Cold City (Repairman Jack - the Early Years Trilogy) (35 page)

“That’s it.  Where do you want to meet?”

“Why don’t we start out at a little tapas bar I know.  Rioja.  It’s on Second between Seventy-third and Seventy-fourth.”

“When?  Five?  Six?  Seven?”

“How about six-thirty?”

“You’re on.  See you there.”

He hung up and turned to Abe.  “What’s a tapas bar?”

Abe shrugged.  “I should know?  A kind of beer maybe?”

“The name’s Spanish. I’ll call Julio later.  He should know.”

“Speaking of calling, one of the Mikulskis phoned in yesterday.  Said they needed to talk to you.”

“Really.”

Black had asked if they could call on him should they need a hand with a job.  Obviously something had come up.

“They leave a number?”

“They did.  When are you getting a phone?  An answering service I’m not.”

“Sorry about that.  They wanted to know how to get hold of me and since we had you in common–”

“ ‘In common’ is what I’ve always wanted to be.”

“–I said to call you.”

“You shouldn’t worry about it.  But you need a phone and an answering machine.”

“First thing I’ll do after I get some genuine fake New York ID.  I’m gonna check back with that Levinson guy and–”

“You should maybe try somewhere else.  Levinson’s connected to Bertel, and Bertel, good man though he is, is maybe not your biggest fan right now since you’ve handed in your notice.  Levinson I don’t know well enough to vouch for the tightness of his lips.  I do know a fellow not far from here.  Like a sphinx, he is.  Name’s Ernie and he’s an ID maven.  He’ll get you a foolproof soshe–”

“Soshe?”

“Social Security number.”

“He could do that?”

Jack had never had one of those.  Be kind of weird having one, even somebody else’s.

“For a price, of course.”

“Of course.”  Jack shrugged.  “He should work for free?”

Abe gave him an amused look.  “You’re making fun, maybe?”

Jack suddenly realized what he’d done.  “Oh, jeez, I don’t know where that came from.”

No lie.  That had not been intentional.

Abe looked dubious.  “Really?”

“Really.  It just came out.”

“Interesting.  Like a chameleon you change.”

“No offense.  Really.”

“None taken.  Anyway, Ernie will set you up as a new person.  You want?”

“I want.”

“I’ll tell him to expect you sometime.  I’ll give you the address and you mention my name.”

“Thanks a mill, Abe.  How can I repay you?”

“On your next run, bring me back some of these donuts you’ve told me about.”

“Krispy Kremes?”

He held up yet another sugared donut and rotated it back and forth.  “As good as this is, you say these Krispy Kremes are better?”

Saliva began flowing at the memory.  “I’ve never had anything like them, especially the glazed cake–”

“An assorted dozen will make us even.”

“That’s all?”

“That and getting your own phone so you won’t be arranging trysts on mine.  Someone you’ve met in your travels?”

“Someone from home, actually.”

Abe’s eyebrows lifted, wrinkling his extended forehead.  “From your old life?  You think that’s wise?”

“Well, it’s not a ‘tryst.’ Neither of us wants a relationship.  It’s just dinner.”

“Dinner with someone from home.  Not what one expects from someone who says he wants to start anew… someone who is going to be set up with a new identity.”

“I don’t see the conflict.”

Abe sighed.  “Never mind then.”

“No, seriously.  You’re seeing a problem I don’t.  I’d appreciate knowing what I’m missing.”

Abe looked at him.  “You’ve erected a dike.  The sea of your past is on the other side.  This girl, this woman is a leak in that dike.  If you don’t plug it, the past will flood your new present.”

As much as Jack respected Abe’s greater age, experience, and wisdom, he wasn’t buying.

“It’s just dinner.”

“Just dinner he says.  Until a mutual friend visits the city and calls on this girl.  ‘Oh, you’ll never guess who’s in town,’ she says.  ‘Jack.  Let’s the three of us get together for lunch.’  That’s two leaks.  And then that mutual friend mentions you to someone else who mentions you to someone else and so on until one of those someones knows your family has been wondering where you took off to, and before you know it, your father or sister or brother is on the phone asking where you are and why haven’t you called?”

Jack couldn’t imagine his brother giving a damn, but the rest… yeah, he could see Karina or someone else from high school coming to town and Cristin arranging a get-together.

