(2012) Blood on Blood (17 page)

I wanted to jam the rest of that burger down his throat and watch the fucker choke to death. Instead, I slid out of the booth without a word. I left him and my own untouched coffee behind and walked out of the diner.

Two blocks away, I pulled out my phone again. I stared down at it, getting my thoughts in order. I could avoid paying Al, as long as I left town as soon as I made the score. It would be more difficult to find a fence in another city, but it couldn’t be too hard. Al would be easy to slip.

Jerzy was another matter.

I flipped open the phone and dialed.

“Yeah?” His voice on the other end of the line sounded tight. Not quite nervous, but maybe a little rattled.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“You called. So you tell me.”

Same subtle tightness there. Did he know that Ania called me?

“I know where Jimmy is,” I told him, forging ahead.

Jerzy was quiet for a second. Then he said, “Tell me.”

“No,” I said.

“No?” His tone was full of surprise.

“Meet me at Union Station, I’ll be waiting on a bench in the big hall. See you in an hour. I’ll fill you in on the train ride.”

“I’d rather drive,” he said.

“I’m sure you would. But this is how we play it.”

Jerzy was quiet again. Finally, he said, “Okay, Hero. See you there.”

He broke the connection.

I closed my phone and slipped it into my jacket pocket. I rubbed my cheek where Steve’s punch had glanced off of my face. I put him out of my mind, along with Connie, Eddie and the diner, Al, everything.

Right now, there was just Jerzy to worry about. And maybe Ania. And that was more than enough.

NINETEEN

Jerzy

Andros and Dobry drop me off and I tell them to not even come back up to the room. I go to the elevator but then I do a u-turn and head back out of the hotel.

I walk a short block over to some cheesy liquor store with bars on the windows and doors. I buy smokes, a bottle of Belvedere and some tonic water.

Five minutes later and I’m back in the room. After checking on the safe and the money, I make myself a drink and change clothes. Another drink goes down and I pull my cell out to call Patrik, just to let him know what’s up.

“Hey, Boss. Me.”

“Yes, my friend.”

“It’s done. Done deal. All of them.”

“Yes, I have gotten a quick report from your staff.” He sounded upbeat but cautious. “However, this connection is not very good, perhaps we should just talk in person.”

“Yeah, understood. Listen, just want you to know, the staff was good. Crew cut is a real keeper.”

“They have reported the same. You will stay there for a while, then?”

“Probably. Look, something has come up, though, and it’s big stuff. I won’t be back to the office for awhile. I’ve got some new, big business going on and it will keep me very busy. Can’t come back now.”

“Of course. In a week, I’m sure you’ll have a more open calendar.”

“No. No, I mean for a long time, Boss.”

“Is there something?”

“Yes, part of this business is that our competition knows about the New Jersey office now. So they’ll be looking at Jersey hard, maybe relocating.”

There’s a long pause.

“I see…I will call you tomorrow and we will make arrangements for a meeting so we that can discuss our marketing strategy.”

“Okay, but not here and not there, I’ll come up with a place. I’ll call you.”

“We are forever in your debt for sealing this deal, my friend. Drive careful, the traffic will be very bad. Be safe.”

“Always.”

“
Do widzenia
.” The line went dead.

I walk over and put two cubes in the cup and splashed in some vodka, think about it and then pour some more in. I don’t even consider the tonic this time.

I’m staring out the window into the dark, but I’m not looking at anything. My head is everywhere right now. It just figures, I’m sitting here in an average little chain hotel but I got a cool two hundred grand in the room…and I’m drinking vodka out of a plastic cup.

Hey, I could deal with holing up here until they whacked the fall guy from the west coast. No problem. Drink vodka out of the bottle for that matter, if that’s all there was to it. But I’m a trapped rat now. When the sun comes up, or however long it takes Kos to grow the balls to sell some very valuable information, I will be hunted. Hunted hard. Every fucking Russian that works for the Skansi crew and anyone they can pull in from the outside will be looking for my ass.

As always, no matter what the hell is going on I’m hungry. So, I order a pizza to be delivered to the hotel. I go down to the desk and leave the money there, tell them to call my room when it comes. I don’t want some fucking Russian weightlifter delivering a pizza at my door. Know what I’m sayin’?

