Page 32 of Jeremy
“Man,the guy must’ve ripped me off!” Pan argues, still swaying a bit on his feet.I’ll say one thing for Hudson, he can throw a punch.
“Shutthe fuck up.” Hudson glances at me and murmurs, “Watch him.”
Heopens the other box and examines the contents. “Other piece is real at least,”he says, glaring at Pan. “So I’ll take that.”
“Halfthe money then! You got to wire me half the money!”
Laughing,Hudson turns to me. “There’s rope and duct tape in my trunk.”
Myheart rate increases as I wonder what he plans to do. I didn’t come here to bea part of a murder, but I also can’t blow my cover. It occurs to me I probablyshould’ve involved the other In Safe Hands guys, since they have someconnections with Striking Back, who has half the damn law enforcement alphabetin their pocket. FBI, DEA, ATF, you name it. They’ve helped us out more thanonce, and Tucker still works for them.
Toolate now.
Iretrieve the rope and tape, then hold the gun on Pan as Hudson slides on a pairof gloves and tapes Pan’s hands behind his back. The guy alternates betweencursing, threatening, and pleading to be let go as Hudson leads him to thethick, metal guardrail at the edge of the parking lot and ties him to it.
“Thefuck! You can’t just leave me here!”
Hudsongoes to his trunk and returns with two paper wrapped packages. One is tiny, theother about the size of a brick. “Don’t worry, it won’t take the cops long toget here. I’m sure they’ll be very gentle with you.”
“See,this,” he continues, tearing open the small package. “Is the real shit. I don’tfuck with meth. I’m fond of my teeth, but I knew this would come in handysometime.” He shakes the powder on Pan’s body and spills a bit on the groundaround him. “When the cops test it, they’ll know what happened here. A drugdeal gone bad.”
Heproceeds to tear open the larger package, then tosses it to the ground andstomps on it. “This is talcum powder. You showed them the real product to test,then tried to sell them the fake shit. Happens every day. So, they beat yourass, tied you to a rail, and made an anonymous call.”
Withthose words, he kicks him in the face, laying his nose to the side with asickening crack. He grabs Pan’s phone, and wipes the settings, before removingthe SIM card.
“I’lltell them,” Pan threatens, blood pouring down his face.
Despitethe circumstances, I let out a snort of laughter. It reminds me of all thosemovies where the person threatens the escaping perpetrator that they’re goingto call the police. Why are you warning them? You want them to turn around andkill you?
Ignoringme, Hudson continues, “Of course you will, but what do you really know aboutme? Nothing but a phone number that’s now disconnected, called by a phone thatwill soon be destroyed. So talk all you want.”
Hudsonand I grab both boxes and put them in the trunk. I don’t need to see what wasin the other one. There’s only one thing that could be mistaken for modelingclay, and it means I may be in over my head here. I was prepared for anotherplan, but not one that involved C4, a plastic explosive. The other box must bea detonator, maybe blasting caps. What the fuck do they plan to blow up?
Afterwe clean up anything we’ve touched or that could disprove the narrative we’releaving for the cops, we jump in the car and head out. A few miles down theroad, Hudson pulls over in a fast food joint’s parking lot and regards me.
“Youdid great back there. Are you cool with this? Because I need to know now ifthis isn’t how you want to handle it.”
Ihave to wonder what he’d do if I said no, but instead I force a laugh. “Are youkidding? That was fucking legendary. The guys got to be shitting himself rightnow.”
Asmile cracks across Hudson’s face. “He did that the first time I hit him.Couldn’t you smell it?”
Weboth crack up, and Hudson reaches across me to the glove box, producing aphone. “It’s a burner,” he assures me, pulling back out onto the road. He dialsnine-one-one and raises his voice a few octaves. “Yes, Ma’am. My daughter justcame home all scared because she said there’s a man tied up behind theabandoned church on Rockwell Ave. Right before the highway entrance. She sayshe’s all bloody.”
Ican’t hear the dispatcher, but Hudson replies, “Yes Ma’am, that’s the one. No,I’m not comfortable giving my information.”
Withthat, he hangs up and tosses me the phone. “Take the SIM cards and batteriesout of all three phones. We’ll chuck them off the bridge when we cross thelake.”
That’sjust what we do. A few minutes later, we pull back into True Life’s complex.Anthony appears out of nowhere, watching us. We get out, laughing about ourlittle adventure. I’m a little impressed with my own acting skills at thispoint.
“Giveus a minute,” Hudson tells me, and I nod, heading inside the Big House. I’msure he wants to relay what happened and talk about me, of course.
Imake myself comfortable in the lounge, and wait. About fifteen minutes later,Anthony appears, locking the door behind him. “So, Hudson tells me you two raninto a little trouble.”
“Nothingwe couldn’t handle.”
Chuckling,he takes a seat across from me. “So I heard. He said he’d trust you to watchhis back anytime. I’m glad my instincts were right about you. Now.” He leans inand studies my face. “You’re not a moron, so I assume you know what wassupposed to be in those packages.”
Sittingback, I rest my foot on my knee. “Wasn’t hard to figure out, but I can see whyyou’d want to keep it quiet.”
