Chasers (22 page)

11

The Apaches sat around a wood table in the basement of an abandoned building that once housed the busiest pizzeria on the West Side. The front windows were painted black and boarded up with thick planks of plywood. Boomer sat at the head of the table, a large blackboard hanging on the wall at his back. Rev. Jim looked around the room and took a slow sip from a large cup filled with iced espresso. “I figure the Batcave was booked,” he said.

Boomer nodded. “Once we get it set up the way we need it to be, it’ll look a lot better than it does now. And it’s a solid bet that no one will look for us in here, which means we can work and plan clean and free.”

“How’d we come to be in possession of such a palace?” Andy asked.

“Ash found it for us,” Dead-Eye said, pointing a finger at Stephanie. “She worked the arson investigation that gutted the place a few years back.”

“No one’s going to come looking, because no one really cares,” Ash said. “The case is still going through the courthouse turnstiles and will be for a few years more, at the very least. By then, we should be clear out of here.”

“Are we going to live here?” Rev. Jim asked. “I mean, through the run of this?”

“I was thinking that, yes,” Boomer said. “We’ll clean it up some, maybe even paint it in spots, then bring in all the equipment we’ll need, or as much of it as we can get, and stock it with enough food and drink to keep us content for as long as the job lasts.”

“Why the quick change?” Rev. Jim asked. “We didn’t do that the last time. What makes this one so different that we all have to become frat brothers?”

“Each job goes its own way,” Boomer said. “The last time, we had one crew out to kill us. This time, we have two that we know of and whoever else wants to take a shot once they catch wind we’re back on the dime. And, while we’re on the subject, it might not just be us that will have a gun pointed our way. If any of you have family you want covered, now would be the time to come across with that gift vacation you promised but never delivered on. Just to play it all-the-way safe.”

“Besides, we worked out of a squad room when we were on the job or, in Quincy’s case, the morgue room,” Dead-Eye said. “This is no different.”

“Who bunks with the dog?” Quincy asked, pointing at the slumbering body of Buttercup.

“I think we’ll make the lady herself make that call,” Dead-Eye said. “She’s earned at least that much.”

“I’ll follow your lead, Boom,” Rev. Jim said. “I have in the past, and see no reason to point my compass in another direction now.”

“Let me hear the ‘but’ that follows all that,” Boomer said, looking away from the others and squaring down eye to eye with Rev. Jim.

“Just want to make sure you’ve thought all this through with a clear view,” Rev. Jim said. “Having us all in one place like this could be as much of a risk as it is a reward. It’s not like we haven’t each been on high-end jobs before. We should all know how to work as a team without the need to turn it into Camp Apache.”

Boomer stared down at his folded hands for several long, silent seconds and then did a slow nod. “You’ve slept in worse places in your life, that I know,” he finally said. “So how about we make a move past that and get to what this really is all about. There always comes a time when the air needs to be cleared, and for us, every one of us, now is that time.”

“Fair enough,” Rev. Jim said. “Clear air’s always better to breathe. I need to ask Quincy here a few questions before I can roll with this.”

“Ask away,” Quincy said, sitting up straight in his hard-back chair. “I didn’t come in looking to hide anything.”

“I know this disease you have is a killer,” Rev. Jim said. “I wish I could change that, but it’s not in my hands. Now, I don’t care how you got it or where. But what I do need to know—in fact, I think we all do—is how much and how often it can slow you up. Because we’re going to be fighting in thick growth, and all we’ll have going in are the guns in our hands and the partner by our side.”

“Most days are good,” Quincy said, not backing away from the hard line. “So good there are times when I forget I even have it.”

“What about the days that aren’t so good?” Rev. Jim asked.

“You mean the days when you just want to curl up in a corner and jam a loaded gun in your mouth because the pain is so bad?” Quincy asked.

“Yes,” Rev. Jim said.

“They come on sudden and stay as long as unwanted company,” Quincy said. “Mix the worst flu you’ve ever had with the pain of a knife wound and maybe you’ll have half a clue of how bad it is. It’s in those hours, lying in a bed soaked through with sweat, that you know the time you have left is short and it doesn’t matter. You
want
to die. You
want
that pain to go away. You
want
to be at peace.”

“Do you get a heads-up?” Dead-Eye asked.

“Sometimes, but not always,” Quincy said. “You might feel a little weaker the day before or you might start to feel your body drag a bit, but most times it hits like a heart attack: hard, fast, relentless.”

“So it could happen out on the field?” Boomer asked.

“Yes,” Quincy said. “And that’s something for each of you to think about before we take another step. Rev. Jim is right to ask the questions. This is a serious business, and I never want to be the one to put another life in jeopardy. I guess this is as good a time as any to see if you want me dealt out of the game. However it is you decide that, it’s your call to make.”

