Cold City (Repairman Jack - the Early Years Trilogy) (16 page)

Well, he was feeling flush at the moment and took advantage of the opportunity to share a little.

He shrugged.  ”When the bill is that small, the difference between a decent tip and a great tip can be as little as a buck.  I like to round up to great.”

Who knew?  Tipping might turn out to be the only thing he’d be great at.

“Well, thanks for lunch,” she said as they rose from their seats.

“This was fun.”

No lie. Cristin had a light, easy way about her and he enjoyed being with her.

“Where do you want to eat dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“Well, yeah.”  She stretched “yeah” to two syllables.  “New acquaintances that we are, how else are we going to get to know each other if we don’t spend some time together?”

Spend some time together
… was that wise?  She seemed good company, but she was from home, from the past.  She’d said she didn’t want a relationship, and neither did he, especially not with someone from the other side of the line he’d drawn across his life. 

Wait, what was he thinking?  He had to hit the road around six.

“No can do.  I’m working tonight.”

She didn’t hesitate.  “Tomorrow night then.”

Just dinner.  And at a real restaurant.  Be nice to have a real sit-down meal with someone.  He’d eaten once at The Spot – something Julio had microwaved to death – and would not make that mistake again.  Nibbling snacks and such hunched over the rear counter in Abe’s store wasn’t a meal either.

“Tomorrow night I can do.  But we’ll have to eat on the late side.  I’m working all Wednesday and I’m never sure when I’ll get off.”

She shook her head.  “Tomorrow night’s no good for me.  Got to see a client.”

“But you just said–”

She started walking toward the door.  “I know.  But I wanted to see how many times you’d back out.”

“I really am working tonight.”

“And I’m really working tomorrow night.”

When they reached the bright sunshine and cold November air of the sidewalk, she turned to face him.

“I know what’s going on in your head, Jack… Moore.  You think if we hang out too much I’m going to fall in love with you and get all clingy and possessive and start to horn in on your life.”

He’d never organized the feeling into a coherent thought, but now that she’d laid it on the table… yeah, that pretty much nailed it.  Of course, he couldn’t admit it.

“Come on, Cristin–”

“Can I just tell you something, Jack?  No offense, but you’re no Pierce Brosnan.  You’re on the skinny side and not at all my type.  I want a relationship less than you do.  What I do want is to get to know you, learn all your secrets–”

“What secrets?”

Her mouth twisted, “Like how Karina was in bed–”

“Oh, jeez.”

“–and what kind of deliveries you make and why you’re hiding out here in the city under a phony name.  Stuff like that.  And when I’ve sucked you dry of everything interesting, I’m going to dump you like a week-old newspaper and move on to someone else.”  She put her hands on her hips and gave him a fierce look.  “There.  Feel better now?”

Well, truth be told… yeah.  Lots.

He put on a hurt look.  “You really think I’m skinny?”

The tight line of her lips wavered, and then she cracked up – throwing head back and laughing. Jack laughed too.  A hug seemed in order at that moment so they clinched briefly,

As Cristin stepped back, Jack said, “Who
is
your type?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“How about Friday night?”

She shook her head.  “Friday and Saturday are N-G.  But Thursday–”

“Another work night.  You seem to work a lot of nights too.”

She shrugged.  “It’s not a nine-to-five job.  That’s one of the things I like about it. I can go a couple of days without a call, and then I might run my cute little butt off for a week straight.”

She did indeed have a cute little butt.

“But weekends too?”

“The holidays are coming, in case you’ve forgotten.  I see corporate clients Monday to Friday during work hours.  The private clients often are free only at night.  As for the out-of-towners, a lot of them can only get into the city on weekends.  But they’re almost always gone by Sunday night, so that tends to be a reliably free night for me.”

“And this one’s open for me too.  Let’s do it.  I’ll leave the
venue
to you, since you’re the planner.”

“You did say you eat anything.”

“My genus and species is
Eatibus anythingus
.”

Except for the food at The Spot. 

She smiled.  “I’ll find us an interesting place.  But we need to establish an important ground rule: We go Dutch or we don’t go.”

She definitely seemed serious about no relationship.

“Fair enough.   I’ll be on the road most of Sunday, so–”

A sly smile.  “On the road where?”

