Birds of a Feather. Don Easton
no. God, no. I need it. I’ll come right away. Thanks a million.”
Forty minutes later, Slater’s sense of relief at being able to retrieve his wallet was replaced by a feeling of dread as he arrived at the address he was given. A high chain-link fence protected a yard full of Harley Davidsons. Keep Out signs, security cameras, coupled with a well-known logo and an emblazoned sign reading SATANS WRATH told him he was in dangerous territory.
Slater slowed his car to a crawl as he drove by. A menacing-looking man with a goatee was strolling toward him up the sidewalk, but stopped when he saw Slater and stood with his arms folded across his chest glaring at him. Slater lowered his window and said, “Excuse me, uh, sir. Do you know if there is a guy by the name of Jack around?”
“Yeah,” replied Sammy. “He said someone was coming by. Hang on. I’ll put a call in.”
Slater stopped his car on the street and listened as Sammy used his cellphone.
“This is the guard at the north side,” said Sammy. “Tell Jack there is some guy here to see him.” Sammy paused a moment and said, “Yeah, I’ll tell him,” he added, before hanging up. Sammy looked at Slater. “Go down the block, take your first left and find a place to park and wait in your car. He’ll be out in a minute.”
Slater breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted to do was go inside the compound, or worse yet, inside the clubhouse.
Sammy waited until Slater had turned the corner before hustling off in the opposite direction, all too aware that the hum of moving security cameras told him it was time to leave.
Moments later, Slater saw Jack approach and tap on his passenger window while holding his wallet up for him to see. Slater lowered the window.
“Unlock the door,” said Jack. “There is something we need to discuss.”
“Of course.” He wants a reward, thought Slater, unlocking the door.
Jack got in and handed him his wallet. Slater quickly flipped it open and smiled when he saw that his money and credit cards were all there.
“Thanks a bunch,” Slater said. “You’re a great guy to be returning it, especially with all this money. Most guys wouldn’t. Let me give you a reward for all your trouble,” he added, fishing a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet.
“Fuck that,” said Jack gruffly. “I don’t need your money. Besides, I’m not really that great. I actually stole your wallet.”
“What? Why? Oh, you’re joking,” replied Slater, giving a nervous smile.
“Does this look like a fuckin’ joke?” replied Jack, flipping open his jacket to reveal a pistol stuck in the front of his pants. “I did it to get you down here. Easier than taking you away from The Racquet Club.”
“But why?” stammered Slater as Jack put his hand on the pistol’s handgrip. “I haven’t done anything to you guys. I’m not even in any gangs or anything. Whoever you’re after … you’ve got the wrong guy!”
“No, we know we got the right guy, so shut up and listen. I know you’re a businessman, so let me try to put it into words you’ll understand. We distribute a product. You’re competition. You must have heard of a hostile takeover. Consider this it.”
“What product? I don’t understand!” cried Slater.
“A very white product,” said Jack, putting his thumbnail up to his nose and pretending to snort.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Slater.
Jack sighed and said, “Okay, I can see you’re not stupid. That’s good. Now I want you to take me for a little drive. I’ve got something to show you. It could actually save your life. You don’t want to end up like your buddy Earl.”
“That was you guys!” exclaimed Slater.
“Who the fuck did you think it was?”
“T-O’s guys,” blurted Slater. “I mean, I don’t know.”
“Who the fuck is T-O?”
“Oh, fuck …”
“I’m not asking you again,” yelled Jack. “Who the fuck is T-O?”
“Nobody I’ve met,” Slater hastened to say. “Just someone Earl owed money to.”
“Well, it wasn’t us who whacked Earl. We were going to offer him the same deal as you.”
“A deal? What deal? I don’t understand. If Earl was involved with you guys or something, I didn’t know anything about it. I’m just a businessman. I don’t —”
“Yeah, I know. Like I said, we’re businessmen, too. So start driving. I’ve got something to show you to convince you we know a little more than you think.”
“Can’t you just tell me? I mean —”
“It’s something you need to experience and see to believe. Don’t worry, if we were going to kill you, you would already be dead and this class-act set of wheels you got would already be on a freighter bound for Russia.”
chapter fifteen
The sun was going down and elongated shadows from the trees cast darkened silhouettes over mounds of dirt gouged out of a forest on the side of a mountain. For now, only the pits in the earth marked where the cement would be poured to make basements for a new residential pocket of homes.
It wasn’t the cold that caused Slater to shake as he parked beside the construction trailer.
“Get out,” ordered Jack. “What I got to show you is on the other side of the trailer.”
“I don’t like this,” whined Slater. “I feel really uncomfortable. Can’t we talk in the car?”
“Uncomfortable? See how uncomfortable you feel after a bullet rips through your kidneys!” roared Jack, pulling out his pistol.
Slater automatically lurched back, pressing himself so hard against the driver’s door it looked like he was moulded into it. His eyes closed and his face crinkled, expecting to be shot.
“Jesus, fuck! Stop acting like that,” said Jack. “If I wanted you dead, I’d shoot you now. I only want to talk to you. We’ve got a business proposition for you. Hand me the keys, too. I don’t want you trying to fuck off and leave me here.”
Slater opened his eyes and tried to calm himself as he fumbled the keys out of the ignition. As soon as he did, Jack snatched them out of his hand and said, “Now get out! I’m not tellin’ ya again!”
Slater got out of the car and tried to convince himself Jack only wanted to talk to him, but his fear increased dramatically when, a few minutes later, he found himself with Jack looking down at a dug-out basement.
“Climb down,” ordered Jack. “What I got to show you is alongside those footings on the far side.”
Slater squinted into the darkness, but all he could see were wooden frames filled with rebar left in preparation to pour cement. A nudge from the barrel of a pistol in his back convinced him not to argue. Once they had descended into the pit, Jack prodded Slater over to a waist-deep, grave-sized hole dug in the ground and said, “Get in!”
“You are going to kill me! You said you weren’t!” cried Slater.
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