Tanned Hide (3 page)

Quickly, but calmly, I disassembled
the rifle and packed it up. Grabbing the spent casing, I waved the
smoke away from 42’s AC unit and started the electricity through
it. A second later, the remains of the smoke bomb and sound card
were also packed. I allowed myself a smirk as the unit started up
and then headed for the door.

My earpiece vibrated. Breathless, I
answered it. “Mr. Weir?”

“
One more thing, Brett,”
Trecheon said. “Make sure you come okay? You do good work. I’d hate
to lose you.”

I pressed back the smile building on
my lips. Target eliminated. Magic hit acquired. Now it was just
time to bask in the glory and watch the dominos fall. “Yes,
sir.”

Three

“
Oh, Neil, honey, it’s so good to hear your voice.” Mom’s
relief was thick, like honey in the ear, even through the phone. “I
was so worried for you when I saw the paper this
morning.”

I entered my scruffy apartment,
careful not to dislodge the earphone from my ear. Mail in one hand,
a paper in the other, I swung my body around the cheap, particle
board desk that Trecheon had assembled for me last year. I
collapsed into the shredded chair, tossing the paper on the
desk.

A handsome picture of Matron Fawn
placed next to a censored picture of the crime scene took up the
full top half of the front page. The words “Felicity Fawn, CEO of
Fawn Inc. Murdered” blazed above the pictures. It had been a week
since the hit itself, but I suspected that her presumed mob
affiliation delayed the papers’ reports.

“
I don’t know why you were
worried, Mom,” I said, sorting through the variety of bills and
junk mail. “It’s not like I would be a target.”

“
I know, sweetie, but I
also know your business frequently does work downtown,” Mom said.
“You could have been hurt!”

“
The killer obviously had a
specific target,” I said, consciously reminding myself to be vague.
“She was the CEO of a big company. I’m a piddly HVAC
man.”

“
You’re a CEO too,” she
said with a huff.

“
Only by default,” I said,
laughing. I tossed two bills into the bills owing file on my desk.
“And I don’t run a multi-million-dollar corporation.”

“
Give yourself more credit,
hon,” Mom said. “You’re doing okay for yourself.”

The “okay” instead of an expected
“well” stung, but as I glanced around at the scratched couches,
stained carpet, and cheap desk, I knew she was right. “I suppose,
Mom.”

“
Speaking of that, sweetie,
your father wants to know if you can visit this weekend,” Mom
continued. “The air conditioning unit is acting up
again.”

I rolled my eyes before turning my
attention back to my mail. A small card in a cream colored envelope
caught my attention. I unsheathed a claw and ripped through it.
“Mom, when are you guys going to let me just replace that old
thing?”

“
When you’re well off
enough that the frequent repairs won’t be necessary for you to make
ends meet,” Mom said. “Or when you learn to come visit without the
incentive of a job.”

I frowned. “Yes, ma’am.”

“
Come this weekend,
okay?”

“
I’m kind of busy this
weekend,” I said, sliding the card out of the envelope. I lifted an
eyebrow and twitched my tail. It was a funeral invitation. “Mom,
did someone in the family die recently?”

“
Not that I know of, though
it could be argued that your Uncle Zander has been trying most of
his life,” Mom said. “Why?”

I flipped open the card. Black letters
with pink accents danced across the cardstock.

Dear Mr. Neil
Black,

We formally require the
pleasure of your company at St. Buck’s Cathedral on the fifth of
May to honor the passing of Matron Felicity Fawn.

An RSVP card has been
attached, but will not be required to attend.

Reception to
follow.

Sincerely,

Triple Fawn
Inc.

My heart stopped.
Completely. The world melted away. Impossible.
Impossible.
How did they find me? How
did they figure out where I had been? My name? My address? And the
words they used. . . Require your presence. Using the term Matron,
which would only be used in reference to her mob status. Triple
Fawn Inc.

The Triple Danger. They meant
business.