“I’ll ignore that and call you Saturday afternoon.”

“You’d better.”

She waved as she turned and began walking east.  Jack waved back and headed west, wondering how all this would turn out.  Because he was already looking forward to Sunday.

WEDNESDAY

1

Tony was late.

Jack had pulled into the Lonely Pine’s parking lot as usual and waited off to the side, idling.  This was the first time he’d arrived without Tony waiting.

Okay, no problem. 

But after half an hour and still no Tony, he pulled the truck into a parking space and shut off the engine.  He eyed the mobile phone on the seat next to him.  Time to call Bertel?  He didn’t want to get Tony in hot water with the boss, but maybe something had happened in New York.  Jack didn’t know how Tony had been involved in the Kahane shooting – maybe on the shooter’s side, maybe on Kahane’s side as protection, or maybe something else – but he had little doubt he’d been involved.  And maybe he’d got himself caught.  Maybe he was sitting in a cell in the Tombs as an accomplice. 

The only thing Jack knew for sure at the moment was that Tony wasn’t here.

He decided to call and was pulling Bertel’s number from his wallet when someone tapped on the passenger-side window.  Jack jumped and tensed, then he recognized the face.  He’d shaved his beard, but no question who it was.

Tony.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he said, leaning across and unlatching the door. 

The courtesy light didn’t come on when the door swung open.  Jack had taped down the button in the door frame. 

“The shit has hit the fan,” Tony said without preamble as he slid into the passenger seat.  His voice sounded shaky.  “Big time.”

Swell.  Just what Jack needed to hear.

“What’s that mean?”

“We were raided.”

“ ‘We’?”

“Our little warehouse.  NC state cops and ATF goons showed up and sealed the place.”

Jack fought a sinking feeling.

“How’d you get away?”

Tony lit a cigarette.  His lighter’s flame wavered.

“By not being there.  I was just about to make my turn into the driveway when I saw the flashers.  I kept on driving, parked down the road, and came back on foot for a look-see.”

“They didn’t get Bertel, did they?”

Tony exhaled a cloud.  “Naw.  He hardly ever comes down from New York.  Twice a month, maybe, and this wasn’t one of those times.” 

“He lose a lot?”

Tony nodded.  “We unloaded a shipment of Winstons just this afternoon, but that’s not going to burn him up as much as somebody ratting him out.”

Jack rolled down his window – as much to let out the smoke as to allow a better look at the Lonely Pine’s parking lot.  All quiet.

“Who’d do that?”

“Good question.  It’s a small operation and Bertel keeps it broken into compartments.”

“Are we in trouble?”

“You and me?  I don’t think so.  But Billy is.”

“Who’s he?”

“One of the warehouse guys who helps me load the trucks.  I saw him sitting in the back of one of the cop cars.”

Jack gave the lot another quick scan.  “Shouldn’t we be on the move?”

Tony shook his head. “Billy knows me but doesn’t know you or the other drivers.  And he doesn’t know where I meet up with you guys.  All he knows is I show up out of the night with a truck that we load up, and then I disappear back into the night.  He can’t even tell them what kind of truck I’ll arrive in because Bertel rents different kinds in random order.  He doesn’t know my last name, I don’t know his.  He doesn’t know Bertel’s name at all – just knows him as ‘the boss’ – and doesn’t know where he’s from.  And you… you don’t know Billy and don’t have a clue where the warehouse is.”

“All compartmentalized,” Jack said, nodding with appreciation.  He’d suspected as much, and expected nothing less from Bertel.  “Smart.” 

“But none of that protects against one jerk with a big mouth.”  He shook his head.  “Billy, I bet.”

“But he got caught.”

“Billy likes his beer.  Five’ll get you twenty he had a few – more than a few – and mouthed off in front of the wrong person, who then went and dropped a dime.”

“Really?” Jack found that hard to believe.  “You hear a guy in a bar blabbing about running cigarettes and you say to yourself, ‘I think I’ll go give ATF a call.’  People really do that?  I can see if he’s bagging heroin for kids, but cigarettes?”  

“Never know where you’re going to run into a busybody.  But more likely someone traded Billy for a future favor.  Whatever, Billy got himself tailed and blew a sweet operation.”  He shook his head.  “Shit.”

