by Sam Sisavath
In another pouch, she found a bundle of plastic cuffs. “What are these for?”
“Just in case.”
“Why so many?”
“Like I said, just in case.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I told Jack we should have put you into one of them.”
“You should have insisted on it.”
“Yeah, I guess I should have.”
“Your mistake.”
“One of many, from the looks of it.” He sighed. “It was supposed to be an easy job.”
“That’s what happens when you assume.”
He smirked, but didn’t say anything.
She stood and looked up to the second floor. “Lucy, you can come down now.”
Apollo got up and walked over to the bottom of the stairs as Lucy came down. He got a nice scratch on the head and under the chin for his effort.
Allie turned back to Jerry. “What do you want with Walter?”
“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?” Jerry said.
“Because you’re here, and he’s not. What do you want with Walter?”
“You’re asking the wrong person, lady. I’m just the hired help.”
She stared at him. Jerry had baby blue eyes, but there wasn’t anything particularly attractive about him. He looked almost too normal, which wasn’t something she expected from people capable of so much violence. Then again, who was she to judge? People looked at her and they didn’t see a woman who had spent ten years of her life hunting down her sister’s killer. She’d spent the last two years of her life putting up a façade that had, until tonight, been completely convincing.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
“Which part?”
“Both.”
“Too bad,” Jerry said, when they both heard the very faint pop-pop-pop of gunfire coming from a distance.
She glanced toward the front of the house, as did Lucy and Apollo.
“Did you hear that?” Lucy asked.
“It’s coming from the house,” Allie said.
“Dad…”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Allie said, trying very hard to be convincing. “They won’t hurt him, remember? They need him.” She looked back at Jerry. “What’s happening at the house?”
“Good question,” Jerry said.
“You don’t know?”
“Not a clue.”
“I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying.”
“That seems to be a theme tonight. A lot of people doing a lot of lying.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“But what’s happening back there now, I don’t have a fucking clue,” Jerry said.
She didn’t say it, but she believed him. Jerry looked just as uncertain (maybe even more confused) about what was happening back at Walter’s house.
So what was happening back there?
A voice, very faint, whispering somewhere in the semidarkness.
She leaned toward Jerry. “What?”
“What?” he said back.
Then she remembered: Jerry, walking through the house, talking to someone on the radio.
She reached over and snapped the earbud out of his ear and slipped it into hers, just in time to hear Jack’s voice:
“Jerry, goddammit, come in. You still out there?”
She didn’t answer him, but unclipped Jerry’s radio and took a step back. “Looks like your friend’s in trouble.”
“Sounds that way,” Jerry said.
“You don’t look very concerned.”
“We’re not exactly BFFs.”
“You’re strangers.”
“Basically.”
“Who hired you?”
Jerry grinned at her, but didn’t say anything.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“You asking me all these questions, thinking I know the answers to them.”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m expendable, toots. We all are. That’s why they put us together for this one job. We either get it done and get paid handsomely for our troubles, or we fail and no one hears from us again.”
“Sounds like a shitty job.”
“It keeps the lights on.”
“Unless you fail.”
“There’s always that.” He grimaced and shot a glance at his shoulder.
“Hurts?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
“I think if I’m smart, I should shoot you right now so you can’t do any more damage.”
“You’re right; that would be the smart thing to do,” he nodded.
She stared at him, wondering if he really meant that—if he was that ready to die—or if this was just a poor job of putting on a brave front. She couldn’t tell either way. Jerry had a strangely subdued expression on his face, as if he had already come to peace with his situation. Maybe the man really didn’t care if he died or not after tonight.
It was a moot point anyway. Maybe once upon a time she could have murdered a man in cold blood, but those days were behind her.
“But I’m not a killer,” she said.
“Didn’t think so,” he said, smiling back at her.
*
WHILE SHE COULDN’T justify shooting Jerry where he sat bleeding, Allie had no problems marching him to the master bedroom on the second floor and tying him up with one of his own plastic handcuffs, then leaving him on the bed shouting muffled obscenities into the handkerchief she’d stuffed into his mouth.
Lucy was waiting for her downstairs, the girl rubbing her arms to keep back the cold and anxiously looking over her shoulder in the direction of Walter’s house. Apollo walked over to Allie, his nails clack-clack-clacking against the tiled floor. He rubbed his head against one of her legs, then sat down and waited.
“Did you find a phone?” she asked the girl.
Lucy shook her head. “I looked everywhere. There isn’t one in the entire place. I even turned on some lights just to be sure.”
Allie nodded. She’d told Lucy to only turn on the lights if she needed to. She didn’t think Jack was out there looking for them—the chances of him leaving Walter at this juncture was zero to none, especially with Jones out of the picture—but she didn’t want to take the chance.
