The Devil's Copper by Jamie Crothall (ebook audio reader .TXT) 📗

I looked up and saw a man standing over me.  I had no idea who he was.  He wore dark clothing, but had spikey blonde hair and sunglasses.  He put his finger to his lips in a stern instruction to be silent, but he could tell as well as I could that the involuntary impulse was racing up my throat.  I tried to stifle it, but I was losing the fight.  He reached out his left gloved hand and put it over my mouth.  His right still held the gun that had poked my arm.

“Make a sound and you’re dead.  Understand?” he said.

His voice sounded like sandpaper being dragged over concrete.  When I was able to gather my senses, or at least as much of them as I could, I nodded obediently.  He removed his hand to test my compliance.  I wasn’t about to disappoint him.  Not with the gun so close to my head.

“Get up,” he said.

I was wary my legs wouldn’t hold me, but I shifted into a seated position and attempted to stand.  The dress made it difficult.  He looked me up and down and smirked, shaking his head as though I were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen.

“Out,” he said, gesturing to the door with the pistol.  “Don’t make a sound.”

The door was ajar. I slipped through it to avoid making it creak.  When I entered the living room, I couldn’t see much. The lights were out, but I could make out the shapes of three other men.  The man with the shades nudged me to stand in front of the couch.  He never left my side.  One of the other men reached down and turned on a lamp, illuminating the room enough to make out some faces.  Walter was still asleep on the couch, hence the silence I supposed.  There were two generic younger men, hired heavies I imagined, and between them was a face unknown to me until two days ago.  He was an older man with greying hair.  The man my boss had in his office.  He looked at me and winked, giving me the same smile of familiarity he had when he departed.  When he was assured that everyone was in place, he stepped forward and kicked the couch, enough to wake up Walter.  He jumped with a start and swirled around as he sat up, taking in his surroundings.

“No, no, no,” the old man insisted.  “Calm down, don’t do anything stupid.”

Walter rubbed his eyes as though to assure himself he was seeing things correctly.

“That’s right.  It’s no bad dream, is it?”

“…Frankie?” muttered Walter.  “What the hell?”

He took another look around the room.  When he saw me alongside the man with the gun, he attempted to stand.

“Sit down,” Frankie spat.  “No funny business or you’ll lose more than a dog this time.”

Walter sat back down.  He glanced up to me, his expression saying a lot more than I could take in at that moment.

“What do you want?” Walter asked.

“I hear you’ve been up and down all over town, son.  Your friend goes missing and you travel everywhere except your own damn home.  I’ve had men watching this place since Saturday.”

He shut his eyes, clearly cursing himself for bringing me there.  He looked up at me apologetically.

“Can you do anything?” I found myself asking.

“I don’t know,” Frankie said, answering in Walter’s place. “Can you?”

Walter looked blankly for a moment.  He didn’t move.  Not that I saw, anyway.

“My boy Shay here is a very good shot, Walter.  He never misses.”  He looked at me, then back to him.  “How many times did you just lose her.”

He clenched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Too many.”

“Ten seconds doesn’t buy you a lot, does it?”

“What do you want?”

“For you to check your damn messages.  That’s what.”

When he didn’t clarify any further Walter simply glanced at the answering machine that sat on a table by the TV.  Frankie nudged his head towards it.  Taking it as permission, he rose and carefully made his way to the machine and pressed ‘play.’

*beep*

“Walter, my boy, it’s your old friend.  Just saw a friend of yours. He wanted to say hello, but he’s a bit busy at the moment.  Stop by and see me, and maybe we can help you out.”

*beep*

Then silence.

Frankie turned away from Walter and looked at me.  He examined my expression for far too long.

“Oh, you thought this was about you, didn’t you?” he asked.  “That must be terribly disappointing.”

“What do you want, Frankie?” he asked impatiently.

“You betrayed us, Walter.  You didn’t think I’d be okay with that, did you?”

“I didn’t betray you,” he stated firmly.  “I handed in my notice.”

“You left.  That’s as good as a betrayal in my books.  I’d hand you thirty pieces of silver if I had it, but unfortunately, I only have a few quarters at the moment.”

“Quarters aren’t made of silver,” I said.

He tilted his head back at me.  “It speaks.”  He turned back to Walter.  “Tell it to stop.”

Walter didn’t say anything.  He just held out a palm in a stopping gesture.  That, and the sensation of the gun barrel at the back of my head was enough to take away any courage I had.

“So you have Jack?” Walter asked.

Frankie seemed to mull it over.  “No.  But I know where he is.  I thought we might come to an arrangement.”

“What can I do that would be any use to you?”

“Don’t play stupid.  You know damn well there’s a lot you can do for me.  I need a little…what do you call it?  ‘Social engineering?’ ”

In the midst of this, I noted one of the generic heavies had a bushy brown mustache.  Reminiscent of