Winter of the Wolf Moon

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I got the truck up to forty as I passed the Brass Anchor Motel. It was as much speed as I could coax out of an old truck on a snow-packed road, with 1,200 pounds of snowplow on the front and another 800 pounds of cinderblocks in the back. I pictured one of the two men sitting by the window, half asleep, maybe a cup of coffee in his hand. I could only hope he spilled it all over himself when he saw me rumbling by.

I made it all the way down the main road to M-28, then east a good ten miles before I saw the headlights behind me in the distance. Nice to see ya, boys. Glad to have you along for the ride.

They kept a steady quarter-mile behind me the whole way into the Soo, up I-75 toward the bridge. I didn’t see them behind me as I paid the toll and crossed the bridge into Canada. Far below me, the St. Marys River lay frozen solid.

As I pulled into Canadian customs, I remembered the gun in the pocket of my coat. “Oh goddamn it all,” I said aloud. I’ve got a carry permit, of course, and somewhere in the glove compartment I think I have my private investigator license. There’s probably some official way for a P.I. to bring a handgun into the country. I’m sure Leon knows how to do it. I could pull over and call him on his cellular phone. If he’s in his car. If I can afford the extra few minutes. There’s probably a form to fill out. Forget it, I’m going through.

The customs agent looked vaguely familiar. I had probably seen him before on a beer run. Why am I coming into Canada this evening? That was an easy one. Canada has strip clubs, Michigan doesn’t. Give him a knowing smile. Do I have any drugs or firearms in the vehicle? I looked him right in the eye and said, “No, sir, I don’t.” He let me go right through.

When I was into Soo Canada, I kept looking in the rearview mirror, waiting to see my two friends. They weren’t there. Now why the hell didn’t they cross the border?

Because they didn’t want to go through customs, Alex. They’re criminals, with five or six guns in the car. And they can’t lie to the customs agent like I can.

I worked my way through town, heading east. Forget about those guys for now, I told myself. You’ve got something else to deal with. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do when I saw Bruckman again. I felt a combination of fear and anger, and something else I couldn’t even identify. I started to shiver. I turned the heat up a notch, but it didn’t seem to help.

Easy, Alex. Just breathe in and out. You’ve got to go through with this. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you don’t face him now.

I need a plan. Some way to get into that bar and get Bruckman out. Think, Alex, think.

I picked up Trunk Road on the east side of town and followed it all the way out past an industrial area toward the Rankin Indian Reserve. The Canadian Pacific Railroad ran next to the road. At this hour the tracks were empty. As I passed the eastern edge of town, the pine trees took over completely. Like most Canadian cities, the wilderness is never far way. I hadn’t been down this road before, but I knew from the map that it was bending back toward the northern shore of the St. Marys River. I kept going until I was starting to wonder if I had gone too far. Then I saw the side street I was looking for.

The bar was a little place about a block away from the main road, close to the river. There was no sign on the building, no way you’d even know it was a bar except for two beer signs, Budweiser in one window, Molson in the other. The signs seemed to glow in a way that told me I was far from home and probably not welcome there.

I saw Leon’s little red car at the far end of the lot. As soon as I pulled in next to it, Leon opened my passenger’s side door and climbed into the truck. “They’re still here,” he said. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them.

“Don’t you have any gloves?” I said.

“I took them off,” he said. “We need to be ready for anything.” He patted the breast pocket of his coat.

“Remind me to ask you about bringing guns across the border,” I said.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t bring your gun, Alex.”

“I did, but I lied about it I didn’t know if I’d get held up in customs.”

“Good move,” he said. “They would put you through the wringer.”

“How many of his friends does Bruckman have with him?” I said.

“Three.”

“Hmm, there were four guys with him at the cabin. He must have lost one. Probably the guy he was arguing with.”

“I already have our plan mapped out, Alex.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “What plan?”

“There’s four of them and two of us,” he said. “We need to do this just right.”

“I know,” I said. “I figure I need to get Bruckman away from his friends, take him outside.”

“What do you think his friends are gonna do if you try that? And once he’s outside, how are you going to contain him? You’ve got no psychological advantage over him, Alex. He won’t feel threatened.”

“He will if I stick a gun in his face,” I said.

“That’s not going to work,” he said. “You really think you can walk into that bar and pull a gun on him? They’re gonna start breaking cue sticks over your head. Look at this place. I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time. I told you, I’ve already got it all set up.”

