Warrior in the Shadows

by Marcus Wynne

  He was loaded for bear.

  Why? Because it felt right and he'd learned in the hardest of schools that all he needed to know was to trust himself first and foremost and to be ready when his inner voice told him to be ready.

  There was violence in the air tonight.

  Charley went and stared out his window, pulling his shirttail over his armament. The cold had begun to settle in as late fall dropped into winter. No snow yet, but there had been early morning frosts and the snow would not be far behind. Across the street in the ice cream café they'd even stopped putting out the tables in the tree-shaded courtyard once it got dark. Only a few diehard customers carefully bundled against the cold would sit out once the sun fell away.

  He let his hand fall absently to the pistol holstered at his side. It'd been a long time since he'd worn his workbelt set up like this. The last job he'd done on the Special Activities Staff was provide security for a couple of Technical Services Division technicians who'd been setting up an electronic listening post for a domestic operation; one of the few sanctioned operations on U.S. soil, it was aimed at a suspected domestic terrorist with ties to Middle Eastern terrorists.

  He didn't like to think of those days. He'd had a great job, doing important things, working with people he honestly thought were the best and the brightest the U.S. could field. But he couldn't put aside his bitterness at the stupidity with which they were deployed by a contradictory administration that couldn't decide what its policy was when it came to covert operations.

  That cost lives.

  He checked the position of his weapon with his elbow and thought that he was ready. But for what? He felt stupid standing there, armed to the teeth, not an operator but a photographer, a police photographer with a fine arts business that barely paid for film. He turned away from the window and pulled on his leather jacket, leaving his shirttails hanging out over his weapons. He didn't think much about having two layers over his weapons… after all, he wasn't going to use them anyway.

  He'd go for a drive, smoke a cigar, think for a while, then go over to Bobby Lee's and keep Max company until Bobby Lee got home.

  * * *

  After driving round the Lakes and aimlessly through the streets, he found himself parked just outside Mara's building. She was home; he could tell by the lights that went on, then off through the windows. Mara was so free and easy in some things, but she was astonishingly thrifty when it came to other things, and she always turned off the lights when she left a room, even if only for a moment. Charley smiled. It was a thing that amused him and endeared her to him at the same time.

  She wasn't alone. There was someone else in the apartment. He saw a shape pass before the windows a couple of times before he saw a man with a goatee stand against the window and look out, much as Charley did when he was there. He'd deliberately not called her, and it was for that reason that he sat alone with his feelings— which weren't anger or jealousy. Instead he felt almost relieved, certainly not surprised… and that was surprising. He pulled away from the curb and a few blocks away pulled into a convenience store and used the pay telephone to call her.

  "Mara? It's Charley."

  "Hello, Charley. Where are you?"

  "Would you give me Kativa's home number? I need to ask her something about those pictures."

  There was a long silence, then a slight, knowing laugh. "Of course," she said. "Just a minute."

  She set the phone down, then came back in a moment and said, "Here… it's 920-4988. Is that all you need?"

  "Who's your friend?" Charley said.

  There was another longish pause, then laughter.

  "Oh, Charley," she said. "Are you spying on me?"

  "Just curious."

  "You're not lurking outside, are you?"

  "Down the street."

  "So that's why you called."

  "I needed the number."

  "You've got her number all right, Charley. And mine, too, I suppose. I think you should make it a new habit to call me before you come over."

  "If you want that."

  "Yes."

  "You're important to me…"

  "Never mind. Go well and tell Kativa I said it was fine. I'll talk to you sometime soon. Good night."

  She hung up the phone, leaving Charley staring out into space, the phone still screwed tight into his ear. He thought for a moment about calling her back, but decided not to. He laughed out loud for a moment, genuine laughter at his confused state and contradictory impulses, then held the hook down till he got a dial tone and put another thirty-five cents in and dialed Kativa's number. The phone rang four times, then the answering machine came on with a synthesized computer voice that said,"Please leave your message at the beep."

