by Tom Fowler
“You think they have people at the entrance, too?”
“Sure.” I almost identified Bruno by name but caught myself. I didn’t want to betray how well I knew Tony and his organization to Eddie. “These guys look like they aren’t stupid. Two cars, so they probably brought six or eight men. The pair out back leaves at least four. Could be two waiting out front while the others raid your office.”
“Any ideas?”
The Caprice was parked right in line with the door. Eddie and I looked different enough to prevent these two mistaking me for him. I could get the Caprice, back up, and have him make a run for it. I didn’t see an alternative, so I suggested the plan to Eddie. He concurred with a nod.
I holstered my pistol, pulled the collar up on my jacket, and walked outside. From the side of my eye, I watched the enforcers at the SUV as best I could. One tapped the other on the arm to get his attention. Both looked at me. The tappee shook his head. I unlocked the door of the Caprice and slid in behind the wheel.
Phase one: complete.
The V8 fired up with a satisfying rumble. I loved the smooth supercharged V6 in my S4, but it couldn’t match this engine for sound. I put the car in reverse and backed out of the spot, swinging wider than necessary to end up closer to the curb. I heard my heart in my ear over the V8’s growl.
Eddie threw the door open and ran. It was maybe a hundred feet to the car. I watched the goons in the mirror. They noticed him right away and stood, reaching behind themselves. Eddie sprinted a few more steps, stopped, and opened fire on them. Both dashed behind the vehicle they came in. Eddie moved closer and fired off a few more shots. He was smart. With Bruno’s men pinned down, Eddie aimed for the tires and popped the two rear ones. It eliminated one of the SUVs from any pursuit.
He emptied the magazine as he reached the passenger’s side of the car. Eddie got in, and I mashed the accelerator before he finished closing the door. We peeled out of the parking lot, a couple bullets chasing us, as I pondered how the hell we were going to escape.
Disabling one SUV was good but not enough. Four guys piled into the second one and took off after us. I felt glad I brought the Caprice. A couple years ago, I’d acquired it from a chop shop owner who owed me a favor, and over time, he’d swapped in a new powertrain and fortified the car to resist most handgun fire. The car wasn’t much to look at, so I only drove it when I thought I might need its special capabilities.
“What the hell is this thing?” Eddie said as I swung it from the lot onto Crain Highway.
“Late-‘eighties Caprice Classic,” I said. “It has the previous-generation Corvette engine and transmission, and it’s pretty good at resisting most bullets.”
He shot me an askance look. “This thing is bulletproof?”
“There’s a technical term for the level of protection, but I can never remember it. More or less, yes.”
Despite the newer transmission, the automatic’s shifter remained mounted on the column. Maybe I could replace it with a newer console version if we got out of this. The SUV turned out of the complex and remained in pursuit. It looked like a GMC Yukon, which had its own powerful V8. The bodywork on the Caprice added weight to the point it may have been the heavier of the two. We weren’t going to make a speedy getaway on open roads.
I flipped on the aftermarket GPS and looked at what lay ahead. A network of side roads ran on each side of Crain Highway. Going to the left, however, would allow me an easier drive to Baltimore if I could lose our pursuers. As a light switched to yellow, I swung the wheel hard, the tires screeching as the Caprice made the turn. Despite the red light facing them, the SUV made the same turn behind us.
On a smaller road, there was less traffic. The enforcers to our rear decided this would be a great time to lean out the windows with a couple of guns and start shooting. Most of the bullets whizzed past us, but one or two struck the rear body panels somewhere. The blue car surged onward undeterred. We came to another intersection, and I took another ninety-degree turn to the port side, this time trying to recall how to drift from my time in Hong Kong. The car slid later and more than I expected, bouncing off a motorcycle—which toppled to the asphalt—before straightening.
“You trying out for a Fast & Furious movie?” Eddie said.
“You’re pretty critical for someone I could’ve let get killed back there.”