“You’re not alone,” Rev. Jim said. “I just asked because I needed to know what to look for, to be able to see it coming before it landed. I can’t help you, none of us can, if we don’t know at least that. And on the flip side, you each should know about us. You’re not the only cripple in this room. Boomer’s lung could give out at any time, same as Dead-Eye’s bad leg. And I don’t know Ash well, but I don’t need to be the Amazing Kreskin to know she’s got her dark spots like the rest of us. And me, I’m held up by glue and pins. I can fold at any time and will look to you to help bail me out. The dog does give me pause, but shit, she’s just as fucked-up as the rest of this crew.”

“I guess that just leaves me,” Ash said. “There anything any of you need to know about me that you already don’t?”

“You single or married?” Rev. Jim asked.

“Single,” Ash said.

“Anybody special in your movie line?” Rev. Jim asked. “You know, somebody makes your heart jump a few beats?”

“No, there isn’t,” Ash said.

“Are you looking?” Rev. Jim asked.

“Always,” Ash said. “Just not your way.”

Rev. Jim smiled and turned toward Buttercup, leaning down to rest a hand on her massive head. “I guess that leaves just you, sweetheart,” he said.

Buttercup slowly opened her large eyes and let out a low growl. Rev. Jim eased up and pulled his hand away.

“It’s good to know you haven’t lost your touch with the ladies,” Dead-Eye said. “They still flock to you like flies to rancid meat.”

“What can I say?” Rev. Jim said, his arms held out, a wide smile on his face. “I was cursed with the gift.”

“When you get a minute,” Boomer said, returning the smile, “you might consider giving it back.”

The loud laughter of the group echoed off the walls of the shuttered pizzeria.

12

Natalie Robinov watched Tony Rigs toss a baseball into the air and take a hard swing at it with an aluminum baseball bat. The ball flew skyward at the sound of the ping, coming down at an arc toward a young boy in a clean uniform and a worn glove. He was standing on the edge of the infield dirt when the ball landed with a thud inside his open mitt. “Nice way to grab, Joey,” Tony Rigs shouted out to the boy, pointing the head of the bat in his direction. “You see, all that practice time does come with a payoff.” The boy smiled, nodded, and tossed the ball back.

The fenced-in Little League field was crammed full with teams in full practice, four squads stationed in each corner of the well-cared-for Nassau County grounds. Tony Rigs looked out at his squad, a dozen preteen boys and girls each outfitted in a crisp uniform with “Calhoun Construction Company” stenciled across the front, and turned to Natalie. “You should have seen them two weeks ago, when they first took to the field,” he said. “A couple of them had never even caught a ball before, if you could imagine. Now, they’re rounding out pretty good, starting to get the feel of a team, which is what you need before that first game is even played.”

“If you’re looking for an assistant coach, look in some other direction,” Natalie said, standing on the other side of the mesh fence, her arms at her sides, her short skirt and tanned legs getting the desired effect. “I know less than nothing about the game, and what little I do know bores me.”

“That’s too bad,” Tony Rigs said, tossing her a smile and getting ready to lift another ball toward the short end of the outfield. “Knowing this game could help make you even better at your job. I mean, the lessons you take from one field can carry over with ease to the next.”

“I’m very good at my job,” Natalie said. “I’m even better when I’m allowed to do it. Now, since I
did
drag my ass all the way out here as per your request, it would be a solid move for you to step up and tell me why.”

“Way I see it,” Tony Rigs said, handing the bat off to one of his players, “our league is down to three top-tier teams—my crew, yours, and the South Americans. The rest of the bunch are nothing better than second division, if that. So that leaves the open question of who grabs the top prize and—this I know from baseball—it’s not always the best team on paper that wins it all. It’s the one that makes it a goal to work together and pulls in place the best and the smartest moves. With me so far?”

“On every word,” Natalie said. “And if I understand the direction your conversation will soon be heading down, then the smart move would call for me to do a hookup with you at the expense of the South Americans. I hit that ball out of the place?”

“Out of the
park,
” he said, impressed as much with her wit as with her legs. “If that were to happen, how bothered would you be by it?”

“Not one bit,” Natalie said. “Just as long as my end of the action tallied up to be as big as yours. I
know
the kind of deal I can get out of the South Americans. I just don’t know if I can trust them to hold to it.”

“But you trust me to hold to mine?” Tony Rigs said.

“I don’t trust anyone,” Natalie said. “But I believe it’s in your best interest to stay on our good side. On top of which, the Italians have always let others get a cut of the action, often reaching out to groups other crews wouldn’t go near. The same doesn’t hold true for the South Americans. They want to rule the business, and would very much prefer to do it alone. And if killing either one of us guarantees them that, then they would let fly the bullets and the blood flow. So, while I don’t trust you one iota, it can safely be argued that I have a better understanding of your motives.”

“We stand on common ground, then,” Tony Rigs said, his eyes doing a roll from the field to Natalie. “And that ground will only get firmer and a lot richer if you stay on the sidelines and let what’s going to play out over the next week or so go the full run.”

“So long as none of my action gets touched, you won’t hear from anyone that connects to me,” Natalie said. “But if any hand touches profit, those hands will be cut off. No hesitation.”

“Can’t guarantee that won’t happen, but I’ll do my best to see you’re not bothered,” Tony Rigs said. “But a lot of what’s going to go down I’ll only catch ear of after the fact, same as you.”

