That’s How I Roll: A Novel (27 page)

Took me another hour to get people over there to drag the Lawrence boy into the right spot, close to that big dead-inside oak, then to loop chains around the tree and pull it down.

I paid well for that work. The men I called expected that, just as I expected them to forget they’d done it.

“That true?” Judakowski asked me. He didn’t like Lansdale knowing anything he didn’t know himself.

“I only know what people say,” I answered. “And you know how some people’ll say all kinds of things, just to be talking.”

I think Judakowski understood what I was telling him. In fact, I’m sure of it, because, instead of getting belligerent, he just said, “Your brother’s got some temper.”

“Tory doesn’t have any temper at all,” I told him. “He’s the same as any man—you act like you’re fixing to hurt his kin, he’s going to hurt you first.”

“What if he makes a mistake about that?” Judakowski said, watching me close, knowing he was baiting me about Tory-boy not being known for his intelligence.

I swallowed the bait and spit out the hook at the same time. “It might be he could do that,” I said, shaking my head a little, like the thought made me a little sad. “Wouldn’t change anything, though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. If your brother were to make that kind of mistake, the man he makes the mistake on, might be he’d have kin, too.”

“I don’t believe there’s anyone around here who’d take it that way,” I brushed off the threat. “Folks know Tory-boy’s judgment might not be so good, so they always cut him some slack.”

“Is that right?” Judakowski said. It wasn’t a question, not with the sharp edge he put on it.

“They know me, too,” I went on, like Judakowski hadn’t spoken at all. “They know my brother would never hurt anyone out of meanness, so I’ve got a right to expect them not to blame him for making a mistake.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yes, I do. People know my brother, so that should guide their conduct. People know me, so that should guide their conduct as well. If anything ever was to happen to my brother, they know I wouldn’t have to be nearby to settle that score.”

“Hell, everybody knows that,” Lansdale said. Not to back me up, to push Judakowski away from crossing the line. Giving him an out.

Now, that’s a truly dangerous man
, I remember thinking at the time.

I was never proved wrong on that.

didn’t spend any of the new money when it started coming in. Not at first. What I did, I invested it. First thing was to build myself a machine shop. We had to make the house easier for me to get into, and easier to move around in, too. For that, we needed all kinds of power tools to cut wood and metal.

But that wasn’t complicated work. Once I showed Tory-boy how, he could handle any of the tools. If I showed him a pattern, Tory-boy could cut it perfect.

My lab was another story entirely. I had some tools in there, too. Not for heavy work; just the opposite, in fact. The kind of work I couldn’t teach Tory-boy.

Even with the switch that would turn our satellite dish into a signal-sender for the string of blasting caps buried just under the surface out in the yard—buried so shallow you could see them sitting inside the clear Lexan box I built to house them—there was still the chance that enemies could get at us. That’s why the metal gates were wired. That’s why we had the dogs. That’s why …

I never underestimate people. What one man can build, another man can bypass. I didn’t need to stop enemies, I just needed to slow them down. They might get past everything I’d put in their way, but they couldn’t do that quickly enough to ever separate me and Tory-boy, or to stop us from getting down to our mine.

verybody around here knows something about mining. It’s part of our life, in our heritage forever, even though the only nearby mine had dried up years ago.

So when I told Tory-boy we were going to have our own mine—our secret mine—he got all excited and real quiet at the same time.

If I say it myself, I’ve got a microsurgeon’s hands. And my eyesight is so fine it’d put 20/20 to shame—I’d never needed glasses, even when I built some of my most tiny little devices.

I’d disliked working while lying out on the floor—I don’t feel completely safe unless I’m in my chair, I guess—but this time it was something that just had to be done.

And I had Tory-boy to protect me while I was doing it.

I’d have him lift me out of the chair and put me on the floor, facedown. Then I’d pull myself over to wherever I needed, so I could do the close-up work on the wood floor of our house.

You’ll find some kind of carpet or rugs in just about any house around here, but not in ours. We’d had Mr. Shane come over and lay in genuine wide pine flooring. He’s an old man now, retired on that little government check, but his hands still know what to do, and he was as glad for the cash as I expected he would be.

Or maybe what made him glad was me telling him he was the only one I’d even consider for the work I needed done. If he couldn’t oblige me, I’d understand, but it would be a deep disappointment, I didn’t mind saying.