Would they be onto where I’m at that fast? No fucking way, but my car is down there. They know my car and they’ll be looking for that soon. Am I going overboard on the caution here? Fucking right I am.

I swear I’m not scared, though. It ain’t that. I don’t scare. I just never like to be soft, never like to put my guard down, even though I could for tonight. Bad habit to get into, right?

When I finally go down and get the pizza, I eat a couple of slices in like four bites and start drinking again. I’m carving into this bottle pretty good now and settle back into a chair, propping my feet up on the bed. The Bulls are on. Playoffs. Like I give a fuck. I flip the channel and it’s hockey instead. I guess that’s better, at least not so sissy, but it doesn’t matter. I’m staring at the screen; smoking and thinking.

My original plan had been to stay here two or three nights after the hit and that would have been just fine if I hadn’t been made. I’ll have to move tomorrow. No fucking way I’m staying here. Even if they didn’t find this place or the car for awhile, I’d go nuts. Besides, I’d have to move sometime and it might as well be tomorrow.

Plus, that two hundred grand over there in the safe is only half of the take. I have a necklace and some earrings to collect, too. I’m good enough to dodge some big guerrillas and get those rocks too. Fuck yeah, I am. Then I’ll skip town, but only then. I’m not gonna just give away the prize to Mick, or any piece of it. Fuck him. Fuck the Hero.

So, first of all, I’ll never drive that car down there again. Tomorrow morning, I’ll catch a cab early and go rent a car. Call Mick early, too and see where we’re at with the earrings.

I lift the plastic cup up and get nothing but one cube. Jesus, I’m drinking some serious vodka here. Couple more drinks have my name on them, though. I’m good for it.

The Blackhawks score in the background but it might as well be the weather channel or some shit.

I get another drink and go back to the window. Can’t go back to my apartment or Ania’s place. Ambrozy’s is way the fuck off limits. I’ll be drifting for the next few days or a week, no doubt. Speaking of Ania, I need her in my plans. I must be crazy but she goes with me when I bail. I want her all the time, need her. Hell, I want her here right now but that’s a very bad idea.

I try calling her but she doesn’t pick up. I leave her a voicemail that I ought to be ashamed of. All lovey and miss you babe. Another drink.

Some time has got away from me as I’ve been drinking because I just checked my watch and it’s like one thirty now. I sit down heavy on the edge of the bed and do a little weave. I look at the table across the room and the bottle looks to have only about two more big drinks left. Fuck it, drunk enough. Drunk isn’t even the right word.

A slideshow of stray snapshots from earlier today starts running in my mind. Skansi laying there hissing up at me, Andros shooting the old bitch and her head bouncing back against the back of the wheelchair. Then, there he is. Kos, with that stupid ass grin and neck like a goose. Then he points at me. Fucker.

I do the slow lean sideways and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out.

After getting the car rented early this morning, I drive to O’Hare and check into the Hilton inside Terminal Two. I pay up for a week in advance. Never know, might need to fly instead of drive when the time to split comes, and it will come.

Inside my room, I stow the two hundred thousand in the safe in the cabinet under the TV. I set the same combination as before at the Marriot and tuck the slip of paper with the numbers on it back inside my wallet.

I drive around a little bit after getting some breakfast – which I almost tossed up as soon as I finished. I’ve been thinking about calling Mick, too, but I figure I’ll wait for him to call me.

At some point, I pull into a parking garage of the Oak Park Mall, just off the Eisenhower. It’s a Saturday, I think, so every level is loaded with cars and that’s good, a good cover. When I lean back in the seat, the lights go out again until Mick’s call.

This train we’re on right now, though, I mean holy shit, this is the worst. It’s not doing me any good here. Mick just got done giving me the low down on what’s up and where we’re going. I think I heard about half of what he said, although I got the part about the necklace being out of play just fine. I’m drinking my third cup of coffee trying to clear my head which is banging like a mother. Let’s just say I’ve had better nights and damn sure better days. I’m still green.

“So, what’s with the fuckin’ Orient Express train travel here, Mickey boy?”