“If it’s not your crew moving on the SAs, then who?” Natalie asked. “And no bullshit, this is one part of the story I need to know, and there’s no deal between us until I do.”

“You got a Russian name, but an Italian temper and body to boot,” Tony Rigs said, tossing out a smile and waiting for one in return.

“Save the sweet for your weekend side dish,” Natalie said, not playing along. “Your boring game is going to start soon, and I still haven’t heard anything of interest.”

“Cops,” Tony Rigs said with a resigned shrug. “Ex-cops, you want the full facts. A small team of hard chargers looking for a taste of the get-even. They’re outnumbered and outgunned, but if they play it smart—and more often than not they do—they stand a puncher’s chance of drawing blood.”

“And what are they looking to clear?” Natalie asked, digging deeper. “They want the money? The dope? The turf? All three?”

“It’s not even close to something like that,” Tony Rigs said. “Least not with these guys. They were as stain-free as Mister Clean on the job, even more so once they were shot and stabbed off it.”

“Which leaves them what?” Natalie asked, looking off into the distance.

“Not everybody out there’s like us, always looking to bite off a piece and steal it away,” he said. “Sometimes the good guys are really just that.”

“How well do you know these cops?” she asked.

“I don’t know the whole team, just the two who call the shots,” Tony Rigs said. “With them I got a history. They stayed on the up-and-up with me, and I did my best to steer any business away from their sectors. If any lines were crossed, they did what they had to do and I did what I needed to do. We each knew the street rules and we followed them.”

“And what about now?” Natalie said. “They’re not cops anymore. They can’t make arrests, can’t authorize wires, can’t even ask a question and expect to get an answer in return. Which makes them what?”

“Dangerous,” Tony Rigs said. “You’re right, they can’t run any of that pull-over-and-give-me-your-license bullshit. But they also don’t have to follow any by-the-book fucking procedures, either. They pinpoint their targets and go after them until one of the two sides does a death drop.”

“And what are we supposed to do while all this is going on?”

“Give them what little help we can, for starters,” Tony Rigs said. “But, for the most part, the best thing we can do is just stay out of their fucking way.”

“Is this a cause for them, or is it personal?” Natalie asked.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“Just curious,” Natalie said. “And, for the record, personal is always better.”

“If that’s the case, then this job is the fucking lotto of personal,” Tony Rigs said. “The priest sent a top-tier team of shooters into a restaurant a while back, no doubt you caught wind of the details. They dropped their targets and got credit for the job. But they also left some mind-your-own-business bystanders dead in the bullet storm. One of them was a blood relative to the lead cop. She was a good kid. Now, they’re going to give it all they got left to make the padre wish he’d never put in his order.”

“And you think they can pull this off?” Natalie asked, eager to get insights into Boomer’s plans. “Angel has wiped out entire police
departments
in his home turf; he’s not going to be off running for the Depends when he gets wind of a small team of retired badges on his ass. And if they toss the G-Men and the rest of the SAs in their scope, then they best put in an early order for one of those big-time funerals cops like to give each other.”

“Take them all down—not much of a chance on that,” Tony Rigs said with a shake of his head. “But they’ll put a dent in them, guaranteed. These guys don’t work by any cop rules and never did, even when they
were
cops. They’ll play one against the other, hit them fast and hard, cause all sorts of shit to slap against the fan belt. Even if they only take down fifteen percent of the SAs, let’s just say, then we still walk away from this with a lead. There’s no downside for either one of us. We wait for the dust to settle and the blood to dry and grab what we can of what there is to call our own. Be just like taking candy from a crackhead.”

“You their only contact?” Natalie asked.

“We’d like to keep it low,” Tony Rigs said. “Not make it a finger-walk through the Yellow Pages. The SAs get even a sniff of my involvement in the cause, they’ll be looking to spill and splatter my crew. Not to mention how eager they’ll be to do a head butt with your team.”

“I don’t like watching from the sidelines,” Natalie said. “It never has worked to my benefit, having others do my dirty deeds. Right now, I’ve got no problems with the South Americans, and they seem to be staying away from my coastline. That will change over time, I’m aware, but why should I go looking to shake their cabanas when they haven’t given me cause?”

“Save the bullshit for a stranger,” he said, a wide smile across his face. “You’ve had eyes for their turf since you first took control of the steering wheel. Same as me—no different, no better.”

“If that’s true, then I probably have my eyes on yours as well,” Natalie said, returning the smile.

“Bet your pretty Russian ass you do,” Tony Rigs said. “But that’s a battle for another day. Right now, let’s eat what we got in front of us. Let’s let these guys put a dent in the SA action, much as they can. Once the cocaine powder settles, we’ll see where we’re at.”

“And until then?” Natalie asked. “What?”

“All you need to do is just sit back, put your face up to the warm sun, and enjoy the game,” Tony Rigs said. “Sometimes this business is just as simple as that.”

Natalie nodded. Maybe it won’t be so simple this time, she thought.