Jason Pinter - The Mark

“Take care, Joe,” Louis said. “Be careful.”

Mauser clapped his friend’s shoulder, then he and Denton hurried to the car. Denton got into the driver’s seat, Mauser holding the phone, awaiting the call. He held the door open and yelled to the officer who’d delivered the message.

“Hey, kid, any way you can hook me up with a speaker to connect to the phone?” The kid gave a thumbs-up and sprinted over to a van parked on the edge of the tarmac. A minute later he reappeared with a small black speaker. He took Joe’s cell phone and made sure the connection fit. He pressed a few buttons and Mauser heard a dial tone ring loud and clear. He thanked the kid and closed the door.

They took the Grand Central Parkway exit, and a minute later Mauser’s cell phone rang. Joe picked up the speaker, nodded to Denton. “Let’s see what our boy has to say.”

Merging onto the highway, Mauser caught Denton readjusting his pants quite voraciously.

“You got crabs in there or something?” Joe asked.

“Just riding up on me a bit.” Mauser nodded and pressed the send button.

“This is Mauser.”

“Agent Mauser? This is Officer Pratt at dispatch. I’m going to patch Henry Parker’s call through.”

“We’re waiting.” Joe felt sweat beading on his palms. He gripped the armrest, his hands slippery. Denton remained surprisingly calm. Mauser could practically feel Parker’s neck in his hands, choking the life out of him.

There were several loud clicks and then they heard a raspy male voice. The owner sounded like he’d spent too many years with his best friends Marlboro and Cutty Sark.

“Yeah, hello?” the voice said.

“Dad?”

It was Parker. Mauser would recognize that voice through a thunderstorm. The other man was Henry’s father.

“Who’s this…Henry? That you?”

“It’s me, Dad.”

“Fucking hell, haven’t heard your voice in a while. Cops called here a few times, idiots thought I might actually know where you were. You in trouble, boy?”

“I guess you could say I’m in a bit of trouble. You know I spoke to Mom last Monday. I asked how you were, she said you went out that night. Not like you to go out.”

“Got me a bowling league now, every Monday. Boys call me the anchorman ’cause I always pick up where their sorry asses fall down.”

“Glad to hear you’re getting some exercise.”

“Yeah, right,” Parker Senior said. “So why’re you calling, Henry? I told you I got no money to just hand out. And why are these cops calling me? Do you owe money?”

“No, I don’t need money or owe anybody, Dad. I have a job. A good one. The one I wanted, at the newspaper, the Gazette. ”

“That right? Someone actually hired you?” Henry’s father laughed derisively.

“I’ve worked hard, Dad. A lot harder than you ever did.”

“Whatever. So why’re you calling so late? It’s almost midnight for crissakes.”

A moment of silence. Mauser feared the connection had been lost, but then he heard a choking sound come through the line. He looked over at Denton, who seemed unmoved. Mauser settled back and listened.

Henry said, “I just want you to know I don’t hold anything against you for the way you were when I was growing up.” Henry’s voice trembled, but it remained strong. “I’m not mad. In fact, I want to thank you for making me stronger.”

“The hell’re you talking about boy? You sound crazy.”

“You know, it’s funny how you remember things sometimes. I can remember almost every word you said to me-trust me, there weren’t many. How you always told me I wouldn’t amount to anything because nobody in our family ever did. How the night of my high school graduation you told me I’d be better off moving away because I’d only bring you and Mom misery.”

“I never said that,” the elder Parker said, but his voice was unconvincing.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Henry continued. “Because I wanted to thank you. I was able to take all that negative shit you lumped on me and turn it into something good. I used you, Dad. I fucking used your hate as my fuel.”

“What’s your goddamn point?” Parker senior rasped. “Did you call just to bitch and complain? I’m too tired to deal with that and I get enough already from your mother.”

“No, that’s not why I called. I wanted to let you and Mom know that I’m in trouble. Serious trouble, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get out of it. People think I did something that I didn’t. Something terrible. But I don’t want your help, at least not in the way you’d think.”

“So what do you want, Henry? I told you I ain’t giving you no money.”

There was a pause. Mauser waited, fingernails grinding into his skin.

“I want you to hate me,” Henry said softly. “I want to hear that poison from your mouth again. I want your hateful bones to say everything you’ve said over the years, because I’m tired, too, Dad, and I need something to keep me going. I need to know that it’ll be worth it to dig myself out of this hole. I want you to lay it on me, no holds barred, no punches pulled, because that’s all you’re worth to me now.”

“You want me to say I hate you?” Henry’s father said. “Fine. I hate you. You ruined my life. I had to work my skin to dust to pay for our family. We’ve had to wait on you hand and foot since you were a damn baby and what have I gotten in return? Worries and misery, that’s all.”

“Keep going,” Henry said softly.

“I had to give up the life I wanted when you were born. You think that’s fun? I never had a say. You think when your mother was pregnant she said ‘Honey, are you sure you want a baby?’ No. She never said shit. Nine months later out you came, and nothing’s been the same since.”

“More,” Henry said, his voice stronger now. Mauser felt the venom in the older man’s voice, reverberating through the speaker. Such hatred, almost unfathomable for one’s child, even one on his way to hell.

“That’s all you’re getting, Henry. I’m tired and you’re keeping me awake. What else do you want?”

“Nothing, Dad, that’s all I wanted.” Henry paused. “But in case you or Mom, or anyone else is interested, I’m in NewYork.”

“New York, huh?”

“Yeah, the big city. In fact, I’m inside a building right now, on 80th Street and East End. Big brown thing, looks abandoned. I’m on the third floor. They gutted the apartments so the space is open. I’m just sitting here. The view of the water is really stunning. I’m glad I came here, Dad, because this is something I would have never gotten the chance to see if I let my genetics decide my fate.”

“Well, that’s just marvelous,” Henry’s father said, sarcasm dripping.

“Yeah, it is. Anyway, there’s this thing everyone thinks I stole. Well, I didn’t steal it, but I did find it. I’m looking at it right now and I can understand why people want it. And if anyone wants it, they’d know where I am.”

“Don’t hold your breath waiting for me.”

“I won’t, Dad. I won’t.”

Mauser heard a click and then a dial tone.

“Jesus,” Denton said. “Kid just told us where he is.”

Mauser scratched his chin.

“Could be a trap,” Denton said. “Kid might be waiting with an AK or something. Shit, and he has the package of drugs he stole from the Guzmans.” Mauser looked at him. They both knew the improbability of Parker being armed. Denton patted down his pants, again quite vigorously.

“They really driving you nuts, huh?” Mauser said.

“You have no idea.”

They took the FDR exit, threading past motorists doing the speed limit. It was after midnight and the streets of New York were still packed. Unbelievable.