Outsourced

23

Later that afternoon Dan was still amazed that he had been able to pull off what he did with that cop. It was like dodging a bullet during wartime. While it’s happening, your adrenaline’s pumping too much to realize how much danger you’re in, how close you are to being turned to shit. Only afterwards does it register. Forget dodging a bullet, he dodged a whole clip from a machine gun. His hands were still shaking when he deposited the check Brown had given him. Thirty-two grand. He still had over four thousand dollars that he had taken from Gordon. All that money should’ve made him feel better. Instead he felt unsettled.

It was four thirty. He didn’t feel up to heading home and facing Carol or his kids. Would he ever feel up to facing them again? Maybe. Given time the robbery could become an empty memory. Something that might or might not have ever happened. He had other empty memories. People he might’ve once known, but was no longer sure of. Even the first girl he ever had sex with. They were both sixteen at the time and had snuck out on to a golf course one night with a blanket. At some level of his consciousness he knew it had happened, but it also didn’t seem possible. He could barely remember it. He could barely remember the girl. Of course, this was different. But maybe over time this could become like all those other distant, vague memories of his past. Maybe years from now he wouldn’t be able to believe this had ever happened either.

Now, though, he couldn’t stop thinking of that dead girl. Or the other woman. When he was driving to meet Brown, the news over the radio reported the other woman’s status as touch and go. He hoped she wouldn’t die. But how would her life be now, after having a bullet rip through her stomach? Would something like that ever really heal?

Thinking about it made him start perspiring again. Jesus, he was shaky. If anyone saw him they’d probably think he had some sort of neurological problem. He needed something to calm his nerves. A drink would help.

He stopped at the first bar he came across. The bartender gave him a funny look when he tried ordering a Guinness and a shot of Jameson’s.

“Are you okay, buddy?” the bartender asked.

“I’ll be better after you bring me my beer and a shot.”

“You know, I’m not allowed to serve alcohol to someone already intoxicated.”

“I haven’t had a drop yet. Honest. What do you want me to do, recite the alphabet backwards?” Dan proceeded to do just that. The bartender lifted up his hands in a show of surrender. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I believe you.” But as he poured the draft, he raised an eyebrow and gave Dan a doubtful look.

God, he wished he could forget the robbery ever happened. Let Joel keep the money. At this point he didn’t care. He just wanted to distance himself as far from that memory as he could. But he knew that wasn’t possible. Shrini wasn’t going to let that happen. Tomorrow the two of them were going to drive to Joel’s, and he knew Shrini wasn’t going to give up on this until he got his cut. Deep down he also knew Joel wasn’t going to give in. The damn thing had the potential for spiraling even further out of control. Fucking Joel. If he would be reasonable, they could move past this. The robbery could some day become one of those empty memories.

The bartender brought over his drinks. Dan took the shot and then sipped the Guinness, trying not to drink it too fast. The thirty-two grand would buy him some time, maybe enough so he could find a job and end up with long-term disability insurance. The beer was in one of those promotional glasses that breweries give out. He held the glass at arm’s length. In bright light he was still able to make out details, even read text on a computer screen, but here in the dimness of the bar the lettering on the glass was fuzzy and he couldn’t make out what it spelled. He wondered how much time he had before he would be unable to function. A year, maybe less.

Next week sometime he would get back in touch with Brown and report why the software malfunctioned. There was no reason to hide anything. Let them think he was being completely honest and above board. The conclusion would have to be that one of the Indian programmers intentionally put a backdoor into the software. Let them prove otherwise. Dan laughed sourly, thinking about how the papers would pick up on the story. Maybe it would end up scaring the shit out of other financial companies that had farmed out critical software. Maybe even drum up some business for him.

That was an interesting thought. He could do more than just scare the shit out of these companies. With a little bit of luck he could create a panic. First thing, write some articles about what happened to Lynn Capital Bank. Fuck, maybe even propose a book about it, detailing the risks to financial institutions and highlighting the case of this bank.

For the first time in a long while Dan felt excited, his mind racing with ideas. All those banks and brokerage firms were going to go crazy when they heard about what happened to Lynn Capital Bank. They’d all be forced to check any software built offshore for possible hidden backdoors. And Dan could do that checking. He could start a software firm tomorrow focusing on that and drum up business with articles and a book. As the ideas swirled in his head, he felt a dryness in his mouth. He looked up and saw the bartender studying him.

“I got to admit,” the bartender said. “The drinks did you a world of good. When you came in you looked like shit. You’ve got your color back. Buddy, you look like a new man.”

“Amazing the recuperative properties of a Guinness,” Dan said with a wink, his good humor back. “How about another round, both the beer and the shot, see if I can get a bit healthier.”

“No problem.”

Dan watched him pour the draft. Then his gaze drifted towards the television set and to the Red Sox highlights. The Sox had been playing well of late, winning their last seven games. While he was watching the highlights, they were interrupted by a news flash. The sound was off, but he knew right away what the story was about. Up on the screen as bright as day was Gordon’s driver’s license photo. Dan felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he saw that. He had known Gordon would be identified eventually, but realizing it had already happened brought back his uneasiness.

