War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel (56 page)

BOOK: War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel
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I couldn’t tell them how this mattered. But it did.
And it wouldn’t make sense to most people, only to someone who’d been through something similar.

“I’ve got to make a phone call,” I said.

“Let me do it,” Malcolm said.

I shook my head and immediately wished I hadn’t.
I had to clutch the counter while the room spun.
“I have to.
While I’m in the phone booth, you guys pack.
We’ll leave when I get back.”

“Smokey, can’t I talk you out of this?” Gwen asked.

“Gwen,” I said gently, “have you ever been able to talk me out of anything?”

And for the first time that day, she smiled her real and beautiful smile, the one that had made me fall in love with her.

“You are the most stubborn man I know,” she said.

“And you’re the kindest woman.”

I hadn’t deserved her back then, and I didn’t deserve her now.
I knew no way of telling her that, or thanking her for all she had done.

But I had more pressing concerns.
I had a phone call to make and boys to get out of the city.

And after that, I had one last thing to do.

 

 

FIFTY-FIVE

 

Sometimes I was too stubborn even for my own good.
I should have listened to Gwen and taken a day of rest, but I was worried, worried that everything was going to crash around me.

Jervis was just another crazy criminal to the police — one of those loner types who seemed to lose it one day for no apparent reason.
But he wasn’t without reason, at least in his own mind.
He was fighting a war in a way that I understood all too well.

If I hadn’t had Gwen, I might have ended up just like him, lost in my delusions.
I hadn’t; I had been lucky.
But I understood those delusions.
They weren’t random.
They made sense, at least to Jervis, and the indications to me were that, after the assault at the construction site, he believed he was under enemy attack.

The bomb in his apartment hadn’t been set to destroy the building.
What he had done was set up a device that would protect his hidey
-
hole.

We had all been trained to do that if we were alone in a bunker.
Rig a device that would hurt the enemy should he enter without warning.

Have an escape route.

Use it.

All part of the training.

Even the way he stalked his victim.
He had had the patience of a soldier who somehow kn
ew
where the enemy would be.
He had studied Daniel as if Daniel were prey — which, to Jervis, Daniel had become.

Only his lack of long-range rifle training — sniper shooting — had caused Jervis to hit two nearby targets.
But he had nearly killed Joel Grossman.
On that, Jervis had almost succeeded.

It took more effort than I liked to reach the pay phone across the street. The day was warm, but not hot, the humidity relatively low.
Even so, I broke out into a sweat.
I moved like an old man, and I made an easy target for anyone who wanted to hurt me.

Fortunately for me, I didn’t look like someone with money to the junkies who hung out at the corner.
I wasn’t even sure, on this day,
whether
I could defend myself against them.

No one was using the phone, although someone had recently.
That person had left their gum melting on the built-in metal shelf.

I plugged in my dime and dialed O’Connor’s precinct. When the desk sergeant answered, I asked to speak to Captain Donato.
When the sergeant asked for my name, I said simply, “I’m his anonymous tipster from yesterday.”

“You weren’t at the
D’Amato
building when we got there,” Donato said as he picked up the phone.
“How the hell did you know to go to Jervis’s apartment?”

“I was following up another lead,” I said.

“I’m asking what the lead was,” Donato said.

“I’d talked with the head of Tucker construction and asked about the security guard. When he said the guard hadn’t been in to work for a month, I decided I wanted to talk to the guy.
Simple as that.”

“And wrong place wrong time. You vanished from the hospital
,
too,” Donato said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I have a kid to take care of.”

“They said you’re in no
condition
to take care of anyone.”

“Well, they were wrong.” I hoped my voice sounded stronger than I felt.
“Listen, I wanted to tell you a few things I discovered, just in case you didn’t know them.”

“You thinking we can’t do our jobs?” he asked.

“I’m thinking I’ve been on this case longer than anyone now,” I said.

Donato didn’t respond.
After a moment, he said, “What’ve you got?”

I told him about the extra dynamite.
I told him my suspicions about Daniel selling the stuff all over the East Coast.

“What proof you got of that?” Donato asked.

“None,” I said.
“Except one of Daniel’s old friends calling Rhondelle a chemist.
I know that they use that term for people who make drugs, but you know, her specialty seemed to be bombs.
And chemists tend to sell their specialties.”

“I’ll get a guy on it,” Donato said.

“You also might want to talk to the New Haven police department. Before I left, I called in an anonymous tip about a place called the Barn—”

“You like this anonymous stuff,” Donato said.

“It keeps me out of court,” I said.
“Anyway, this place called the Barn was also filled with explosives.
It looked like someone had cleared out of there fairly quickly.
But I’ve been thinking about it.
New Haven isn’t far from here.
The Barn would be a great secondary storage area.”

“You saying when they ran out of something, they’d drive up to New Haven and get it?” Donato asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“You got proof?”

