The Reluctant Warrior (Warriors Series Book 2) (27 page)

Broker looked at her blank faced, and when Lisa thrust her hand out again, he gave her the Tahoe’s keys.

She reappeared minutes later with a pink backpack festooned with ribbons and badges. Reaching inside it, she drew out a tattered green dinosaur and placed it in the center.

‘Dino.’ She pointed. ‘Backpack.’ She pointed at it.

Broker closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts
and his wits.
He started, ‘When did you–’ and stopped when she held a palm up. Adults couldn’t be trusted to ask the right questions.

‘I was carrying it when we left home. Guess none of you noticed.’ She smiled smugly. ‘Now, Broker, can you find my dad’s key?’ she challenged him.

Broker would willingly face off with entire gangs, but kids were beyond him, and he wisely kept quiet. He reached out and emptied the bag, glancing curiously at a pink diary with a tiny padlock, a key dangling next to it. Lisa snatched it out of his hand, saying it was her private journal. He felt the insides of the bag, then the outside, turned the straps inside out, checked the folds, and came up with nothing. He started again, slowly this time, and still found nothing. He noticed Lisa and Shawn grinning, and it clicked.

‘A key and a lock go together, don’t they?’ he asked casually, and Lisa smiled cheekily at him. ‘Took you a long time, Broker.’

He examined the key. It looked like the key to the padlock at first glance, but closer inspection showed that it didn’t match. ‘Your dad did this? I thought he taped it inside your backpack.’

Lisa shook her head. ‘He did, but then I removed it and hung it from the lock. It looked more natural there,’ she said proudly.

Chloe beamed at her. ‘That was very smart, honey. Not many kids would have thought of that. Did your dad say anything when he gave you the key?’

She scrunched her face, trying to remember, and then the blonde curls bounced. ‘He said I should give it to Zebra only. He would know what to do.’

They looked nonplussed for a moment, and then Shawn rolled his eyes. ‘
Zeb
. Zebra is that striped animal.’

Lisa was on a roll and let that pass airily. ‘Whatever. And I know.’ She stuck her tongue out at him.

‘Dad didn’t say anything else?’ Shawn took the key and inspected it and handed it over to Chloe. It wasn’t anything special, like a billion keys out there, its sole purpose to go in a lock and uncover its secrets – but that was possible only if they knew
which
lock it fit.

The other men inspected it, but all of them came up blank. Broker went to his bag of goodies,
his
backpack, and taking a magnifying glass, examined the key, shaking his head in frustration finally when it stubbornly remained anonymous.

He leaned back and half-closed his eyes, thinking. Zeb would know what to do. Why would he? When he opened his eyes, Bwana and Bear had rolled out a map of the city and were marking the gang’s businesses they had hit. Of course.

He leaned over them and marking Brownsville Autos with a cross, drew a large circle around it. Broker fired up his iPad and read out addresses within the circle.

Storage lockers, half an hour’s commute from the garage.

Far enough to have enough distance from the garage, close enough that his absence wouldn’t be missed. He probably went during his lunch hour.

Zeb used to have storage lockers all across the city, where he stowed several emergency stashes of cash, fake passports, identities, clothing, and weapons. Everything that a sudden exit needed.

They studied the twenty addresses, and after some more research, Broker drew a red line through five of them. ‘Not big enough. He would want someplace that was large enough for him to feel anonymous.’

It was at the eleventh self-storage unit that they hit pay dirt.

The locker was empty save for a few clothes and, beneath them, a thin notebook.

Broker ruffled the pages and saw that only a few of them were filled. He went back to the first page and read.

‘If you’re reading this, then I am dead.’

Chapter 32

Broker finished reading in half an hour, breathed deeply, and passed it to Bwana and Roger. They read it in silence, and in silence they headed back to Marine Park.

Shawn looked at them expectantly when they returned and smiled when Broker waved the notebook at him, the smile fading when the three of them didn’t say anything. ‘Nothing in there?’

‘Some clues. Will need some legwork.’

Shawn looked at him for a long moment, looking past Broker’s game face and noncommittal answer, fearing the answer, not ready for it. He slid out of his chair and left the room. Lisa looked at them uncertainly and then, snatching Dino, ran after him.

‘Not good?’ Chloe asked them.

