Witness to Death (17 page)

As Callahan pulled off Route 18 into New Brunswick, he tried to figure things out. Whatever was going on had put him in the bullseye. The question was: Were they always the targets, him and Ashley? Or had his presence interfered with the trenchcoats’ plans? He tried Weller’s line and didn’t get an answer.

The trenchcoats had seemed to know he was coming. Maybe someone tipped off Omar, who in turn called for help. But help from where?

He took the New Street exit and parked his car in the first open spot he could find. Stepping out of the car, the harsh morning wind slashed through his ears and made his eyes water. The icy rain fell from the sky, and he cursed. It was thickening into snow. The weather would only slow him down. The Parkway always came to a complete stop with even the threat of snow.

He’d told Michelle. He’d told her the truth, and when he had, he’d felt a warmth in his chest. He was making a mistake, blowing his cover, but when she asked if he loved her he couldn’t stop himself. He hadn’t counted on that. He hadn’t counted on actually falling for her. He was supposed to be professional, not let feelings get in the way. He wasn’t supposed to be like John.

He walked up the hill toward George Street. Not many people were out this early on a Saturday morning. It was as if the whole city had a hangover. A few college aged kids milled about outside the Dunkin Donuts. He asked one which way the C Town was. The kid looked confused and then pointed over Callahan’s shoulder.

It was tough for Candy to say a whole street was safe, but he’d called her again on the way down. She didn’t see an army of mercenaries waiting for him. That would have to be good enough.

As Callahan walked he pictured the trench coats pulling their guns the other night. Were they already out? No, they definitely had their backs to Callahan at first. But how did they know they were being followed? He’d barely rounded the corner when they aimed at him. Callahan didn’t cough, didn’t kick anything over. He hadn’t made a sound. Nothing gave him away. They knew. They must have.

Once past the theater district, the neighborhood changed distinctly. It was gentrified, with construction vehicles everywhere. Condos were being built, a convention center’s skeleton loomed in the air. But the broken down homes and churches still crumbled around the construction. An old man sat on the stoop of a small Baptist church and brushed snow off his shoulders. Next to him stood a brown paper bag, the tip of a bottle peeking through the top.

The C Town, a gray concrete supermarket was a block away. A Hispanic man in a puffy black winter coat leaned against the wall of the store. The guy’s hands were jammed in his pockets.

When Callahan passed him, the guy said, “You need somethin’?”

“Jose?” Callahan stuck out his hand like he wanted to shake.

“You a cop?” Jose laughed. The pencil thin mustache outlining his upper lip curved upwards. “Nah, you ain’t a cop. I know all the cops in this town.”

“I’m not a cop,” Callahan said, just to say it.

“Whatchu need man?”

“To talk.” His hand was still extended, waiting for Jose to take it.

When his hand came out of the pocket, Jose did it slowly, as if moving too quickly would cause the hand to fall off. Callahan saw why, his fingertips didn’t have nails. They were growing back, but the tips were red and scabbed. Jose didn’t shake his hand, instead bumping knuckles.

“What d’ya want to talk about?”

“I heard about you from Omar Thabata.”

Jose smiled. “My Jersey City boy. How he doing?”

Callahan shrugged. “Same as always.”

“He sent you down here to see me? Something fishy about that. You sure you’re not a cop?”

“I’m sure. I work for the government. I’m actually looking for Omar. Hoping you can help me find him.”

“How I know you work for the government? Got ID?”

Callahan looked at the building across the street. He saw a glint of light coming out of the second floor window. Probably a mirror.

He pointed at it. “See that window, something shining out of it? That’s one of my men. He’s got a rifle aimed at your head. You try anything, he puts one in you and disappears. I give a signal you’re not being very helpful, he’ll just send two men around the corner to arrest you. We’re also recording everything you say.”

Jose’s smile went away. “Name don’t ring a bell. Lots of Omars down here.”

Taking out his wallet, Callahan watched Jose’s eyes light up. He hesitated taking the money out, though. The street was empty, but Callahan couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching. People would get the wrong impression.

He handed Jose a twenty. The bill quickly disappeared into the black coat pocket.

“I’m still hazy. You his friend? He send you? Otherwise, I don’t think Mr. Jackson is going to be able to help me.”

“How about if I break your finger? Would that make things clearer?”

