When the Devil Comes to Call (A Lars and Shaine Novel Book 2) (9 page)

Shaine eyed Nikki’s neck at breakfast. He hadn’t shaved and short white whiskers hid many of the wrinkles, but not the loose skin that waggled when he ate his eggs. She imagined him sitting back in a chair and letting her shave him. The warm shave cream coating his neck like frosting on a cake. White. Ready to stain if she nicked the skin. One slip and he’d be done for.

Lars eyeballed Anthony. The big man cooked them breakfast, a good one too. He had a way with egg yolks exactly the way Lars liked them. Forty-nine years old and he still couldn’t flip an egg without breaking the yolk.

The way he reappeared last night like an alien abductee suddenly dropped back into his own front yard. Life went on like nothing happened, until the day the hidden brain control device was triggered and he slaughtered everyone around him.

Now Anthony sat alone in the kitchen, eating like a servant. Lars knew damn well cooking was not on the big man’s list of job duties. He guessed if the man wanted to eat at all, and he looked like he needed to eat a fair amount every day, he might as well make it himself. What inspired such loyalty? Lars knew there was a day when he would have done the same. He also knew that day had passed.

“You gotta do me a favor,” Nikki said, catching a bit of egg yolk before it ran too far down his chin. “You gotta clear out for a little bit this morning, Lars. Take the girl with you.”

“What for?”

“I got a meeting. Nobody you’d want to see.” Nikki pushed his piece of toast around the plate, sopping up bacon grease and egg yolk.

“You mean nobody I’d want to see me.”

“Same difference.”

Lars had a good idea who Nikki meant and he wasn’t keen on seeing anyone from the FBI on this or any other morning.

“Maybe we should go ahead and clear out. Head to the airport. With Anthony back–”

“I’d rather you stay,” Nikki said.

Lars watched the old man. He’d never seen Nikki scared. Didn’t recognize it on him. He remembered the look from the few other men who’d turned state’s evidence and gone underground. It was the look they got when they got out of a limo at the courthouse and had to walk the twenty-odd feet to the door. News photographers all around, a crowd of gawkers, some angry about alleged offenses. And somewhere in the crowd, a man who wanted them dead. All they had to do was make it to the door and they’d be safe. Like making it back to the womb. But goddamn those last few paces were scary.

“Meeting on a Saturday. Must be pretty important,” Lars said.

“It is.” Nikki offered no more.

“Yeah, Nikki. We’ll clear out for a while.”

“You can take my car.”

“We’ve got the rental.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Nikki tilted his mug for a sip of coffee that wasn’t there. He set down the mug, too tired to get up and refill it himself.

Nikki didn’t bother to get dressed that day. He sat in his office in a navy blue robe, button up pajamas underneath. He watched clips from porno movies on his computer. They might not do anything for him anymore, but like a castaway who keeps sending an SOS on the broken radio, Nikki kept trying.

Anthony stepped in to the office, Qualls on his heels.

“They’re here,” Anthony said, then he quickly retreated.

Before Nikki could form the question of who is they? Qualls and his counterpart entered the room. The skinny, pale Qualls led in a beer gutted black man in a tan suit coat, out of date tie and pleated pants.

“Mr. Pagani,” Qualls said. “This is special agent Earl Walker Ford. He’s going to be your handler.”

Nikki lifted his chin as a greeting.

Ford could see the suspicion in Nikki’s eyes. Years of generational racism cast doubts on Ford’s ability to do any sort of job of authority, and it gave his new client a slightly sour lemon look to his face. Ford gave his own look right back to Nikki. A grimace to let him know how upset Ford was when he drew the short straw and got this assignment. A look to let Nikki know, you got three months, then I am outta here. After that, you are none of my concern.

Ford saved his most bitter face for Qualls, the asshole who recommended him for the assignment. On the drive up to White Plains he let Qualls know his displeasure by the clockwork release of a four egg and sausage breakfast’s worth of gas into the car. Qualls hadn’t said a thing about it, but only a dead man wouldn’t have smelled it.

“I thought you were my handler,” Nikki said to Qualls.

“No, I’m your contact. See, after I bring you in, I don’t think I’ll be at this office much longer.” He smiled. D.C. beckoned. Well, they would soon. “Agent Ford was acquainted with someone you may remember. A certain Mitchell Kenney.”