“What now?”

“You go back empty.  But don’t count on getting paid for the trip.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault.”

“If Bertel doesn’t get his dough, you don’t get yours.”

Jack banged his fist on the steering wheel – once.  Ah, well, he should have known it was too sweet a gig to last. 

“Bertel know?”

Tony nodded.  “Course.  Called him, and is he
pissed
.  This could screw his whole deal with the Mummy. If he can’t guarantee a steady supply of butts, the greasy bastard will get ’em from someone else.  So the boss has got some scrambling to do.  Take him a while to get a new operation set up and running, though.”

Jack sighed and leaned back.  He should head north now.  Since the truck was empty, he didn’t have to worry about getting stopped.  He could take the interstate all the way and make good time.  But he’d been on the road all night.  A short nap would hit the spot.

“Do we have the usual room?”

Tony shook his head.  “Never got around to renting it.  You don’t want to stay here anyway.”

“I thought you said this Billy guy doesn’t know about it.”

“He doesn’t.  But Elizabeth City isn’t exactly Raleigh.  The ATFers are probably at the warehouse waiting for me to show up with the truck.  When I don’t, they’ll go looking.  So I’m not staying here and neither are you.”

Jack bristled at that.  “I’ll decide–”

Tony jabbed a finger at him.  “You know what I look like.  They nab you, they’ll sweat you, and before I know it, there’s a drawing of my puss circulating all over the mid-Atlantic states.” 

“I wouldn’t–”

“Maybe you wouldn’t, maybe you would.  I don’t know you, Jack.  I get to see you for maybe twenty minutes every few days.  You seem like a standup guy, but I can’t risk it.  Neither can the boss.  And I’ve gotta look out for him too.  So we put some distance between this town and this truck and we bunk you somewhere else.”

Much as he resented taking orders from Tony, the logic was unassailable: Staying here was plain stupid. 

He reached for the ignition.  “Where do you suggest?”

“Well, we can get lost in Newport Beach.  I’ll think on it while you drive me to my car.”

“Your car?”

“Yeah.  It’s a few blocks away.  You didn’t think I was just going to tool in here and park, did you?”

Duh
, Jack thought, and drove him three blocks to a black BMW 530i.

“Nice ride.”

“Nothing else to spend it on,” he said as he hopped out. 

He opened the Bimmer’s door and Jack heard a ringing within.  A bag phone sat on the passenger seat.  Tony lifted the receiver and slammed the door as he took the call.  After what looked like an animated phone call, he hung up and rolled down the driver window.

“Bertel again.  Like it’s my fault this happened.”  He shook his head.  “I’ll deal with it in the morning.  Meanwhile, you need to crash somewhere.”  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.  “Hey, I know a place on the Outer Banks that’s–”

“Outer Banks?”  Jack knew where it was on the map, knew the Wright Brothers had lifted off on their first flight there, but mostly he knew it from news footage of its population evacuating during hurricane threats.  “How far is that?”

“A quick jump.  We’re in the off season now, so it’s empty.  No one’ll bother us.  You can sleep as long as you want, then take off.”

2

Tony’s quick jump took more than an hour.  But he was right about the lack of people.  Granted the hour was early, but once they hit the barrier island – or was it a peninsula? – the roads were empty.

Jack followed Tony’s speeding Bimmer north through some town with the unlikely name of Duck and farther along to where the houses thinned out to the point where each sat alone on the high dune that ran along his right.  On his left a nameless bay reflected a half moon in the predawn sky.  When the land had narrowed to the point where little more than a thousand feet of sandy soil separated the bay from the Atlantic, Tony made a sudden right into a driveway.  A huge house loomed on the dune ahead.  Jack saw a car and a truck like his in the driveway.  A light glowed in an upper window.  He’d expected an empty house.

Tony pulled to a stop near a detached garage and walked back to the truck.

“Looks like we’ve got company.”

“Should we move on?”

“I’ll see.  I recognize the truck.  These guys have a game like ours.”

“Game?”

“You know…moving merch.  They may be staging here.  If our being here is gonna queer their action, we’ll move on and find some other place.  If they’re cool, we’ll stay.  You’ll get some shut-eye and we’ll grab breakfast and be gone our separate ways before noon.”