Leaks in the dike…

Abe was right. 

“But it’s kind of moot now.  She’s seen me.  We’ve talked.  It was all by accident, but she already knows I’m here.”

“She knows where you live?”

“No.”

“She has your phone number?”

“The hall phone, yes.”

“But I have a feeling you’re going to be changing your address soon, yes?”

That took Jack by surprise.

“Are you psychic?  Yeah, I was thinking of looking for a quieter neighborhood.  How did you know?”

“With your financial situation improved, you should be looking for better digs.  I would.”

Jack grinned.  “Did you just say ‘digs’?”

“Just because I don’t get out much, I shouldn’t know the argot of the street?”

“Okay, yeah, I’m thinking of moving.”

“So.  You’ll have a new address, a new phone number, and a new name.  No reason she should know these things.  You simply do your disappearing act again.” 

“Just drop her?”

“What?  Her heart will break?”

“Hardly.  We were never involved and we’re not going to be involved.  I’m not her type and she’s not mine.”

But yeah, her feelings might be hurt.  Jack could see how: Someone you consider a friend breaks off contact, stops returning your calls, for no reason at all… that’s got to hurt.

But Cristin was tough.  And she didn’t want strings.  So how much would it hurt her?  Not much, if at all.

“Okay.  Dinner tonight, then no forwarding address.”

Abe shook his head.  “Why show up at all?  Make up an excuse.  Beg off.”

“Can’t do that.  Doesn’t feel right.”

“Feel right for her, or you?”

Jack knew the answer but wasn’t about to admit to Abe how much he was looking forward to hanging out with her tonight.  Could barely admit it to himself.

To change the subject, he put on a sheepish grin and said, “Mind if I call the Mikulskis from here?”

4

Jack didn’t know which brother he spoke to on the phone, but his presence was requested on the 40
Street side of Bryant Park, near the east corner.  He wouldn’t give any details, just be there in an hour and make sure he wasn’t followed.

Followed?  Who would follow him?  Especially from Abe’s.  Then he realized the Mikulskis had no idea where he was calling from.  A routine request, he guessed.  But he honored it and took an intricately circuitous route back to his apartment.  No one followed.  He wanted to change into something warmer, just in case the brothers needed his help right away.  And he wanted to add some iron to his wardrobe.  Or was “heat” a better word?

Toward the first end, he added an extra sweatshirt over the one he was already wearing.  Toward the second, he pulled his Ruger and a brand new SOB holster from their hiding place among his cash stacks.  He removed the wrapping from the holster and slipped the gun inside.  A good snug fit.  Then he clipped the assemblage inside his jeans at the small of his back.  Had to loosen his belt to make it fit.

Christ.  Felt like he’d stuffed a cantaloupe back there.

He headed for midtown, knowing that the two sweatshirts hid the bulge, but still feeling as if everyone on the subway was staring at it.  He was glad it was only two stops.  He walked to the designated corner of the walled-off park – mid-block on West 40
between Fifth and Sixth – and waited. 

The sun hung low, still hours from setting but behind the buildings, allowing shadows to rule the street.  A cold wind whipped along from the west.  Not exactly a private spot for a meeting.  The sidewalks were filled with shoppers with store bags, getting a pre-Thanksgiving drop on the Christmas season.

“Jack!”

He whirled at the voice behind him – only a wall was supposed to be there – and saw the Mikulski who’d called himself Deacon Blue standing in a makeshift doorway in the plywood wall running around the park.  He wore a big fatigue jacket, a knitted watch cap pulled low, and jeans.

He motioned Jack toward him.  “Step into my office.”

Jack stepped through and looked around.  Bryant Park had been under construction since he’d arrived in the city, so he had no idea what it looked like before, but it sure looked like crap now.  Everything was dug up, retaining walls were half built, wood scraps littered the ground, and saw horses and cement mixers were scattered everywhere.

“Nice taste.  Who’s the decorator?”

“Dinkins and Company,” Blue said as he fitted the door back into place.  “A friend of a friend works here.”

“Your brother coming?”

“He’s here.”

Jack looked around again.  “Where?”

“Out on the street, making sure you didn’t bring company.”

Anger flashed.  Didn’t they trust him by now? 

