Dodos

by Al Lamanda

  “I could shake it out of him?” Jack-Jack volunteered.

  “Who?” Ian said. “Shake it out of who?”

  Jack-Jack shrugged his massive shoulders.

  “Maybe Mike the Magnificent really is magic and he just doesn’t know it,” Muffie-Jo suggested. “Maybe the egg really did disappear and is gone forever.”

  “I saw that show, the guy made an entire elephant disappear,” Snafu said. “An egg should be a piece of cake compared to an elephant.”

  “The egg could be in the twilight zone?” Muffie-Jo said. “Sent there by Mike’s magic powers.”

  “The guy didn’t really make the elephant disappear, you bleeding idiot,” Double D said. “It’s called misdirection.”

  “You mean the elephant lost his sense of direction?” Muffie-Jo said. “The poor thing.”

  After a moment of stunned silence, Double D said, “What’s she talking about?”

  “It’s in code,” Patience said.

  “We used code in the CIA,” Wheezer said.

  “Ya mean like how when I was in the Nam and we wanted the flyboys to carpet bomb a village with napalm, you’d get on the radio and tell’em to repeat,” Double D said. “Repeat being code for bombs away. I’d say it three, four times just to watch the fire and light show when the napalm hits the trees and obliterates everything within ten square miles. Talk about the rockets red glare.” Double D paused to wipe a tear from his eye. “I miss the old days,” he sighed.

  Fubar patted Double D on the shoulder. “There, there.”

  Patience grinned and looked across the table at Gavin. Her man was deep in thought, somewhere far, far away. His dinner was untouched, his eyes focused on a spot only he could see. He was in his zone.

  “I could put a tail on this Mike guy?” Peru said. “See where he goes, who he meets, that kind of stuff.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Fubar said. “He could be secretly holding the egg, looking to pass it off later on.”

  Peru looked at Gavin. “Lee?”

  Gavin’s response was a blank stare.

  “Chances are the only place Mike the Magnificent is going is to meetings with his lawyer and then to jail, but it might be worth a shot,” Ian said.

  “I got some stolen cars at the yard you could use,” Fubar said. “Most of them aren’t much to look at, but they run like tops.”

  “I’ll take a look at them,” Peru said.

  “Should we take a vote now?” Snafu said.

  “On what?” Double D said.

  “Should we rip the expense money off or not,” Snafu said.

  “That’s settling,” Double D said. “I didn’t come into this to settle.”

  “Settling for a lot is better than trying to collect on nothing,” Jack-Jack said. “Believe me; I know what it’s like to try to squeeze something out of deadbeats. Sometimes even dropping them off a roof don’t work.”

  “That’s an excellent point, Jack,” Fubar said.

  “Thank you,” Jack-Jack said.

  “If everybody is finished with dinner who is ready for dessert?” Patience said. “I made a lemon cake with lemon frosting and peach cobbler with fresh whipped cream.”

  “Bring it on, sis,” Ian said.

  “Muffie-Jo, you help me in the kitchen,” Patience said.

  About to apply a coat of lipstick to her lips, Muffie-Jo set the tube on the table and stood up.

  “I thought you lost that at the comedy club?” Patience said.

  “Since the boys didn’t find it and my phone, I bought another one,” Muffie-Jo said as she followed Patience.

  Ian looked at the tube of lipstick. Everybody else, except Gavin, stared at Ian. Slowly, Ian turned to look at Gavin.

  “Lee, do you remember seeing Muffie-Jo’s lipstick and cell phone?” Ian said.

  Gavin continued to stare into space.

  “Lee?” Ian said.

  Gavin stood up so suddenly and violently, even Jack-Jack sat back in his chair. Without a word, Gavin walked to the sofa and sat down.

  “Lee?” Ian called after Gavin.

  Patience and Muffie-Jo returned with the cakes and a pot of coffee. Patience looked at Gavin on the sofa. “What’s that about?” she said.

  “Maybe you can find out,” Ian said.

  Patience went to the sofa and sat beside Gavin. “Are you okay, hon?”

  “I get his piece if he doesn’t want it,” Ian said.

  Gavin didn’t move so much as a muscle.

