My guess is that he’ll come calling as soon as he gets out of prison.”
“I’m sure he will,” Tiny said and struggled to draw breath. He pressed a hand over his heart and wheezed.
“Sit,” the Sarge directed and indicated a chair in front of him.
Tiny did as indicated, a move that said everything about his health. Tiny at one hundred percent would’ve told his superior where he could stick that order.
This wasn’t good. The Sarge bent down in front of him. “You don’t have much longer, Tiny.”
Tiny raised his gaze and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve already lasted three times longer than the doctor said I would.”
“Between your heart and the cancer—”
“I could go at any time. Tell you the truth, Sarge; it’ll be a relief. I had a good life but I’m so blasted weak and tired.” His shoulders lifted and fell in a deep sigh. “And I’m so sick of pissing myself.”
The Sarge settled his hand on Tiny’s shoulder. “You’re one of the best cops I’ve ever known, Tiny. Bar none. Without you this whole operation would never have worked. Clubba’s furious and he’s sent his cousin after you. Yet here you sit, calm and cool, ready to act as bait.” The Sarge shook his head and looked out the window. “When it’s my time to go, I hope I can call my shots like you have.”
“Don’t get all sappy on me,” Tiny said. “I’m not dead yet.”
“No, you aren’t,” the Sarge said. “Maybe we’ll name a toilet after you.”
A slight smile lifted Tiny’s lips. “I want a nice silver plaque right on the floor between the feet of every Blue that uses it. They can think of me each time they drop a load.”
The two shared a quick laugh. Tiny’s ended with a coughing spasm…and blood. The Sarge reached for the handkerchief in his pocket and dabbed the blood from the corner of Tiny’s mouth. “Good as new.”
“You’re a lousy liar.” Tiny peered at the monitor. “Abrahim’s headed toward the precinct.”
“Time to move.”
Tiny reached for the Sarge’s arm and held it a moment. “In the end, all us Blues take care of each other. I’m proud to have known you all these years, Sarge.”
The Sarge managed a weak smile for his friend. The knowledge that Tiny wouldn’t be around much longer pierced him to the core.
“Like I said, you’re a lousy liar so don’t say anything.” Tiny shook his finger at him. “Nobody is to know about what I’m doing, Sarge. Not until this assignment is finished, understand?” Tiny pushed out of the chair and turned toward the door. “It’s not the end of my tour yet. Not today.” He turned back and jerked his head toward the incoming boy. “Let’s go meet the little spy Clubba sent us.”
Earnest Yates lay in his top bunk and stared at the ceiling. What he’d learned about Clubba had impressed him. Protected by every major gang, he controlled all the information going out. The plan was to keep his Sudanese soldiers in the prison system to extend that sphere of influence to both sides of the walls. Earnest jackknifed into a sitting position.
“Lay still,” his bu
nkmate growled.
“Shut up,” Earnest said. He turned the thought over in his mind. Both sides of the wall—that was it! Once Clubba left the pen, he’d extend his influence outside as well. That meant he’d get special protection from each of the gangs in Omaha and maybe farther. He wasn’t aiming to be just an associate; he was gunning to be the kingpin.
Clubba’s biggest problem was an over-inflated ego. He thought he couldn’t be touched, that he could get away with whatever he wanted. Earnest laid back on his mattress and smiled into the darkness. How often had he seen that same hubris trip guys up? Once they thought they could get away with anything—or everything—they got overconfident. A quick way to die in the joint.
On the outside, cops would take a special interest in him. He’d get caught and be back here within a year or two. Earnest had seen it happen repeatedly. Hell, it happened to him. Until he walked out of the place, Earnest planned to work on the overconfident kingpin. Maybe he could get the kid to do him a little favor.
Late that afternoon Earnest approached Clubba in the common area. “Know that little freak who threw that bag of piss at you?”
Clubba met Earnest’s gaze blandly. “Not yet but I will. You can bet on it.”
Earnest plopped down across the table from Clubba without being invited and broke an inmate taboo. Inmates don’t sit when no invitation was extended. It was a great way to get the beating of your life. Clubba stiffened and straightened in his seat.
“I already know,” Earnest said quietly.
Clubba’s dark stare zeroed in on Earnest. “Tell me,” he demanded in a whisper.
Earnest eased forward at the table. Clubba’s tone and underlying ultimatum let him know everything he needed. He didn’t want to be overheard and he had a weak spot: a lack of knowledge. Earnest had something of real value to Clubba. “Why?” Earnest asked. “Why is he so important to you?”
Clubba clenched his left fist into a tight ball. “Never mind,” he growled. “Who is he?”
Earnest gazed around the room and whispered back. “He stays at the retired police officers home in Omaha.”
Clubba drew back and frowned. “What is his name?”
