This is obviously some sort of joke. You couldn’t have found her this quickly.”

“Say the word, Jimmy. She’s about to hit the freeway. A flat could be deadly.”

“Fuck you! This is complete bullshit.”

“Fine, I’ll make the decision for you. How about…now!” Creed presses a key, puts the phone in his pocket and says, “When she calls, act surprised. Tell her who to call to get her tire fixed, and remember not to say a word about any of this.”

Jimmy’s phone rings. He answers and does his best to calm Millie down. When he ends the call, Creed places a hundred dollar bill on the table, secures it with Mike’s bourbon glass, and says, “Here’s what’s going to happen: the three of us are going to get up and walk out of here like old friends with someplace to go.”

Jimmy stares straight ahead. “You shot my wife’s tire out by pressing a button?”

“My people did the heavy lifting on that.”

“You don’t work for Homeland Security.”

“Well, no. Not officially.”

“You’re some sort of shakedown artist. To begin with, I don’t believe those are Millie’s panties.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about that, Jimmy. I bet you’d recognize them if your sex life was better.”

“Fuck you, Creed! I don’t know how you pulled off the tire thing, but I noticed you turned your phone off the minute you pressed the button. If you’d really blown out her tire in real time you’d have shown it happening. As for everything else you said? Total bullshit. I happen to know the government doesn’t work that way.”

“You require more proof?”

“Let’s just say it’ll take a lot more than a pair of panties and a flat tire to send me runnin’ home scared.”

“What if I kill someone for you? Would that help convince you?”

Jimmy laughs. “Yeah, sure, go ahead. Kill someone. Knock yourself out.”

“It’ll be on your conscience.”

“I can deal with it.”

Creed produces a tube of lip balm from his pocket, removes the cap, dabs some gel on the C note. Wads up a cocktail napkin, uses it to spread the gel across the face of the bill. Then says, “Bartender seems like a nice guy. I hate to see him die for such a stupid reason.”

Jimmy laughs. “I’m supposed to believe when he touches the money he’s gonna die?”

“Not immediately, but yeah, within the hour. It’s a contact poison.”

“That, my friend, is total bullshit.”

“Tell you what: we’ll leave, you can come back in an hour and check on him. But be smart about it, or they’ll think you were involved.”

Jimmy says, “Here’s what I think of your bullshit.” He grabs the bill, stuffs it in his pocket. Says, “Fuck you both.”

Creed watches him leave, then presses a key on his phone. When someone on the other end answers, he says, “We’re done. Grab your stuff and go. Problem solved.”

Mike says, “What happened?”

“Jimmy just saved us three years of hard work.”

“You killed him?”

“He killed himself. I don’t think I’ve never met such a bad listener.” He puts another C note on the table and says, “Let’s go.”

“Wh-where are you t-taking me?”

“Same place I told Jimmy about.”

“That underground p-prison thing? It’s real?”

“Very.”

“F-For how long?”

“Till your coping skills run out.”

“H-How did you f-find me so quickly?”

“Like you said: the Grouchos came through.”

Part 4: Donovan Creed


 

 

1.


 

Three Days Earlier…

 

SHE WAS YOUNG, the room was cold; her nipples were as puckered as a grandmother’s kiss. She moved beneath me gracefully, with a tenderness only a gifted poet could describe. We made love slowly, with reverence, by candlelight.

Afterward, she cried like Jimmy Swaggart, peeling onions.

But in a good way.

Her name was—is—Trudy Lake, and I’m Donovan Creed.