“And when we got to Dutch,” Speed Trap said, pulling his plate far enough to one side that even Grant’s long arms couldn’t reach what was left of the hot dog, “he was off the boat and gone as soon as we got to the pier. He actually jumped off the boat before we even tied up.” Speed Trap looked down at his plate dejectedly. “And we’ve thrown those greenhorns overboard,” he mumbled. “That’s the worst thing of all, Grant.”
Grant chuckled dispassionately. “That’s just because Sage and Dad want to save some money, little brother. That’s just them being big old bastards.” He finished the beans by picking up his plate and tilting it so they dribbled into his mouth. “You and I didn’t see any of that money, did we?” he asked when the last bean was gone. “Technically, we should have split Troy’s share, but we didn’t. I got eighty-one grand. What did you get?”
“Same.”
“I rest my case. Throwing those greenhorns over the side is just about the money. And we’re not the only ship that does it.”
Speed Trap remembered the terror he’d felt as he was hanging off the side of the Arctic Fire in that storm by what seemed like nothing more than one thin strand of the yellow safety harness. And that incredible sensation of overpowering relief that had rushed through his body when Troy had pulled him back on board. For a few incredible moments he’d actually loved Troy Jensen.
A little while later they’d thrown him overboard.
“Troy was a good guy. That’s all I know.”
“So he saved your life,” Grant said callously as he stood up and the spindly chair he’d been sitting in fell over behind him with a loud crash. “Who cares?”
“What do you mean, who cares? I care. I care a lot. It sucked that Uncle Sage threw him over, and it sucked that Dad helped him do it. It sucked that you did too.”
Grant pointed a long, menacing finger down at his younger brother. “You keep your damn mouth shut about it. Don’t you say anything to Sage or Dad, or anybody else for that matter. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“You better hear me, and you better not say anything. Or you’ll be next. Got it? Well, do you?” Grant shouted when he didn’t get an answer immediately.
“I got it!” Speed Trap shouted back. “Christ! Give me a break. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Troy Jensen. Don’t you get that?”
CHAPTER 13
“THANKS FOR coming, Hunt. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. I mean, it’s not like you’ve got to try real hard to convince me to have a beer with you. So I’m guessing from your tone and the ‘I appreciate it’ that there’s something else going on here.”
“There is.”
They were sitting at the bar of an Irish pub in lower Manhattan near Tri-State Securities. It was a place they’d gone more than a few times after a rough day on the trading floor.
“So, what’s up?”
“What do you mean?” Jack had heard the suspicious tone in Hunter’s voice.
“Where’d you go after you left the trading floor this afternoon? I thought you said you were running an errand, but you never came back. Then you called from your cell phone and asked me to meet you here.” Hunter took several swallows of beer. “It was all kind of mysterious, and you aren’t normally mysterious. You’re more the in-your-face type, you know?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, what’s up?”
Jack tore off the corner of the paper napkin beneath his beer glass as he thought about how much to tell Hunter. They were best friends, but this was a crazy thing he was doing. And the favor he was going to ask for would probably sound even crazier to Hunter than where Jack was going. He didn’t want to have to explain both things tonight because the favor was going to take awhile. Plus, admitting that he was going to Alaska might lead to talking about that bombshell Bill had dropped today in his office.
Jack didn’t want to go in that direction either. He was still digesting the news himself. He wasn’t ready to share that with anyone.
He didn’t want to tell Hunter about the trip mostly because he didn’t have time—he had another meeting in a few minutes. But it was a little because of his close call with that white van on Broadway this afternoon too. Now that he thought about it, maybe it was more than a little about the van, maybe a lot about it.
“I resigned,” he finally answered.
Hunter’s eyes flashed up from his beer glass. “No shit?”
“After I left the trading floor this afternoon, I went into Jamie Hildebrand’s office upstairs and quit.”
“But why?” Hunter asked. “I mean, you never mentioned anything about it.” He shrugged. “It isn’t like you needed my OK before you did it. I just thought we were good friends.”
“Best friends, Hunt. You know that.”
Hunter leaned back in the stool and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve gotta say I’m a little surprised you didn’t at least mention something to me.”
“Yeah…I know.” He could tell Hunter was hurt. “Sorry.”
“Well, what are you doing?” Hunter asked when Jack didn’t volunteer anything more. “Why’d you quit?”
Jack inhaled deeply. “I need to take some time off. I need to get away for a while.”
“Because of what happened to Troy?”
“Is that so wrong?”
“Of course not,” Hunter replied. “I’m sorry Troy died, but I think it’s really good that you’re taking it so…well, so deeply.”
“I am.” More than Hunter could know, Jack thought to himself.
“Where are you going?”
Jack glanced up. “Who said anything about going anywhere?”
“You did. A second ago you said you needed to get away.” Hunter took several more gulps of beer. “It sounded like you meant you were getting away from the area. Or did you just mean you needed to get away from Tri-State?”
Jack needed to come up with something fast. Hunter would figure out pretty quickly that he wasn’t around. The good thing was that Hunter never talked to Bill, so he wasn’t worried about Hunt finding out that his real destination was Alaska.