  Charley said,"Kativa, this is Charley Payne. I wanted to talk to you…"

  The phone beeped as Kativa picked it up. "Hello, Charley?"

  "Screening your phone calls?" Charley said. "Are you sorting through all your date offers tonight?"

  "Yes, it's a difficult thing to be so much in demand. What are you doing? Where are you calling from? It sounds as though you're outside."

  "I'm at a phone booth. I was wondering… could I stop by for a few minutes? I've had some thoughts about this Anurra Quinkin thing…"

  "Of course you can. Do you know where Java Jack's Coffee Shop is?"

  "Sure. You didn't tell me you lived so close by."

  "I didn't want to give you any ideas," she said.

  "I have lots of ideas."

  "Are you working on that case tonight?"

  "That's what I'm telling myself. You?"

  "I'm just staying at home doing girl stuff. Come by. I live across the street from Java Jack's in the corner apartment building, apartment214. Ring the buzzer and I'll let you in."

  "I'll be there shortly."

  Charley hung up the phone. He still felt confused. He was armed to the teeth, driving around aimlessly, and he had a date with a beautiful woman. He laughed and wondered what Bobby Lee would make of all this. That reminded him of his promise to Maxine to stop by and see her and Bobby Lee. He checked his watch. He had time enough to stop off and see Kativa and still make the run over to Bobby Lee's house and catch Max before she went to bed.

  It was good to have friends, he thought. It was good to have places you could go where they would always take you in no matter how late it was.

  2.21

  Bobby Lee parked his squad in front of Calhoun Square on the Hennepin side. He slid out from behind the wheel and stretched his back to get the kinks out, then went into the shopping mall entrance and turned left to the coffee shop. Josie's friend Susan was wiping down the counter.

  "Where's Josie?" Bobby Lee said.

  Susan didn't look at him. She just continued wiping the counter, then turned to wipe down the espresso maker and said, "She went home early."

  "How long ago?"

  "About an hour. She didn't feel good."

  "So you just showed up to take her shift, huh?"

  "That's right," Susan said. "That's what friends do. You know anything about that?"

  "Was she alone?"

  "I don't remember."

  "Don't fuck me around here or I'll go out of my way to make your life miserable. Where and when did she go?"

  "I'm making a complaint on you."

  "Was she alone?"

  "I said I don't know."

  Bobby Lee turned away and said over his shoulder as he went for his car, "You and me, Susan, we're not through yet. I'll be back to see you."

  He got back in the car and accelerated away. Josie lived in the Lake/Lyndale neighborhood, only a short drive away. He motored down the streets till he found the address he was looking for, right off of Lyndale. It was a borderline neighborhood, with a few dealers in nearby Powderhorn Park that could make a squad, unmarked or not, from a block away. He didn't bother looking for a parking spot; he just pulled up in the space beside a fire hydrant and got out to walk the three houses down to the address.
He saw her name on the buzzer for the fourth apartment, which made it one of the top two apartments. He hit the buzzer and leaned on it. He heard footsteps upstairs and he saw through the glass of the front door that Josie was standing at the top of the stairwell, looking down at him. She hesitated for a long moment, then came down and opened the door.

  "It's a wonder you still have glass in the door, what with this neighborhood," Bobby Lee said. "Did you forget about our little appointment?"

  "No," Josie said. There was resignation and something else in her voice. "I didn't forget."

  "Your friend didn't pass on your message. If you left one."

  "Don't get her in trouble, she's not any part of this."

  "Let's go upstairs and talk."

  Josie led the way up the stairs, her arms still tightly crossed on her chest as though she were clinging to herself. She stopped before the apartment door, the tarnished brass 4 slightly askew.

  "Go ahead," she said. "He's been waiting for you."

  "He?" Bobby Lee said, instantly alert. "Who?"

  She pushed the door open and stood to one side.

  "Him."

