9 MM (The Falau Files Book 2)

by Mike Gomes

  “If you don’t find a way to let go of the past then you’re going to end up in prison or dead. You know that’s true. There is no other outcome. I’m giving you the chance to be one of the good guys. The judges and the system want you to be the man to bring people back for justice. We all know what you can do. We have seen what you can do. But your mind has to be sharp. You get picked up for a mistake, and you’re on your own. You know we are not some court house. We retry the scumbags who initially get let off, and then we dish out justice. You’re part of that justice. You need to start feeling good about that and all the people it helps and the many lives it saves.”

  “I get it, but it’s easier said than done. Just know I’m working on it.” Falau flicked the cigarette to the floor without putting it out.

  Pointing to the lit cigarette that sat nestled in the carpet, Tyler shook his head. “That’s the stuff I’m talking about. The old Falau I knew would never do something like that. You’re taking a chance on burning the whole place down by being stupid. Come on man, you’re better than that!”

  “Okay! I understand! Can you just get on to business, or is that off the table now?”

  “No, it’s not off the table,” replied Tyler, turning away and walking to the door. “But if you fuck this up then there will be nothing more. The judges can’t look the other way about your life unless the missions get fulfilled.”

  “That’s fair,” Falau said, sliding himself up to the edge of the couch and leaning forward, looking for details about what the mission was.

  “This one is kind of standard. Not too much risk. No travel. Best part is it pays $25,000. We need the target brought back alive and everything has to be kept quiet.”

  “$25,000? That’s good. I can do quiet. I have never been an explosions and gunfire guy anyway.”

  Picking up the box of 9mm ammunition Tyler smiled and shook it. “I can tell you’re not a gunfire guy. If you ever want to move up from a toy gun let me know. I can get you something.”

  “Hey, the 9mm is just fine. Besides, I got it from an old partner. It has sentimental value as well as killing value,” replied Falau while battling to keep a straight face with his off-color joke. Pulling the Ruger SR9C from its holster, the brushed metal top of the gun shone in the light. The bottom was black and had an extended handle for a firm grip. The weapon was small by anyone’s standard, but Falau loved it.

  “Okay, you keep bouncing off windshields and taking five shots to get the job done, and I will stick with the .45.”

  “Some guys just need to have a big one,” said Falau with a smirk, remembering his old partner. “So, what are the details and when can I start?”

  Tyler again made his way to the window and looked down at the street below. The car with the two men in suits that followed him everywhere was parked directly across the street. “My FBI friends are with me, like usual, so we can’t talk here. I’m sure by now they have their sound system set up to listen in on us. Hi guys!” barked Tyler, looking down on the men and chuckling as they quickly pulled away from the curb.

  “Okay, if you’re really ready for this one we need to take a little ride. Like always there are eyes on us everywhere, and that’s just the way we want it. I’m sure you’ve been followed a lot lately because of dealing with me. So, let’s get out of here and we can talk in the car.”

  Falau stood up and made a b-line for the door, and grabbing his coat said, “Let’s go!”

  Chapter 6

  Climbing into the new black sedan Falau felt as if every time he saw Tyler he was driving a different car. Today it was a BMW that spared no expense. With all that it had going for it in the looks department, Falau was sure that under the hood there would be nothing left to desire. Tyler needed a car that could perform in all situations, and not only that, but be able to do it at the drop of a hat.

  The big man reached across and put on his seatbelt as Tyler started the car. Tyler’s brand of driving was unique to say the least. He could draw out someone following him with the numerous starts, stops and turns he would take, and bouncing around the car was nothing new when you sat in the passenger seat with Tyler at the wheel.

  The sharply dressed man placed the key into the ignition and turned it, bringing the car to life. He pressed the gas two times causing a simple but pronounced roar from under the hood. Sliding on his sunglasses he dropped the car into gear and launched away from the curb in a flash.

  Cruising up Massachusetts Avenue he took a hard right without giving a signal and then a sharp left into an alley. Falau looked over, sure that his friend had gone mad trying to fit his car down the tight unmarked street. If they were to get stuck Falau doubted that even if he climbed out the window he could get out of the car.

  Reaching the end of the alley he spotted a large garage door built into the side of a building. Tyler reached into his console and took out what looked like a remote garage door opener. He hit the button with a smile and the door started to roll up.

  “Membership has its privileges,” he quipped, quoting an old TV ad.

  He pressed down on the gas again and the car rolled into what looked like a one-car garage, the door automatically closing behind them.

  “What, no crazy driving this time? I was just getting used to that.” Falau reached for the door handle but was quickly stopped by Tyler.

  “We are not there yet. Just sit tight,” he instructed. The bottom of the car started to shake and suddenly there was the feeling of movement, like an elevator going down. The ride was far from smooth, and a loud crack sounded as it came to a stop. Behind the BMW a door opened again to a room approximately double the size of the elevator. Tyler put the car in reverse and backed up into the room. The two men watched the elevator door close and heard it making its way back up.

  “Alright. What the hell is this?” questioned Falau while staring at Tyler, confused and impressed at the same time.