Nikki nodded slowly.

“Mitch wasn’t exactly my responsibility,” Ford said. “But I was aware of his case and what went down,” Ford looked at Nikki, squinted his eyes and spoke sarcastically. “You do know what happened with Mr. Kenney, don’t you?”

Nikki gave him a granite stare. “Ate a bullet, I heard.”

“A four course meal,” Ford continued. “But after he ate, he became my problem. I hope our relationship goes a little better.”

“So,” Nikki said to Qualls. “You’re giving me a handler who already fucked up once?”

Qualls ignored him. “So, Nikki,” he said taking his usual seat on the leather sofa. Ford stood. “Ford here will be the one with your new identity, your new location. It’s all still being worked out. During the trial we’ll have you close by. In the city. By the time that’s all wrapped up, we’ll have a plan in place for your more permanent residence.”

And with any luck I’ll be retired by then,
thought Ford. “How do you feel about Florida?” Ford said.

“They got bugs,” Nikki said.

“And sunshine.”

“And alligators.”

“Don’t forget the shuffleboard.”

Nikki decided to stop the playful banter before they started to like each other.

Qualls smiled at the two old cranks. “Now that we got that out of the way, there is only one more detail we need to talk about.”

“For fucks sake, Qualls. How much more goddamn red tape do you have? I got people gunning after me y’know.”

“And one gunning for you, apparently.”

Nikki tried to read Qualls, see what he thought he knew. “What’s that mean?”

“An old friend of yours turned up in town.”

“Look, Qualls,” Nikki started. He tapped his desk with a finger to emphasize his annoyance. “I’ll give you the names. More than you’ve gotten from anyone else. Don’t get greedy now and start fishing for more. But I told you, you get the names when I’m safe and sound. Tucked away and secure as Fort Knox.” He turned to Ford. “And not in Florida.”

“I haven’t forgotten the terms of our agreement, Mr. Pagani. But this new name is of interest to my colleague here. He’s a wanted man.”

“Who isn’t?”

Qualls leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees. “Nikki, this man Lars shows up out of nowhere a few days before you go into Witsec? Why do I think this isn’t a happy coincidence?”

“Because you and everyone in your office are a bunch of paranoid fucks.”

Ford stood calmly, his hands folded behind his back. “How do you feel about Alaska, Mr. Pagani?”

Nikki gave him a stare, but said nothing.

Qualls continued. “The last provision of your contract with the U.S. government will be for you to give us Lars before the paperwork is signed.”

“Before he can get away again,” Ford said. He felt a little charge being out of the office. Maybe he’d been avoiding the wrong part of the job all these years.

“No Lars, no deal,” Qualls said.

“You can’t keep changing the terms of a contract. You’re the goddamn government.”

“Tell that to a native American.”

Nikki scratched his unshaven chin, sucked deep on his oxygen. “What do you want from me, blood? Go ahead.” Nikki thrust his upturned wrists out. “Cut me open. Bleed me dry.”

“All we want is Lars.”

“The man’s a killer,” Ford said.

“And your mother’s a whore. Did she go to jail for it?”

Ford stood firm, unrattled.

“Look, Nikki,” Qualls said. “I know you don’t want to wait any more on this. I don’t either. It’s not gonna matter once you go away. He won’t be able to get to you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not what I’m fuckin’ worried about. I’m worried about you jack offs changing the deal on me. What’s gonna stop you from backing out altogether? How do I know you won’t fuck me?”

“That’s not what we do, Nikki.”

Nikki gave him a sarcastic smile. “Tell that to a native American.”

Qualls sat back on the sofa. “The other names can wait, Nikki. This one is time sensitive. He has a habit of getting away.”

“I don’t know where he is.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t give a rat’s cock and balls what you believe. I heard he might be in town, but he might have already left.”

“A cousin of mine once did one of those online genealogy tests,” Ford said. “Turns out I might be related to Abraham Lincoln.” He enjoyed watching the confusion on Nikki’s face. “Might be doesn’t mean shit.”

“I’m sorry, Nikki,” Qualls said as he stood up. “But no Lars means no deal. You think about it. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He tapped Ford on the shoulder and the bigger man followed him. “You have my cell number. Call me anytime. Y’know, in case he might not have left town after all. Plans change sometimes. You never know.”