The lack of phones, on the other hand, didn’t surprise her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a landline in her own apartment. Walter didn’t have one at his home, either. All three of them used cellphones exclusively, except for when they were at work. Gorman and Smith, like most businesses, still kept landlines around.
“What about Dad?” Lucy asked.
“I’m going back there for him.”
“By yourself?”
Allie nodded. “We can’t call the cops, and I’m not sure how effective firing more bullets into the air would do. If someone was going to hear them, they would have by now. I wish we could wait for daylight, but I don’t think your dad’s going to last that long.”
“What do you mean?” When she didn’t answer fast enough, the girl said, “Allie? What do you mean he might not last that long?”
She walked over to the girl and put both hands on her thin shoulders, then squeezed them. “They showed us their faces, remember? They wouldn’t have shown us their faces if they were going to let us go after all of this is over. You, me, your dad. They need him, but only until they can get what they want from him. After that…”
The girl nodded somberly, and Allie thought, She’s so much stronger than I gave her credit for. I guess we were both hiding our true selves from one another all this time.
“Do you know why all of this is happening?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t,” Allie said. “I didn’t even know your dad made enough at Gorman and Smith to have a second house out here until he asked me to take this trip with you two.”
“He bought it three years ago…”
“How?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did he finance it? Or did he buy it with cash?”
Lucy shook her head. “I don’t know. What does that have to with anything?”
Maybe nothing, but maybe everything, she thought, but said, “I guess it doesn’t.”
“If you’re going back there for Dad, then I’m coming with you.”
“No. You’re safer waiting for me here.”
“Allie…”
“Don’t argue with me.” But Lucy looked like she was going to argue anyway, so Allie squeezed her shoulders again and put on her best forced smile. “I hate to say it, Lucy, but I’m better off doing this by myself. Well, not completely by myself,” she added, looking down at Apollo, sitting silently next to them.
“I really think I should come with you…”
“Have you ever fired a gun in your life?”
“No…”
“Shot someone?”
“No…”
“I have. I just shot Jerry. But he wasn’t the first one. And he’s not going to be the last.”
Even in the semidarkness, Allie could see all the questions swirling around behind the girl’s eyes at her statement.
“One of these days I’ll tell you all about it,” Allie said. “For now, I need you to be safe, and that means staying here.” She let go of the teenager’s shoulders. “Now, will you be all right until I come back with your father?”
“I’ll hide if anyone shows up. It’s dark, and there’s a lot of rooms. Just get Dad back, okay?”
“I will,” Allie said. Then, looking at Apollo, “Right?”
He raised his head and stuck out his tongue, licking his nose.
“What does that mean?” Lucy asked.
“That’s a yes,” Allie smiled.
*
GUNSHOTS, SHE THOUGHT, as she came to a stop somewhere halfway back to Walter’s house. Apollo did the same thing next to her, his floppy ears standing at attention.
The pop-pop-pop of a fully automatic rifle shattered the quiet. There was more than one, but the shots were overlapping and she couldn’t pick out the exact number. She only knew one thing for certain: there was a full-blown gun battle going on at the house this very moment, and Walter was in there, somewhere.
Way to pick your country getaway, Walter, she thought with a wry smile. Couldn’t you have at least found one with a neighbor within earshot of a gun battle?
“Come on, boy,” she said, and started forward again.
Apollo followed without hesitation.
This is so stupid. You know that, right?
There was no reason for her to keep moving toward the house. Well, that wasn’t entirely true—there was one reason: Walter. She was voluntarily walking into a gun battle because a man she had been dating for five months was being held hostage back there.
Jesus, did she like Walter that much?
The answer was no. But she liked him enough.
Probably.
She stopped again, and let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. Apollo, who had kept walking for a few steps, finally noticed she wasn’t next to him anymore and stopped, then looked back at her before cocking his head to one side, as if to ask, Now what?
She crouched and he walked back, immediately presenting his head. She scratched him on the scalp and under his chin.
“What am I doing? That’s automatic gunfire, Apollo. I must be crazy.”
Apollo’s answer was to lean in for more scratching.
“You’re no help at all.”
Then, almost as suddenly as they had broken out, the shooting just…stopped.
Apollo turned his head in the direction of Walter’s house.
“You’re getting a bad feeling about this too, huh?” she said, standing back up. “Yeah, we’ve definitely done smarter things in our lives, that’s for sure.”
She started walking again, with Apollo keeping pace next to her.
“I should have stayed out of the woods, Apollo. Nothing good ever comes from going into the woods.”
Apollo let out something that sounded almost like a regretful groan.
“I knew you’d understand.”
She picked up her pace, clutching and unclutching the gun in her hand.
Chapter 12
HE’D DONE MOST of the shooting, but Monroe’s people had returned fire three times, and only when they could see him. If nothing else, they were at least disciplined enough to follow that one order Monroe had given them, even if it meant running around while he tried to pick them off from the back of the hallway.