“You look like hell, Punk. Did you catch anything I just told you about Jimmy and Speedo?”

“Fuck off.” I take the little sippy ass plastic lid off and take a good slug of coffee.

Mick stares at me in frustration. “The necklace being seized and then returned, the earrings still out there, Speedo… anything ring a bell?”

I’m sitting right across from him but my attention is on the guy down at the other end of the car. I’ve been watching the car since we got on looking for anybody that’s looking, if you know what I mean.

“Yeah, I got it, okay? What the fuck, Hero? You think I can’t hear? And by the way, you still sound like a cop reading a report. Why can’t you just talk regular?”

Mick doesn’t bite. “We’re almost there, stud. One more stop and then the next will be Comiskey.” He pauses, then adds, “You want to find a bar, get a couple drinks when we get off the train?”

“What’d you say Little Jimmy’s address was again, smart ass?” The train is slowing down, making the last stop before Little Jimmy’s. I’m trying to be casual while I’m looking through the windows, watching who’s getting on, who’s getting off. And yeah, I’m way paranoid by now.

“Apartment Four B, corner of Pershing and Wells.” Then he leans in closer and looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell is with you, anyway?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something. And not just a hangover, either.”

“Don’t worry about it there, detective. You just be ready when we talk to Jimmy Kerrigan.” I finally look at him. “By the way, how we handling this? Hard or harder?”

He sits back again but he is still eyeing me. “I think we see how it goes and just play it by ear. We’ll know what to do.”

A couple of minutes later and we’re off that fucking train finally, walking down Wells Street a block away from Jimmy’s apartment.

“South Side’s a wonderful place, huh?” I actually feel pretty good here because there ain’t no pale skinned Russians creeping around this part of town and I’m sure as hell not going to run into anybody I know.

A car comes bouncing down the road in front of us. The rap is turned up so loud that the bass is shaking my fillings. My headache is back, too. The car slows and the four brothers inside it give us the once over and they keep staring us down. Finally, they stop and put it in reverse following along the curb matching our walk. Long stares from the bloods, so I stop and stare back at them. I’m about two seconds from pulling my gun out. I ain’t going down in some fucking drive-by shooting bullshit with a car load of seventeen year old shines.

Mick, though, he just looks at them and smiles. Then he puts one finger to his ear and says something to nobody while staring at the sidewalk. Looks up again and hooks a quick thumb to them. Jerks his head real quick for them to go. Like he’s giving them a break, a pass or silently telling them he’s got bigger shit to fry. Goes back to his imaginary earpiece. And fuck me, they stop and put it back in drive.

He still looks like a cop and they sure as hell know what one looks like. The car pulls away slowly, goes down to the corner and turns onto Pershing.

“That was pretty good, Hero. Gotta admit. We, uh, kinda stand out a little bit here right?”

Mick is looking straight ahead. “Yeah little bit, but then so does Jimmy.” He nods forward, “There’s the apartment building up on the right.”

“How do we even know the little fuck will be here, inspector?”

“White Sox home opener is a week away. I was told he’d be here. If not, we wait.”

The place is a fucking dive. Big shock there. And noisy, real noisy on the first and second floor. As we head up it gets a little more quiet. One thing for sure, if the little turd is here, we’re the only three white boys in the building.

Mick knocks twice on the door that has a rusted, upside down four hanging on by a thread and the B is gone but you can see the dirty outline where it used to be.

No answer, no shadow under the bottom of the door. Nothing at all.

Mick knocks again, three times and harder. I’m standing to the side to where Jimmy won’t see me right away.

“Get the fuck outta here, you little rat bastards!” The shrill voice from inside sounds tight and high strung.

Mick knocks again even harder. Four, five times.

The door flies open and Mick puts his foot along the bottom of the door. I step into the doorway too, where Little Jimmy can see me.

He doesn’t rattle right away. “And who might the fuck you be?” he snaps at Mick.

“We’re your friends, Jimmy.” Mick smiles at him.

He looks at Mick and dismisses him. “You, I never seen before and I’m glad for that.” He looks up at me and squints. “You though, you big fuckin’ mope, you do look familiar.”