“Got what set up? Leon, what are you talking about?”

“Alex, we cannot create an overwhelming force here, so we need to need to create the illusion of overwhelming force. It’s the only thing these guys will respond to.”

“The illusion of what? For God’s sake, Leon, where do you get this stuff?”

“It’s all set,” he said. “I just have to go in and give the signal.”

“Leon,” I said, grabbing the steering wheel. “Please. Let me just go in and bring him out here.”

“You want a confined area,” he said. “Like the bathroom. You separate him from the others, take him to the area.”

“Take him to the bathroom.”

“To the confined area. Could be a bathroom. Could be another room. It should be small enough that you’re in close contact with him, but not so small that he’s within three feet of you.”

“Leon…”

“I’ll be at the bar, creating the illusion of overwhelming force. Just stay here for three minutes before you come in.”

“Wait,” I said. “Just wait.”

“If the plan breaks down and we have to fight our way out of there, go for the knees.”

“Hold on, back up to that illusion thing.”

“Don’t start swinging, Alex. I know you. You’re gonna try to start a boxing match with these guys. All you’ll end up doing is busting up your hands. Just keep your head down and go for the inside of the knee. Kick outwards and they’ll fold up like a cheap suit.”

“Leon…”

“A cheap umbrella, I mean.”

“Leon…”

“And don’t pull your gun unless they draw first. The last thing we want is a shoot-out. Okay, you ready?”

“No, I’m not. Just wait a minute.”

“C’mon, Alex. They’re not gonna be in there all night Let’s go do this. Remember, give me three minutes to get things started.” He opened the door. “Three minutes!”

“Leon, wait!”

“I gotta go now,” he said. “While I’m psyched up.”

I tried to grab him, but he closed the door on me and ran through the snow to the bar.

This is a bad dream, I told myself. All of this. I’m gonna wake up and go out and plow the road, and then I’ll go wake up Dorothy in her cabin and help her find a good, safe place to go to. Nobody will have taken her or trashed my place or be following me around or dragging my ass behind a snowmobile. And I won’t be sitting here in front of a dive bar in Soo Canada, waiting three minutes so Leon can go in and create an illusion of overwhelming force. Whatever the hell that is.

I looked at the clock on the dashboard: 1:13. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Two more minutes. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.

When I opened my eyes, the clock read 1:14. One more minute. A gust of wind rocked the truck.

I counted down the last minute, then I gave him one more. Then I got out of the truck. The cold air assaulted me, but it was a short walk to the door, so I was only half numb when I stepped into the place. Like all small buildings, it looked bigger once you were inside. The bar was on the right, a television set high in the corner with a hockey game on. There were Christmas lights still strung around the ceiling. They blinked on and off in the smoky haze. To the left was a pool table and a jukebox. Bruckman was standing there with a cue stick in his hand, watching one of his teammates attempt a shot. His other two teammates stood in front of the jukebox, looking down at the playlist. They had cue sticks, too. Four hockey players with heavy sticks in their hands, at least one of them half out of his mind.

I hesitated. This may not be such a great idea.

Then I saw Leon at the bar. He gave me a little nod. Then he put his glass down and turned around to face the pool table. I counted seven other men at the bar, including the bartender. As soon as Leon turned around, they all fell silent and turned around, as well. Somebody found the remote for the television and turned it off. Then the bartender flipped his magic switch behind the bar to turn off the jukebox. The only sounds left in the room were the impact of the balls on the pool table and Bruckman’s rough laughter at a missed shot. As the balls all rolled to a stop, Bruckman stopped laughing.

“What the fuck,” he said. He looked up to see eight men staring at him. He scanned the faces left to right. The last face he saw was mine.

“I got next game,” I said. I walked to the pool table. It was quiet enough to hear the floor squeak under my feet.

“The fuck you doing here?” he said.

“You know, Bruckman,” I said. “Just once I want to hear you say one sentence without the word ‘fuck’ in it.”

Bruckman looked at me and then at his teammates.

“There are eight men in this room,” I said. I wish Leon had explained his plan a little better, I said to myself. I hope this is what he had in mind… “Every single one of them has a gun. I’d love to see you try something stupid right now.”

He looked at his teammates again, and then at the men at the bar. I could practically hear the wheels spinning in his head. “So like… what?” he finally said.