“I’m not sure,” I said.
“I seem to remember boxes from Tucker Construction in there, but I’m not trusting that memory.
Contact New Haven. They probably have all of this stuff inventoried.
If there’s dynamite from Tucker in the Barn, then that might be confirmation enough.”

“How come you don’t want to testify? You got something to hide?”

I noticed that never once did he use my name.
He was respecting my choice to be anonymous, even though I hadn’t told him why I was.

“I have a lot of history,” I said. “I’d make a terrible witness. It’s better if you retrace my steps so that your people can testify about this stuff.
Besides, this way I get to go home when the case is finished and not worry about coming back here.”

He grunted.
“You got anything else?”

“I’m curious.
Have you found Jervis?”

“No,” he said.
“You know where to look?”

“No,” I said.
“But he seems to have a heck of a grudge against the War at Home Brigade.
What did they do to him when they robbed Tucker Construction?”

“Drugged him, tied him up, kicked him a few times.
Nothing that doesn’t happen to security guards all over the city.”

“Drugged him with what?” I asked.

“LSD.
You know it?”

“Yeah,” I said.
“It’s an hallucinogen.
I know a few guys who
weren’t
right ever again after they
took
it.”

“Making excuses for him?”

“No,” I said.
“I doubt anyone could defend the man now.
He killed a cop.”

“You got it.
Half the cops in the city are looking for him.”

“They won’t find him,” I said.

“You know that how?”

“His training,” I said.
“He’s special ops.
He knows more about hiding than all the rest of us combined.”

“How do you know he’s special ops?” Donato asked.

“The bomb he made.
The way he kept his apartment.
You don’t learn that in
b
asic
training
.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Positive,” I said.
“He’s at war with these guys.
He built a bunker to protect himself. They’re the enemy, as far as he’s concerned.”

“That’s why he was trying to pick them off?” Donato asked.

“Yeah,” I said.
“He obviously wasn’t trained as a sniper — he missed too
often
— but he’s good enough not to get caught.
He’s probably dangerous one-on-one.”

“You find him, you bring him in,” Donato said. “No cowboy stuff.”

“I don’t care about him,” I said.
“He’s your problem.”

And then I hung up.

Maybe if I had been in Chicago, I might have helped the police find Jervis.
I had a friend on the force who would have listened to me.

But I wasn’t in Chicago.
I had no options here.
Daniel had been arrested, which was all I wanted.
And people were dead, which was what I had feared.

And I had placed Jimmy in danger.
Again.

I leaned against the phone for a moment, making myself breathe, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
When it finally did, I stood up.

I had to get the boys out of the city.
One more trip.

And then I could rest.

 

 

FIFTY-SIX

 

The trip out of the city took longer than I expected.
First, I had to clean myself up as much as possible. That meant a shower, even though
I
shouldn’t have
because of the stitches.
I wrapped plastic wrap around my arm and my leg, and cleaned up as best I could.

By the time I got out, Gwen had straightened the apartment.
The boys had packed everything, including my belongings.
The suitcases were waiting by the door.

Gwen was going to help us get to our new “hotel” in New Jersey.
I talked her out of it, reminding her that she had to go to the apartment agent.

“Are you in legal trouble?” she asked.
“Because if you are, I have a friend—”

“It’s a long story, Gwen,” I said.

“Tell me the Reader’s Digest Condensed Version.”

I owed her something, but I couldn’t tell her the truth.
Jimmy stared at me.
Malcolm was frowning.

“I volunteered to find the son of a friend,” I said.
“It turns out that he’s been playing with explosives.
I’m afraid he knows where we’re staying.”

That last was a lie, but I didn’t want to tell her that I was afraid the cops might figure out who I was.

“He’s the one who bombed you?” Gwen asked.
“I thought it was some vet.”

“That’s what the police think
,
too.” Which was the truth.
But I was using it to mislead her.

Gwen sighed.
“We never seem to find the right time, do we, Smokey?”

“It’s my fault,” I said.

She shook her head.
“It sounds like you have a woman at home who can handle you.
She must be special.”

“She is.” I put a hand on Gwen’s face, then I pulled her close.
We hugged for a minute, and then she stepped away.

“Good-bye, Smokey,” she said.

“Thanks, Gwen.” I gave her one last look, and then I opened the apartment door. No one was in the hall.
The boys left first.
Gwen went next, and I followed.

The suitcase seemed heavier than it had before.
Malcolm offered to carry it, but I wouldn’t let him.

When we reached the outer door, the boys waved to Gwen.
She waved back, then turned away and left my life for the second time.

We retraced our steps, taking the subway to the Port Authority and the bus to Newark.
The bus ride was a welcome rest for me.
I had to doze.

At least no one stared at me on this trip.
I had cleaned up enough to look presentable, at least to the average commuter.

BOOK: War at Home: A Smokey Dalton Novel
7.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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