  “Boston is a rich city for some. This is a private parking garage for people who don’t want their cars seen by anyone. You don’t even know the other people in the garage. You have your own private spot and nobody has access to it but you, not even the management. Who knows what kind of stuff is hidden in this garage.”

  “Probably bodies. Lots and lots of bodies,” said Falau with a smirk, trying to make light of the situation. “So what are we doing here?”

  “You’re getting a new car.”

  Tyler opened the door and exited the car into a dimly lit room, Falau close behind. Reaching into his pocket Tyler pulled out his cell phone and entered what looked like a phone number, but when he hit send the wall at the far end of the room started to rise.

  Anticipation filled Falau’s mind at what Tyler had in store for him. It had been years since he’d had a car and now he was going to get one with all the latest gadgets Tyler had been working on.’

  As the door crept higher, the smile on Falau’s face was once again replaced by confusion. When the wall was finally gone, a red 2000 Dodge Caravan with peeling paint sat in front of him.

  “Ta Da!” mocked Tyler, waving his hands out to the side. “Complete with cassette player and hand-crank windows.”

  “You must be kidding?”

  “If you want to blend in around Boston this is the car to do it in.”

  “Well... I guess you’re right about that.”

  “Besides, it’s what’s under the hood that matters. This isn’t just your normal V6 to take the family around in. Give me more credit than that.”

  Falau shot a sideways glance at Tyler, wondering what surprises awaited. “Okay, I’m listening. What does she have?”

  Tyler stepped away from Falau and hit a light switch that cast more light onto the car from above and below. The room was more than a showroom; it was a functional garage capable of holding a team of people to work on the car all at one time. It was impressive, and exactly what he expected from Tyler. The light also revealed the car looked worse than it had originally seemed. The paint flaked in parts,
and the sealer looked as if it had eroded away from the body of the car. Falau could not help but think that if someone put this car up for sale they would be lucky to get much more than $500 for it.

  “It looks like crap.”

  “You pop that hood and it looks normal, but deep inside it has some extras that will let you run this toddler carrier over 140mph. Let me show you the inside.”

  Tyler moved quickly to the driver’s side door and opened it, much like a salesman pushing his target into the car. Around the front of the car he moved with purpose, climbing into the passenger side filled with excitement and grinning from ear to ear.

  Falau was far less enthused by what he saw. The dashboard was covered with dust. The plastic covering the speedometer and RPM display was fogged over and made it barely visible. The radio had a cassette, just like Tyler explained, but a tape seemed to be caught inside with three inches of tape hanging out the corner. There were fast food cups and bags on the floor and a layer of crud on the console between the two front seats.

  “To think that I thought the outside was bad,” quipped Falau while rolling his eyes. “This time I’m afraid that I will stick to something.”

  “Relax, you big baby, it’s part of the disguise. How could a guy with your history be so squeamish? Oh, and I got the joke about sticking.”

  Falau smiled, happy he’d returned the jab of uncleanliness to Tyler after their go around in his apartment. “Sitting in the car could cause it. I don’t even have kids, and this is making me positive I don’t want any.”

  “Well this car can do some things that the other soccer mom’s cars cannot. You will be the envy of the cul-de-sac with this little number.” Pointing to one of the preset buttons for the radio, Tyler continued. “See this button? Well if you hit it rapidly three times in a row the hatchback will open while you’re driving. Follow that with one of the other presets, and you could drop chains, spikes, or fire out the back of the van. That could create a bit of a problem for anyone following you.”

  Falau smiled, knowing this was just the tip of the iceberg with Tyler. He never led off with the best stuff. He loved to build up to it.

  “Great windows in this car as well. Clear and bullet-proof! Look in the rearview mirror when the back door is down and you will get a display saying how far back the next car is, as well as running its license plate. That could come in handy.”

  “I like that. Good for learning who’s who,” interrupted Falau, feeling like he had to shower some praise on his old friend after teasing him earlier.

  “If you like that check this out. A cigarette lighter!”

  “Yup, that’s what it is,” remarked Falau, trying not to sound unimpressed but waiting for Tyler to spring the surprise on him.

  “Yup, it will light your smoke. Even though I don’t like you smoking. But if you push it in and out three times it will do this.”

  The hand of the genius moved the lighter in and out three times and the side doors of the van opened. The first-row seats rolled into themselves and slid back under the second row. While the seats found their place under the last row, two machine gun turrets sprang up from where the seats once sat, one machine gun facing each way.

  “Wow!” Falau exclaimed, looking back over his shoulder into the back seat. “That’s amazing.”

  “Here’s the best part. You can control where it shoots by using what is marked as the windshield wipers. I designed the wipers to automatically sense rain, so there’s no need to have anything to work them. If you’re trying to keep your eyes on the road just flip the wiper lever down all the way and it will lock on the closest thing to the side of the van and track it. There is no way they can hide from you. If they drop behind you the turrets will open the back door and keep shooting. No wasted bullets, because if it does not have a clean shot it will hold fire. Basically, it will kill anything you ask it to.”

