Charlie Huston - A Dangerous Man

– These things, you never know when you may need them again.

I WAIT WHILE Branko buys the tickets.

He waves me over and I go stand with him. We wait side by side, saying nothing. Our turn comes.

We get into our car and sit on opposite benches facing one another. The operator closes the door. It latches, he pulls the big lever that releases the brake and the Wonder Wheel spins, carrying us slowly into the air.

Branko looks out the side of the car, watching the ground drop away. I shift in my seat and the car rocks back and forth.

He looks at me.

– I cannot kill you here.

– I know.

– But you must be killed.

– Sure. That was the plan, right? I kill David’s sister-in-law, and that’s it. Hey, why not? I’m a fucking mess.

He shakes his head.

– No.

I watch his eyes as they gaze down at the midway.

– No. You are a mess. But no. You were not to be killed. No.

He looks at me.

– No.

– Bullshit, Branko. You’re here. You are here.

– Yes. I am here. And I have something for you. Look what I have for you.

He reaches into his pocket and comes out with the Smith & Wesson .22.

– I am here to help you. With Anna. To help. Because you are a fucking mess. But the baseball player wants you. So David wants you. So I must help you. But now. Yes, now you are fucked.

Oh, crap. Wrong again, Henry.

The Wheel stops as the operator lets one couple off and puts another on. And then it spins again. We are near the top.

He puts the gun back in his pocket. He points over my shoulder, back toward Brighton Beach and David’s office. Toward David.

– He is not unreasonable.

– Sure.

– But you had a gun. Those marks.

He points at the welts the bindings left on my wrists.

– These mean you have been held. Threatened. And you came to see David with a gun.

– His sister.

– Yes?

– She. Oh, shit, Branko. His sister-in-law and her damn nephews.

He nods. He looks at the ocean. He nods again.

– I cannot kill you here.

– You said that.

– We will go somewhere else. You will tell me about Anna and her nephews and what they told you.

He touches his upper lip, scratches a slight itch.

– And then I will kill you.

Behind Branko I can see the Cyclone’s ballpark. The stands are full. The players are on the field. A game is being played.

– And what do I get?

– Your mother and your father. What else is there left?

– Right.

The Wheel spins again, carrying us toward the ground.

– But it must be now. You must go with me now. I know David.

He grunts.

– And he likes to have his way.

– Right.

We dip down, and the ballpark is lost to view.

The Wheel spins.

I AM EVIDENCE.

This is what I saw while I was being held down in the dirt with the ball in my mouth. Branko cannot kill me anywhere that he cannot safely dispose of my body. Nor can he march me down the boardwalk, or even out to the street and into a car. He can do none of that unless I am willing, unless he knows I will not start yelling for the police.

I am evidence.

My body and its fingerprints and its new face. The fingerprints will lead to Henry Thompson. The face will lead to the photo in the paper. The photo will lead to Miguel. And sooner or later, after the questions start, Miguel will lead to David.

He has to be careful.

But I don’t.

OUR CAR CIRCLES to the ground. The operator opens the door and we climb out. Branko leads me past a cluster of kiddy rides and back to the boardwalk. We turn left and start the long walk to Brighton Beach.

We walk past the fried clam shacks and the beer booths and the Cyclone and the Aquarium. And then I turn left, heading for the walkway that will take me to the Aquarium subway station. Branko catches up with me and walks by my side.

– This is not the way.

– This is the way I’m going.

– David is waiting.

– You should go then. You can tell him I’m not coming.

– I cannot let you go.

– What are you going to do, Branko? You can’t drag me screaming. You can’t kill me here. Go back to David. Tell him I said no.

– I cannot leave you.

– OK.

We get to the station. There are two cops standing next to the token booth. I walk up to them.

– Excuse me, officers?

– Yeah?

I point at Branko.

– This guy wants to know which train to take to get to Queens.

One cop looks at me.

– Sorry, I’m from Staten Island.

The other cop points at the map on the wall.

– Let’s take a look.

He walks to the map, taking Branko over with him. I wave.

– Good luck.

Branko smiles.

– And to you.

He keeps the smile on his face and follows the cop to the map. I buy a MetroCard from the booth, walk upstairs and get on a Manhattan-bound F train. Cops just when I needed them, twice in one day. Go figure. Maybe things are turning my way at last. But probably not.

I HAVE TO talk to Mom and Dad. I have to tell them I didn’t kill David. And that means Adam and Martin will be coming, coming to interrogate them.

I never wanted to talk to them again, never wanted to see them. There are no explanations for the things I have done. No way you can tell your mother and father that you have murdered people to keep them alive.

So while I sit on the train, I try to figure out how I’m going to tell them all of that. But, oh yeah, first I have to figure out how I’m going to find their damn phone number.

– What city please?

– Port Orford, Oregon. A residential listing for Thompson?

I get two Thompsons. The first is picked up by an answering machine. The voice is not my mother or my father. The second is answered by a small child who tells me that her daddy is not home and her mommy is in the bathroom. Each time, as the phone is ringing, a pit with no bottom opens in my stomach and I fall into it. I am so relieved. Then I dial information again and try it with my mother’s maiden name and my father’s middle name and every variation I can think of. None of them work. But I’m not done. I remember what Adam told me about how they found out where my folks live in the first place. I get off my bench, walk out of Washington Square Park, and go looking for an Internet cafe.

MagickBulletMan: No way! I’ve been to the El Cortez in Las Vegas. I tried to stay in the room Thompson and Sandy Candy were in and they told me it was closed off.

MrTruth: That’s because you didn’t bribe the security guard like I did. You think they’re going to let you in there if you ask nice? Don’t be an asshole, MBM. You want something you got to go get it. Just like Henry.

MagickBulletMan: A) Don’t curse at me! B) You don’t know anything about Henry. C) YOU’RE LYING!!!

MrTruth: FUCK YOU, MAGICKBOWELMOVEMENT!

Robert Cramer: No shouting in here guys.

MagickBulletMan: Sorry, Robert. I’m just sick of MrTruth acting like he’s the only one that knows anything about Henry and pretending like he’s been everywhere Henry was when we all know he’s lying.

MrTruth: MBM wouldn’t know the truth if it fucked him in the ass. Henry Thompson was captured at the El Cortez by a Special Forces Black Ops Squad. They then manufactured evidence to make it appear that he had escaped. They want to maintain a fiction that he is at large so they can use him as a cover story for state killings in the future. In the meantime, Henry was reprogrammed and sent to the Middle East to hunt for terrorists and insurgents.

MagickBulletMan: OMG! That’s what I’m talking about. Every time he comes here he has a new story. Last time he said Henry was working a fishing boat in Alaska.