Russell Andrews - Midas

“I was hopin’ it meant she had the connections to, you know, monitor the situation. And give you some protection. Which is what happened. She’s got some juice, that girl.”

“I guess she does.”

“You owe her, buddy.”

“Yeah. And I guess she’ll be making me pay her back for quite a while.”

“So, anyway, once someone with juice knew what the story was, I knew they couldn’t do nothin’ too bad to you, and I figured that knowledge might come in handy while you were incarcerated.”

“It did.”

“Good. That pleases me.” Bruno was finished with his second beer by then. He seemed to suck the liquid out of the bottle in one big gulp. “So is this just a pleasant sit-around and thank-you kind of a thing, or you got somethin’ else to discuss with me?”

“I have something else to discuss with you.”

“So let’s hear it.”

Justin nodded. Held up his hand to say it would just be a moment, went to the phone, and dialed the Riverhead police station. When he was put through to his contact, he said, “I’m calling for Wanda Chinkle again. How are those prints coming?”

“You fuckin’ guys,” the officer on the other end of the phone said. “You sent me a bunch of jacks to get prints off of? You know how fuckin’ hard it is to get prints off jacks ?”

“Do you have anything?”

“We’re workin’ on it. Maybe some partials. But we don’t have a match yet, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“How about the other thing?”

“The paper cup? Yeah, we got that. I was just gonna fax the info to you but you called when I was getting up.”

“If you can fax it now, I’d really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

“And how about the jacks?”

“Hey, I know with you Feds everything’s a fuckin’ emergency. I said we’re workin’ on it. If I get somethin’ soon, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go stand by your fax machine. I’ll send the stuff in a minute.”

Justin hung up, told Bruno to wait one more minute. It took less than that for his fax machine to start humming. A piece of paper came through. Justin stared at the information on it, then handed it to Bruno.

“I’d like to hire you to use your particular skill sets,” he said to the big man. “Normally, I’d do this myself, but I don’t think I have the strength.”

“‘Lieutenant Colonel Warren Grimble,’” Bruno said, reading from the faxed piece of paper. “‘Military Intelligence.’”

“I need some information from him,” Justin said.

“Uh-huh. You meet this guy while you were vacationin’ down south just now?”

“That’s where I met him.”

“What do you need to know?”

“In early November, a day or two before the bombing at Harper’s Restaurant, an Air Force captain, Hutchinson Cooke, flew someone out of Guantanamo Bay, and flew him to the East End airport. I’m pretty sure that person was a prisoner there. I want to know who it was.”

“Okay.” Bruno scanned the faxed piece of paper. “This Grimble’s home address?”

“And his military base in Louisiana.”

“I don’t suppose you got anything to show me what he looks like?”

“As a matter of fact,” Justin said, and went to his desk and got Bruno the sketch that Darla had drawn. “It’s an exact likeness,” he said. “As good as a photograph.”

“So, Jay, I’m more than happy to be a nice guy sometimes, but I’m still a businessman and usually I’m compensated for this kind of work.”

“Name the price.”

“I like dealin’ with you Westwoods,” Bruno said. “There’s no bullshit.”

He told Justin the price and Justin didn’t hesitate. He just nodded and said, “Done.”

“I got a couple of questions for you,” Bruno said. “Bein’ the thorough professional that I am.”

“Go ahead.”

“You want this guy. . Grimble. . to know the. . how shall I put it. . the subtext of our conversation? I been hangin’ around the screenwriter of the movie. I like that word, ‘subtext.’”

“Do you mean, do I want him to know that the question’s coming from me?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Absolutely,” Justin said. “That’s a prerequisite of the job.”

“Then I need to know one more thing.”

“Okay.”

“When I get the answer to your question, do you want this Grimble to be able to discuss this situation with anyone else?”

Justin hesitated for only a moment before saying, “It’s why I’m hiring an expert. I want you to do whatever you think is best.”

The big man rose off the couch now. It took him a couple of attempts to get his full bulk back on his feet. And when he was up, Justin was startled to see as large and as dangerous a man as Bruno Pecozzi wink. “Like I said, no bullshit when you’re dealin’ with the Westwoods.” Bruno stuck out his hand. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I got work to do.”

Justin took the big man’s hand. Felt the callused skin of Bruno’s palm as they shook.

As soon as Bruno was gone, Justin went upstairs to his bathroom, covered the lower half of his face in thick coils of shaving cream, and pulled out his razor. It took him about five minutes to shave his beard and leave his face completely smooth.

He rubbed his chin and then both cheeks and he looked in the mirror at his reflection.

The beard was gone, Justin thought to himself, but he still didn’t feel clean.

On the other hand, he realized, he didn’t feel too bad, either.

Justin picked up the phone on the fourth ring. His caller ID told him who it was. He didn’t want to talk but he knew he had to. The caller was, he believed, going to tell him whether he could finally put an end to all the madness. He was afraid she was going to say that he couldn’t. But there was only one way to find out.

“Wanda,” he said into the receiver.

She was a lot calmer than he expected.

“I’m calling to tell you something, Jay,” Wanda Chinkle said. “We’re not actually as stupid as you might think.”

“Thanks,” Justin said. “That’s very comforting.”

“It’s not meant to be. It’s meant to be a warning.”

“Is this about something in particular?”

“It’s about several things. For one, Warren Grimble has disappeared.”

“Who’s that?”

“Lieutenant Colonel Warren Grimble. Military Intelligence. His specialty is prisoner interrogation. He’s spent a lot of time in Iraq. But he’s intermittently stationed at Gitmo.”

“Huh,” Justin said. “That’s a coincidence.”

“How’d your fingerprint ID turn out?” Wanda asked.

“Not very helpful,” he said. “Kind of a wild goose chase, I guess.”

“Both sets?”

“What?”

“You told me you were running one set of prints.”

“Oh. I just figured I’d sneak in a second set. An old case I’ve been working on.”

“I’m doing you a favor now,” she said. “So listen to what I’m telling you.”

“I’m listening.”

“You can trust me.”

“I know. You’ve told me.”

“Well, it’s important that I tell you again. I want you to remember that specifically. If a time comes when you’re not sure, just remember what I said. Please.”

Justin massaged the area directly over his eyes with his right hand. “Is there some kind of secret message in all this, Wanda? What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m trying to tell you the only thing I can tell you. You can trust me and anyone who’s with me. Anyone. Okay?”

“Sure,” he said. “Sure. Okay.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve arranged the meeting we discussed.”