Kem Nunn - Chance

Chance got him back. “I will meet you on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Here’s the deal,” Chance said. “I’m not walking into that room and you should be smart enough to know that but what I will do is sit outside and call the cops and we can all burn ’cause as of right now my daughter is safe which is what I care about and this is what I’m willing to do.”

Blackstone said nothing.

“We settle this today, one way or another.”

“And where’s your knife-throwing pal in all of this? Where’s he on bringing in the law?”

“What friend?”

“Right.”

“It’s just me and you,” Chance said.

“Tough guy.”

“It was all I could think of.”

He could hear Blackstone laughing. He laughed for a bit then coughed. Chance could hear the soft hiss of the tank. “And why am I supposed to trust you, tough guy?”

“It’s a public place. We meet in the open. We say what we have to say and we trade what we’ve got to trade. I’ve got what you wanted.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“I can tell you right where I am. I’m on the sidewalk south of the restaurant, at exactly the place where the pathway starts that leads down to the Camera Obscura.”

This was followed by one more beat of silence. “What I’d like to know is this,” Blackstone said at last. “How has someone like you managed to live so long?” He did not wait for Chance to respond but ended the call once more.

Chance was unclear as to where they stood.

“That was fucking great,” D said.

“How do you know?”

“He’ll be there. Trust me.”

Chance parked more or less where he had told Blackstone that he already was and got out. The wind hit him full in the face. It was sharp and cold and as D had predicted there were very few people around. It was getting on in the day with the sun low and the fog rolling in to mute even that. The air was damp and cold and you could hear the seals and sea lions going crazy out on the rocks amid the crashing of waves that were largely unseen amid the watery gloom, the shriek of gulls. He watched as a young couple bundled for caroling made their way into the restaurant and felt the cell phone vibrate inside his pocket.

“We’re on,” D said. “I’m at the motel. Your guy is getting into the Crown Vic and there are two other guys coming out and getting into the black Mercedes.” Chance asked if he could see her but he couldn’t. “It’s just the guys,” D said. “There’s going to be some kind of play but I’m on it. Just get to your spot and stay there.”

“Copy that,” Chance said.

“Good man. I’m staying on the Mercedes because I think that’s who’ll make the move. Your guy’s window dressing but I will tell you this… you get him alone anywhere along that path and you see a move, don’t wait. Go first. Trust your training… land the money shot, help him over the railing, then circle out and head for the park at Lands End… Look for Carl.”

Really? Chance wanted to say but Big D was on again before he could. What D said was “Hooya, Big Dog.” And what else was there to say to that? The big man was gone. Chance was alone. Time passed and precious little of it before the Crown Vic arrived on the scene. He watched as it pulled in and parked. He saw Raymond Blackstone getting out. It was really happening.

Now Chance had hoped to see Blackstone with something, a briefcase or satchel, anything by which to carry his own incriminating material, the stuff she claimed to have and Blackstone had said something about a trade… but there’s nothing in his hands as he climbs from the car. There’s no oxygen tank but Chance knows he might be past having to drag that with him everywhere he goes. The thought occurs that he might have something in his pocket… that the stuff she had spoken of might be stored electronically. There are times when one needs to believe in something. It’s standard advice for the terminally ill.

Chance has his stuff, of course, the old paperwork in the leather case D told him he should only pretend to bring but this is his plan now, the unspoken one forged in hope, so that he’s not really pretending about anything. He doesn’t know where D is and he doesn’t see any black Mercedes. He supposes that any deviation from the plan agreed upon might well upset his friend but knows too that this is his time. He imagines the triumph of reason, a path to understanding.

He’s still where he said he would be with maybe fifty yards between himself and Blackstone and his heart beating so loudly he can barely hear the sea. There’s some construction equipment nearby, a backhoe and some kind of small cement mixer where they are doing repairs to the wall that runs along the sidewalk to keep pedestrians from falling off and the stuff is situated about halfway between Chance and Blackstone. The machinery is using up a number of parking spaces. Chance had taken a spot near the restaurant but Blackstone has parked farther down, south of the equipment, and the weird thing is… he’s still there, still standing at the side of his car. He’s where he began except he hasn’t begun. Is he waiting for Chance to come to him? Does he even know Chance is there? Chance considers waving but this seems absurd given the circumstances so he continues to stand with the leather case hung from his shoulder and D’s double-edged blade in the pocket of his slacks that D has rigged for him with one of those little sheaths like what he fixed for Carl with the wires on it so that when and if Chance reaches into his pocket to draw the blade, the wires will catch on the pocket’s lining and the blade will come free but he has no real intention of ever doing it.

And then, finally, it appears that Blackstone has spotted him and has begun to walk uphill in Chance’s direction. And maybe this is all it took… the sight of Blackstone moving toward him like some inexorable moment of truth because very suddenly and out of nowhere the oddest thing happens and Chance loses his nerve. Just like that and it’s gone. In its place there’s a pain in his arm and sweat coming out his ass. He may not be able to feel his feet but of this he is not altogether certain. In accordance with plan A he was supposed to have stayed put. In accordance with plan B, which is his own, he was, at the appropriate moment, to have gone rogue, to have moved from his assigned location, to meet Blackstone in a place where neither would be ambushed, where the detective would see that he was for real and a meeting of the minds take place. By one plan he was to have trusted in D. By another he was to have trusted in himself and the great god of reason but it’s all starting to feel like trusting in transubstantiation or resurrection of the dead and Chance is losing his religion along with his nerve, not to mention the feeling in his lower extremities and he is suddenly moving away from the designated spot and not to meet Blackstone, but in the opposite direction, where he soon finds himself on a concrete stairway behind the restaurant lashed by the wind. It occurs to him that he is running away, but the insight does little to slacken his pace. He comes within sight of parking spaces on the north side of the restaurant where he sees that a black Mercedes sedan is parked in a no-parking zone very near the sidewalk. He assumes it to be the car from the motel although there can be no way of knowing this for certain. The car’s windows are heavily tinted. It sits at a distance in the poor light. He can’t see who’s inside. He can see some people walking up near the ruins maybe half a mile away but it is far too far and the Mercedes is blocking his path. If D is out there somewhere Chance can’t find him. The wind sings in his ears. The sky has darkened dramatically. He can see lights coming on inside the restaurant. He’s too low to see the people at their tables but he knows they’re there. He thinks about joining them but does not quite see how to make that work. He ducks back behind the restaurant, back to the stairs, and takes out his cell phone only to discover the battery has run out of juice. It becomes clear that events are conspiring against him and that he has lost his way. He hears someone walking in approach to the stairwell from what he takes to be the parking lot. It is the sound of hard-soled shoes on concrete and he imagines they are coming for him. He does not wait to find out but flees from the restaurant altogether.