  “Tyler, like always, you’re amazing. I don’t know how you do it, but you always do it. How long did all this take you?”

  “I’ve been working on it on and off for the last year, just waiting for the right time to put it into action. But it’s not complete. The air conditioning is still a bit iffy. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.”

  Falau laughed, slapping Tyler’s shoulder, his head spinning from how something so ugly could be so amazing. “Tyler, I can honestly say I feel as if there is very little that could ever harm me if I’m in this van. It is my fortress.”

  Tyler smiled and leaned back in the seat. “Only one more thing to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  Tyler reached into his coat pocket and took out a set of keys and flipped them to Falau.

  “Drive!”

  Chapter 7

  The van pulled out onto the street with a squeal of the tires. The slightest depression of the gas pedal lurched the car forward past the car to the left.

  “She’s just begging to be driven fast,” Falau stated, taking his foot off the gas. “It would be nice to see what she can really do. Maybe we can open her up.”

  “That does sound like fun, but getting a ticket at this point in the mission and having the car impounded could screw everything up,” Tyler said with a coy smile. “No matter how much we would both love to test this van out, now is not the time. Let’s take her up on the highway and you can get a better feel, but within reason.”

  At the first sight of an on-ramp Falau gave the gas a quick push, steering the car to the inside and drawing a look from the corner of Tyler’s eye. On the highway, the van moved smooth and crisp, and the handling of the big minivan felt more like a sports car. It responded well to the gas and brakes. If not for its overall ugly look, it would be the perfect sports car.

  “Get off here,” commanded Tyler, pointing to the off-ramp a hundred yards ahead.

  Reaching the end of the ramp the light turned yellow and Falau started to press the brake pedal.

  “Hit it! You can make it. Go! Go! Go!” barked Tyler, giving the big man the chance he’d been waiting for to test what the minivan could do.

  Upon hearing the command Falau’s eyes fluttered and he gripped the steering wheel hard. “No, not now!” he whispered to himself as he felt the flashback coming on. Sweat started to bead on his forehead and the road ahead became blurry. Shaking his head to fight away the demons he attempted to look composed, but it was no use.

  “It was your fault,” she whispered from the recesses of his mind. “You killed me, and now you’re going to kill your friend.”

  “No!” barked Falau, shaking the steering wheel in anger. The woman’s face invaded his vision and looked into his eyes with her own lifeless eyes, the blood flowing from her hair-line.

  “Falau!” yelled Tyler, placing one hand on the dashboard and the other grabbing the coat of his friend. “Brake! Brake!”

  The hard yanking of Tyler’s hand on the collar of his coat pulled Falau back into reality and away from the tortures of his mind.

  Cars raced side to side in front of them at the intersection. His feet pushed down hard on the brake causing the car to skid to a stop just inches from going out into oncoming the traffic. The van came to rest at an angle after the skid, and all eyes were on the men who’d disrupted this calm suburban off-ramp.

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  Falau’s hands were still gripping the steering wheel tight. He had to concentrate to remove his fingers one by one. The skid had caused Tyler to slide in his seat so now he was leaning against the passenger side door.

  “Sorry... I wasn’t paying attention. You caught me off guard,” lied Falau without making eye contact with his friend.

  “Bull shit! Can you handle this mission? I am not interested in sending you into something that gets you killed.”

  “I’m fine... it was just a skid. Relax,” Falau said, trying to sound confident but instead stammering like a nervous schoolboy asking for his first date.

  “You’ve got me worried about you,” said Tyler. Th
e light turned green and he looked at Falau. “Take a left here and turn onto Rosewood about a mile up on the right.”

  The two sat in silence, processing what had just happened and trying to make sense of it all. Falau wondered if the little flashback had ended his mission before it had ever started.

  Turning onto Rosewood the car slowly rolled down the street before reaching a mechanic’s garage at the far end.

  “Pull in there,” ordered Tyler, rolling down his window as Falau pulled into the first open parking spot he found. “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

  “I told you it was nothing.”

  “Falau, I have known you too long for you to just say nothing after that. It was something, and you better start trusting me. I might just be the only person that has your best interests at heart. I don’t even think you do.”

  “Why don’t you just back the hell off?” snapped Falau, turning a hard face to Tyler. “You yap at me like you’re in charge of me but you never talk about what you’re all about. I know you from years ago, but I know nothing of you now. You’re just the guy who pops up with a job. It’s not like we do anything other than that, definitely nothing friends would do. Normal friends would play poker or go to a Red Sox game, but unless it’s work you’re a ghost in my life.”

  The car fell silent, the kind of silence that only happens after a bitter truth has been uttered. The entire feeling of the car changed. Even the air felt different. Comments that follow those types of moments define friendships and relationships of all kinds.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right,” said Tyler humbly, looking over to his friend. “You’re a grown man and I need to respect that. I also have to make some time to do some things out of work hours. I have a problem with that in general. I basically just see people connected to the job. You’re my only friend, and I have just about managed to make that work. When this one is all finished we’ll start over by taking in a Red Sox—”