“So like I want to ask you a few questions,” I said. “That’s all. If you play along, I won’t shoot you.”

“Like you really would,” he said.

“In the bathroom,” I said. “Unless you want me to kill you right here.”

“What?” His eyes were shining with fear, or chemicals, or maybe both.

“You heard me,” I said. “Go into the bathroom. While we’re in there, all three of your friends are going to just stand here and look stupid. Is that clear?”

He swallowed hard.

“Move,” I said.

He looked around the room again, like he was waiting for somebody else to do something. It didn’t happen, so he finally leaned the cue stick against the table and moved toward the bathroom. I followed. As we passed the biggest of his teammates, I looked up just long enough to give him a little smile. “Good to see you again,” I said.

When we were in the bathroom, I shut the door behind us. There was one stall, one urinal, and one sink. Whoever’s job it was to keep the room clean was clearly not an overachiever. I opened the stall door. “Have a seat,” I said. I pulled the service revolver out of my coat.

“I’m keeping my pants on,” he said.

“Good for you,” I said. “Just sit down.”

He flipped down the lid and sat on it. In the cheap light he looked tired and thin and used up.

“You don’t look so hot,” I said.

He didn’t say anything. He just sat there staring into some sort of middle distance only he could see.

“Let’s see,” I said. “If the bullet goes in this way, it should come out like so.” I looked past his head at the wall. “Unless it stays in the skull.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s gonna make a hell of a racket in here,” I said. I reached down and gave the toilet paper roll a quick spin. I tore off a couple feet, wadded it into a ball, and stuck it in my left ear. Then I made another ball and stuck it in my right ear.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to shoot you,” I said. “It’s gonna surprise the hell out of everybody, I know. Nobody out there really thinks I’m gonna do it. But I am.” I looked over at the sink and the window above it. “I should probably go out that window. What do you think?”

“What…”

I made a show of checking the gun and then I held it in both hands. “You ever see a bullet go through somebody’s head?” I said. I closed my left eye and looked down the barrel with my right. “It’s quite a sight. God, this place is going to be a mess.”

“You can’t shoot me,” he said.

“Sure I can,” I said.

“What do you want from me?” he said. He started to rock on the seat.

“I want you to stay still,” I said. “So I can get a clean shot.”

“You’re crazy,” he said. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” I said. “I guess you should have killed me when you had the chance.”

“No,” he said. “I wasn’t going to…”

“Stop talking,” I said. “You’re ruining my concentration.”

“What do I have to do?” he said. “Just tell me.”

I opened up both my eyes and looked at him over the gun. “I suppose you could entertain me,” I said. “That might buy you a couple minutes, at least.”

“What?” he said. “How?”

“Start talking to me,” I said. “What’s in that bag?”

“What bag?”

I raised the gun again. “You’re not very good at this,” I said. “The bag you were looking for when you jumped me in my cabin.”

“Drugs,” he said.

“What kind?”

“I’m not exactly sure. Some kind of speed. Real intense shit, like it had to be mixed with something. Probably some crack. Maybe something else.”

“Where did you get it?”

He hesitated until I closed my left eye again. “A guy in New Jersey,” he said. “We stole it off him a couple weeks ago.”

“How does Dorothy figure into this?”

“She was with me,” he said. “Not when we stole it, I mean. Just that… she was with me. We came here together.”

“Why did you come here?”

“To sell the stuff,” he said. “What else?”

“Why here?”

“We had to get away. Someplace out in the middle of nowhere. Dorothy knows this place because she grew up here.”

“It doesn’t hurt that Canada is right next door, right? You don’t even have to go through customs, just drive your snowmobiles across the river.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And what else, Bruckman?”

“What else what?”

“What else makes this such a great place to sell those drugs?”

He didn’t say anything.

“The Indians,” I said. “Right?”

“They got the money now,” he said. “With those casinos.”

“You know about the Northern Cheyenne Reservation, don’t you? All the problems they’re having with drugs. You figured you could make a big score up here.”

“It’s not my problem they got no will power.”

“Yeah, not like you,” I said. “You never touch the stuff.”

He looked away from me.

“You were dipping into that bag, weren’t you?”

“Little bit,” he said.

“What did Dorothy think of your plan to sell that stuff up here?”

“She didn’t know about it,” he said.

