Pennies for the Ferryman - 01 (34 page)

“Yeah, I reckon. Give me a week or two to scout out this Taney fellow’s powerbase. I’ll keep an eye on his museum and see who’s coming and who’s going. Once we know what we’re looking at, we’ll be able to come up with a plan for how to put the screws to this guy. Just keep these safe.”

Don pointed to his dog tags, resting on the workbench. Every soldier keeps his dog tags, but for Don, it was even more significant. His tags were his focus; they were in the package that Sonya had sent me. He told me it took a few weeks to “influence” her to part with them. I ordered a pair of brass divining rods off the internet and sure enough, Darren Porter was right. I could locate Don’s dog tags every time, no matter where they were hidden. That definitely would come in handy.

“Will do; just remember to wait for me before trying to bust any heads. One thing I’ve learned is that physical power doesn’t always translate once you’re on the other side.”

He didn’t look terribly concerned. I used to refer to it as his “bull-headed Texan mindset.”

“It’d take more than just some old geezer to whup me,”
Don said.

“If he wasn’t strong enough to hold onto this territory, someone would’ve taken it from him already,” I replied. “He’s been a ghost for almost one hundred and fifty years. That’s roughly one hundred and forty-nine years longer than you. Don’t underestimate him or whatever henchman he has. What little Diamond Jim Brady told me about him is that he’s a power broker.”

“You’re right, Mike. People with blood on their hands have people around to wash them. I won’t make a stupid move and if things get sticky, I’ll just reappear right here, unless you want to carry my dog tags around with you?”

“No, they’re safer here behind the protective barrier. It’ll give you a safe place to fall back to. Who knows what trouble I could be in? Wanna take the saber?” I asked.

Don always had a thing for blades. For a guy who had lived on a Sergeant’s salary he’d had a collection that would rival a small museum.

“Nah, too conspicuous; I do miss my big Bowie knife, though.”

I ignored the fact that his desert fatigues weren’t exactly suburban wear. “I figured Sonya would’ve buried you with some of your collection. Too bad she didn’t.”

He shrugged,
“Reckon she liked them too much to part with ‘em.”

With Don gone, I returned to my student routine and actually had a pretty good day, including lunch in the cafeteria with Jenny. She sat down next to me and immediately inserted herself into what I was doing. “I thought you did History-I during the winter session.”

“I did.”

“So what’s with the book on Roger Taney?”

“Know your enemy.”

She bounced excitedly, “Wow! Really?”

“Yes. Why are you so happy?” I asked.

“It’s just so cool. I know, it’s not cool to you, but he’s like a famous person and I read up on those other ghosts you met in Atlantic City. Did you know that Jim Brady’s stomach was six times larger than a normal person’s?” Jenny gushed.

“I read up on them too. I’ve got a suspicion that if Lillian Russell still requires a focus; it’s got to be that really expensive bike that Diamond Jim bought for her. Right now, I’m wondering what Taney’s might be? You hang around lawyers now, what do you think he’d use? His law books?”

She scrunched her nose, “No, silly. I’ve been to the museum before. They’ve got his gavel in a display case. That would be my guess.”

“It sounds like as good a place to start as any. Thanks. What’s the museum like?”

“It was a trip in high school. I don’t exactly remember. Why don’t we go there?”

It was a good idea, but I didn’t want to go just yet. “Not just yet, but I’ll ask a buddy of mine to go up there.”

“Why not me? I can bring a video camera!”

“Rusty’s better suited for this job.”

Jenny huffed, “It’s because he’s a guy right?”

I leaned next to her and whispered, “No, he installs security systems for a living.”

“Oh, I guess that…wait! Mike? What are you planning?”

I put on my best innocent face.

“Me, I’m not planning anything, but the less I say means the less you know. What are you up to?”

Jenny wisely let the subject drop, “Well, my job is going really well and Mr. Binstock is really impressed with me. The firm is actually more fun than I expected.”

She is the kind of person that would say nice things about being a trash collector because she’d enjoy being outdoors or some such nonsense. She slyly mentioned her ongoing relationship with Carleton Binstock.

“I have to ask, what happens if you and Chaz break up? Does Uncle Seth fire you?”

“I thought I told you to stop calling him that! Since he’s in school, he only clerks there during the summer and this summer is questionable. He’s thinking about going to Europe.”

An effort was required to not make a sarcastic comment. I didn’t need to keep up with Chaz. He and I lived on two separate worlds.

“So, is he taking you with him?”

“Well, if you must know, it’s too early to say. We’re taking it slow and seeing what develops.” It was yet another contrast. The two of them seemed perfectly happy with a slow growing relationship. Candy and I weren’t exactly experiencing that level of bliss. We had an entirely different opinion of the matter altogether.

Still, part of me was happy for Jenny. It was good to see life working out for someone; it gave me a sliver of hope.

“You’re in luck; our company provides security for the museum. The system is an older model,” Rusty explained. “Back in the day, it was pretty expensive. It’s not impossible to get around, just very unlikely. Well that is, unless you know what you’re doing.”

“I assume you do?”