“Fuck you, Qualls.” Nikki sucked in a deep nose full of oxygen. “And sorry to ruin your Saturday.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You didn’t ruin my Saturday.” Qualls turned to Ford. “He ruin your day Ford?”

“Long as I’m home in time for the Rutgers game, I’m a happy camper.”

Qualls turned to Nikki with a smile. “See there, Nikki. We’re doing just fine.”

“Yeah, well you fucking well ruined mine.”

“I don’t like the way he talks to you,” Shaine said. She kept her eyes on the lifeless landscape of bare trees and dead grass while running her thumb along the loose edge of the Band-Aid covering the tip of her finger. Winter wasn’t the cartoon reindeer wonderland she’d been led to believe.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“He talks like he’s the boss of you or something.”

“That’s ‘cause he’s the boss.”

“Not anymore,” Shaine said, turning to him. She’d seen tension there, between Lars and Nikki. A small window of opportunity to drive a wedge between them. She didn’t hope to get as far as Lars pulling the trigger on Nikki, but she needed to at least try to distance them enough so when she finally screwed up the courage to avenge her father, Lars would at least think long and hard about killing her in retaliation.

She plied Lars with her logic. “He used to be your boss, but you don’t work for him anymore.”

“But he’s paying us. That’s the definition of being the boss.”

“He’s paying you because he’s desperate. He doesn’t have anywhere else to turn because he’s got no friends.” Shaine turned up the heat by two degrees, wishing they’d sprung for the rental with the heated seats.

Lars shook his head. “He knows me as the help. That’s our relationship. You don’t change that after this many years.”

“Well, I think he needs to show you more respect. After all, you could kill the guy.”

“That’s fear, not respect. Big difference.”

“You don’t think you need to respect a guy in the same room with you if you know he could kill you at any moment?”

“Respect? No. You can respect someone’s skills at what they do, but that doesn’t mean you need to respect the man.”

“So, okay, do you respect or fear Nikki?”

Lars paused. Shaine took it as a good sign.

“I respect him. He came up through a lot. Not many guys last as long as he has in this business.”

“So I’m supposed to respect a guy because he’s the best at being a criminal?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, all I see is a sad old man living alone and living in fear.” Shaine turned back to the bleak landscape outside.

“Y’know, Nikki wasn’t the man in charge when your dad went into hiding. After all the big guys went away, he took over as the top guy.”

“So my dad put him in power,” Shaine said, annoyed.

“Yeah, I guess you could say so.”

She gave Lars a sarcastic, “Great.” Another reason to hate the man. “But he sent you to kill Dad, right?”

Lars stayed silent.

“Thought so,” Shaine said

So Nikki profited off her father’s testimony, the selling out of his whole life. And then he had the gaul to put out a hit on him. He should have been sending them fruit baskets at Christmas every year. Better yet, a new car. Every damn year to say—thanks Mitch the Snitch. Thanks for setting me up to rake in millions without making me kill all the old farts ahead of me in line. Shaine assumed that’s usually how it was done.

“So when do we need to be back?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll give them a couple of hours.”

“And where are we going exactly? Randomly driving around? Can we at least put on the radio?”

“Go ahead,” he said. “And I know where I’m going. I just need to find it.”

“So you know but you don’t know?”

“I’ve never been there before.”

“Been where?”

“To see an old friend.”

“An old friend but you’ve never been there before?”

“Find a station, will you?”

Lars would never get used to Shaine’s motormouth phases. She seemed to do it when she was nervous. On the island she didn’t chatter too much. But put her in a car, get her shot at or drop the temperature outside by sixty or seventy degrees and she couldn’t stop with the babble.

At least she wasn’t going to fight him on the music. She found a classic rock station and they settled in to some Rolling Stones.

Lars spotted a street sign and knew he’d finally found his destination. He turned and starting looking for street numbers, but he knew he’d see the place. It would be hard to miss.

Lars always thought it was silly how people from the city called this place upstate when they were only a half hour out of Manhattan. Albany was upstate, Schenectady was upstate. White Plains was the suburbs, and in winter, it was butt ugly.

The whole town had a freezer-burned look, like something you pulled from the deep recesses of the freezer and you thought, “How long has that been in there? I don’t remember buying ground ostrich meat.”