“Ah, now this is starting to make sense,” I said. “Let me guess. When she did find out, she took that bag and ran.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said.

“How did you know she came to me?” I said.

“Gobi, one of the guys on the team, he was back at that bar with all the deer heads and shit on the walls. There was this waitress there he was working on. He saw her come in and ask about you. She had the bag with her, he thought. He wasn’t sure. Nobody else had ever seen it. I had it hidden. I didn’t trust anybody. So instead of stopping her and asking her what she’s doing, this fucking moron just calls me and leaves me a message on my machine, tells me she was asking about you and I should check it out. You know, on account of he didn’t want to leave the bar because he thought he was finally getting somewhere with this waitress. That’s the kind of guy Gobi is. Can’t play hockey for shit, either.”

“You didn’t take her from my cabin?” I said.

“No, I didn’t even know she was there until a couple of days later. When I went home that night, there was a police car there, so I got the hell out of there, came over here to Canada. I figured I was fucked. Like maybe she turned me in or something. So I’m waiting here and then finally I call Gobi, and I go, Hey, what the fuck is going on over there? Are they looking for me or what? And he goes, No man, didn’t you get my message? And I go, What message? And he tells me what happened. Turns out somebody trashed the place that night and Mrs. Hudson called the cops. That’s why the police car was there.”

“You didn’t trash the place?”

“Nah, fuck no,” he said. “Why would I do that?”

“And you didn’t trash my place?”

“No,” he said. “I didn’t fucking trash anything.”

“So who did?” I said.

He gave me a little smirk. It was almost enough to make me go ahead and shoot him. “You don’t know, do you?” he said.

“No, but I’m hoping you’re gonna tell me,” I said.

“I don’t know for sure,” he said. “But I’m guessing it was a couple guys named Pearl and Roman.”

“Who are they?”

“Just a couple guys who work for Molinov.”

“Who’s Molinov?”

“He’s the guy we stole the drugs off of,” he said. “Believe me, you don’t want to know about Molinov.”

“Is he Russian?” I said.

“I didn’t stop to ask him.”

“And what about these two guys, Pearl and Roman? What do they look like? Do they wear hunting caps?”

“I’ve never seen them,” he said. “I’ve only heard of them.”

“There’s been a couple guys following me around,” I said. “You think that’s them?”

“From what I hear, they’d probably just kill you instead of following you around, but who the fuck knows?”

“How would they know about me in the first place?” I said.

He rubbed his eyes. His head was probably hurting from all the thinking I was making him do. “The message,” he said. “When they trashed my place, they might have played the machine. If they did, you got a big problem.”

“Your concern is touching,” I said. I put the gun back in my coat pocket.

Bruckman sat there looking at me.

“Here’s your chance,” I said. “No gun.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move.

“You’re pretty tough when you’ve got four other guys helping you beat up somebody,” I said. “Let’s see what you can do all by yourself.”

He looked down at the floor.

“You’re just a cheap little punk,” I said. “You couldn’t make it as a hockey player, so for the rest of your life you’re gonna take it out on everybody else. Unless they stand up to you.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

I stood there in front of him for a long moment, waiting for him to do something.

And then from the other side of the bathroom door came the distinctive sound of all hell breaking loose. Bruckman lunged at me, but he lost a good half a second pulling himself up off the toilet seat. I got my right knee up just in time. I felt a stab of pain in my ribs, but I was sure Bruckman got the worst of it. He went down hard, holding his nose with both hands.

When I opened the door, I saw a good old-fashioned bar brawl going on. “Alex, over here!” It was Leon, over by the door. Two of Bruckman’s goons were having it out with two of the men from the bar. I didn’t see the third goon. The rest of the men were all standing in the corners, trying to look like they were ready to fight without actually having to do anything. I made my way across the room, ducking a cue stick and a barstool. When I reached Leon, he opened the door just in time for the third goon to come rushing in at me along with a blast of cold air. He took a big swing at me and missed, so I kicked his leg out at the knee, just like Leon had coached me. The guy gave out a high-pitched scream on the way down to the floor.

“Let’s get out of here!” Leon said.

“I’m right behind you,” I said. We ran out through the snow and jumped into our vehicles. He spun his way out of the lot and I followed, fighting to see my way through the snow his tires were kicking up.