The bartender brought over his drinks. Dan didn’t even taste them. He could just as well have been drinking water, or mud for that matter. They had no effect on him. All he felt was an almost unbearable uneasiness and the urge to get moving. He stood up and tossed twenty dollars on to the bar.

He knew the quicker he faced Carol the better. If he waited too long he wouldn’t be able to do it. On his way home he decided to play it as straight as possible. Sure enough Carol met him at the door, her face both anxious and excited.

“That was Gordon who was killed,” she told him, her words coming out in a breathless rush. “I knew it was him!”

Dan forced himself to meet her eyes. “I know. I was in a bar and saw it on the news.”

“This is so unbelievable.” Her eyes were wide as they searched his. Dan knew what she was looking for. Some sort of sign that this was a surprise to him too. As strong as the temptation was to look away, he forced himself to maintain eye contact.

“Why would he go to that bank?” she asked.

“I don’t know. He was probably looking for work.”

Her eyes were still searching his, almost desperately. “They weren’t hiring, were they?”

Dan felt himself shaking his head.

“Then why would he go there?”

“God knows. He knew I finished a contract with them. For whatever reason maybe he thought it was worth talking to them. That must’ve been why he called the other day.” He shook his head as he looked away from her. “I have some great news,” he said. “This kind of spoils it, though. The bank hired me to examine the software they got from those Indian contractors.

They want me to try to figure out why it didn’t work. Guess how much they’re paying me?”

Carol shook her head.

“Thirty-two thousand dollars. I had them pay me up front. The money is already in our account.”

Dan moved past her. “I know this is kind of weird after what happened to Gordon,” he said. “But we should do something to celebrate, maybe go out to dinner.”

“Thirty-two thousand dollars,” she repeated softly to herself.

“Thank God. I was sure we were going to lose the house. But we can’t go out. You have your phone interview at seven.”

Dan made a face as if he had forgotten about it. “Yeah, well, why don’t I blow that off? I’ve already got a contract.”

“It can’t hurt to have another one lined up.”

She was still studying him, still trying to read something in his expression.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admitted. “Well, let’s at least have a drink.”

The only alcohol left in the liquor cabinet was a bottle of Kahlua that they had brought back from Mexico years ago. Dan opened it, filled two glasses halfway, then added some ice and milk. As Carol sipped hers, the increasingly familiar tense expression returned to her face.

“You don’t think Gordon could’ve been involved in the bank robbery?” she asked.

Dan almost coughed up his drink. Damn, she was intuitive! He knew she wanted to ask more than that.

“You’re kidding, right?” he said. “This is Gordon we’re talking about. How in the world would he get himself involved in a bank robbery? Come on, let’s be serious here.”

Her soft blue eyes were holding steady on his, still searching, still trying to uncover something. Finally she looked away. “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess it was a crazy thought.”

“Yeah, it was.” Dan finished his drink. Without looking at Carol, he told her he had better go prepare for his interview. He could feel her eyes on him as he left the room. As he sat in his study, he felt shakier than ever. If she was suspecting Gordon of being involved in the robbery, then what else was she suspecting? He already knew the answer to that. He had been able to see it in her eyes. A cold chill went through him. He could imagine what she must be thinking – about his phone calls, his meetings with Joel and Shrini, the rash he had had the other day – and how she must be trying to make sense of all of it. Trying to understand how it could be related to Gordon being killed and that bank being robbed.

He felt both drained and anxious. Like he couldn’t move a muscle, but at the same time couldn’t sit still. He tried playing back the phone conversations he’d been having, trying to figure out if she could’ve overheard anything incriminating. He was still doing that when Carol opened the door, her face flushed with relief.

“They caught the person behind the bank robbery,” she said. “They just had the story on the news.”

“Who was it?” Dan asked. He could feel his heart racing wildly in his chest.

“I can’t remember his name,” Carol said, a big smile breaking over her face. “Someone connected to the mafia. I think from Revere.”

As Dan looked at his wife, he could see all doubt was gone. At that moment her smile looked brighter than any Christmas tree.

Th ank God, he thought, thank fucking God.

*

Petrenko had sent three of his men to snatch Craig Brown and was pacing impatiently while waiting for them to return. One way or another he was going to get to the bottom of what happened. If it meant skinning another man alive, so be it.

The television set was on in the background. Petrenko was only half paying attention to the news when the story broke about Lombardo’s arrest. Slowly, he made the connection between what the reporter was saying and what it meant to him. For a good twenty minutes he stood completely still, the wheels spinning in his head, his eyes as dull and lifeless as sand. In his mind he played out the possible steps he could take next, from kidnapping members of Lombardo’s family to having an all-out war with the Boston Mafia. He couldn’t see any of them working. The money and diamonds were lost. Dispassionately he accepted that. The best he could do to salvage the situation was to make a deal for the documents that he had lost.

There was a knock on the door. He looked over to see Yuri Tolkov enter the room.