  Patience sighed. “Well, I guess he isn’t hungry.”

  Patience returned to the table where cake, cobbler and coffee were quickly consumed. Sometime between Patience and Muffie-Jo clearing the dishes, stacking them in the dishwasher and brewing another pot of coffee, Gavin suddenly came to life. he stood up from the sofa, returned to the table and announced, “P, I’m starving. When do we eat?”

  Patience threw her hands in the air and looked at Ian. “I give up. You deal with him.”

  “Okay, never mind, we’ll eat later,” Gavin said. “P, where’s my notebook? Give everyone a sheet of paper and a pen.”

  “Seven and a half months pregnant here,” Patience said.

  “Right, right, never mind,” Gavin said, stood, dashed to the living room and returned with his notebook and a fist full of pens. He passed the notebook and pens to his right. “Everybody tear off a sheet and take a pen.”

  “Me and Patience, too?” Muffie-Jo said.

  “No, you guys are busy making dinner,” Gavin said.

  “The hell we are,” Patience said.

  Gavin waited for everyone, including Muffie-Jo, but not Patience to take a pen and a sheet of paper. Muffie-Jo immediately began doodling clouds with lightning bolts.

  “Wheezer,” Gavin said. “Get on your computer and check incoming flights from Europe, passenger Peter Pogo. Date, time, airport, the works. I want that by tonight.”

  “I should write this down?” Wheezer said.

  “Yes. Johnny, dig out your best car,” Gavin said. “Make it a nice big Lincoln, a Town Car if you got one. You get the flight information from Wheezer and you pick them up at the airport. You hold a sign at the gate. Pogo party and they will follow you right to your car. I’ll tell you where to deliver them later.”

  “I should…”

  “Yes, write it down,” Gavin said. “Everybody, write it down.”

  “What you told Wheezer or just what you told me?” Peru said.

  Patience smirked at Gavin as he rubbed his forehead. “Just what applies to you. Snafu, you’re the phone company expert. I’ll need…”

  “Just so we’re clear, I write down just what you tell me?” Snafu said.

  “Only write down if I look at you,” Gavin said.

  “Are you looking at me now?” Snafu said.

  “Yes.”

  “Just checking.”

  “I drew clouds,” Muffie-Jo said.

  “Lemme see?” Wheezer said.

  Gavin glared at Muffie-Jo.

  “Now you’re looking at her,” Snafu said. “You want I should write clouds on my paper?”

  Gavin shifted his eyes to Snafu. “I want you to…”

  “It’s a nice cloud,” Wheezer said. “Especially the lightning bolts.”

  “Thank you, Wheezer. Would you like me to draw an elephant? For some reason I’m good at elephants.”

  “I’ve always liked the giraffe myself,” Snafu said. “Those long necks with all the polka dots colors.”

  “Polka is a dance, you bleeding idiot,” Double D said.

  “Lee’s eye is twitching,” Snafu said.

  “Maybe we should all leave?” Fubar said.

  “Maybe you should all shut up and let me finish,” Gavin snarled. “Who was I looking at last?”

  “I think it was Doug,” Fubar said.

  “No, it was not, neither,” Double D said. “I believe it was Jack.”

  “Wasn’t me,” Jack-Jack said.

  Patience broke into a giggle
as she looked at Gavin. “How is your head, hon?”

  “Never mind my head,” Gavin said. “Snafu, you’re the…”

  “Are you looking at me now?” Snafu said.

  “Do you see me looking at you?”

  “It’s more like a glare.”

  “That counts. I want you to install a bug for me, can you do that?”

  “Piece of cake,” Snafu said.

  “That reminds me,” Ian said. “Anymore cake, sis?”

  “Check the freezer,” Patience said.

  “Rig one for a phone and another for an office,” Gavin said.

  “Me?” Snafu said.

  “Am I still looking at you?”

  “Right,” Snafu said and scribbled on his paper.

  Gavin turned and looked at Double D. “Doug, do you have anything that passes for C-4 explosives?”

  “Only thing I have that passes for C-4 is C-4,” Double D said.

  “Enough to take out an office?” Gavin said.

  “Office building is more like it,” Double D said.