We made our way back west on Trunk Road, back toward the Soo Canada city limits. I kept looking behind me, waiting to see headlights. Leon slowed down when we were in the city again. I settled in behind him and tried to make my own body do the same. My heart was still racing, the adrenaline still pumping through my blood. I could feel the pain in my side now, and in my knee where I had hit Bruckman. I’m gonna pay for all this tomorrow, I thought. I’ll be lucky if I can get out of bed.

Leon pulled into a restaurant parking lot on Wellington Street. I parked next to him, got out of the truck, went to his passenger side and opened the door. “You all right?” I said.

“Yeah, I just had to catch my breath a minute.”

I got in his car and closed the door.

“I guess we need to compose ourselves before we go back across the border,” he said.

“Good idea.” I closed my eyes and took a few long breaths. “God, we must be insane.”

“I thought that was kinda fun,” he said.

I looked at him. He was actually smiling. “How the hell did you get those guys to do that?” I said.

“The guys at the bar? That was easy.”

“Oh, don’t tell me.”

“It’s those Franklins, Alex. They can do miracles.”

“You paid those guys a hundred bucks apiece to pretend to be carrying guns?”

“Benjamin J. Franklin,” he said. “A private eye’s best friend.”

“Oh for God’s sake. So that’s like what, seven hundred dollars? And how much did you spend the other night at the hockey rink? Like four hundred? Five hundred?”

“Don’t send Ulysses Grant to do a job that only Benjamin Franklin can do.”

“All right, already. I get the point. I owe you twelve hundred dollars.”

“We’ll split the cost, Alex. We’re partners.”

“I’ll give you the money tomorrow,” I said. “And you’ll take all of it.”

He shook his head. “Alex…”

“So what happened, anyway? Your, what did you call it? The illusion of overwhelming force? It all fell apart.”

“Some local clown walked in the door, wanted to know what the hell was going on. It sort of broke the spell.”

“We should both be dead right now.”

“What happened in the bathroom? Did you get the information you wanted?”

I told him everything Bruckman had told me. About Dorothy, the drugs in the bag, the men named Pearl and Roman and Molinov.

“So those two guys who’ve been following you,” he said. “That’s gotta be them.”

“I suppose it is,” I said. They didn’t cross the border. Maybe they didn’t want to risk going through customs.

“Yeah, if they’re professional shooters…”

“Shooters,” I said. “This is getting better every minute.”

“So what are we gonna do about them?”

I thought about it for a minute. “I promised Bill I’d give him until tomorrow,” I said. “Then I was going to go pay them a visit.”

“Maybe we should go over there right now,” he said. “Pay them a visit while we still have the kick-ass juices flowing.”

“The kick-ass juices. You are too much, Leon.”

“Admit it, Alex. You’re glad I’m on your side.”

I laughed. How I could laugh after what I had just been through, I don’t know. “What kind of car is this, anyway?” I said.

“A Plymouth Horizon,” he said. “It’s a piece of crap, I know.”

“How do you drive in the snow in this thing?”

“I’ve got good tires and I know how to drive in the snow,” he said. “Now are we gonna go see those guys or not?”

“Yeah, we’d better,” I said. “Tomorrow I’m not going to be able to move.”

“You sure you’re up for this?”

“Quarterbacks play with broken ribs all the time,” I said. “They just put some pads on and hope they don’t get hit too hard.”

“Yeah, quarterbacks,” he said. “Young quarterbacks. No offense, Alex…”

“Let’s go,” I said. “I’ll meet you at the motel.”

I got back in my truck and followed him over the bridge. The clock on my dashboard read 2:40. There was only one customs lane open at this time of night. I watched Leon stop at the window to answer all of the usual questions. Then it was my turn.

When I pulled up, the man looked at me, then down at the truck, then back at me again. I didn’t recognize him. “Good evening, sir,” he finally said.

“Good evening,” I said. I waited for the questions.

They never came.

“I’m gonna ask you to pull over into the holding area, sir,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Right over there, sir. Just pull in right there.”

The rest of it was like something from a bad dream. It played itself out in slow motion, under a bank of naked fluorescent bulbs that gave the whole scene a surreal glow.

The customs agents looking through my truck. A small bag pulled from under the front seat. White powder in the bag, held up for all to see. My hands against the wall, my legs spread. The gun taken from my coat pocket.

The bite of steel around my left wrist, then my right.

Then a voice from behind me. “You have the right to remain silent

…”