David Putnam - The Replacements

She held up a gloved finger. He shut up. She took off the gloves and tossed them in the back. “We’re going to have to torch this van when we’re done. It’s turned into a hazardous waste nightmare.” She took something else out of her bag of tricks and handed the small package to Drago.

“What’s this?”

“Breath mints. Do me the favor, would you?”

He smiled.

Bright light lit up the van from the side, blinding us.

“What a touching scene,” Jonas Mabry said from afar.

Jonas’ car was backed into the sage. We hadn’t seen him pull up, or more likely he’d been there waiting the entire time. He’d seen us doctoring Drago. I had one of the guns in my waistband. He had to have seen it by now. His bright lights washed out any possible target and worse, it illuminated and exposed my vulnerability.

Long shadows crossed the bright light as Jonas approached. His limp on a shot-up foot made his shadow dance. I turned away to let my eyes readjust. Drago sat in the van seat, head back, eyes closed, his pallor as waxy and gray as a cadaver. Had he gotten worse? We needed him.

Jonas stopped. His body blocked the light and, at the same time, kept him in a darkened relief. “You shot him like you shot me, only higher up. He doesn’t look well, Deputy Johnson.”

Marie stood tensely at my side.

“I want proof of life,” I said.

“I knew you only wanted this meet for something like this.”

“ You asked for this meeting, not me. But while we’re here, I need to know we’re not going through all this for nothing.”

He came closer, his diminishing shadow restoring the bright light. From behind, Drago said, “Man, he doesn’t even have a gun. He ain’t any bigger than my old dog Bo. Grab him, I’ll make him talk.”

“Shut up.”

Jonas laughed. “You’ll be lucky to live out the night with as much blood as you’ve lost. Here.” He tossed me a bottle.

The burnt-orange prescription bottle no doubt contained pain pills. Jonas wanted his gold, and the pain drugs might help keep the shock from creeping in on Drago.

I looked back at Drago. His eyes were fierce little beads as he obeyed Marie and sipped his life-replenishing drink. Jonas had given him the motivation to live. To crush, kill, and destroy another day.

“Let’s get on with it,” said Jonas. “I can see he’s been shot. I don’t think you went out and found some random person to shoot and bring here, so let’s hear the rest of the story. How are you going to get the gold?”

Marie took a step forward. “No, not until you show us the children.”

I put my hand on her shoulder and kept her from taking another step. I whispered, “It’s better if you let me handle this.”

“Is this the little woman? You did all right for yourself, Deputy Johnson. Little young for you but-”

I cut him off. “We didn’t come here for small talk.”

“No, we didn’t.” He stepped up the rest of the way, close, and held out a smart phone. “Here, see for yourself.”

Someone on the other end had held up another phone and panned two little girls, about six or seven years old, and sent the video. They cuddled next to each other asleep in a nest of soft clean blankets. He took the phone back. “That’s enough.”

They were all right. The children were all right.

“How do we know that’s their current situation?” I asked.

“I guess you’ll have to take my word.”

“Where’s the boy?” asked Marie. “Where’s little Eddie Crane?”

Jonas feigned surprise, and not very well. “What? He wasn’t there? Well, I don’t know what’s happened to him.” Jonas now stood close enough for me to see his ugly black-holed smile as he waved his hand. “You know, as it turns out, I wanted to give you a little bonus, a little motivator.”

“That right?” I said. “We need to see Eddie.”

“Yeah, the extra motivator is that I didn’t take kids from good homes. I took them from homes where they were being molested and abused, just like you did before you fled the country.”

Marie gasped and brought her hand up to her mouth.

“That’s right,” Jonas said. “I did my research, and knew you’d be even more likely to play along if the children were of a certain ilk. I thought you’d have found this out by now. Anyway, I need to help you along.”

Certain ilk . That was not his vocabulary. He mimicked words someone had told him. They came out in rote. I didn’t know if I believed him, but sensed he now told the truth. “Jonas, where’s Eddie Crane?” I asked.

“That’s all you get for now. Let’s hear about this gold.”

If the phone call wasn’t recorded, and someone had just sent it to him, then Jonas had someone helping him for sure. Getting the kids back during the exchange just became that much more difficult.

I turned to the side. “This is Karl Drago.”

Drago had put his back against the headrest, his eyes closed. He brought his hand up to sip from the plastic bottle, as if he couldn’t care less about what went on in his world or anyone else’s.

Jonas stood his ground. “I’ve heard of him. Aren’t the Sons of Satan out to cut his nuts off? He’s got a green light on him by everyone, including parolees and members or associates with the SS. It’s not too healthy to stand close to this man, Deputy Johnson.”

“I’d forgotten that you’ve been in the joint. So you know about the armored car robbery, then?”

“No, not the robbery. Where’s this gold, and why is it going to take you until Saturday?”

“Drago took the money, converted it to gold, and hid it in the Sons of Satan clubhouse. All the Satans are going to be busy Saturday on the Toys for Tots run.”

“Oh, that’s a good one, absolutely priceless. The Sons of Satan clubhouse. Which one?”

“The international headquarters in San Bernardino. You going to give us the extra time?”

“I believe you now. You have until Saturday night, eight o’clock. That’ll be right around sundown.”

“Eddie Crane,” Marie said. “We’re not moving one inch until we know Eddie Crane’s safe.”

Jonas turned his head slowly to look at her. “Does she speak for you, Deputy Johnson?”

“That’s right, she does.”

“Heh, heh.” He turned and headed back into the light. He said over his shoulder, “Little Eddie Crane, as you call him, was already medically compromised when I grabbed him. Remember that. I had nothing to do with his injuries.”

“You son of a bitch,” Marie said. I took hold of her shoulders as she made for Jonas. Jonas didn’t turn around and kept walking.

“Let me go, let me go, I want a piece of that animal.”

A loud explosion made us both jump out of the way. One of the headlights of Jonas’ car winked out from the pistol shot. I turned and jerked the gun out of Drago’s hand. I wanted to slug him in the mouth, but didn’t.

Jonas’ car door opened and closed. The engine started, the car backed up, tearing out sage and shrub, and then drove away in a cloud of dust.

The night’s darkness slammed down upon us. I couldn’t see, and a bit of claustrophobia snatched at my breath. You couldn’t defend in darkness; control reverted to those who lurked.

“That guy’s an asshole,” Drago said.

“I told you. I told you not to get involved. You gave me your word.”

He put his head back and closed his eyes. “I didn’t get involved. I just shot out his headlight. No big deal. Gave him something to think about. Let him know he wasn’t dealing with a couple of pansy-ass pussies.”

“I’m glad he took a shot at that asshole,” said Marie. “If I had a gun, I would’ve done the same.”