No Safe House

Seventeen

The car, an oversized GM SUV, rolled to a stop, the engine continuing to rumble. Vince was in the passenger seat, Gordie behind the wheel. The backseats were folded down, an extension ladder stowed there. Behind them, in the old Buick, was Bert. He’d come to a stop barely a car length behind them.

“Bert’ll help you when he’s done, but you get started,” Vince Fleming told Gordie. “Every location. See if anything looks out of the ordinary. If no one’s there, go in tonight. If the place looks occupied, we do it tomorrow through the day. Everything — fucking everything — has to be moved by tomorrow.”

“What if the people are home? What if—?”

“Figure it out!” Vince said. He reached for the door handle, fumbling a couple of times. His hand was shaking.

“What about Eldon?” Gordie asked.

“What about him?” Vince snapped.

Gordie tried to hide how taken aback he was by the question. “When are you going to tell him?”

“I want to know a hell of a lot more before I talk to him. Take a run by his place, too. See if he’s there. I want to know if he’s home. You may end up running into him at one of the other houses.”

Gordie looked uncomfortable. “What are you saying? You saying Eldon’s in on it? That he did this? That doesn’t make any sense. He’s hardly going to—”

“Maybe not,” Vince said. “But maybe he’s got his kid and others helping him. Maybe things went wrong at one house. Who knows what the fuck is going on at the others? This is a nuclear meltdown, that’s what this is.”

He had the door open. “Just get moving.” Vince got out, slammed the door, slapped the sheet metal with his palm, hard, as if the SUV was a horse he wanted to bolt. Gordie hit the gas, squealing the tires as he took off.

Vince took the few steps to the Buick, leaned over, and rested his arms on the window-down passenger door.

Bert said nothing, waited for orders.

“Soon as you take care of this, work with Gordie.”

“Got it,” Bert said.

“Not a word to Eldon,” Vince said. “Not yet. There’s only so many ways this can shake down.”

“It’s not him, boss,” Bert said. “No way.”

Vince pressed his lips together, shook his head very slowly back and forth. “It was his kid in there. Maybe he put him up to it. Or maybe the kid came up with the idea on his own. Either way, Eldon’s on the hook for this.”

“Yeah, but there had to be somebody else in on it, too. I already told you who I’m putting my money on.”

Vince nodded. “I’ll check him out, but I don’t think he’s got the balls for it.”

“He coulda told somebody.”

“But the son of a bitch doesn’t even know. The cleaning ladies don’t know. The nannies don’t know. Even if they did, they wouldn’t know where to look. But yeah, maybe.” The man sighed. “Clusterfuck City.”

Bert didn’t know what to say. What words could make things better? He just wanted to get moving. He had an unpleasant task awaiting him, and he wanted it behind him. Then he could help Gordie.

“I should get going,” Bert said.

Vince retreated from the open window. “Go.”

Before Bert hit the gas, Vince took a step and stood next to the trunk. He went to touch the broad metal surface with his palm, the way one might lay one’s hand on a casket at a funeral service.

Then thought better of it. Bert would wipe down the car, but might not think of the trunk lid.

The Buick pulled away and Vince watched it head up East Broadway, hang a left, and then disappear.

Wearily, he mounted the wooden steps that took him up to the main floor of the beach house. Back in the day, he took these two at a time. Back before he’d been shot. And back before the diagnosis. He was getting too old for this. It was one of the reasons why he’d pulled back on the kinds of jobs they used to do. Warehouse robberies, truck hijackings. Stuff that required a lot of heavy lifting. Sometimes, running.

So he started a sideline, one that didn’t take such a physical toll. A service for people who didn’t feel comfortable with financial institutions.

Seemed like a pretty good plan.

Until tonight.

Now it looked like the whole thing was going to blow up in his face. He hoped to know more, soon, once he’d had a chance to talk to an old friend.