People Like Us

by J. D. Rhoades

  Rachel answered the door to find Sam standing there, looking rumpled but presentable. As she let him in, he raised one eyebrow almost imperceptibly. Her answer was a small nod. He smiled and followed her into the parlor.

  The sword was laid out on the coffee table, gleaming beside its scabbard. Sam halted and looked at it. “So, this is it,” he said. He nodded at Suddath. “Doctor.” Suddath nodded back, his face cold and expressionless. Sam extended a hand to Aunt Sally. “Winslow Price, ma’am. I’m a dealer in antiquities. Like this sword here.”

  She took the hand, smiling politely, but her eyes were wary. “Margaret Morrison.”

  Sam rubbed his hands together. “So, let’s have a look, shall we?” He sat down on the couch next to Aunt Sally and took a pair of nitrite surgeon’s gloves out of one pocket. After snapping the gloves on, he picked up the sword and examined it all along its length. He made little humming sounds deep in his throat as he looked at the “C.S.A.” stamp on the blade and at the engraved TJJ at the end of the wrapped hilt. After that first examination, he took a jewelers’ loupe from his jacket pocket and examined the blade again.

  “Well?” Suddath demanded.

  Sam didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his tone was distracted. “The metal’s the right age and type. The style is consistent. The dent in the scabbard could easily have been made by a minie ball. The engraving…” He looked at the engraved lettering again through the loupe and nodded. When he set the sword back onto the red velvet, he sat back and looked at it without speaking. The silence in the room was broken only by the slow ticking of the clock on the mantle. He reached out and ran the tips of his fingers over the blade, almost reverently. Finally, he looked up. “It’s the genuine article.”

  Everyone, even Rachel, let out their breath at the same time. Sam picked up the scabbard and began subjecting it to the same examination. He nodded in confirmation.

  “How…how much is it worth?” Aunt Sally said.

  Sam put the sword down. “It depends on the collector, of course. Some are willing to pay more because a certain item fills a particular niche in their collection. But if I were you, I wouldn’t take anything less than…” he gave Suddath a quick look, “One hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Aunt Sally’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh. Oh, my goodness.”

  Rachel spoke up. “That’s what you need, Grandma. It’ll help pay those debts you’ve been so worried about. It’ll save the house and the farm.”

  Suddath stood up. “Mrs. Morrison, I’m aware of your situation, and believe me, I have sympathy for it. So I’m prepared to be generous. I will offer you today, in cash, the sum of one hundred and twenty-five thousand.”

  Aunt Sally looked as if she was about to faint. “Oh.” She said. “Oh.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. So much money. But…” She looked at the sword. “It’s been in my family for so long.”

  “I know that,” Suddath replied. “So…one hundred and fifty? Today?”

  Aunt Sally took a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t know. It’s…it’s like losing Mama and Daddy all over again.”

  Rachel glanced at her. She was laying it on pretty thick. But another look at Suddath and she knew Aunt Sally was playing it perfectly. The professor was practically trembling, like a cat on a windowsill watching birds in the yard. Finally, Aunt Sally broke the tension with a sigh. “I suppose I really don’t have much choice.” She looked up at Suddath. “You could really put your hands on that much? Today?”

  “Ma’am,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Suddath noticed the black SUV parked by the curb as he walked out onto the front porch. The bumper stickers let him know that his loaned muscle had arrived. He went to the passenger side window, which rolled down as he approached. The face that looked back at him was pretty much what he’d expected: the square jaw and swollen head of a serious user of Human Growth Hormone and steroids, blond brush cut, small hostile eyes. “You’re Hoffman’s people?”

  The man nodded without speaking. Suddath ducked his head to look into the vehicle. The driver was from the same mold as the passenger. “I’m going to get something out of my car,” Suddath told them. “Something valuable. We’re going to take it inside, and I’m going to make a trade for something even more valuable. Then we’re going to come out. There’ll be a woman with us. I want you to make sure no one interferes with any of that. Do you understand?”

  The passenger nodded. He opened the door and got out. He was dressed to intimidate in black jeans and a T-shirt at least a size too small that hugged his gym-rat physique. He had a holster strapped to his belt. His partner, similarly dressed and armed, followed suit. Suddath nodded with satisfaction. “Come with me.” He walked to the trunk of his car and used the remote key fob to open it. The weight of the briefcase made him grunt with the effort.

  “You want us to help you with that?” the passenger said with a sardonic smile.

  Suddath looked back, flushing at the glint of amusement in the man’s eyes. “I’m fine,” he snapped. The two men fell in behind him as he mounted the steps.

  “Shit.” Sam could see Rachel in the foyer. She was looking out of the sidelight by the front door, watching Suddath coming back up the steps, followed by two muscular goons. She darted back into the parlor. “He’s got a couple of guys with him.”

  Aunt Sally stood up. “What? Why?”

  Rachel’s face was grim. “I think I know.” She shook her head. “When I told him I’d get away and meet up with him later, he just gave me that creepy smile. He said he had another plan.”

