No Safe House

Forty-four

Gordie and Bert took the panel van they kept parked out back of the shop. Bert got behind the wheel and Gordie jumped in next to him.

“I still can’t believe it,” Bert said, driving away from the body shop.

“Which part?” Gordie asked.

“You kidding me? Eldon. I can’t believe he punched Eldon’s ticket.”

“If he did it,” Gordie said, “he did it for a reason. Like he said, Eldon was gonna blow the whistle on us. I mean, yeah, it’s pretty sad about what happened to his kid, and he’d have been upset and all, but if he can’t handle it in a way that keeps us all safe, what’s Vince supposed to do?”

Bert looked ill. “Don’t talk to me about the kid. You weren’t the one who had to go to the farm.”

“Sorry, man. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“I can’t fucking do this.”

“Don’t talk that way. Don’t ever be talking that way,” Gordie said. “Sometimes shit happens. You’ll feel better in a day or two.”

“Come on,” Bert said. “You see things clearly. Tell me things aren’t going south.”

Gordie glanced over. “What are you talking about?”

“All I’m saying is, the boss is not the man he used to be.”

“His wife died. He’s been sick. He’s got to ride this through. How do you think you’d be if your wife died?”

Bert looked at him and laughed. “Seriously?”

“Okay, maybe that’s a bad example.”

“That’d be the best thing that could ever happen to me. Janine wanted me at a meeting — be going on right about now — at the home where her mother’s at? They’re kicking the old bat out because she’s a miserable bitch. And guess what Janine’s plan is? Guess?”

“Just tell me.”

“She’s going to move her in with us.”

“Oh man. No, you can’t let that happen.”

Bert waved a hand in the air in frustration. “What am I gonna do? You can’t talk to Janine. The two of them there, ganging up on me, telling me everything I’m doin’ wrong.” He went quiet. “There are times, I just think, I’d rather hit the road and not come back. Life’s shit at home, and it ain’t much better at work.”

Gordie watched him quietly.

Bert said, “Vince, the guy, I tell ya, he’s running on empty. Things are falling apart. And now we’ve been hit. What happens when the guy that money belongs to comes back for it? And we ain’t got it? What’s gonna happen then?”

Gordie was silent.

“Huh? What would you do, you parked that kind of money with someone for safekeeping and they lost it? Would you say, Okay, shit happens, and leave it at that? Or would you blow their fucking brains out? I sure know what I’d do.”

“All the more reason,” Gordie said evenly, “to find out what happened to the money.”

“Yeah, but what I’m saying is, what if we don’t? And we’ve still got our wagon hitched to Vince? That guy’s on borrowed time, and as long as we’re attached to him, so are we. This thing with Eldon, that’s the last straw for me.”

Gordie had gone quiet again.

“What? You got nothin’ to say?”

“You shouldn’t be talkin’ this way, man. Vince, he wouldn’t like it.”

“You gonna tell him?”

“’Course not. But you’re taking a chance even thinking this way. He took out Eldon. You think now he wouldn’t take out either of us if we looked at him the wrong way?”

“Exactly what I’m saying. You want to live with that every day? Wondering if the boss is going to come up behind you and shoot you in the head or slit your throat?”

“I hear what you’re saying but...”

“But? But what? I’ve been watching him. There’s times it’s like he’s not quite there. You see him breathing heavy, like he’s having a heart attack or something. That cancer’s eatin’ him up inside. He’s holding on to things so he don’t fall down. You seen him walk? He kind of limps along. I was with him the other day; he was saying it hurts like hell when he drives, all bunched up with that bag in his lap.”

Gordie was looking straight ahead through the windshield.

“Okay, forget it.” Bert hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Bury your head in the sand.”

“Let’s just see what happens. Maybe—”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“Down this way.”

Bert hung a left, the van lurching. There was almost nothing inside, but it still rattled with every bump and pavement seam.

“I don’t have my head in the sand,” Gordie said. “I’ve seen the things you’ve seen. But what’re you gonna do? Hand in your notice? Tell Vince you got a better offer?”

Bert snorted.

“I got an idea,” Gordie said. “Tell him you’ve been headhunted by the Mafia.”

“That’s just it,” Bert said. “He’s not the Mafia. They never let you quit. Once you’re in, you’re in forever. But Vince is one guy. If you quit, you quit.”

“No, you’re wrong. You — try making a right at the next light; we might find him down there — quit on Vince and he’ll hunt you down. I’m tellin’ ya, you don’t want to fuck with the guy. You can quit when he’s dead.” He paused.

“Maybe I won’t have to wait that long,” Bert said, cranking the wheel.

“I’m tellin’ ya, don’t talk like that.”

“I’m not saying I’d do it. What I’m saying is, the way he’s going, he may not have that much longer. And I don’t want to be there when—”

“There! Up ahead, other side of the street. Isn’t that him?”

Bert pulled the van over to the curb so he could take a good look without having to watch the road. On the other side, on the sidewalk, a man walking two dogs. A golden lab and a poodle, both straining at their leashes.

“Yeah, that’s Braithwaite,” Bert said. “I got a feeling about this guy. I think he did it. I’d bet on it.”

“Gonna be tricky with the dogs.”

“Labs are nice, and a fucking poodle?” Bert said. “He might as well be walking a couple of cats.”

He checked his mirror, cranked the wheel hard, and did a U-turn, stopping the van at the side of the road several car lengths ahead of Nathaniel Braithwaite.

Gordie got out the passenger side and positioned himself in the center of the sidewalk.

Braithwaite stopped, the dogs still straining to go forward.

“Nathaniel, right?”

“Yes,” he said hesitantly.

Gordie smiled. “We’re associates of Mr. Vince Fleming, and we’d like to have a word with you.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. “I was actually going to call him. I, uh, I wanted to talk to him about, you know, the arrangement.”

“Well, whaddya know? But you’re gonna have to lose the dogs.”

Bert was out of the truck now, too, taking a spot up alongside Gordie. Sunglasses on, arms folded, playing the role.

“I’ll finish walking them and then I guess I could meet him somewhere,” Braithwaite said.

Gordie shook his head. “No. It has to be now. And we’re not taking the dogs with us.”

Nathaniel Braithwaite forced a nervous laugh. “I can’t just let the dogs go.”

“Sure you can. Just unsnap the leashes. Give ’em their freedom.”

“You don’t understand. I’m responsible for them. Their owners trust me to look after them.”

“Their owners trust you, huh?” Bert said. “That’s a good one.”

Bert pulled back his jacket far enough for Nathaniel to see the gun tucked into his waistband.

“Please,” Braithwaite said. “Just let me take them back to their homes.”

“And give you time to run?” Gordie said. “I don’t think so.”

“Run? Why would I run?”

Gordie, talking out of the side of his mouth, said to Bert, loud enough for Braithwaite to hear, “Shoot the dogs.”

Bert put his right hand on the butt.

“Okay, okay!” Braithwaite said. He knelt down, unfastened the leash first from the poodle, then the lab. The dogs bolted into a nearby yard, sniffing the grass, the trees, each other. Braithwaite watched, his face washing over with anxiety, as they got farther and farther from him.

Bert had slid back the van’s side door.

“All aboard,” he said.