Oh, hell. Oh,
shit.
I was a dead man.
What should I do? What
could
I do?

“
Honey?” Mom said, “Are you
still there?”

No. . . Mom. If they knew my address,
what was to stop them from tapping my phones? She could be in
danger. And so was Trecheon, and Dad, and. . . and Philip. “On
second thought, Mom, I think I could squeeze you in this weekend.”
How I managed to speak without cracking my voice, I have no idea.
“I’ll be there. Okay?”

Mom went quiet, and for a brief,
terrifying moment, I pictured The Triple Danger invading her home,
cutting her down, pulling out a pistol and-- “Okay, Honey,” she
finally said. “I’ll see you soon.”

Sooner than you think,
Mom.
I hung up the phone without a goodbye,
not trusting my own voice. I stared at the floor, willing my body
to do something, anything, but my mind just stopped.

Where did I go wrong?

“
Okay, Neil,” I told
myself. “Panicking won’t do any good. Work through the problem.
Think.”

I thought.

Okay, my brain said. The Triple Danger
probably wouldn’t do anything until after the funeral. That was
what they implied in their message to me. I could get to my family
before that and get them out. But what else?

Trecheon. He needed warning. But how
could I warn him? What if they were following my every move?
Tapping my phones, listening in on my conversations? I’d have to
instigate a coded message, like we used for the hit. But how could
I do that without the preplanning that went into it? More than
that, what if The Triple Danger knew all our standard code words
from listening in?

But I had to do something.

Snatching up my coat, I ran out the
door and headed downstairs. Like usual, my street was busy, full of
pedestrians. Most people had their phones out, either listening to
music, texting, or on the rare occasion, talking. But that was
good. Excellent, in fact. They were distracted. I inserted myself
into the crowd, hoping my sleight of hand skills might save
me.

After about half an hour of walking,
probably the most agonizing thirty minutes of my life, I managed to
pilfer a phone from a lady’s open purse. With shaking fingers, I
typed in the number for Red’s Garage.

Trecheon picked up after two rings.
“Red’s Garage.”

“
Good evening Mr. Red,” I
said, dropping my voice two octaves, hoping to disguise myself
enough that Trecheon wouldn’t stupidly say my name. “My name’s Vet,
and I’ve got an issue with an old car that I hope you can take care
of. She’s a special old doe, but she’s on her last legs, and I’m
hoping you can work some magic and save her.”

I prayed that I got enough code words
in that he’d pick up the message. Vet was a modification of the
nickname I had earned in the army, so he’d know it was me. The rest
of the message was a little more convoluted, but Trecheon was
smart. He might get it.

There was a long pause on his end.
“Ah, certainly sir,” he finally said, drawing out every word. “We
open tomorrow at, ah--” Four taps on the phone, “--seven tomorrow.
Can you bring it in then?”

7AM with four taps. Trecheon meant to
meet me at 3AM. Seems he got the message. “Thank you, that’d be
just fine. Are you still at your listed address?”

“
Exactly that,” Trecheon
said. I could only hope that the usual meeting place would be left
unmolested. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Vet.”

“
Thank you, and goodbye.” I
hung up, the feeling of relief only mild considering the success of
the call. I ducked into the nearest alley, smashed the phone and
removed the sim card, then tossed the remains into a dumpster. It
took a long time to convince myself to go home, and sleep never
came to me that night.

Four

“
Okay, Neil,” Trecheon glared at me from the darkness.
“Talk.”

The panic I had felt must have come
through my voice during the call, because both Trecheon and I were
early to our meeting place, a remote cave deep in the canyons
outside of town, accessible only by walking. We had both taken
great pains to keep the local wildlife out of it, while encouraging
the frequent hikers to stifle their own curiosity. I kicked around
one of the chicken bones we had used as a prop to make the cave
look occupied.

“
It speaks for itself,” I
told Trecheon, handing him the invite. He snatched it up, and
pulled out a small pen light. He only needed a moment before his
eyes widened. He met mine.