  “That much, huh?”

  “What the Army don’t miss won’t hurt it none,” Double D said.

  “Get a small amount ready, but for God’s sake don’t prime it,” Gavin said.

  Double D scribbled his instruction on his paper.

  Gavin looked at Jack-Jack. “Still have those cousins in Jersey?”

  “The twins?” Jack-Jack said. “Cal and Hal?”

  “Yeah,” Gavin said. “They still in the bone crunching business?”

  “It’s in our blood.”

  “Call them,” Gavin said. “Tell them there’s a quick buck for them for a half hour’s work.”

  “Will they need tools?” Jack-Jack said.

  “Tools?” Wheezer said.

  “Axes, hammers, blowtorch,” Jack-Jack said. “The usual.”

  “No tools,” Gavin said. “Just them.”

  Jack-Jack scribbled on his paper. “Got it.”

  “Fubar, we’ll need a van or a mini-bus, something innocuous,” Gavin said.

  Fubar looked at Gavin.

  “Indiscernible,” Gavin said. “You know?”

  Fubar looked at Gavin.

  “A piece of shit that runs good,” Double D said.

  “Oh, sure,” Fubar said. “No problem.”

  Gavin looked at Ian, or rather, Ian’s empty chair. Gavin shifted his eyes across the kitchen to the counter where Ian stood with his back against it, eating an ice cream cake from the box.

  “Don’t you ever get full?” Gavin said.

  “Full is a state of mind,” Ian said.

  “Polish up your fingertips,” Gavin told Ian. “You have a safe to crack.”

  “Is it wired to an alarm company?” Ian said.

  Gavin looked at Wheezer. “That doesn’t matter. Wheeze will override it and shut it down.”

  “No problem then,” Ian said.

  “Any questions?” Gavin asked the group.

  After a moment of silence, Fubar said, “I hate to be the squeaky fly on the wheel, Lee, but I was…”

  “What the hell is a squeaky fly?” Double D said.

  “You know, the one that gets the ointment,” Fubar said.

  “Ointment?” Snafu said. “You mean like for a rash?”

  “Could we…” Gavin said.

  Fubar looked at Patience. “That reminds me,” he said. “You being a nurse and all, maybe you could look at this rash I got on my foot.”

  “Only if you cut it off and mail it to me,” Patience said.

  “I’m not clear on this squeaky fly thing,” Jack-Jack said.

  “I think what Fubar means is the squeaky wheel gets the grease,” Ian said.

  “Sure,” Fubar said. “That.”

  “What’s your question?” Gavin said.

  “We all got assignments,” Fubar said. “What’s the plan?”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow after Ian raids the safe,” Gavin said. “In the meantime, everybody go do what I asked and we’ll meet for breakfast tomorrow morning at the Key Biscayne Diner on Broadway at nine.”

  Everybody looked at Gavin.

  “Should we go now?” Snafu said.

  “That would be lovely,” Gavin said.

  Watching lions stalk a gazelle on the Serengeti Plains in Africa, Gavin bit into one of two burgers and raised the volume on the television just a bit with a remote.

  Beside Gavin on the sofa, Patience said, “You’re in your glory, aren’t you?”

  “Need I remind you for the last time, you insisted I take this job,” Gavin said and ate some fries.

  “I didn’t tell you to have the time of your life,” Patience said.

  On the television, a female lion grabbed the gazelle in her massive jaws and crunched down and that was that, dinner was served. “If you’re worried I won’t quit after this, don’t,” Gavin said. “I’m all done and if that means I have to pack boxes in a warehouse, then I pack boxes.”

  “Then let me ask you this question,” Patience said. “The job fell apart through no fault of your own, why won’t you let it go? Do as Ian says and take the expense money and run. It’s not like we’re broke or anything.”

  “I don’t like being used.”

  “Meaning?”

  Gavin set his plate aside and stuck his right hand into his pants pocket. He came out with Muffie-Jo’s cell phone and lipstick. “This isn’t about the job anymore,” he said.

  Patience picked up the remote and muted the television. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?”

  “Hell just froze over.”

  “Meaning?”

  “My husband just found out he has a conscience.”