Broker handed her the notebook wordlessly.

Shattner’s journal started from his days in Iraq. He wrote about his wife, his kids, the journal sunny and cheerful, a lot of pages focusing on his ‘sprouts,’ and then he started writing about his marriage coming under strain, and the jottings became darker. ‘… marriage has become a black hole for my money. If only she worked.’

There were several blank pages, and then one started with, ‘There were a million reasons not to go down that route, and I knew all of them. Giving my kids a good life outweighed them all. Keeping her quiet was worth it.’ He wrote about selling small arms that were on the verge of being deactivated, his way of rationalizing.

The entries became swiftly written, the pen digging deep in the journal, words bottled in Shattner finding a release.

The next entry was dog-eared, and the page was heavily smudged, as if Shattner had revisited it again and again.

‘He was an odd one. He never socialized with anyone, didn’t encourage conversation, never smiled… no one knew what he did and when asked, he said, “This and that.” Rumor was that he was Special Ops, working with the rebels, but no one ever knew for sure.’

Next entry.

‘He caught me.’ The
caught
underlined. ‘–saw me stuffing my duffel. One moment I was alone in the store, the next moment he was there. He didn’t ask me what I was doing. He just flat out told me, with those dark eyes looking deep in me. I could see he didn’t buy my explanation. I told him why and am ashamed that I cried. He didn’t fucking react. I lost it and trained the gun in my hand on him. He didn’t move and didn’t react, just said, “Soldier, you’re in deep shit. Don’t dig yourself in deeper.” He walked away and before I could leave, the MPs came and arrested me.’

The next entry was more than a month later.

‘He spoke
for
me at the trial. Said my circumstances should be taken into account, and the insignificant value and deactivated status of the arms should be considered. He has some juice because my pension is intact.’

Another entry, three weeks later.

‘I am like cancer. No one approaches me or talks to me. I sleep alone. On the last day he came and gave me his number. I asked him why, and he just walked away.’

Elaine Rocka was reading over Chloe’s shoulder, and she asked them, ‘Is that your friend?’

They nodded, and silence fell again as the women resumed reading.

The entries for the next few months were about his winning custody of the children – ‘They’re my everything and I’ll be theirs’ – and the challenge in finding a job.

‘Everything’s okay till I tell them I was court-martialed. Then the doors slam shut.’

A couple of months later, drifting around the city.

‘Sold my first gun. Got it from a gangbanger, sold it to another. Food for a few weeks. Pension not enough. Lisa and Shawn need clothes, books, school money.’

The entries became further spaced out and shorter, about reviving his arms-dealing contacts, time with the kids. The writing became terse, as if Shattner didn’t want the journal to question him. There was one page the two of them lingered long over.

‘Both of them are smart, maturing faster than normal kids. Don’t think they know, but the boy sometimes looks at me, and I hurt. Suicide? I can see why now, but not until they’ll be taken care of.’

A couple of months later, just one line on the page.

‘Caught by the cops in a sting. Offered amnesty in return for being an informant in a gang. 5Clubs.’

A few days later.

‘Many discussions with cops. Detective Kirkus will be my contact. Met with him a few times and got my backstory from him. It’s not difficult to memorize; it’s not far from mine. Discussing ways to connect, phone numbers. Light appearing at end of tunnel.’

The next entry didn’t have a date.

‘In now. Cruz and Diego scare me. Kirkus happy. Worried that other than assurances, nothing from the cops about amnesty. Deal done with the devil.’

The last sentence was underlined twice.

The entries, brief, came rapidly now.

‘Most valuable mechanic now. Kirkus not happy. Says repairing cars is worth jack shit to him. Can’t exactly tell Diego to involve me in gang. Kirkus evades when I ask him about amnesty or payment.’

There were many one-line entries after that, mostly about Kirkus urging him to be more valuable to the gang.

Then, four months later.

‘Shortage of drivers. Drove Diego and a gorilla, Rajek, to a small deal. Sat in car. Kirkus happy. Shawn is man of house, takes care of Lisa. My son has no childhood. Because of me.’

He had recorded the time of the deal and drawn a crude map of the location. He’d also drawn a boy’s face next to Shawn’s name.