Jose looked at his hand. A flake of ice landed on his pinky and melted. The hand flinched into a fist.

“You really think you could do something to me that hasn’t already been done? I used to run from people like you. But not no more.”

Callahan pulled the two hundreds he had in his wallet, leaving him with only five bucks and a credit card. He passed the bills to Jose.

“Man was down here three days ago,” the dealer said. “Just checking in. Said he was gonna be going away for a while.”

“He say where?”

Jose shook his head. “Nope. He just wanted me to take care of something for him while he was gone.”

“And that was?”

“What do I look like? That’s his business? I ain’t tellin’ you that no matter how much money you give me..”

Callahan didn’t think that was true, but nodded and raised his hands palms out. “My mistake.” He’d come back to that subject.

“Why you lookin’ for him?”

“I need his help,” Callahan said.

“Me too. He usually sends me a ton of customers from up in Jersey City, but he hasn’t lately.”

“How’d you meet him?”

Eyes widened, it was Jose’s turn to raise his hands. “We were both taking classes back in ‘01-’02. Trying to learn English. Can’t run a business without speaking English good and they don’t teach it good in the DR. Know what I mean? He and I just hit it off.”

“You’ve been friends since?”

“We lost touch for a while. Least until what happened to his family.”

Callahan put his hands into his pockets. “What happened to his family?”

“You don’t know?”

Callahan closed his eyes and thought about Omar’s file. There wasn’t much on his time before the attempted airport bombing. Nothing on his past. He was a phantom before them, suddenly showing up on the scene.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jose shook his head. “Omar’s been mad about that ever since.”

“What happened?”

Jose said, “Bad stuff man. Missiles in the Middle East stuff. They’re dead.”

Callahan didn’t push. There were more urgent matters to attend to.

“Did Omar warn you about anything? Tell you not to go somewhere? To get out of the state?”

Despite his training, Callahan felt his hands shake. He hoped John was keeping Michelle safe. He pictured John in the fetal position on the train. Screw that. He hoped Michelle was keeping John safe and they’d both gotten out of the state.

“I already told you too much.”

“You didn’t tell me anything.”

Jose shook his head. “Who are you? I don’t got to tell you nothing.”

“What do you get out of this?”

Jose smiled, as if he couldn’t resist talking more. “Oh, I’d say about twenty percent. I send money and messages to Omar’s country. They send me product. And I get a cut of what Omar has me send. It’s a good way to make a living.”

Callahan should have him arrested. But he wanted Omar to make contact, talk to someone. Jose was as good an option as anyone else.

He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and grabbed Jose by the hand. Jose grunted and he took a step backward. Callahan held on and wrote his cell phone number on the dealer’s palm.

“If you see Omar, you call me. Put the number in your phone.”

“I don’t call people. Besides, I told you man, I ain’t gonna see him.”

“You never know. And if you see him and don’t call me, I’ll find out. And I’ll do more than just hurt your hands.”

Jose looked at the number on his hand. “I call you, you better bring more Ben Franklins.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

The snow was falling harder now, the roads had slickened since Callahan had exited the Turnpike. Definitely going to be a rough ride home.

Jose sucked his teeth.

“You worryin’ me. How’d you know to find me?”

Callahan said. “I work for the government. We know everything.”

Turning, Callahan started to walk back toward New Street. Behind him, Jose laughed.

“Yeah, everything except where Omar is.”

And the words, more than the weather, made Callahan shiver.

John grabbed Michelle by the wrist. He pulled her into her apartment. The odor of a scented candle hung in the air as they went through the living room then into the bedroom. The familiarity of the bedroom, the purple covers on the bed, the books on education scattered around her desk… Not everything had changed.

“Where are you taking me?” Michelle said, her voice louder than it was when she yelled at Junior Diaz for not finishing his homework.

“They’re coming in the front. We need to go out the fire escape.”

John let go of her wrist. As he shoved the window open, his shoulder exploded, and he felt blood ooze from beneath the bandage. He realized he was sweating.

“Why are we running? The cops can help us.”

He froze. The cops should help, it’s what you’re brought up believing. But Ashley and Frank had ruined all that. Bullets flying, cops getting hit, and the explosion at the station. They wouldn’t help. They were out to get him. One wrong move and they wouldn’t hesitate to put him down.