  “He means to take you with him. And keep me from doing anything about it.” Sam felt a sick twisting in his stomach. “He thinks he’s rescuing you.”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “Well, that’s not happening.” Sam stood up.

  “Sam, no. I can handle him. I can get away. We can…”

  Suddath entered the room, carrying a briefcase. Two black-clad and silent men followed. Sam’s heart pounded as he saw the guns on their hips. “Mrs. Morrison—” he raised the briefcase, “—I have the payment right here.” He laid it on the coffee table and popped the latches. With the air of a sculptor unveiling his latest work, he opened the briefcase. Sam could see the stacked bills and the glint of gold.

  Aunt Sally was still playing her role to perfection. “My…my goodness. Is that…gold?”

  Suddath nodded, the smile Rachel had described so perfectly spreading across his face. Sam wanted to rip that smile, and that face, right off. “I didn’t have it all in currency. But if you check today’s gold prices, you’ll find it adds up. And if you hold on to the gold, you might very well find that it increases your profit.” The smile turned a little sad. “With civilization in its current state of collapse, gold is probably going nowhere but up.” He reached out and picked up sword and scabbard. He slid the blade into the scabbard and looked at Rachel. “And now, my dear. We should be going.”

  Sam felt his heart pounding. The idea of Rachel leaving with this man and his thugs felt like a spear of ice piercing him lengthwise. He wanted to jump up and scream no, to stop her from going with him. But that would give away the game. “Price’s” connection with “Angela” was supposed to be secret. Sam was too much the grifter to queer the game just as the exchange was going down. He looked at Rachel. Her eyes were calm.

  Trust me, that look said. I can handle this.

  Sam didn’t believe it for a minute. But he sat there and watched her walk out with Suddath, the two black clad thugs trailing. There was a brief silence, finally broken by Aunt Sally’s voice. “Well, shit.”

  The sound broke the spell. Sam leaped to his feet.

  “Sammy, no,” Aunt Sally said. “She can handle him. She’ll get back here.”

  Sam turned on her. “And what’s going to happen to her when the mark finds out there’s not re
ally another buyer? The best we can hope for is that he’ll call the cops. The worst—”

  “Don’t think about the worst, Sammy. She can take care of herself. And if she can’t…” Sally got up and snapped the briefcase shut. “We need to go. Willie’s upstairs, all packed.” She picked up the case. “Whuff. Sumbitch is heavy. You coming?”

  Sam shook his head. “No. You go. I’ve got to make sure Rachel’s okay.”

  Aunt Sally closed her eyes and sighed. “Sammy. Sammy. What did I try to teach you?”

  “Would you leave William behind?”

  Her eyes opened. “That’s different. Willie’s blood kin.”

  “Not so different.”

  She grimaced. “I ain’t got time to bandy words with you. If you ain’t comin’…” She started toward the door.

  “Same meeting place, right?” Sam called after her.

  She stopped. “Yeah. But don’t expect us to wait forever.” He heard William’s heavy tread on the stairs, then the murmur of voices. Then nothing. He headed for the front door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Where are we going?” Rachel said. Her mind was racing. She had to figure a way to get free of this man before he discovered there was no buyer. Think, girl, think.

  “My house. We can contact your Asian buyer there.” Suddath gestured to the two silent men. “Follow us. Don’t let anyone else interfere.” One of them nodded and they both headed for a large black SUV parked a little way down the street. Suddath took her arm. “Come on.” He began steering her toward his vehicle. His fingers were gripping just a little too hard.

  “Stop,” she complained. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Stop!” another voice echoed hers from the steps.

  Sam was there, advancing down the steps toward them, a look of grim determination on his face. “Let her go.”

  Suddath’s lip curled. “She’s with me now, Price. You don’t deserve her. Or the money.”

  “Maybe not,” Sam was still coming. “But she’s not going with you.”

  “I think she is.” Suddath gestured to the two black-clad men he’d brought with him. With cruel smiles on their faces, they swaggered toward Sam. One produced something from a back pocket, a weighted leather blackjack.

  “Please,” Rachel begged. “Don’t let them hurt him.”

  Suddath didn’t reply, just watched the thugs move in. His eyes were bright with anticipation.

  A gunshot rang out.

  Fischer had been watching avidly from his hidden sniper’s nest. The older man taking the briefcase into the house, followed by the two Nazi dudes, had piqued his interest. This looked like some kind of big money deal going down. Fischer was a man who focused on his mission, but he wasn’t one to pass up a juicy target of opportunity, and there were enough bullets to go around for everyone.

  After a few minutes, he saw the older man exit the house, accompanied by a striking redhead. He smiled as he recognized her as one of his primary targets. The Nazis headed off toward their car as the older man began pulling the woman toward his. He centered his sight just above her breastbone, let out his breath and began to squeeze the trigger. He was interrupted by the appearance of a man on the steps of the house. Fischer’s smile widened as he ID’d his other target. But first things first. He re-centered on the woman, who was closer now, and squeezed the trigger.

