The Lawyer and the Killer Ch. 05

Susan didn't feel superior, but she was feeling perhaps more fortunate. This woman and she were no different excepting for a thin crust of cultural polish. It occurred to Susan had they gone out to eat Susan would know which forks to use. The other woman would know each fork had a role, but wouldn't know the particulars. It would have made her self conscious and maybe a little insecure, but she'd know the important things like common courtesy, personal warmth, and kindness. Susan reflected those were the things expensive private schools couldn't teach. Susan thought they could go to a nice restaurant, enjoy a good meal, have a pleasant conversation, even become friends, and not once use the right fork. There were other women with whom Susan was acquainted who knew what forks to use, but were boorish self-centered shits.

Susan asked, "Are you going with me later?"

The woman answered, "Me? I doubt it."

"What will they do? Leave you here?"

"Probably, but don't worry. My boyfriend will pick me up."

Susan was feeling like she was off her oats. It wasn't just the harrowing experiences she'd been going through again. She found the nub of a pencil on the kitchen counter and a scrap of paper. She wrote down her office phone number, "Maybe you'd like to call me in a week or two."

The woman took the paper, "What for?"

Susan didn't have a good answer, "I don't know. Maybe we could go to lunch."

The woman looked at Susan quizzically, "Look you don't want to go to lunch with me. I'm ham and cheese. You're a Rueben."

Susan smiled, "No, you're a Rueben."

The woman put the scrap of paper away. They both heard a car pull up. The woman gave Susan a smile. "I think you're ride is here."

Susan got up, "Call me?"

The woman walked her over to the front door, "We'll see."

Susan was feeling awfully foolish and she didn't know why. She quickly leaned forward and kissed the woman on the cheek, "Don't forget to call."

The woman turned her and smiled, "Get out of here."

Susan walked down the sidewalk to the waiting car. She was thinking. Someone had been working on her behalf. She hoped she knew who it was.

The woman in the dirty house watched Susan walk down the sidewalk. She thought, with a little luck, maybe? She stopped herself. No. Fuck. It is what it is.

------------

Shawn rolled Ryan the thug out of the car onto the grass and drove away. A little later one of Oscar's children ran inside yelling there was a man in a bag on the lawn. Oscar ran outside and opened the bag. He recognized the man. Gave him the keys to one of his cars and ordered him to go to a bar down the street and wait. A little over an hour later Oscar showed up at the bar. It was still early in the morning, and the bar technically wasn't open yet, but Oscar had called the proprietor and they'd gotten Ryan inside.

Ryan had a tale to tell. He told Oscar how he'd been water-boarded. How the men had been so matter of fact about the whole thing, and how he had to plead for his life. Oscar was genuinely bored by the whole state of affairs. This was exactly what he figured. They're erstwhile renegade killer was using every technique, every gimmick imaginable to get his point across. He'd succeeded. Now he had to kill Ryan and the other two men who'd been at the house. What a waste.

What Oscar really needed to do was meet the man behind the message. He'd either have to kill him or come to some kind of an arrangement. If there was to be an arrangement it had to be something firm and final. If he had to have him killed, he knew he probably would have to clean out a swath of people.

Neither alternative was very palatable. He considered the arrangement idea the better choice for a couple of reasons. For one there was the lawyer. As long as she was alive it probably kept his backsliding killer at bay. For some reason his apostate assassin wanted her safe. If her safety leashed him, then that was that. The only downside, and it was a big downside, was the bad precedent it set. Other organizations would see it as a sign of weakness. He could have a war on his hands because he let one gunman go.

The other alternative wasn't real. He couldn't kill this guy, and for some good reasons. The one obvious reason was he knew too much. He had been able to burrow way deep inside the organization. How deep Oscar didn't really know, but he was in way too deep for Oscar's comfort. The second reason was just as disquieting. He was too damn clever. No one knew who he was, what he looked like, where he lived, and for the most part how he worked.

But Oscar had it figured out. He'd treat his renegade gunman like he'd treat a tough computer virus. If you can't destroy it outright, quarantine it. For a guarantee, an unequivocal guarantee of the lawyer's safety the gunman would have to promise to disappear, and disappear for good. If Oscar could get that, everything else would work out; to get that he'd insist on a face to face meeting. He wanted to see the man; the man who'd been to source of so much aggravation.