In my mirror, the SUV couldn’t make the turn as well, and it ran over the poor motorcycle before bounding ahead. I glanced at the map. So many side streets. So many turns we could make better than they could. I merely needed to keep them going in circles long enough to confuse them, and then Eddie and I could floor it and get out of here.
I remembered how to drift a lot better the second time, yanking the wheel at the right moment and letting the rear-wheel drive car slide. The Caprice straightened at the proper time and took off down another new street. The Yukon was forced to slow, and its all-wheel drive prevented it from drifting. We gained some ground each turn. More bullets boomed behind us, but none hit the car this time. As the gap widened, the pistols would become less effective.
Exactly when I was feeling good about our chances, a kid chased a dog into the street.
This is the danger of driving fast on residential roads. The child halted as I stomped on the brake, wondering with a pounding heart if the Caprice would stop in time. He scampered away after the dog, leaving the road empty. I got back on the gas, but slowing so much cost us a lot of our lead. At least the goons behind us didn’t resume firing until we were well clear of the boy.
With our pursuers being so much closer now, most of their bullets found the mark. They thudded off the rear of the car and its back window. So far, none breached the exterior and found their way inside, but I didn’t want to press our luck. At the next intersection, I swung a hard right to drift around a tight curve, then took a sharp left. The Caprice was no sports car when it came to handling, but it also wasn’t a Yukon. We regained the lead we’d lost a few moments ago.
I tried to be unpredictable as I wove through the secondary streets. The SUV could've had navigation, but the occupants may have presumed I didn't know where I was going. At one point, spying a green light, I gunned it across Crain. “What are we doing over here?” Eddie said.
“Trying to lose them.”
“You don't think they'll come over here?”
“You're one snarky question from getting out and walking,” I said.
Eddie harrumphed like a man twice his age but kept quiet. I angled the Caprice down a narrow road, hopped back onto Crain Highway briefly, then made a left on red onto Baltimore-Annapolis Boulevard. If we didn't have to make a goon-induced detour, B-and-A Boulevard would take us into the city.
My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror frequently. I didn't see the Yukon, but I also didn't ease off the accelerator. We set a good pace. A few miles later, the road dumped us onto 295 before it became Russell Street. “Where are we going now?” Eddie asked.
“You're welcome.”
He sighed. “You're right. Thanks for getting me out of there. What do you think happened to Derek?”
He must be the guy we left in the room. “I doubt they would kill him,” I said. “My guess is they left him alone as long as he wasn't a threat.”
“Good.”
“And I'm not doing his for you,” I said. “If you were just some asshole holding money over Calvin’s head, I would've abandoned you to your fate. Lucky for you, you're an asshole who knows where he's stashing a missing girl.”
Eddie didn't say anything for a few minutes. I didn't much care for him, so I enjoyed the silence. Soon enough, he ruined by asking, “So where we going?”
“Out of the city,” I said. I hung a right on Pratt, working my way over to I-83 North.
“Then what?”
“Then you'd better start talking.”
We crossed into the county. I pulled the Caprice to a curb in Towson near the university. “All right.” I stared at Eddie. His expressio
n was sour, and he had trouble meeting my gaze. “We got away from Tony’s men. Tell me where Iris is.”
“She's safe,” he said after a moment.
“You're going to need to come up with a lot more,” I said.
“I lose all my leverage.”
“Want to ride to a certain Italian restaurant in Baltimore?” I asked.
Eddie frowned. “Of course not. How'd you know those were Tony’s men, anyway?”
“I told you . . . I heard he was on to you.”
“You just happened to hear.” Now, he met my gaze, and he looked angry. Eddie was no fool. I needed to play this carefully if I were going to get him to spill the beans on Iris’ location.
“For one thing, I’m sort of in the information business. For another, I know Tony, but I didn’t put him onto you.” Which was true—I dimed Eddie out to Bruno. “I wanted to find you myself, and I did. If I’d wandered into your old company twenty minutes later, you'd probably be getting tortured right about now. Which could still be arranged if you keep Iris’ location from me.”
