Charlie Huston - Six Bad Things

– That’s one of the things I need to be certain you understand. Whoever the money might have belonged to, and, believe me, I’ve done quite a bit of research on this, it is mine now. Sure, you could argue that ultimately it belongs to the depositors at the banks that the DuRantes robbed in the first place, but the insurance companies took care of those people long ago. After that, the most legitimate claim is the Russians, and for awhile they were committed to recouping, but after three years they pretty much gave up. They were ready to call it a day, write the money off, and kill your mom and dad out of principle. If you ever turned up later that would be great, but they were done looking. That’s when I knew it was time for me to get involved. See, what you do is, you look at other businesses for assets you can pick up cheaply, especially from businesses that are struggling, and, believe me, the Russian mob is not what it once was. They had their heyday in the nineties. I mean, who didn’t? But they’re just not cutting-edge anymore, not sharp, and the market wants you to be sharp. So I saw that they had this great asset, which is essentially ownership of a four and a half million dollar IOU, but no real plan for collecting on it. See what I’m saying? Great asset, but they don’t know how to make it work for them. I do. So, what I do is, I go to a guy I know and I make an offer. I’ll buy your IOU for one hundred thousand dollars. Well, they balk of course, but then, I give them the kicker: one hundred grand to secure the IOU, which means that I become the sole agent licensed to pursue it, and, if I recover the money, a guarantee that they’ll receive ten percent of whatever I recover, less the hundred they already have. But they keep that hundred no matter what I get my hands on. Well, hell, at that point they have nothing, so it becomes a no-brainer. And trust me, when dealing with the Russian mob, a no-brainer is the only kind of deal you can make. So they take the 100K, and take the guys who had been looking for you and put them to work making money again. And I put my plan into action.

The waitress brings the pot over again. He covers his cup with his hand.

– No more for me, sweetheart, I’m about to float away. You want anything else?

I shake my head. He smiles up at her.

– Guess that’s it, just the check when you have a sec.

– Got it right here, hon.

She scribbles on her pad, tears off the check, sets it on the table, and walks back to the register.

He looks at the check.

– Unreal. You know how much that omelet would be in New York?

He takes out a twenty and drops it on the table. Leeann comes to pick it up.

– Be right back with your change.

– It’s good like that, sweetie.

– Thanks.

– It OK if we hang out here just a little?

– Sure, long as you like.

She leaves. He smiles after her.

– Sweet lady. Where was I?

– Assets.

– Right. So now I have this asset, this IOU, but, and here’s the rub, no way to collect. Well, I’ve already spent a hundred thousand on this project, I’m not about to sink more capital into sending a bunch of headhunters out to find you. So what do I do? Do you know what I did?

– You had my parents’ house staked out until I came home.

– No. Because I had looked into that, and do you know what I found out? Stakeouts, a real stakeout in a suburban neighborhood, that is both constant and imperceptible, is very difficult and expensive. So that’s not it. Any other guesses?

– No.

– OK, here it is, this was my multimillion-dollar idea: I paid one of your parents’ neighbors to watch the house and call me when you turned up. Brilliant, right? I mean, not to blow my own horn, but this is a recurring expense of five hundred dollars a month with a possible, if not likely, return in the millions.

There’s no smoking in Mill’s, there’s no smoking anywhere in California these days, so I’ve been fiddling with an unlit cigarette for about half an hour. I snap the filter off and break the rest into little quarter-inch pieces.

– Which neighbor?

– Hey now, that would be telling.

WE SIT in his rental car in front of my parents’ house. I look at the other houses on the street and watch for someone peeking from behind a curtain or over a fence, someone advertising their guilt. No luck. The car is a nonsmoker, which should really come as no surprise. He hands me a cell phone and a recharge cable.

– We could do this a lot of ways. I could have someone sit in the house with your mom and dad while you go and get the money or arrange to have it sent from wherever it is. I mean, assuming it’s not here. It’s not here, is it?

– No.

– I figured not. The thing is, that’s not my style of business. I really prefer to manage in a hands-off kind of way. Keep my distance until my presence is required. What I want to do is back off. Let you get the money together and give me a call when you have it. That phone has my number programmed into it, and I’m talking about my personal number here, so please don’t go giving it out. Just to be clear, there will be people here, employees of mine, and they will be watching your mom and dad. And I’m not talking about neighbors this time, I mean professionals. Understand? I do need an answer on this, Hank. Understand?

– Yeah.

– If my employees see your parents try to leave town, etc? Well, to return to my metaphor, if they leave, they can no longer be detonated, and they are no longer of value to me. I need them here where they can be watched, where I can get to them in case you fail to bring me my money. So if my employees see any indication that your parents are trying to leave or to seek shelter, I’ll have no choice but to detonate my “weapon.” You understand all of this?

– Yes.

– Good. So, you go get the money in what we will simply call a reasonable amount of time, and call me. After that, you pay off your IOU and I disassemble my arms, so to speak.

He sticks out his hand.

– Deal?

I look at his soft, well-manicured hand.

– What’s your name?

– Jeez, did I do that again? Sorry. I’m Dylan, Dylan Lane.

His hand is still sticking out.

– Dylan?

– Yes?

– Keep my parents safe.

– Trust me, that’s in my best interest, too. And hey, I won’t even bring up the police, because they would be in no one’s best interest.

I shake his hand, it’s almost as soft as his jacket, and he drives off.

I stand on the curb and imagine all the things I could do to make myself dead. I remember all the drunken times in Mexico that I thought about trying to swim to Cozumel, knowing that I would drown long before I got there. And I never did it. I sobered up and stayed alive long enough to kill a man who threatened my folks. And then I ran home to protect them. And by doing those things I have put their lives at greater risk than they ever were before.

Looks like it’s a good thing Dad is tuning up the BMW, because I can’t wait around here any longer for Timmy’s call.

But I do have something I’d like to do before I go.

– SO, MOM, how have the neighbors been, any of them come around?

She looks up from the pasta Dad made for dinner.

– Pat and Charley used to check in on us, that first year, when it was especially hard. But, then they moved last year to… Oh, where did they go?

Dad is over at the stove, serving himself seconds from the big pot.

– Vacaville.