“Did you get him?” Petrenko asked.

Yuri shook his head, his expression blank. In Russian, he said, “A cop was watching him.”

“Which one, the zhid?”

“No, the other one, his partner, the dumb-looking one. The only way to grab the bank manager is to take care of this cop first. What do you want me to do?”

Petrenko thought about it, frowning heavily. “We’ll do it another time. Right now we have more important matters to deal with.”

Yuri nodded matter-of-factly. “I heard the news on the radio.”

“We’ll have to make a deal with the Italians,” Petrenko said.

“Are you sure? There are other ways we could handle this.”

“None would do us any good.”

“I don’t know, we could try to-”

“There is no point,” Petrenko interrupted, his voice low but edged with violence. “We will do what we need to for now, but later we will pay them back. Don’t worry about that.”

Dan waited until seven thirty to tell Carol that the hiring manager must be blowing him off.

“He probably found someone cheaper. Son of a bitch couldn’t even show me the courtesy of calling me back,” he complained.

“These things happen,” Carol said.

She seemed a little disappointed, but not too much, probably happy enough that he had gotten his other contract. He knew she was also relieved to think that her suspicions about the bank robbery had been unfounded.

The kids had been home for over an hour. Carol had made a tuna casserole for dinner which none of them really cared for. Still, the mood was better than it had been for the past couple of days, even with the occasional comments Carol made about Gordon. Susie couldn’t help smiling a few times at Dan’s bland, innocuous jokes and Gary was buzzing about the Sox winning streak. Halfway through dinner Dan had found he was able to look at his kids without being overwhelmed by guilt.

It was now thirty minutes since they’d finished dinner, and the kids were upstairs, Susie plugged into her music and Gary watching the Sox game. Dan sat on the living room sofa scribbling notes for his book proposal. Carol was next to him, leaning against him while she read the paper. He checked his watch again and saw that it was now seven thirty-three. “The guy’s not going to call,” he repeated. “Why don’t we splurge and take the kids out for some ice cream?”

Carol twisted herself around. Turning his face with her hand, she kissed him hard on the mouth. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “If we can talk the kids into it.”

Susie gave her typical whatever response, but her sullen act was half-hearted at best and she joined them without too much of an argument. Gary groused a bit about being torn away from the Sox game, but agreed as long as he could listen to the game in the car. It was the first time they had gone out for ice cream that summer. Since Dan had lost his job they had stopped doing little things like that.

Dan could tell the kids enjoyed the outing. Susie stood close by him, her body at times bumping into his. Gary was his typical good-natured self, happier than usual since it looked like the Sox were on their way to winning an eighth straight game. While they stood eating their ice cream, Carol moved close to Dan and held his hand.

When they returned home there were two messages waiting for him. One from Shrini, another from Peyton Hanes.

“Why don’t you call them back tomorrow?” Carol asked.

Dan dreaded calling either of them. “They probably want to talk about Gordon,” he said. “I’ll call them quickly and get it over with.”

“If you have to. Don’t spend too long.”

Dan nodded. When he got to his study, he stared at the phone for several minutes before calling Peyton. One of Peyton’s kids answered and left Dan waiting. After a while, Peyton picked up.

“Hey, hey, Dan,” Peyton said. “Man, it’s been a while. Can you believe what happened to Gordon?”

“Hard to believe,” Dan said.

“Shit, yeah. I saw that drawing on the news last night and it didn’t even register that it could be him. Damn, I still can’t believe it.”

“It’s a shock,” Dan said.

“Yeah, man, it sure is. Any idea what he was doing in Lynn?”

“With Gordon, who knows?”

“The whole thing is just so fucking bizarre. Listen, I talked to Gordon’s parents. The funeral’s going to be this Saturday. You’ll be there, right?”

“I’d like to, I just don’t know if I can make it-”

“Shit, Dan, you’ve got to come. Gordon’s parents are in their eighties. It’s got to be tough enough for them to bury their son, but I’m beginning to think no one else is going to show up. Tell me you’ll be there, okay?”

“We’ll see.”

“Man, I expect to see you there.”

Peyton gave him directions to the cemetery and hung up. Dan was still staring blindly at the phone when it rang again. From the caller ID he could see it was Shrini. Reluctantly, he picked up the handset.

“Hey, dude,” Shrini said angrily. “I’ve been waiting for you to call back.”

“Sorry, Shrini, I just got home.”

“You heard the news, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, dude, we’re on for tomorrow as agreed, right?”

“I think we should wait a few days-”

“Fuck that! You gave me your word before. And believe me, with or without you I’m seeing that little peacock-”

“Okay, okay,” Dan interrupted, afraid Carol or one of his kids might pick up the phone and hear Shrini ranting. “I’ll stop over tomorrow morning at nine.”

“You better, dude.”

After Shrini hung up, Dan thought about how he was going to explain this to his wife. At some point the lies were going to have to stop. How many could you keep piling up, one on top of another?

After he had settled on a story, he waited until he could muster the strength to get up, then joined Carol so he could add still more lies to all the rest.