Eddie lapsed into silence. He stared ahead. I watched cars and pedestrians go by. The numbers of both were light. The temperature dropped as the day wore on, and people walking the Towson streets wore heavy coats and hats to keep out the winter cold. Finally, Eddie said, “I need a guarantee.”
“Sure. I guarantee I’ll drop you off in Little Italy if you don't start talking.”
He shook his head. “You know what I mean. I need to be sure Calvin is still going to uphold his end of the bargain. Can you negotiate it as his agent?” A smirk turned up the corner of his mouth.
“I can make a suggestion,” I said. “If Calvin gets Iris back, I think he can give you another game.”
“I wanted another year.”
“The Stones did a song about this.”
Maybe it was my sense of humor, but Eddie went quiet again. After a minute or so, he rejoined the conversation. “I'll think about it.”
“This is your best offer?” He nodded. “Fine. Think about it in jail.” I produced my phone.
“What are you doing?” Eddie said.
“You'll be safe in a county jail. Tony can't get to you, and you can tell the cops where Iris is.”
“I don't deal with county cops.”
“You're about to,” I said. “The door is locked, and the window is reinforced. You're not going anywhere.” Eddie sized me up. “You're welcome to try, but you should recall I’ve taken out everyone you’ve sent against me.”
He fell silent again and looked as sour as before. I called Gonzalez. When I hung up, I said, “Is this whole thing bigger than basketball?”
Eddie sulked for a moment before replying. “What do you mean?”
“Just an impression I got from Coach Baker.”
“I’m a data guy,” Eddie said. “I found a way to do point shaving. Period. The end.”
I wasn't sure he was telling me the truth, but he didn't seem to be in a mood to continue talking. We waited for the sirens in silence.
Chapter 22
Gonzalez and a couple uniforms arrived. Eddie scowled at me but accepted his fate. Once the cops led him away and I answered a few of Gonzalez’s questions, I drove home. As usual, I parked the Caprice on the street near my house. I went inside to find Gloria in the living room watching TV and chowing down on a pizza. She said something with hot food in her mouth sounding like, “There’s more on the table.”
I fetched a plate from the kitchen, added two steaming slices to it, and joined her in the living room. She smiled. I tried to give her one in return but couldn’t summon it. “Long day,” I said in explanation. “And frustrating.”
“Seems like we’ve both run into that recently.”
“I think pizza is an excellent elixir. There’s a missing component, however.” I left my plate on the coffee table, walked back into the kitchen, and surveyed the beer status of my fridge. I tended to keep it well stocked. The food situation could be dire, but I would always be able to wash down even a meager meal with a brew if I chose. I grabbed an IPA for me and a blonde ale for Gloria. She grinned when she saw the bottles.
“I should have known,” she said.
After we’d each finished what was on our plates and gone back for seconds, Gloria asked about my day. Earlier in our relationship, I would gloss over a lot of the details of my cases. I still tried to avoid getting bogged down in technical stuff, but she was genuinely interested in my work. It surprised me at first, but I’ve gotten used to it. This also meant I didn’t hold back the more interesting—and potentially scarier—details. We were honest with each other, and if a couple assholes shot at my car from an SUV, I wasn’t going to hide it from Gloria.
After I told her the tale of discovering Eddie’s old office and our harrowing escape from it, she blew out a deep breath and said, “Holy shit.”
“Yeah. Not every day you end up saving the guy you’re trying to take down.”
“You think Tony’s men would’ve killed him?”
“Eventually,” I said. “They probably would’ve beaten him first . . . maybe outright tortured him.” Gloria winced. “Tony’s mostly a nice guy, but there’s a streak of sadism in some of the guys who work for him. I still needed to know where Iris is, so I couldn’t leave Eddie to them.”