The color had been drained. From the sky down everything was the color of cement. The only thing that looked appropriate in this colorless, leafless world was a cemetery. When Lars saw the gates, he slowed and turned inside.

“This is where we’re going?” Shaine asked.

“Yep.”

She seemed satisfied by his syllable. Lars reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small corner of torn-off paper. He’d written
Row 56, Plot HH
.

“Is this, like, your parents or something?” Shaine asked.

“No.” Lars couldn’t help chuckling. “I wouldn’t stop by my dad’s grave unless I had to take a piss. No, this is someone who mattered in my life.”

Lars stopped the car by a small black iron plaque fixed to a stone marker reading
Row 56
.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” he said.

“No, I’ll come,” she said.

Lars turned off the car and got out into the cold. A light wind blew through the bare branches of trees he assumed made the place very nice in the spring. People probably paid extra for a plot in the shade of a tree. Didn’t do shit for them in the dead of winter.

 The headstones were the same color as the sky and several graves were decorated with clumps of dead flowers probably put there before Halloween. Nobody else was out to say their respects. No one loved the dear departed that much.

“Jesus fuck, it’s cold,” Shaine said.

“You’ll get used to it. You’re not acclimated.”

“I don’t want to get acclimated. I want a Starbucks.” Shaine scanned the rows of graves. “This is about the only place on earth anymore where there isn’t one.”

Lars walked between rows 56 and 55 until he came to plot HH. Beneath Lenore’s name was carved –
Our Angel sits on the right hand of God now
.

Shaine read the name on the headstone. She knew Lars was feeling deep emotions, but she was hard pressed to see them on his stoic face. It didn’t surprise her. If he’d broken down weeping, she would have been surprised.

She felt a little selfish, but her thoughts turned immediately away from Lenore, a woman she’d never met, and to thoughts of wanting to see her father’s grave. She had no idea where he ended up being planted, and no way to find out without exposing her and Lars. She assumed he was buried in Albuquerque. At least he didn’t have to suffer through winter like this.

She let Lars have his moment, quietly bowing her head and thinking of her dad.

Lars hated how his first thoughts were of killing. He wanted to tell Lenore he’d killed the man who murdered her. He wasn’t one for speaking out loud to a grave, though. He also thought about the other men who were partly responsible. Bruno, for one. Maybe others. He’d love to kill them too. He’d love to fill up row 56 with the bodies of anyone who played a part in Lenore’s death.

He wondered about the child. When he called around that morning, trying to find out where she’d been buried, he asked about the child. They had no child buried under her name. The man on the phone said sometimes they did a burial ceremony for a stillborn child, but rarely for one killed along with a mother.

“There’s usually a lot of other things going on during that time,” he explained. “In the case of a murder, there’s an autopsy, police investigations, a lot of delays.”

Lars figured the man was so cavalier in talking about it after he saw the date of death on her records. This was no fresh wound he needed to tiptoe around a grieving family member for. He didn’t know how fresh it was for Lars.

The man’s speech made Lars wonder if she had a real ceremony at all, or if she had been tossed in the ground weeks after her murder, already forgotten along with her unborn child.

He wanted to find out where Leo was being buried and go salt the ground over his grave so it turned permanently mud.

But it was time to go home. Time to leave this whole state behind, his old life, buried under six feet of frozen ground. It’s where his past belonged. Under a leafless tree, brittle branches and grey bark to match the cold stone of the marker listing the names of every poor bastard he killed.

A list of people definitely not sitting at the right hand of God. Probably crowding a barroom in hell.

Lars turned away from the grave. He found Shaine crying silently into her folded hands.

“You okay?” He stepped next to her.

“Yeah,” she sniffed. Wiped her nose with her gloves. “I’ll be alright.”

Lars looked up the rows of mismatched stones. Some tall and jockeying for one final stab at besting everyone else in the neighborhood, some simple and reflective of the person they honored.

“How many of these people do you think needed to be avenged?” he asked.

Shaine shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, me either.” Lars looked up the small hillside. No vacancy. Row after row. “Of the people who deserved to be, how many do you think were?”

“Not enough,” Shaine said.

Lars looked at her. He nodded. “Yeah. Not nearly enough.”