As he settled against the wall next to the closed bedroom door, Jack took stock of his situation.
It was, in a word, shit.
He was trapped inside a house with at least four guns, all of whom wanted what (who) was in the room with him, but couldn’t give less than two cents about his hide. He wasn’t completely up a creek, though. He still had an ace in the hole: Walter, currently cowering behind the computer desk, staring at him. Once the shooting began, Walter had smartly taken cover. He’d also known better than to run out the open door and into the gunfire. Maybe the guy had some survival instincts about him after all.
The window behind Walter was still intact, the curtains pulled in to keep anyone out there from spying in. Bullets had no issue piercing glass, but it was hard to shoot if you couldn’t see your target. Not that he thought Monroe’s people would start pumping lead into the room anyway, at least not with Walter somewhere inside with him.
Jack turned his attention back to the door. He had reloaded the Sig556 with a fresh magazine, which left him with one extra. Fortunately, he still had two spares for the Sig Sauer P250. And then there was the Ka-Bar. You never knew when a little close-quarters action was necessary.
He stood very still and listened, trying to pick up sounds coming from outside. If Monroe’s people were coming, they were taking their time.
“You finished?” Jack asked without turning around.
“What?” Walter said.
Jack nodded at the laptop on the desk in front of Walter. “You finished?”
Walter shook his head.
“How much longer?” Jack asked.
“I was only halfway…”
“How much longer?”
Walter thought about it before shaking his head again. “Maybe another thirty minutes?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“It’s complicated—”
“Whatever,” Jack said. “Get back to work.”
“What?”
“Get the fuck back to work.”
Walter peeked around the desk and at the laptop, then at Jack, but he remained on the floor.
“I mean it,” Jack said. “Get back to work.”
“What if they start shooting again?”
“Pick up the laptop and move it behind the desk with you.”
“Oh,” Walter said.
Jack smiled to himself. For a guy charged with moving millions around on a daily basis, ol’ Walter could be a little dense.
He watched the man lean out from behind the desk, then quickly scoot forward on all fours, stretching his long body around the metal furniture as if he were some kind of caterpillar. Walter snatched the laptop by one end and pulled it around the desk until it, along with the rest of him, was safe behind cover again.
“Well?” Jack said.
Walter didn’t answer. Instead, the familiar tap-tap-tap filled the room, along with a strange vibration…coming from one of his pants pockets.
He thought it was the burner phone he was using to contact the client, until he realized the vibration, followed by the generic ringtone, was coming from the wrong pocket.
Monroe’s.
He didn’t even remember stowing the phone during the gunfight. Jack fished it out now and looked down at the unknown caller ID on the cracked screen. When he didn’t answer it, the phone stopped vibrating…for five seconds; then it started up again.
Jack pressed the screen to answer it. “Front desk.”
“Funny,” Monroe said. “Found the stiff in the room next door, by the way.�
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“Of course you did.”
“Looks like he’s been dead for a while. I get the feeling you’ve been lying to me about having friends, Jack.”
“One good turn deserves another, I always say.”
“Fair enough.”
“What do you want?”
“Smart, going into the same room with Walter. I guess that’s so we won’t try to bum-rush you again?”
“You’ve already proven you have plenty of bums to go around. Thought I’d play it safe this time.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think that was going to work, but I had to give it a shot.”
“Seems to me you didn’t come very prepared. Gotta say, Monroe, I’m not overly impressed here.”
“You’re right,” Monroe said. “We didn’t get much of a lead time. Had to come with what we had on hand.”
He’s confirming my suspicions. Why?
“Which is why I need to end this quickly,” Monroe said. “Time is not on my side. Or yours, but I’m sure you already know that. One way or another, this thing ends by morning. With that said, how do you feel about a partnership?”
“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…”
“Understandable. But you have to know you don’t have a lot of choices at the moment.”
“Don’t I?”
“No. You don’t.”
Jack didn’t answer, because Monroe was right. The only possibility was to use Walter as a shield, but all it would take was one decent sniper waiting for him outside, and it was game over. That was assuming he even made it out of the house in the first place with Monroe’s people still inside the building with him.
Shit. The fucker’s right.
“Jack, you still there?” Monroe said through the phone.
He ignored the voice, even cupped the receiver so he could listen to the hallway on the other side of the wall. Monroe had tried this tack once already—and it’d almost worked—and there was no reason he wouldn’t do it again.
His palm vibrated slightly against Monroe’s voice, until he finally brought the phone back up to his ear. “Let’s say I believe you this time. What guarantees can you give me?”
“You tell me.”
“Tell me who sent you.”
“I can’t do that. You know that, Jack. Unwritten code, and all that bullshit. Besides, does it really matter?”
Jack thought about it. “I guess not.”