“He didn’t tell you where she is?”
I shook my head and bit off a hunk of pizza. It didn’t taste like it came from any of the usual delivery places. The sauce carried a subtle heat rather than simply being sweet. “I hope he’ll tell Gonzalez. He’s the county’s problem now.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll probably wait to hear what the cops get out of him.” I drank some beer. “If I need to do some more investigating, I will.”
My phone buzzed. It was a text from my father inviting me to watch the NCAA tournament selection show where the teams and their seedings were announced. I declined but promised to watch some games with him once they got going. My appetite for basketball was down this year because of my current case.
“You think he’ll tell the cops anything?” Gloria said after finishing her third slice.
I shrugged. “He seemed pretty salty at getting arrested. I guess he thought I’d just let him go or drive him back home.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Tony’s men are onto him. If they could find him at an office he hasn’t used in a year, they could nab him at home. He’s safer in county lockup.”
“I hope he tells them where to find that girl.”
I stared at the last few ounces of my beer. “So do I.”
The next morning, I left a snoring Gloria in bed and went out for a run. As I’d been doing of late, I kept a .38 banded around my waist as I did my laps around Federal Hill Park. I took in the spectacular view of the harbor, admired the cannons, and chased away the eight-thirty chill with four miles of pavement pounding. I sprinted down Riverside Avenue to my house, went inside, and slipped upstairs.
I managed to shower without waking Gloria, but of course, she stirred while I got dressed. She came downstairs while coffee brewed and I worked on breakfast. I didn't feel extravagant, opting for simple toast, sausage, and some berries. While we ate, I checked the sports news for Hanson’s tournament seeding.
Not long after we finished eating, Gonzalez called. “We can't find the girl,” he said.
This didn't sound good. “What do you mean?”
“The little girl. Iris. We don't know where she is.”
“Eddie wouldn't tell you?”
“He talked. Took him a while. The asshole needed to sleep on it, but he told us where she was. We go, and she ain't there.”
“I didn't think he'd lie about her,” I said.
“Honestly, I don't think he did. When we came back and said there was no girl, he was legit surprised . . . maybe even scared.”
“Did he offer an opinion on where she might be? Or who might have her?”
; “Nope,” Gonzalez said. “Told us he's got no idea.”
“You believe him?”
“Much as I don't want to, yeah.”
We hung up. Gloria must have seen my expression because she frowned and asked what was wrong. I told her. “What are you going to do now?” she said.
“I don't know.” I'd been counting on Eddie talking, and the BCPD collecting Iris. Then all would be as right with the world as I could make it. Only the first part happened. If Eddie really was shocked at Iris’ disappearance, I was back to square one.
Maybe square two. My earlier chat with Lou Baker planted the idea this whole mess was somehow bigger than basketball. I wondered if Eddie answered to someone higher in the grand scheme of things. “Actually, I think I’m going to talk to the coach again,” I said.
“You think he knows what's going on?”
“At this point, it's about my only hope.”
With JHC’s spot in the big dance confirmed, the school proved very open about their basketball team and its practices. The players would leave Thursday afternoon for their Friday game in North Carolina as part of the East Region. For the three days leading up to this, they’d be practicing from ten until one. Sessions would be closed to the public but open to students and the press.
I arrived on campus a bit after one-thirty. After parking my car near the athletic offices, I texted Calvin. Eddie is in custody. Still working on Iris. Stay strong. I hoped he would reply as I walked into the building and found Lou Baker. No such luck. I found the coach in his messy quarters, squinting between a TV and a piece of paper. “There’s an app for that,” I said.
He leapt a few inches in his chair when I interrupted him. Baker raised his head so he could look through his glasses at me. Once recognition dawned in his eyes, he scowled. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m still trying to help Calvin.” I walked into the office uninvited, navigated my way through the chaos, and sat in a guest chair. “I’m going to guess you’re still in my way.”