“I’m going to Florida.”
“Florida? Why?”
“It’s almost winter. It’s gonna get cold for good soon. I was thinking I’d head to the Keys and pick up a bartending job for the season. It shouldn’t be hard to find something like that down there now.”
“Bartending? Are you serious?”
“Sure. Why?”
Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s such a one-eighty. I know this thing with Troy hit you hard, but don’t you think going to Florida to be a bartender is kind of drastic?”
Jack wanted to tell Hunter what the real deal was. And the words were on the tip of his tongue. “I just need some time,” he murmured, glad he hadn’t given in to the temptation to tell him about Alaska. He was probably being paranoid, but he felt better keeping Hunter in the dark about it. He’d tell him everything when it was all over. “That’s all.”
Hunter looked around the bar sadly. “Guess it’ll be the last time we do this for a while.”
“I guess.”
“Why didn’t we just talk on the train?” Hunter asked, checking his watch. “We could have taken a Metro North home together.”
“I’m meeting someone else down here in a few minutes,” Jack explained, checking his watch too.
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, I get it. First you leave me by myself at Tri-State to go to Florida. Then you stonewall me when I ask an innocent little question. I guess we’re not as close as we used to be. Is this guy your new best friend or something?”
“Give me a break, Hunt. He’s just somebody I need to talk to about something.”
The guy had been his and Hunter’s boss at the firm where they’d worked before Tri-State. The guy had always said he felt bad for letting them go, and had always offered to help out. So Jack was going to put him on the spot tonight.
He needed money badly now that Bill had made it clear he wasn’t going to be an ATM if the use of funds involved Alaska and Troy. Bill had sent him a text a few minutes ago making that clear again—and warning him again to stay away from Alaska again.
“It’s no big deal.” He didn’t want to tell Hunter what was going on because he didn’t want Hunter getting curious and calling the guy.
Hunter held his hand up. “OK, OK. I guess I’m just cranky because my best buddy and his bad but loveable attitude are taking off. No more train rides in from Connecticut together, no more screwing around on the trading floor when things get slow, no more beers after work. I’m not gonna lie to you, pal. This sucks.”
“It does suck,” Jack agreed. He appreciated Hunter’s candor. It made him feel good. “But I have to do this.”
“I know. I guess,” Hunter added as though he didn’t really understand.
For a few moments Jack thought again about telling Hunter what Bill had told him this afternoon in the office—that he wasn’t adopted. But again he decided against it. He had talk to Hunter about that other thing, and there wasn’t much time to do that and get to his other meeting. “I need a favor.”
“Name it and you got it. You know that.”
Jack hesitated. He knew how this was going to sound, but he had to keep his promise. “I need you to look in on somebody while I’m gone because I might be away for a while.”
“OK.”
“And you can’t tell anybody about it. OK?”
“Why not?”
“You just can’t, all right?”
“All right.” Hunter paused for a few moments. “So who’s this person?”
“She lives over in Brooklyn,” Jack answered quietly. “Her name’s Lisa Martinez, and she’s got a little boy.” He glanced around the bar and leaned forward slightly. “His name’s Jack.”
Hunter’s eyes flashed to Jack’s at light speed. “Aw, Christ, Jack. What the hell have you done?”
CHAPTER 14
JACK’S EYES moved from the late news on the TV screen to his front door when he thought he heard something outside the apartment. Then he heard what sounded like a knock, but he wasn’t sure.
It was eleven twenty and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He’d been lying on his living room couch listening to the anchorman’s smooth voice, trying to forget what had happened today. And wondering how in the hell he was going to get to Dutch Harbor, because his seven o’clock meeting had turned out to be a dead end. The guy’s wife had nixed the loan over the phone while they were sitting at another bar near the place he’d met Hunter. Now he had only fifteen hundred bucks left to his name after giving Lisa Martinez the five hundred.
He’d actually heard himself starting to snore as he’d drifted off listening to the news. But at the sound of the knock he was wide awake again and his heart was pumping hard.
He stared across the room through the flickering light coming from the TV screen. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe he hadn’t really heard anything outside. But after almost being killed by that van in front of Trinity Church today, he felt like he had a damn good reason to be paranoid. Thank God for whoever had yelled at him from the sidewalk. If not for that angel he’d be lying on a gurney in the morgue right now instead of on this sofa.
A voice in the back of his head had been telling him to get out of here for the last few hours…just like it had been whispering about that picture of Troy standing in front of the Arctic Fire. He’d called Hunter twice after they’d met for drinks to see if he could stay at his and Amy’s place tonight, but Hunter hadn’t called back yet. Which was strange because Hunter always called right back. Hunter’s cell phone was basically part of his body.
This time the knock was loud and clear.
Jack glanced at his bedroom door as he rose up quickly into a sitting position. He was an avid bird hunter, and he had two shotguns in there. The over-and-under twelve-gauge was empty, but the side-by-side was loaded. He always kept that one loaded.
“Jack. Jack.”