“
Neil, this is deep shit,”
he said.

“
I know!” I said, trying to
keep my volume under control. “But I don’t know how much they know.
Were they tapping phones? Listening in on our conversation? Are my
parents in danger?” I paused, pressing my ears back and letting my
whiskers droop. “Are you? And. . .” I could hardly bring myself to
say it, but it had to come out. “. . .Philip.”

Trecheon frowned. “Everything in my
head is screaming at me to buy a train ticket to anywhere but here
and leave you. But I can’t do that.” He crossed his arms, shaking
his head. “Where do your parents live? I’ll close up shop for a
while and keep an eye on them. You might be a good sniper, Neil,
but you’ve never been good at stakeouts.”

Trecheon’s sudden and unsolicited
kindness stunned me like a deer in headlights. “You’re serious. .
.?”

“
We’re partners, right?”
Trecheon said, though I could hear the strain in his voice. “We
work together. You’d do the same for me.”

“
You don’t have any family,
Trecheon.”

“
Christian and the other
guys I employ are as good as,” Trecheon said.

“
Trech--”

Trecheon rolled his eyes. “Don’t call
me Trech, dammit, and just let me help. Okay?”

I pressed my lips together and pulled
my tail into my hands, rubbing the fur. “You said you were going to
regret helping me. And yet, you’re still helping me.”

Trecheon’s features stiffened. “I’m
not going to abandon you. Not now. Not ever. I threw my lot into
this situation and I’m going to stick with it. Now let me
help.”

I didn’t deserve Trecheon’s loyalty.
“Fine. Okay.”

“
Good,” Trecheon said.
“Write the address in the dirt here and I’ll just memorize it. No
paper right now.”

“
What should I do about
this?” I lifted the invitation.

Trecheon frowned at it. “Honestly,
Neil. . .” he paused. “I think you should go.”

Both ears flattened. “You know this is
just an invitation to die.”

“
Well, check out the
obituaries first,” Trecheon said. “But if it checks out, you should
go. They’re not likely to make a spectacle of you in public. Who
knows? They may want to just thank you for freeing them up.
Right?”

I snorted. “That’s wishful
thinking.”

“
You might at least learn
about their plans,” Trecheon said. “Besides, if you don’t go, it
might end up worse for your family. Unless you can convince them to
lay low for a while?”

I sat hard on a rock. Mom would never
believe that. He had a point. “Damnit.”

Trecheon stood next to me and squeezed
my shoulder. “Neil, we’ll get through this. We’ve done well so far,
haven’t we?”

I stared at the dirt. Why did I think
this was a good idea? How’d I let myself get this far? How’d
Trecheon let his conscience get him into this? I suddenly regretted
milking Trecheon’s promise to Carter. It wasn’t worth if it if we
both ended up dead.

“
I’m sorry, Trecheon. For
dragging you into this.”

“
What’s done is done,”
Trecheon said. He leaned down, picked up a bone prop, and handed it
to me. “Get writing and let’s get out of here.”

I gingerly took the bone from his
hand.

“
Besides, you have a
funeral to get ready for,” Trecheon said. “Let me know if you need
a suit. I’ve got just the thing.”

“
Yes, sir,” I said, and
started writing.

__________

Early the next morning I donned my
coveralls, tossed my tools in the back of my van, and headed for
home. Mom was more than shocked to see me.

“
Neil! What are you doing
here?” She stepped aside to let me in.

I grinned at her and took a short bow,
trying to keep natural. “I was in the area. An appointment
canceled, and my next one isn’t for hours, so I might as well use
the time to take care of that AC unit. Are Philip and Dad
here?”

“
Neil!” Philip, with all
the energy of a six-year-old, ran across the room and vaulted into
my arms. He smelled faintly of dirt and he clung to me with foot
and hand claws like an untrained kitten. “You came home, you came
home!”