Mike Faricy - Russian Roulette

“You know, it’s too bad you can’t take a look. The women out here are gorgeous today. I don’t know how they get away with wearing so little,” I lied. “I wonder how any guy could remain focused on his job working next to these beautiful things?”

Hale just sighed from the floor of the backseat.

I plugged the meter at hourly intervals. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and from about one-thirty on the sun beat down unmercifully on the Hummer, baking it oven-like. I ran the air conditioner periodically but the sweat still rolled off me. I drank a PowerAde, this one was blue, the previous one had been red and I couldn’t really discern much of a taste difference between the two.

“You okay back there?” I asked Hale, as much in an attempt to stay awake as anything else. My head had been nodding, and my eyelids felt like they had ten-pound weights hanging from them.

“What the hell, what’s happening? Anything up?” he murmured coming awake.

“God, you’re asleep back there? How come I have to sit here looking alert and wide awake?” I complained.

“We’re trying to fool people into thinking you actually know what you’re doing for a change. I doubt it’ll work. It’s pretty tough attempting to cover up someone as stupid as you are.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” I said.

“Well, there’s a change,” Hale responded.

I searched for a clever comeback just as a blue BMW Z4 drove up the exit ramp, it was Kerri’s. There was no traffic coming so it could have easily turned left and driven off. Instead it waited for maybe fifteen seconds. I guessed she wanted to make sure I saw her.

“There’s our BMW on the ramp, looks like just Kerri driving,” I said to Hale.

“Unless someone’s hiding in there, but who’d be stupid enough to try that?” he said.

From the floor of the backseat I heard him on the radio alerting our cover guys to the fact we were moving. I was suddenly very thankful that I was driving a vehicle that stood out. We turned left on Seventh, drove maybe half a mile, then took a right on Kellogg going up the hill toward the imposing edifice of the St. Paul Cathedral. I passed on a description of our route to Hale still down on the floor of the backseat, relaying the information.

“We get to the top of this hill, I’m guessing we’re either gonna turn right onto the freeway or take a left and head down Summit Ave.”

“Which do you think?” Hale asked.

“I got five bucks says she’ll take a right and get on the freeway. To my way of thinking it’s the smart move, holds a lot more options for her.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Hale said.

On cue the blinker on the BMW signaled a left, up Summit Ave.

“Damn it, she’s taking Summit,” I said, following two cars behind.

“I knew it,” Hale laughed from the backseat.

“How’d you know?” I asked.

“No real surprise. I just figured the safe bet would be the opposite of whatever you thought.”

I continued down Summit, five bucks lighter. We drove for almost five miles.

“You know where she’s headed?” I said, a tone of surprise in my voice. “She’s going right down to the River Boulevard. You don’t think she’s going back to that same scenic overlook where Braco’s kid was shot, do you?”

“Wouldn’t be the smart move but then again…”

We took a left onto the River Boulevard. The road follows the Mississippi along the top of the river bluff. It snakes around, back and forth, turns and bends so at any given time you could be pointed south, east, or west. She traveled about fifty yards then made a right turn into a small parking lot next to a stone monument commemorating the First World War. It was just that, a parking lot, rather than a scenic overlook. A few cars had been parked by folks who walked along the miles of pedestrian paths overlooking the river. Like she had done before, Kerri climbed out of the BMW smoking a cigarette then leaned against the trunk of the car, arms folded, staring at the Hummer.

Across the street and up a gently sloping lawn stood buildings from the St. Paul Seminary and the University of St. Thomas. An occasional student drifted aimlessly along the sidewalk.

I remained a good thirty feet away, lowered my window and looked left and right up and down the River Boulevard as far as I could see. Then I studied the route we’d just traveled, examining the cars parked along Summit for two blocks to see if there was one stuffed with muscle-bound Russian thugs with the idea of filleting me into bite-sized pieces. I couldn’t see any.

“I think it looks clear, sorta.”

“That doesn’t sound all that reassuring,” Hale said. “Maybe pull alongside her, put your piece on your lap, just in case you need it fast.”

“Already there.”

“Stay in the vehicle, you need to get out of here. Just go, I got your back.”

I could hear him pull off the sheet cover, then shift position slightly while he muttered something into the radio.

I made a visible show of checking the cars on the road again. Kerri looked bored. She took a couple of dramatic drags on the cigarette in her left hand. Her right arm was wrapped across her chest, the hand tucked under her left elbow. If she had a pistol, and I was pretty sure she did, it could be in her right hand.

It was a cloudless, hot, humid, Midwestern summer afternoon. You couldn’t buy a breeze, and I could feel the sweat running down the sides of my face. Despite the air conditioning in the Hummer I had sweated through the back of my shirt. My senses were on high alert and I was aware of the overall background hum of insects. A dragonfly flitted up and down erratically over the top of a car parked just past Kerri, wings sparkling in the sunlight.

Kerri was nodding her head ever so slightly up and down. I didn’t think she was giving a signal. It seemed to be more of a hyper sort of movement, the way you might tap your foot if you were bored. She was probably screaming inside her head, “Come on you idiot, move, pull up here!”

I took a deep breath then exhaled.

“Okay, here we go,” I said. Hale didn’t respond, and I may have spoken so softly he never heard me, but he could sense the Hummer moving.

“So Dev, how have you been? Where did you get this, this car?” Kerri laughed once I stopped behind the BMW. Her right hand remained securely tucked under her left elbow. She took another drag from her cigarette.

I bit my tongue and thought, Gee the last time I saw you, you tried to shoot me, missed, and put a bullet through my windshield. When that didn’t work you guys placed a bomb in my car to blow me up. Instead I half joked, “Oh, you know Kerri, I just thought this sort of fit my personality a little better, and well, the time seemed right to get a fresh set of wheels. Like it?”

She nodded, took a final drag, and then ground out her cigarette with the toe of her heeled boot. Deja vu all over again. Just like before, she spent a long time grinding it into the ground. When she looked up her eyes seemed a little glazed. Was it possibly a tear, or just heartless determination?

“Have you have found Nikki?”

“Your sister?” suggesting by my tone she was anything but “Matter of fact I think I may have.”

I glanced up and down the road again, checked for vehicles, nothing looked out of the ordinary. I turned back to Kerri, I thought she was looking at me but her focus was a few feet beyond to the bluff.

From the bluff down to the river was parkland. The terrain was steep, wild, filled with deer, fox, raccoons, and the occasional gaggle of underage teens sneaking off to smoke dope and drink something memorable like root beer schnapps or strawberry-flavored vodka.