  Bobby Lee peered cautiously around the door, one hand on his holstered pistol. Simon Oberstar sat in a battered old armchair facing the door, his coat open and his tie angled across his big belly.

  "Come in, Bobby Lee. We've got a lot to talk about."

  "What are you doing here?" Bobby Lee said.

  "Waiting for you," Oberstar said. "Come in and shut the door."

  Bobby Lee came in, cautious as a cat, one hand hovering near his weapon, and Josie shut the door behind him and quietly turned the lock.

  "Josie," Oberstar said. "Go in the bedroom and wait for me there."

  Josie hurried through the front room, not looking at either of the men, into a back room. She shut the door lightly behind her as though she didn't want to draw any attention to herself.

  "We've got a problem, Bobby," Oberstar said.

  "What is going on here, Obi?"

  "Think it through, Bobby Lee. I know you know."

  "A piece of ass is one thing. This is another."

  "What do you know?"

  "Just what got me here, Obi. What's going on?"

  "I love her, Bobby. I can't let you do anything that will hurt her."

  It suddenly became clear to Bobby Lee and it was as though someone had lowered a clear glass jar over him, neatly cutting him off from the rest of the world but preserving his vision.

  "Obi," he said softly. "Obi, what are you into?"

  "It's the money, Bobby. That's what it was always about. Money. I needed some, so did the others. You know how hard it is, to spend for private schools for your kids because their mother is gone? To put kids through college today? You don't know yet, but you will. Nicky is a smart kid and you're going to want the best for him. And you'll find a way to get it for him because that's what fathers do for their children, they find a way to make the best for them."

  Oberstar's eyes gleamed and filled. He brushed at his face.

  "I'm ashamed, Bobby," he said. "Of what I've done and what I let happen. There's no excuse for it and I know it now, knew it all along. But I can't let it go on any longer, I can't let Josie get caught up in this too."

  "Simon, listen to me," Bobby Lee said. "This isn't about her, never was about her. You need to tell me what you've done. What do you have to do with the killings? I don't care about the money, I don't care about that, what I want is the killer. Tell me you're not part of that. Tell me you don't know who the guy is, Obi."

  "I don't know who it is, Bobby… what are you going to do?"

  Bobby Lee felt as though someone had cut him open and his feelings and thoughts were running out to spill at his feet.

  "I don't know what to do," he said. "I don't know what to say."

  "We can find this guy together, you and me," Oberstar said, hope in his voice. "But we got to make sure he doesn't talk… you and me, we can finish it on the street, we won't have to hurt other cops, we can leave me and Josie out of it. That's what you want, that's what I want, right? We want the killer, everything else, I swear to you on my wife's grave, I can stop it and clean it all up. But we got to do this together, Bobby. Please, for me. For all I've done and been for you these years, help me with this. I can get through it if you'll only help me."

  For Bobby Lee it was as if a movie were playing pictures from the past over the shattered visage of his friend and mentor: Bobby graduating from the academy with a first in pistol shooting, Oberstar, his proud instructor, beside him; walking a beat on the North Side with Oberstar; Obi pinning Bobby's detective shield on; Angie's funeral, where Bobby had held his friend close while he wept and wept… and over all of that the image of Madison Simmons hung like a butchered deer in season.

  "Tell me what happened, Obi," Bobby Lee said. Resignation and sadness thickened his voice. "Tell me how we got to this place."

  "You know how I got here," Oberstar said, self-disgust and anger in his voice. "I got kids to look out for. They weren't selling anything here, they were just washing the money. I had to take out a second and then a third mortgage for the kids… I got in over my head, I could of lost my house, the kids would have had to drop out. You got a child, you know what that's like… you do what you got to do to make sure they're taken care of. They offered me a great consolidation mortgage and I took it."

  Oberstar sighed heavily and fell in on himself, diminished in the armchair.

  "That's how they set the hook," he said. "They get you with something easy, then they start asking your advice about things, then they ask for some little favor like hey, would I talk to Vice for them, lighten up the enforcement at the club, or did I know somebody who could put in a word with the Liquor Board. That's how it starts."