-----------

A day and a half after they'd delivered Ryan Shawn got a call on his cell phone. He chuckled as he sat across the big table from Kim, "So Ryan had been alert enough to remember to pass along the phone number."

Kim wasn't happy about what Shawn proposed to do, "Are you sure you want to meet with the guy?"

Shawn pushed his chair back and frowned, "The only way this can be worked out is with a face to face meeting with the one man who might be able to put a lid on this."

"You might be having a meeting with the man who plans on closing the lid of your coffin."

Shawn shrugged, "That's a possibility, but I'm betting he's not so sure of himself to make that big a decision."

Kim shook his head, "These people are animals. The best of them can't see their noses for their cheeks. He'll kill you and blame any fall out on the Bosa Nova."

"You're a creative kidder Kim. I think he'll take the money, try to negotiate, but in the end let me walk away."

Kim disagreed, "You said the key was in cutting off the head of the snake. This guy Oscar isn't the head. We already know that. We're not dealing with a snake. It's more like a hydra; a monster with many heads." Shawn started to interrupt but Kim held him off, "We're the snake with the single head. If they kill you we'll fall apart. You remember, the only thing that holds our happy little band together is you, "If you're." He blushed, "If you're gone, we all drift off."

"Kim." He answered, "If I'm gone and Susan's safe, and you're all financially secure, then my death is irrelevant."

Kim smacked his knuckles on the table, "You know that's not true. We're not like other people. You're the glue that holds our immediate community together, but the real connection is what we do when we're not here." Kim stopped talking and looked off in the distance, like he was gazing into some crystal ball, "You hear it don't you?"

Shawn was listening. He knew what was coming next.

Kim put his hands on the table and rocked back in his chair. "You hear it; the sounds of starving children their sad eyes and swollen bellies. You hear the women, breasts dried up with no more milk for their babies. You hear it, the pitiless sounds of gunfire as the warlord is herding some hapless family into a truck. You hear it, the rasping scrapes of primitive tools digging out another tiny grave. That's the connection Shawn. That's the glue that holds this little troop together." He got up, walked around the table and put his arms on Shawn's shoulders, "We're already overdue."

Shawn whispered, "Let me talk to this Oscar first."

Kim nodded, "Go ahead, but don't get killed."

----------

Camulos insisted they meet at one of his houses in the suburbs. Shawn was to go alone, unarmed, and fully prepared to speak for himself and anyone else he was affiliated with. Shawn's car pulled in the driveway late; it was well past 11:00 p.m. on Thursday night.

Two men stepped from the shadows. One opened Shawn's door, while the other offered to help him to the front door. Shawn declined their help and walked to the house unassisted. Once inside he was frisked and ushered into a back room, a library.

Oscar Camulos stood from behind the big mahogany desk that dominated the room. He stretched out a huge hand, "Good evening. My name is Oscar Camulos."

Shawn took his hand and shook it. Shawn's hand disappeared in the outstretched maw, "A pleasure to meet you sir."

Camulos responded, "I don't believe I got your name."

Shawn replied, "No you didn't. You wanted to make a deal?"

The giant commented, "Not a deal, a covenant."

"So speak." said Shawn.

"I want you and your associates out of my life, out of my world, out of my business."

Shawn sat still, "I have something for you; it's here in my pocket."

Camulos looked at Shawn's coat with reasoned alarm. He knew he'd been frisked. No one found anything, "Go ahead."

Shawn reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope, opening it he extracted a veritable mountain of cash. Leaving the envelope on the table he handed the money to Camulos, "There's $400,000.00 there. Add that to the money you were paid before you have received in the neighborhood of $570,000.00 for Susan Slattery's life."

Camulos was immediately taken aback. He knew about $50,000.00. There seemed to be an accounting error. Someone had been skimming. He'd get to that later. He eyed his opponent from across the table, "That's a lot of money for just one person."

Shawn answered, "That's all I can get. I'm all tapped out. If you want more you won't get any."

The crime boss reached over and took the pile of cash. "Then I guess it'll have to do. Rest assured Susan Slattery is safe now, and will be released shortly. No one on my end will ever bother her again."