His shoulders sagged as he stood up and hurried to the door. He’d recognized the voice right away, but this was still a strange situation. During the three years he’d lived in this apartment, she hadn’t come by once to see him. He was shocked that she actually knew where he lived.
“Hello, Cheryl,” Jack said as he swung the door open. He cringed. Old habits died hard. “I, I mean…Mom.” The word meant so much more now. “Come in. I’m sorry about the mess.”
“Please don’t apologize. It’s fine.”
“Can I get you something?” he asked as he closed the door behind her. It seemed surreal for her to be here. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
Jack watched her take in what little there was of the place. He saw her glance at the three pizza boxes stacked on the coffee table in front of the couch, the clothes draped over chairs and lying in piles on the floor, and the small desk in the corner, which looked like it had been hit by a tornado. “I wish I’d known you were coming,” he said apologetically, flipping on the light and instantly regretting it. Now she could really see how bad the place looked. But she didn’t seem to care. “I would have cleaned up.”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I keep telling you.”
She’d always been so good to him. “I know, it’s just that—”
“Bill told me about this afternoon,” she interrupted. “He told me you came to his office, and he told me what he said.” She took a few seconds to pull herself together. “I’m sorry we lied to you all these years. It sounds so worthless when I hear myself say it, but I really am sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me.”
A muffled sob escaped her lips as tears formed on her lower lids. The same way they’d come to Bill’s eyes this afternoon. There was so much to talk about, but Jack had no idea how or where to start. “It’s OK, really.” He’d thought about calling her all afternoon, and he’d actually dialed her number twice. But then he’d quickly ended the call before the connection had been made.
“It’s not OK,” she murmured. “It’s horrible.”
It was horrible, but Jack didn’t want to go there right now. This seemed like too harsh a way to begin what he assumed was going to be a long conversation. They should be easing into this, not barreling at it head-on.
“He told me that you’re going to Alaska too,” she said, “to Dutch Harbor.”
That seemed like an odd topic to bring up now. When there were so many other more important things they needed to talk about. “Yeah…I am.”
Cheryl moved so she was standing directly in front of him and their faces were close. “He told you to stay away from there, didn’t he?”
Jack clenched his hands into tight fists. Maybe that was it. Maybe she’d come here to warn him too, and this visit was all part of a well-orchestrated bad cop, good cop routine. “I don’t want to talk about Alaska,” he said firmly.
She put her soft palms on his cheeks and stared up at him. “Don’t let Bill talk you out of it,” she whispered. “Don’t let him scare you. Go to Alaska,” she urged. “Do you hear me? Go.”
Jack nodded hesitantly, not sure he really had heard her—at least, not right. He’d heard the words, but the message seemed full of static. “I heard you. I mean, I guess I—”
“But be careful, Jack. Be very careful.”
“I will. Of course I will.”
Her eyes widened, as if she’d just thought about something very frightening. “Don’t ever tell Bill I was here tonight. All right?”
“All right.”
“You have to remember that, Jack.”
She suddenly seemed more terrified than he’d ever seen her before. “OK, OK, I’ll remember.”
She reached into her purse and handed him a thick envelope. Then she kissed him on the cheek and headed for the door.
But he caught her by the wrist and turned her gently back around. “Mom.” Tears were streaming d
own her cheeks, and she wouldn’t look up at him. “Mom?”
“What?” she answered, sobbing softly.
Jack swallowed hard. “Who’s my real father?”
CHAPTER 15
HUNTER SAT in a comfortable chair, hands clasped together tightly in his lap, waiting patiently. He’d been sitting in the chair for hours, but they wouldn’t tell him who he was waiting for or why they’d brought him here.
He’d been watching television the whole time, sitting with the two men who’d stopped him as he was heading down into the subway to go to Grand Central Station after meeting Jack. They’d flashed a couple of big, official-looking gold badges at him and then hustled him into a dark blue Town Car waiting at the curb. They hadn’t forced him to get in, but he hadn’t put up a fight either. He’d always heard it was best to do whatever you were told to do in those situations. To make sure you didn’t piss anybody off and make things even worse for yourself later.
At first, Hunter was petrified that they were arresting him for a stock tip he’d gotten from an Ibanker friend one night last month in a bar. The next morning he’d bought a ton of cheap call options on the target company’s stock, knowing full well that a takeover announcement from a European conglomerate was imminent. The announcement had come two days later, and he’d instantly pocketed thirty grand. It was thirty grand he needed like hell because he was basically broke. It was also a clear-cut case of insider trading.
For the first hour of this ordeal he’d been panic-stricken, wondering how in the world he was going to survive in prison. Wondering if all those stories he’d heard about what happened in there to thin blond guys were really true.
Eventually he’d convinced himself that they weren’t the kind of government people who cared about insider trading, so his initial wave of terror had ebbed.
Now his fears were growing again, though for a different reason. All they’d said the entire time he’d been here was that someone needed to talk to him. They wouldn’t tell him who the person was or what branch of the government they were with. Worse, they wouldn’t even confirm that they were actually with the government. And that was why he was getting nervous again. Maybe they weren’t with the government.
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