  “Anymore of these burgers?” Gavin said.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Thirty-nine hours after the meeting in Gavin’s apartment, Johnny Peru held a handmade sign at the international gates in Kennedy Airport. He should have been amazed at how easy it was to pick up Pogo and his band of merry men, but somehow he wasn’t. He knew from firsthand experience, from charging the rich six hundred dollars for a thirty-nine dollar oil change just how stupid they could be, like somehow changing the oil on a Mercedes was different than a Chevy.

  For Christ sake, he ever wrote the sign in crayon. Teal, because that was all he had available. Pogo Party, he scribbled on a piece of cardboard he found in a dumpster near the airport.

  Five men walking through the gates came strolling over to him and one of them said, “I’m Peter Pogo. The lawyer send you?”

  “Right,” Peru said. “The lawyer.”

  “Help us with our bags and there will be a nice tip in it for you,” Pogo said.

  So Peru schlepped bags into the enormous trunk of the Town Car for a fifty-dollar tip, which split among five millionaires was cheap to the max. He would have gladly returned the fifty and added one of his own if the five of them would just shut up on the drive into Manhattan.

  Like chain smoking old women at Bingo, they cackled on and on about some empty headed blonde bombshell they met in Europe. A real Marylyn Monroe type, although not as smart (huh?) they said. The two who looked like twins kept completing each other’s sentences, which was even more annoying to listen to than customers complaining about their oil changes.

  From the airport to the bridge into Manhattan and onto the FDR Drive, Peru did his best to tune out their constant stream of chatter (mostly about the blonde bombshell and her stupid pregnant sister who showed up at the wrong time) and cheered himself up by imagining what it was like to drive the five of them into the East River with the doors locked and the windows on childproof.

  Thankfully, Peru’s torture ended when he arrived at the Park Avenue South office building and dumped the five idiot’s curbside. He carried their bags into the lobby where a security guard allowed them to store them in the lobby, took his fare and another fifty-dollar tip, then bid them adieu.

  Returning to the Town Car, Peru spotted the old Volkswagen mini-bus Fubar
came up with parked on the west side of Park Avenue South. Peru drove around the block, ditched the Town Car and knocked on the side door of the mini-bus.

  Agnes took one look at Peter Pogo and his four associates and said, “This aught to be good.”

  “Guys never shut up the whole trip from the airport,” Peru said as he squeezed into a seat in the rear of the mini-bus. “Kept going on and on about some empty headed blonde in a mini skirt they met in Sweden somewhere.”

  Gavin, in the front passenger seat, turned around to look at Ian behind him, who turned around to look at Peru. “Yeah? What they say?” Ian said.

  “The usual guy in heat crap,” Peru said. “You know.”

  “No, I don’t,” Ian said.

  “What’s his name, Pogo, said he’ll scour the Earth and spend every last dime to his name to find the blonde,” Peru said. “Said how silky smooth perfect legs like that come along just once in a man’s lifetime, or something like that.”

  “He said,” Ian said and paused when Wheezer, seated next to Ian started rocking back and forth and sucking oxygen. “Would you stop that,” Ian demanded.

  “What I say?” Peru said.

  “There he is,” Gavin said.

  All eyes in the van turned across the street where Waldo Wallace and Dudley Brown paused in front of the office building to check the address. Wallace held a black briefcase in his right hand. After a few seconds, they entered the lobby.

  “And there goes Jack and his cousins,” Gavin said as the three giants came into view.

  Beside Wheezer and Snafu, Double D started squeezing a four-ounce ball of C-4 plastic explosive. “I brought a primer just in case you changed your mind,” he told Gavin.

  “Pass it up,” Gavin said.

  “Aw, Lee,” Double D whined.

  “Now,” Gavin demanded.

  Reluctantly, Double D passed the primer to Ian, who gave it to Gavin.

  “They’re going in, Lee,” Ian said of Jack-Jack and his cousins.

  “And so are we,” Gavin said.

  When Wallace and Dudley Brown entered Leo’s office, Agnes looked up from the legal brief she was reading and said, “Can this get any better?”

  “I demand to see Mr. Levine,” Wallace said as he stood before Agnes’ desk.