I knew he’d tell people about the work he’d done on our house, but that didn’t matter. After all, I was a cripple, wasn’t I? Imprisoned in that wheelchair for life. It only made sense that I wouldn’t want to be sliding a wheelchair over rugs all the time.

My work was to undo some of Mr. Shane’s work. I was very slow and very careful about it. When I finally finished, you couldn’t see where three of the boards had been removed and then put back unless you got down there with a magnifying glass.

Tory-boy loved helping me with my work. And, this time, I wasn’t making up a task just to build up his confidence. I could never have moved those heavy boards myself without scratching them up bad, so I truly needed him.

But where I needed him most was when we dug our own mine. It was slow work. We couldn’t take out more than a few dozen bucketfuls a night. I made sure Tory-boy knew to scatter that dirt around different trees. The next rain would mix it up perfect, and rain’s one of those things you can count on coming, sooner or later.

It took almost two years, working like that, but we built our own little mine.

If I were ever to roll my chair over a certain spot, the boards would come loose, and I could pry them the rest of the way up with the hook at the end of my stick.

A side-railed ramp would take me down to the bottom. Then all I’d have to do is pull the boards back into place with the loops we have fastened underneath. To look at it, you’d never know anyone was under that floor.

Down below, there was room enough for me and Tory-boy. And enough bricks of plastique to excavate a mine shaft.

That was the final exit for us both. If things ever got so bad outside that I couldn’t fix it, our private mine is where we’d go.

We’d wait until the house was full of the people who’d be hunting us—we’d be able to hear them right above—and then Tory-boy and me, we’d leave this dirty world behind us.

We’d leave together, but we wouldn’t go out alone.

I promised Tory-boy I’d never let anyone hurt him. And I’d keep that promise, no matter what it cost anyone else. A debt is a debt, and an honorable man settles his debts. But my promise to Tory-boy is beyond any debt—it’s a sacred duty.

There’s no way I can ever get to our mine now. But I can still honor my promises and pay my debts.

And keep my Tory-boy safe. Once he pushed that button, nobody could ever torment him again.

Our mine would be used only if everything else failed. I didn’t
expect that, but I had to have everything in place so my mind could be at ease.

either Judakowski nor Lansdale cared how any problem in their territories got solved. When they wanted a problem out of the way, they didn’t care if it left in a limousine or a pine box. I didn’t have any special taste for killing, so I always tried the softer way.

Tried it first, I mean. When I took a job to move someone, they got moved. My word was a contract, and I never failed to live up to my end, even when that required the end of someone else.

Sometimes, you can get the exact effect you’re after without any bloodshed at all. What I learned was that achieving such an effect depended on a lot of different things. Not just how smart the target was, but how much he had already invested, be it in his racket or his image.

Lansdale or Judakowski would give me the name of a man who was causing a problem. Rarely would anyone be causing them both a problem, but even that happened every so often.

Besides the name, I’d also need the right place to have a package delivered—the target’s home was always best—and a copy of a return address he’d trust on sight. I can print up an exact duplicate of any label you show me, right down to the bar codes. The next step is for the man to open that package. Then a big
puff!
of talcum powder would float out in a gentle cloud. The only thing inside the box would be a piece of paper, with a typed-out message:

If the man was smart enough, that would do it.

But maybe the man had himself committed so deep that he’d already built himself some stronger walls. Maybe he’d never get mail at his home, so any package delivered there would just sit unopened until he had someone come by and pick it up for him.

For a man that cautious, a better move would be if his electricity went out late one night. No warning, everything just
snaps!
off.

Now, that does happen around here. Which is why so many folks outside of town keep backup generators. But this man would look out his window and see all the other close-by houses still showing lights.

Before he can ponder that mystery, his phone rings. The house phone, not his cell. The house phone with the number kept in someone else’s name, and unlisted to boot.

A mechanical voice says: “It would be just as easy to turn off
your
lights.”

Then the phone goes dead in the target’s hand. And the electricity in his house suddenly pops back to life.

It wouldn’t take that kind of man too long to think over all the different electrical things he uses every day. All the things he has to touch.

That’s when he understands that there’s people out there somewhere who can touch
him
.

t’s a formula: the higher the target’s intelligence, the more subtle you can be about sending him a message.