  Suddath blinked in surprise as one of his new-found bodyguards stumbled and collapsed to the ground. The other gaped in surprise before another shot split the morning calm. The man he knew as Price cried out. Suddath could have sworn he was shouting “RACHEL!” Angela Morrison was moving, running toward the house. The bodyguard who was still on his feet had his gun out and was firing at something down the street. The other bodyguard was screaming something unintelligible, but he also drew his weapon and began firing in the same direction from his position on the ground.

  What are they firing at? Suddath wondered.

  He gaped in confusion and reflexively raised the sword in his hand, still wrapped in its shroud of red velvet. As if by magic, a hole appeared in the middle of the cloth. A hammer blow struck Suddath in the middle of his chest, and he was suddenly on the ground. He couldn’t breathe. The sword lay on the pavement, a few inches out of reach.

  I don’t understand, Suddath thought dimly.

  It was the last thought he had.

  Rachel heard the first shot, saw one of the thugs who’d been heading toward Sam go down. She was moving before the second shot. The air was filled with screams and the sharp reports of gunfire, but all she could focus on was Sam calling her name. All she could see was his face and his arms held out to her. If she was going to die, it was going to be in those arms.

  She ran toward him.

  “Goddamnit,” Fischer swore as one of the Nazis stepped directly into his line of fire at the last second. He saw the man go down, heard his scream of agony. He tried to re-center his shot, but the second man had his gun out and was firing blindly, seeking the source of the shot he’d heard. Fischer heard the back window of the car shatter. He saw a flash of something red, and that distracted his aim again. His shot knocked the older guy he’d seen earlier on his ass. That drew more shots from the man still standing, and now the man on the ground had rolled to his side and was firing at him as well. This time, both of them seemed to have recognized where the shots were coming from. The bullets almost sounded like steel drums as they smacked into the sheet metal and ricocheted off the trunk. He saw the woman running toward the man and swore again. He needed a clearer field of fire. His hiding place, no longer secret, had become more of a hindrance than a help. He reached over and yanked the trunk release. The early morning sunlight flooded into the trunk and the stuffy air became cooler. He took a deep breath as he rose and fired. And fired. And fired again. The return fire split the air around him, but nothing hit him. He felt invincible, like Superman. Nothing could touch him. He was actually laughing as he climbed out of the trunk and began firing again. The second Nazi went down and he let out a whoop of triumph. He was unstoppable today. The one he’d hit first was still firing, but he quickly ended that with a shot to the head. With the threat of return fire ended, he scanned the scene and quickly located his targets. They were together, the man with his arms around the woman. The man was looking straight at him. He tried to turn the woman away from where Fischer stood, as if in a futile attempt to shield her with his body.

  It wouldn’t matter.

  He advanced toward them, his rifle centered on the man’s chest.

  “I love you,” Sam whispered.

  “I love you,” Rachel said.

  The exchange of shots had ended, the only sound the whimpering of the wounded man on the ground. The other thug lay still. Suddath lay on his back, eyes staring upward at nothing, a red stain soaking through his white dress shirt. The useless sword lay a few feet away. The man with the rifle who’d seemingly appeared from nowhere was advancing on them, a death’s head grin splitting his face. There was nowhere to run. Sam, knowing it was futile, turned Rachel away from the advancing rifleman, as if to buy here a few more seconds of life. The oncoming assassin raised his rifle.

  Two birds with one stone, Fischer thought as he raised the rifle and took aim.

  A mighty roaring sound filled his ears. He tried to turn toward it, but then there was a sudden incredible pain and he was flying through the air. No, he was falling. And this time, there was no one to catch him.

  The gold Lincoln came out of the hidden driveway at full speed, engine bellowing like an enraged bull. The killer tried to turn, but the center of the front bumper caught him fully and crumpled him like a toy, sending him across the road and onto the opposite curb with the impact. The big car stopped, fully across the street, then backed up and turned, pointing away from the fallen men lying on the pavement.

  William poked his head from the driver’s side window.

  “Y’all coming or not?” he called o
ut.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The farm was down a long dirt track, hidden from the hard road by stands of pine trees. The gate was plastered with notices of foreclosure sale, but for the moment, the only sign of habitation was the big gold Lincoln parked out back.

  Four people sat around the big wooden table in the kitchen of the farmhouse. The table was covered with stacks of currency and gold coins, evenly divided between the couples on either side of the table.

  “So where will you go now?” Sam asked.

  “Atlanta.” Aunt Sally was standing behind William. She put an affectionate hand on his shoulder. “We know a doctor down there who won’t ask a lot of questions. For the right price. We need to get Willie here looked at.”

  “I’ll be fine,” William muttered, but he didn’t look it. A light sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and his face looked as if he’d aged twenty years over the past two days.

  “Sorry again for the trouble we brought on you.” Sam pushed one of the stacks of gold coins across the table toward Aunt Sally. “Here. I know it won’t make up for everything, but it’ll help with the doctor.”

  She pushed it back. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “Yeah,” Rachel spoke up. “Don’t be an ass.”

  Sam grinned at them both. Then, deliberately, he pushed the stack back across the table.