“Hey, I wouldn’t–”

Blue raised his hands.  “Not on purpose.  We’ve been picking up word that the Arabs are looking for their money.” 

“Aren’t they dead?”

“The ones on the scene were just part of a group culled from a number of mosques.  They borrowed the money.”

“Uh-oh.  The mob?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

“We don’t know, and that bothers us.”

“Maybe one of the Arabs knows.”

“They don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“We interviewed one of them.”

“Interviewed?”

“He’d been slated to help with the auction and was asking an awful lot of questions, so we decided to ask a few of our own.”

Jack had seen how the brothers operated, so he didn’t really have to ask, but did anyway.

“Is he still asking questions?”

“No.”

“Ooookay.  Was he cooperative?”

“Very, but no help.”

“Why not?”

“Because he didn’t know.  The guy in the limo the other night was the go-between to the money men and he’s with Allah.  All our interviewee knew was that they expected a quick return on their investment, and now the principal is gone.”

“No idea who they are?”

“No, but word is they have bank connections and the bills are recognizable in some way and so their inside people have got an eye out for them.  You haven’t done anything stupid like depositing thirty K to an account or anything, have you?”

Jack couldn’t help feeling insulted.  “Not likely.  It’s all tucked safely away for my retirement.”

He was suddenly glad Julio had turned him down.

Blue looked relieved.  “Good.  You seemed too smart for that, but you never know.”

“What about you guys?”

“We don’t need it now.  And if and when we do, we’ve got ways of laundering it offshore.  But we’re not off the hook.  We still have a weak link.”

“What?”

“Not what.”  His eyes locked with Jack’s.  “Who.”

“Me?”  Jack didn’t like the way this was going.  He began sliding his hand toward the small of his back.  “You don’t think I’d–”

“–be so stupid as to pull that gun in your belt?  Nah.  I don’t think so.  That would be
real
stupid, and you’re not stupid.”

Jack let his hand fall away.  “Why am I the weak link?”

“Because of your pal, Reggie.”

“He’s not my pal.”

“You left him breathing.  That makes him your pal for life.”

“Hardly.”

“After you took off with my brother that night, I drove back to our neighboring borough to check up on him.”

“Why do I have this feeling your idea of ‘check up’ is not the same as a doctor’s?”

A smile played about the corners of Blue’s lips.  “I was concerned about his welfare.”

“I take that to mean you were concerned that he might be faring well.”

Blue nodded.

“And you were going to fix that.”

Another nod.

Deacon Blue hadn’t been able to let it go.  The brothers saw Reggie as a liability, a loose end, and Blue had returned to Staten Island’s north shore to tie it up.

Jack said, “I take it it didn’t go…well?”

“Not at all.  He wasn’t there.”

“Well, he had plenty of time to crawl off and flag down someone to take him to a hospital.”

Blue shook his head. “Did some checking through some cop friends.  No one with two busted knees showed up in any of the city’s ERs that night.”

“Could have been driven into Jersey.”

“Possible. Or taken to a private doc.  Either way, your guy’s out there.  The Arabs know him.  If he can talk his way out of them killing him, he’ll give you up.  He’ll spit you out faster than a vegan biting into a Big Mac.”

“What about you guys?  He saw you.”

“He saw a couple of dudes in ski masks.  We’re zeroes to him.  You, on the other hand…”

Jack had a bad feeling about this.

“So that means what?  I’m expendable?”

Blue laughed.  “We don’t work that way with the good guys.  This is just a heads-up to watch your back.”

Jack felt his tensing muscles relax.  “He doesn’t know anything about me.  And he and his buddies killed the guy who did.”

“The Tony you mentioned?”

Jack nodded.  “All the ID I was carrying says North Carolina.  Reggie had to guide me on the drive through Staten Island because I really and truly know nothing about it.  So if he’s talking about me, he’s talking about somebody from down south.”

“Does he know the guy who was running you?”

Jack almost blurted Bertel’s name but bit it back.  The less anyone knew, the better.

“Not unless Tony told him.”

Blue slapped his hand against his thigh a few times as he eyed Jack.  “Never know what a guy will say when he thinks he’s got only a few moments to live.”

Jack didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s that supposed to mean?  Even if I told everything I know about you, I can’t hurt you.  The backward ski mask, remember?”