Repairman Jack [09]-Infernal (14 page)

Tom slammed a fist against his thigh.

“Fucking feds! If I’d stayed local, I might have been able to work something out. You know, use some connections here, spread some cash there. But once the feds got involved and started a taxonomy of my infractions, it was like raising the Yellow Jack over my career. It was as if I’d developed an advanced case of leprosy. Nobody returned my calls, everybody was always busy when I wanted a meeting. Hell, I couldn’t even get people to make eye contact!”

He glanced at Jack with a hunted look in his eyes.

“I’m cooked, bro. I’ve been released on my own recognizance because I’m a member of the club and because I have such ‘strong ties to the community.’ Ha! If they only knew!”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

Instead of answering, Tom pointed to the left. “Turn here.”

“But the restaurant’s—”

“I just want to swing by the old neighborhood.”

Not a bad idea. Jack complied. He kept an eye on the rearview mirror to make sure Terry was following. He caught the puzzled look on Gia’s face.

A wave of nostalgia swept over him as he turned the corner by Mr. Canelli’s old house. Jack had cut many of the lawns in the old neighborhood, but not Mr. Canelli’s. He did his own. Cutting didn’t describe what the old guy did: more like manicuring.

But old Canelli was gone now. Just like Dad.

Jack slowed as they passed the three-bedroom ranch in which he,

Kate, and Tom had grown up. He remembered it had started out with asbestos shingles, which Dad had later replaced with vinyl siding. He was saddened to see that the new owner had torn out all the old junipers and replaced them with hydrangeas. Dumb. From fall to spring, hydrangeas were little more than bunches of brown sticks. Junipers stayed green all year round.

“Remember playing catch in the backyard with Dad?”

Jack nodded. “I remember you winging the ball hard enough to knock me down.”

Tom smiled. “But you always caught it, always held on to it.”

Tom was laying it on thick. Jack knew he was being set up, but was curious as to where Tom was heading.

“You said you need my help. I’m baffled as to why? What can I do?”

“Help me disappear.”

Jack suppressed a groan. “That wasn’t easy before nine-eleven. It’s a hell of a lot harder now.”

“But it can be done—if you’ve got enough cash.”

Yeah, it could.

“You have enough?”

Jack held his breath, waiting for Tom to put the touch on him. But his brother nodded instead.

“Yeah. I think so. Enough for a new identity and a start as someone else.”

“I still don’t see where I come in.”

“I need you to help me get it.”

“All right. I’ll bite: Where is it?”

“In a secret account in Bermuda.”

“Whoa. Hold it right there. Bermuda? I don’t have a passport.”

“Neither do I. At least not anymore. But we won’t need them. We’ll take my boat over.”

“You have a boat big enough to go to Bermuda?”

“Sure do. Listen, we wheel down to the Outer Banks where I keep the boat, then sail straight across to Bermuda. When we get there we just chug into the harbor like a fishing boat coming back from a run, and tie up. No one will bat an eye.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’ve done it at least half a dozen times.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Nothing to it.”

Yeah, right.

“How long a trip?”

“Forty hours, tops. Look, Jack, I know you’re thinking two days trapped, cooped up in a floating oubliette with me will be a new definition of hell. But I’m not such a bad guy. Look, we’ve been apart for fifteen years, and now, with what we’ve gone through in the past few days… I mean, after all, we’re the only ones left. Our old family of five has been cut down to just two: Us. Don’t you think we should try to reestablish some ties?”

Jack couldn’t remember ever having ties beyond blood to this stranger.

“All well and good, Tom. But there are other ways to do that, safer ways than sneaking into a foreign port.”

“Jack, please. I need that money.”

“I’m sure you do. But that doesn’t mean you need me.”

“But I do. I could get someone else to go along with me on this—I’ve got fishing buddies who’d sign up on a lark—but we’re talking big bucks here, and all in bearer bonds. I need someone along I can trust, someone who knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

“And you think that person is me.”

Tom nodded. “I told you what Dad said: ‘If you ever need someone to watch your back, call Jack.’ Well, consider this a call for backup.”

Dad… was he kidding?

“Not fair.”

“Maybe not, but do you think he’d want you to turn your back on your brother in his hour of dire need?”

“Oh, cut me a—”

“I’m serious, Jack. I can’t do it alone.”

“No.”

He had a child coming in mid-March. Also had people looking for any possible trace of the shits who’d gunned down Dad. That took precedence.

“We’re talking four days—
four days
. Come on, Jack, you can spare me that, can’t you?”

Jack said nothing as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot.

Tom leaned closer. “Maybe you can’t give me an answer now, but if you could get back to me by tomorrow…”

“What’s the rush?”

“I’ve only got a small window to do this.” He pointed to Terry as she pulled into a neighboring spot. “And don’t mention any of this at lunch.”

“Terry doesn’t know?”

“Not yet, and she’s going to be a hard, hard sell. So let’s keep this sub rosa, okay?”

Jack shrugged. “If you want.”

He laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Promise me you’ll think about this.”

Jack didn’t reply. Tom’s remarks about Dad reverberated through his head. Would Dad have expected him to put vengeance on hold and stick by the only other surviving member of their family?

Bastard.

3

“You won’t believe the harebrained idea Tom came up with,” Jack said as he steered his Crown Vic north on the Jersey Turnpike.

Gia had the front passenger seat, Vicky sat behind them, lost in her Game Boy—which she called “Game Girl.” Her mother’s influence, no doubt.