Elaine Rocka sighed deeply, and Chloe started to close the book, but she urged her to go on.

They flipped through the pages rapidly, stopping only where he went into some detail.

‘Drove to a hit. Diego killed a guy in front of me. Suspects me of being a snitch since I was very calm. Told the bastard to shoot me. I have nothing to lose anyway, but my kids. Kirkus found the body. Says story is gang warfare.’

He had started recording deals by then, estimates of kilos, money and other parties involved, in small writing in the corners of the pages.

‘Kirkus happy with flow, finally. Says cops are busting some deals. Puts more pressure on me. Kirkus continues to evade amnesty question,’ went an entry.

Bear had moved behind them and was reading over their shoulder, and noticed Rocka’s shudder at the next page.

‘Found a bug in my house. They suspect a snitch and obviously I’m the newest. Carrying my gun with me now.’

The women didn’t notice Lisa and Shawn creeping in the room, Bwana and Roger shushing them and leading them out. They were reading about a deal in Gloucester City; Shattner hadn’t written much, but they could sense his fear and relief at living through it.

The next entry was the last.

‘Garage closed. Diego’s asked me to meet him, not said why. My kids are safe with Elaine. Shawn will call Zeb if I don’t return. He may not remember me, but I don’t have anyone else. I don’t know anyone else I can turn to. I have failed all my life. I should see this one through.’

They turned the pages, but there wasn’t anything else, but Bear stopped them and flipped back the last few pages.

It was there at the bottom of the page, in very small writing.

‘Tried to be a good father. Failed. Forgive me Lisa, Shawn.’

Chloe remained bowed for a long time as Rocka fingered the notebook, opening it, riffling the pages, as if it had more on Shattner. Bear looked around and outside, at the pool glistening in the silence, the distant sounds of the city creeping in on them, and back at the notebook.

Elaine Rocka cleared her throat. ‘Now what?’

Chloe lifted her head then and looked at her, at the others, and that thing in them stirred and then leapt out and roared silently.

Chapter 33

‘Kirkus died a couple of months back. Bad heart. Died at his desk. Good cop.’

Deputy Commissioner Rolando looked down the long conference table at them. They were in an anonymous civic building, Rolando flanked by Pizaka and Chang, facing the five of them. Isakson was on the cops’ side of the table. He was present when the five of them arrived and said, ‘I was in the city on JTF business when Bruce updated me.

‘We had long wanted an inside man in the gang, and when we arrested Shattner, he fit the bill perfectly. A cover story wasn’t needed because he had it all. Criminal record, ex-army, willing to do anything – he didn’t bear a grudge against the army, but he put on a good act. We put him through several psych evaluations, and all came out good. High motivation levels, good liar.’

Rolando smiled briefly. ‘Could handle stress and pressure, such stuff. It didn’t take us long to convince him.’ Rolando looked at them individually. Broker and he went back a long way, but this was the first time he was meeting all of them. He saw a compact, well-oiled machine.

‘Did you intend to grant him amnesty?’ Chloe asked pointedly and stared back at Pizaka challengingly as his shades trained on her.

Rolando cleared his throat after a brief silence. ‘Ma’am…’

‘Chloe.’

‘Chloe, the way these things happen, we don’t grant amnesty outright to anyone under such circumstances. We see the quality of the juice they give us, and only then grant it. Shattner’s juice was A-grade, and we would have upheld our end of the arrangement.’

‘How does this work? I presume Kirkus ran him, but who else got his juice?’ Bear asked him.

‘Running a man deep inside is not like in the movies. There are no dead drops, no call signs, passwords… nothing of the sort. Some of that happens if we have a
cop
inside, but with a civilian, especially one who has a record, the protocol is decided by the detective and the insider.’

Bear raised his eyebrows in astonishment. ‘So Shattner just called when the mood struck him? Called him on Kirkus’s line?’

Rolando smiled thinly. ‘They
had
a secure protocol they followed. Calls at specific intervals, an untraceable number, safe words, danger words… but when a man is inside, his ability to communicate depends a lot on his circumstances.’

Broker eyed the journal that was now in front of the Deputy Commissioner. Bwana and Roger had been against informing the cops about the journal, but Broker had convinced them finally. ‘After all, we are helping Isakson, and they just might know something about his whereabouts.