Shawn leaned back, visibly relieved.

The crime boss leaned into the vacated space, "But that still leaves you. What are we going to do with you?"

Shawn knew this was coming. He had no more cards to play, and he half suspected the man across the table knew it. Shawn had planned for this; it was the gamble of a lifetime. He reflected on his childhood and adolescence. When he was young he was smaller than a lot of the boys. They'd try to push him around. He learned fast, when it came to fighting you didn't have to win, only be willing to fight. By the time he was seventeen the older bigger boys had learned to leave him alone. Not because they were afraid they couldn't take him, but because they knew he wasn't afraid of getting whipped. They learned Shawn McClellan could be beaten, but he wasn't afraid. Shawn might not be able to fight, but he had balls. That was the gamble. Did the man across the table respect a man with balls?

Shawn picked up the envelope again and reached inside it. He pulled out a bullet, and handed it to the man, "This is yours. Do what you want with it. Keep it as an insurance policy on my life. Or you could use it now. Kill me now. Kill me later, don't kill me. If you say Susan is safe, and I believe you when you say she is, then what happens to me no longer matters."

The big man took the bullet. It went to a 44 caliber Smith and Wesson, a good weapon, "You really don't care do you."

Shawn stared him down, "I want Susan to be safe and happy."

Camulos stared right back, "I can't guarantee the happiness. I can guarantee she'll never be bothered by people like me again. That still doesn't solve your problem."

Shawn shifted in his chair but said nothing.

Camulos explained where things stood, "If I let you live then there will be those who'll think either you've got something on me or that I'm weak. If they think the first they'll be looking for you. If they think the second they'll put a tag out on me. If you die my problem is solved, if you live you have to disappear, and disappear forever. Honestly, I think I'd rather have you alive but some place way out of the way. Someplace where I'd know where you were and could get a hold of you if I needed someone. Face it. You're good, very good. You still might have some utility."

Shawn stopped him, "I'll never kill for somebody else again."

Camulos shut him up, "You don't know what you'll want to do some day. Can you promise me that's you'll completely disappear, but stay in touch?"

"Why?"

Camulos was getting frustrated, "I don't know why. Don't be an asshole. I'm offering you your life. You didn't kill the Slattery girl. What made you decide to let her live? I mean at first, that first day. Don't give me any bullshit. I'll tell you something. You don't know why, but on that day, that girl, got a reprieve. You decided and that was that.

Shawn was mute. He thought about her on that first day. He remembered. He remembered there had been no confusion. He had just decided not to decide. He liked her, and that was all. A day or two later she was as safe as the Pope in the Vatican. It just happened.

Camulos got up, "What do you want. I need to know now."

Shawn looked up from his chair, "I want to live."

The man tossed the bullet back. "I'm picking up the woman in a little while. I know you won't mind if I meet the girl. She's been at the center of a lot of mischief. It's worth it to me to see someone worth so much money. When I'm through I'll call you and tell you where you can pick her up. After that you'll only have a few days; then you disappear."

Shawn was amazed at the decisiveness of the man. They shook hands.

Camulos looked at Shawn, "A covenant."

Shawn looked him in the eye, "A covenant."

Two of Camulos's men walked Shawn back to his car. He got in, cell phone at the ready, and drove away.

Camulos stepped out on his back porch. He had another car waiting, a small Japanese model, an older used car, his personal favorite. He put it in gear, popped the clutch, and spun out. He traveled along at a steady rate till his phone rang. The woman had been cleaned up and was waiting at the house.

It was a half hour drive to where Susan was. He got there and honked the horn. A woman stepped to the porch. Camulos in his vehicle blinked his lights. Another woman, presumably Susan Slattery walked to the car,

Susan opened the door, got in, and sat down. She looked over at the man. His was a truly fearsome appearance. He was larger than she first thought he'd be. His face bore the scars of a harsh probably brutal life. He looked cruel, cynical, and mean. He terrified her.