  He looked back through the apartment to the closed door where Josie waited in silence.

  "And this is how it ends. Do I got to eat my gun here to make this go away? Are you going to do that to me?"

  "No," Bobby Lee said. "I'm not going to do that to you. But you're going to tell me what I want to know. Everything. And then I'm taking down the killer. Then you and I are going to figure out where else we go with this."

  "Bobby…"

  "Tell me," Bobby Lee said. There was no mercy in his voice. He settled himself on the thin-cushioned couch and put his notebook on his knee. "Tell me the story."

  * * *

  It was well past midnight when Oberstar finished and Bobby put away his notes. He was heartsick. Oberstar had broken down several times, wept out loud in braying cries that brought Josie rushing out of the bedroom to him. Each time he sent her back into the bedroom and kept up the story. Bobby Lee didn't know what to do. He tried to force his brain to work, but he kept turning over images from the past in his mind over and over again. Oberstar crying had torn a hole in him and all the images of his past seemed tainted by this mockery of the man he loved and respected.

  Oberstar sat, broken, in the chair, his big shoulders slumping forward, his back curved like a question mark. He wouldn't look at Bobby.

  Bobby wanted to be home in bed with his wife, to hear the soft breathing of his child safe in his bed, to be in the embrace of everything he called family.

  That's what he wanted now.

  But he couldn't leave Oberstar alone like this.

  "Let's go, Simon," he said softly. "You can come home with me."

  "I can't," Oberstar said in a broken voice.

  "Just come on," Bobby Lee said. He stood and took his friend by the arm, pulled him unwillingly to his feet. "I don't want you to stay here tonight. Come home with me, Simon."

  "I don't want Max to see me like this," Oberstar said.

  "She'll be asleep," Bobby Lee said. "Tomorrow we'll work things out. I don't want you to stay here."

  "I'll be fine with Josie."

  "Please, Simon. Just come with me."

  Oberstar's head drooped and he looked only at his feet. He turned away and went b
ack to the bedroom where Josie was, and they exchanged a few words. Bobby Lee heard her asking "Why?" and Simon's muttered response. Then Oberstar came back and said, "Okay, Bobby. We can go now."

  Oberstar followed Bobby out to the car like an obedient child and waited for Bobby to open the car door and then close it after him. Bobby Lee got in and started the car, then pulled away from the curb and began to carefully navigate the dark streets. The two men drove in silence. It seemed as though there was a great fog in front of Bobby's eyes and he found himself crying silently in the car, tears rolling down his face and he couldn't make them stop. No time at all seemed to pass as he rolled through the night, and still there wasn't a word passed between the two men, each trapped in a vision of the past and the harsh reality of the present. Soon he was in his driveway, turning off the lights and coasting the car into place as was his habit when he came home late, so as not to wake Max and Nicky with the lights and engine.

  The house was dark except for the porch light; Max always kept the light on for him.

  "It's my job," she said. "To keep the lights on for you."

  The two of them got out of the car and Oberstar fell in behind Bobby Lee as they walked to the door. Bobby Lee unlocked the front door and led the two of them into the warmth of the house. He stood there for a moment, then touched the front room light switch. The light came on and illuminated Alfie Woodard sitting in Bobby's big armchair.

  "Cheers, mate," Alfie said.

  Bobby Lee froze and Oberstar stood there with his mouth gaped wide.

  "Max! Nicky!" Bobby Lee shouted.

  "Sorry, mate," Alfie said. "It was only business."

  Bobby went for his gun the same instant Alfie raised his.

  2.22

  He hadn't expected to end up bedding Kativa, but like so many other things in Charley's life, events came to a conclusion that surprised him. She was waiting for him in her warm, lavishly decorated apartment. Soft jazz played, a Coltrane retrospective, and she handed him a glass of white South African wine.