“Harebrained? Your brother doesn’t strike me as the harebrained type. As a matter of fact I think he’s bright and charming.”

“That’s because he’s giving you the full-court press.”

She reddened. “Don’t be silly.”

“Come on, Gia. You’ve dazzled him. He’s got a crush on you.”

“You’re exaggerating, Jack. We simply have certain tastes in common.”

And many, many more you don’t, he thought.

Jack smiled. “I wonder if he’s making a play for you.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m pregnant with your baby.” She returned his smile. “But every woman likes a little attention and flattery now and then.”

Jack put on a shocked expression. “I’m not attentive?”

She patted his thigh. “Sometimes you’re… remote.”

That was a gentle way of putting it. Jack knew sometimes he became so preoccupied with a fix that he was virtually not there.

“Guilty. Hey, how did we get from the subject of Tom’s crazy idea to me?”

“Okay. What’s his crazy idea?”

“He wants me to go to Bermuda with him.”

Gia looked at him. “When?”

“Now.”

“Now? Right after the two of you just buried your father?” She shook her head. “I gather he’s not talking about a vacation.”

Jack wondered how much to say.

“No, he’s talking about money. Apparently he’s in some kind of trouble.”

“What kind?”

“The legal kind.”

She made a face. “Violence?”

“No. More the white-collar kind—or maybe I should say black-robed. Anyway, he needs money and he’s got some stashed in Bermuda.”

“Did you tell him you don’t have a passport?”

“Yeah. But neither does he. Apparently it was confiscated.”

Gia winced. “Ooh. Sounds like he’s in big trouble. So how does he figure on getting to Bermuda without a passport?”

Jack told her about Tom’s boat scheme, finishing with, “No way I’m doing that.”

“You don’t sound too happy about the decision.”

“I’m not. He played the Dad card—said Dad would want me to help him out.”

Gia shrugged. “I think you should go.”

“What?” He glanced at her. “You’re not supposed to drink or do drugs while you’re pregnant, you know.”

“I’m serious. You need a break, Jack. You’ve been going nonstop since Kate died. You’re overdue.”

“I had that week in Florida.”

She squeezed his thigh. “You’re not going to try to tell me that was a break.”

“Well, no.”

Anything but.

“Getting away will be good for you.”

“With you pregnant? Forget it.”

“How long is he talking about?”

“About four days, I’d guess. Maybe five. Way too long with you in your sixth month.”

“I’m fine. And I’ll
be
fine. Nothing’s going to happen in five days. And in case anything does, I’ve got Doctor Eagleton just minutes away.”

“But—”

“No buts. You can’t use me as an excuse.”

“I’ve got other reasons for not going.”

“Such as?”

Jack didn’t want to mention his plan to exact some unofficial payback, if possible.

If possible… a big
if
. But if the opportunity came around, Jack didn’t want to be out of the country.

He did
not
want to miss out on something like that. Gia touched his thigh again. “Jack, he’s your brother. He needs your help. How can you say no?” Jack would find a way.

4

When Jack got back home the first thing he did was call Ed Burkes at the UK Mission to the UN for an update. Jack had done a fix-it for the UK mission there a few years ago and so he’d asked Burkes for help. Ed had been shocked to hear about Jack’s father. He’d promised to do anything he could to help Jack get a line on the Wrath of Allah.

But Burkes had nothing. His buddies in MI-5 were as baffled as everybody else. None of their contacts in the Arab world had ever heard of the Wrath of Allah.

Jack slowly, grudgingly was reaching the point where he had to admit that international terrorism might be out of his league. Way out. Not that he wouldn’t take on a roomful of them if given the chance. But the chance part seemed a dead end. Like chasing smoke. These Islamic nuts didn’t frequent the bars and clubs where Jack’s contacts hung. They weren’t out and about, drinking too much, shooting their mouths off. How do you get a line on crazies who cluster in tight, insular, incestuous knots of fanaticism?

He thanked Burkes and hung up.

5

Jack loitered at the rear of the Isher Sports Shop and made small talk with Abe about the wake and funeral until the door closed behind the last customer. When he was sure they had the shop to themselves, he leaned on the scarred counter.

“Any news?”

Abe spread his hands and shook his head. “Not a thing.”

Jack had asked Abe to poll his fellow gunrunners about the Tavor-2.

“Nothing?”

“What can I say? This will take time. Not like there’s a directory out there. And the ones I do know aren’t talking.”

“Really? I’m surprised they wouldn’t trust you.”

“Trust shmust. Who knows anymore in this business? What if I’d been picked up and what if I’d cut a deal to rat out my competition? After nine-eleven, already we were paranoid. Now…”

Jack nodded. The runners took a beating from all the post-9/11 security measures—especially the truck and van searches.

Abe said, “After La Guardia, with the feds trying to trace the Arabs’ weapons, we’re all running scared.”

“Nobody’s saying
anything
?”

“Like clams they become as soon as they hear what I’m asking. Not that I expected them to yammer like yentas, but I can see the shutters close and hear the doors slam when I say the magic word.”

“Tavor-two?”

“Right. ‘Never heard of it’… ‘Never carried it’… ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about’… ‘Why ask me? I run a candy store.’
Bupkis
I got. Sorry.”

“It’s all right. Least you tried.”

“Until this cools down or something breaks, like mummies they’ll be. Too scared of the feds.”

That started an idea…