My friend laughed and finished his beer. He was a year younger than I was, but he did know his electronics including damn near everything that could be known about the cochlear implant he’d received courtesy of Uncle Sam.

It turned out that the museum didn’t open for tours until April, but this was a big break in my favor. From his equipment bag, he pulled out a technical manual and flipped through it. He paused at the schematic of the model installed in the Taney house. We went through the sequence to deactivate the panel – several times. “That should do the trick, I’d come along, but there’s this little thing about keeping my job.”

I agreed. “It’s cool. I’m more worried about whatever paranormal defenses Taney might have.”

“Better bring a hammer and chisel just in case. Of course, this is a silly conversation anyway. We both know there are no such things as ghosts, right?”

“Absolutely not,” I replied, “unless you count the one who just walked through the wall over there.” I gestured towards where Don Hodges entered the room. He’d been gone four days and I was more than a little curious what he had to say.

Rusty started packing up. “Well I’m sure you two have plenty of things to discuss and I don’t feel like sitting here listening to only half a conversation any more than you want to hear me ask ‘What did he say?’ a hundred times.”

“Okay then, Rusty. I’ll see you later. Take care.”

“You too, Mike.”

I waited for Rusty to leave before turning to my ghostly friend.

“What’s the word Don?”

“I saw that Reynolds character, just like his pictures online. It sounds like the notes from the late Darren Porter were right on. Reynolds only showed up once while I was scouting the area. That means every ten days, Reynolds brings a shipment of ‘spook juice’ down from Gettysburg. We’ve got a week until the next shipment.”

“How does he travel?”

“He was in a car with a living driver. It was daylight, so I couldn’t tell if he had that faint aura around them that the Skinwalker in New Jersey had, but I’d assume he’s one of them. People were waiting for him in the parking lot.”

“What do you think?”

“I say we ambush old Reynolds up near Gettysburg. Get rid of him and the Skinwalker while they’re isolated. If he’s really some type of power merchant, he won’t like his supply line being clipped.”

Don always was an aggressive type.

“Strike a blow and see if he’s willing to talk then? I might just be provoking him, but then again, his men have tried to kill me more than once. Screw it, we take Reynolds out. Now we just need to track down the car.”

A spectral predatory grin met my gaze,
“I just happened to memorize that plate. You wouldn’t happen to be in the mood to call that deputy friend of yours and have her run a plate for you?”

“Sneaky, Sergeant Hodges – very sneaky. I like it.”

One thing I’ve noticed is how life can speed up and slow down on me. February raced by and it was March before we had all the pieces in place. The Gettysburg Battlefield hadn’t opened yet and there was only light traffic. Our target was in the parking area and would be out in only a few moments. I was on edge, a familiar tension that I’d experienced hundreds of times before heading out on a mission in Iraq. For a change, I wasn’t stumbling into a situation and hoping for a lucky break. This battlefield was of my choosing. Don and I had a plan.

Rusty’s truck sat on the side of the road, looking for all the world like a broken down heap. He fidgeted behind the wheel. About a half a mile away, a glowing General John Reynolds was climbing into the back seat of a gold four door Lexus. I had an antifreeze container in my hands as part of the ruse. Instead of antifreeze, it was full of iron filings. I only had a minute or two left of preparation time.

Walking across the turn lane, I poured the iron out in a heavy solid line. Placing my hands on the pile of dust, I saw a faint glow spread through the powder. Someone was about to get a rude wakeup call when they hit my barrier. I worried that with all that energy Reynolds was carrying that he would break through it. Even so, it should provide enough resistance to knock both the target and the Skinwalker out of the car. Based on the tests Don and I conducted, the driverless car would likely stall in the intersection. Kind of wild that I could make a barrier that could have that kind of effect on an engine. When we’d tried it, the barrier knocked Don out of Rusty’s truck bed when it was rolling forward at five miles an hour.

After charging up the barrier, I looked at Don; only the top of his head and the tip of the sword were visible sticking out of the grassy median. I laid a second line a meter in front of the first one to make certain we separated the General from his steed. Our plan was that Don would take out the ‘walker as fast as possible and I would take out Reynolds.

“Showtime Don. You ready?”

“Willing and able,”
was his reply

I moved over to the curb by the right turn lane and set my jug full of filings next to my pipe wrench. I was about to destroy the ghost of a Civil War general on purpose. As a former enlisted man, it was somewhat difficult to wrap my mind around, but in the end, I could live with it – having survived a few attempts on my life had dampened my scruples. I pulled a pair of cheap white glove inserts onto my hands. I wetted them down with a water bottle and poured a gritty handful of iron into each palm.

As the Lexus made its way towards us, I knelt, acting like I was tying my shoe. I turned and looked at Rusty; he started his truck, ready for a fast getaway. If necessary, Don would hold them at bay and cover our retreat before fading back to Mom’s house.

Luck was on our side. The light changed from green to yellow. The driver sped up slightly to make it through. I closed my normal eye and watched the look on the driver’s face. Our eyes locked for a moment and I guessed he was doing fifteen to twenty miles an hour when he hit that spectral wall. The Lexus sputtered and died, rolling into the intersection as both ghosts were hurled out the back of the car, cracking the windshield in at least a dozen places.