Camulos looked over at the young woman. He could understand how a man like the one he'd been talking to could be turned by someone like this. She had a fresh clean appearance, a look that conferred an aura of chaste innocence. He liked what she had on. He half wished he hadn't agreed to leave her unharmed. She was the type he liked to humiliate and degrade. It would have been fun raping her and then turning her over to some of the men. He would have enjoyed stripping her clothes, then her purity, and then selling her into a life of prostitution. He'd keep an eye on her. Maybe he could get at her in some other way. Wouldn't that be a joke on the fool who'd spent so much money to keep her alive?

He had to keep those thoughts out of his mind for now. There was a time and place for everything. Every man, every woman had a price. He bet he could find out hers; right now though he had to turn her over to the fish. He looked over and grinned evilly, "I'm taking you to your hero."

Susan was afraid of this man. If there was ever anyone who looked dangerous it was him. She had thought Shawn was a monster, she believed the men who held her in that shit hole bedroom were monsters, but now she knew what a monster really looked like. This man was the devil incarnate. Looking at this man was like looking into the face of pure unalloyed evil. She didn't say anything. He terrified her into silence.

As they drove along he made an attempt at small talk, "I've been wondering who you were, what you might look like."

She kept to herself.

He went on, "People said you were beautiful. They weren't lying."

She didn't say anything. When he used the word beautiful it sounded dirty.

He added, "For half the money he paid for you I'd break the deal and take you right here."

She squeezed back against the door. Her palms were sweaty. He was frightening her. She was perspiring under her clothes.

He smiled at her again. His smile wasn't lascivious or dirty like some typically foul mouth crud. His smile was pure malevolence. In her mind's eye she could see him hurting her. She cringed back further against the door. His face had a wolfish, no more a rat like appearance.

He leaned back. He put his arm on the back of his seat. His hand hung from the seat loosely.

She grimaced at the sight of his hand dangling from the cuff of his shirt. His nails were neatly manicured, too neatly manicured. There were no calluses, no indications of ever having done any real work. They were big hands, but they had an elfin claw like look. She fantasized blood dripping from those hands, the blood of innocent people.

She reflected on Shawn, her first kidnapper. His hands had frightened her too, but they had a manly well used look, the look of hands that had been in the sun, that had worked, hands that had been used to build not just destroy. This man's hands had longish talon like fingers. Those fingers had a rapacious look; like they were designed to tear the flesh, rip muscle from bone.

Susan had never seen anyone with so many marks of evil, so many evil expressions.

He spoke once more, "I wanted to see what a $470,000.00 woman looked like." He smiled that awful evil smile again. "You're not worth it."

She clung to the side of the car and rode along in silence.

He made no effort to talk again. After another twenty minutes or so they reached a side road. He made a turn, and then another. He looked over at her, "This is where you get out."

She didn't hesitate. She almost jumped from the car. She watched as he sped away.

Susan wasn't sure how long she'd stood on the edge of that dusty dark side road. It was a cold evening. Her clothes weren't designed for this type of weather. She felt the damp air filter up between her legs. There was a cold breath of night air that made her nipples press against the soft material of the brassiere and the blouse. She felt so tired. Tears welled up in her eyes.

It couldn't have been long, it just seemed that way. Down the lane she saw the headlights of another vehicle. She wondered who it was. She hoped it was someone sent to pick her up and take her home. She wanted to go home, lie down in her bed, pull the covers over her head and sleep forever.

Susan wondered who her rescuer would be. It might be one of her employees, perhaps another lawyer, maybe it was a policeman. Anybody would be welcome after riding with that awful man. The car pulled closer. She recognized the driver was a man. He stopped the car, whoever it was leaned forward and pushed open the door. Susan looked inside. She gave a little gasp. It was Shawn!

Susan felt totally numb, lightheaded. Everything was a blur. Was she supposed to run or stand and fight? Someone spoke her name, "Susan get in the car."

She stepped back just a little. She felt herself crumpling to the ground.

Shawn was out of the car in an instant. He jumped the hood of the car, and caught her just as she was about to hit the ground. He whispered, "Susan come on. I'm here to take you home."

She couldn't seem to move. Her arms were like lead, legs like anchors. She felt trapped; somewhere between joy and fear, "Why you?" She asked. "Why are you here?"

He was cradling her head in his arms. His hands wiped loose strands of hair from her face. She looked so tired, so haggard, so utterly and completely exhausted, "Who else? Susan, Susan, answer me, who else was going to come?"