Stash (25 page)

“That’s probably true, although he can make recommendations based on what he finds out.”

“Do they have anything on Gates?”

“I haven’t heard of anything, but they’ll keep close to the vest whatever they find.”

“It shouldn’t make a difference whether or not they get anything on Gates,” Brian said. “The agreement wasn’t give us the name and if he’s a drug dealer we’ll drop charges against you. It was just give us the name.”

“I’m sure this is frustrating for both you and Gwen and difficult
to hear me say be patient, but that’s really what’s needed. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is so minor that the DA’s office has put it at the bottom of the pile.”

“It’s not minor to us. Gwen is very upset.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll give Bob a call right now—Judge Donovan. He knows the DA well and can give a nudge. But really, Brian, I’m confident of this just going away in a few days’ time.”

“That’s what you said last time, when Gwen was first arrested.”

Jude handed over a gym bag containing the cash—Sweet’s down payment and most of Jude’s own reserves. Gil said, “Back your van near the loading dock but leave room to swing the doors open.”

Jude did as instructed and got out and waited by the van with Gil, who smoked and kicked at a broken fist of tar on the ground with his pointy black shoes. A pale maize glow from the sodium lights tinged the night air.

The loading dock door rose on its mechanical chain. A dishwasher in a soiled apron and sporting a flame tattoo curling up one side of his neck wheeled out a hand dolly stacked with cardboard boxes. He bumped the dolly down one stair at a time, crouching to keep the cargo balanced.

Jude climbed in the back of the van and folded down a wire shelving rack lining the passenger side wall. He loosened a panel on either side wall by gripping two plastic extrusions and raising up, then pulling toward him to free the bottom. The side panels slid out with a practiced back-and-forth maneuver. He handed one and then the other out to the dishwasher.

The walls weren’t the secret. The floor was. With the side panels removed, Jude reached in and pulled at the floor and Gil wedged his cigarette between his lips and helped on one side. They slid the floor out together to reveal a storage well six inches
deep running the length and width of the hold, its interior padded with layers of charcoal scent-lock fabric, cushy as a coffin.

Jude returned to the dolly and opened the top box. He removed packages the size of bread loaves wrapped in white butcher paper and began lining them in the well of the van. Coke and crack, heroin, X, Vicodin, bennies, barbs, HGH, and GHB—the last two new products for Jude to carry because Sweet had been the first to ask.

They finished and Jude reassembled the floor and sides, and it appeared to be an empty van. Gil had gone inside and now came out with Roxanne. She carried an overnight bag on her shoulder and wore a leather jacket with an imitation fur collar. She looked scared until she saw Jude and her face relaxed.

“She have a passport or identification?”

“We didn’t discuss anything about a passport,” Gil said. “You said it would be easy.”

“Easy at the border, but once she’s in the States she might need documentation to stay.”

Gil shrugged. “I thought you had a place for her all arranged.”

“I do.” He didn’t like this part of the deal but you had to feed the lion guarding the gate and in this case the lion was Leonard Deitch.

“It’s okay,” Jude said. “I know someone who can fix her up.”

Gil turned to Roxanne. “Jude will take you to your new husband. He will take care of you and you will be an American.” He repeated himself in French. Jude didn’t know if she’d understood either version. She nodded but her expression did not change.

Jude went around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. He shook hands with Gil, got in the driver’s side, and started back to the U.S.

While driving he glanced her way for the first good look he’d gotten of her outside of the hotel room. She was young and pretty
with dark hooded eyes and a small, flat nose and a scar the size of a staple across her chin.

He crossed the bridge leading out of the city; the lights of a passing freighter steering in from the St. Lawrence Seaway blinked below. Maybe earlier in her adventure Roxanne had gotten into Canada stowed away on one of those ships, and now she’s in a van headed for the U.S. and the future husband waiting for her there. He hoped he was taking her to a better place than she’d been, but couldn’t be sure.

When he approached customs, there was more traffic than he had expected. A uniformed official directed the cars to various lanes. He pointed his arm for Jude to go left toward lanes six or seven. That wouldn’t work. Jude would have to run him over or get into another lane and then steer around the uniform back to Leonard’s lane four. Either way he drew unwanted attention.

He hesitated and the official kept motioning him to the left.

“Move, move, move!”

He started left, swung around the official, and steered back into lane four. He caught a glimpse of the uniform in the side mirror, his mouth yelling something Jude couldn’t hear. He started toward the van but the traffic behind Jude moved forward with each driver making his own choice about lanes, and the official abandoned Jude and turned back to sort out the oncoming.

Safely in lane four. About eight or ten cars ahead of him. He smiled at Roxanne, who looked nervous again, her worried brow creasing her creamy skin. He turned on the radio to fill the silence.

Finally Jude’s turn. He lowered his window and steered up to the booth and Leonard Deitch stared out at him, and then past him to Roxanne in the passenger seat. Deitch got off his stool and leaned closer. His night-shift breath blew in. Jude pressed into his seat.

Deitch made a sucking noise deep in his throat. “Even prettier than in the picture,” he said. He waved at Roxanne and said, “Hi, sweetie, I’m Len. I’ll be home real soon.”

“Your new husband,” Jude said.

The flash of dread that swept her face made clear she understood, but she quickly recovered to display a courageous smile, said hello, and bowed her head a touch. A man old enough to be her father or even grandfather, an insistent urge in his eyes.

Deitch stood straight and handed Jude an index card with directions written on it. He looked again at Roxanne. His smile was not unkind. “I’ll be home right after my shift, make yourself comfortable.”

Deitch stepped back toward the door of his booth and waved them through.

Jude had just erased a debt for his passage across the border and prepaid until Deitch retired or died.

He drove straight onto the Northway. He glanced down at the directions. Route 11 to Malone, left on Chester Road. That was toward Canton. If he weren’t carrying the stash in the hold, he’d visit Dana. He hadn’t heard from her about the cross-country meet and wondered if she was running. There was still a chance he could see her tomorrow in Plattsburgh. For now, he had to stick to a schedule in order to meet the impatient Mr. Sweet on time.

He drove for twenty minutes, up to and through the town of Malone, and only on the other side when the number of storefronts and houses dwindled did he remember to look for the turnoff on Chester Road. He glanced at the directions again. He had missed the turn. Where was his focus today? He couldn’t be careless like this, even if it were only following road directions. He U-turned and headed back through the town. He stopped at a Stewart’s and went in for a coffee and bought two and returned to
the van and handed one to Roxanne. She took it and said, “I find toilet.”

He pointed to the side of the building where the restrooms were. She stayed in the bathroom for a long time and he wondered if she’d tried to run off, whether there was another door into the store and she’d slipped out from there. He got out and knocked on the restroom door and she immediately opened it and came out. The edges of her hair were wet from washing her face. She’d touched up her makeup. She said nothing and got back in the car.

He pulled onto Route 11 tracing the way he’d come, driving slowly, finding Chester Road two miles back and turning onto it. The road bisected fields on either side and they passed a barn and farmhouse and then the road curved and started climbing into hills and became dirt and gravel through a canopy of hardwoods beginning to turn. The next instruction said to turn left at the T.

He came to the T and the road worsened with two narrow tracks for the tires. They bounced along through water-filled ruts. Roxanne held her coffee away from her to keep from spilling. She looked at him doubtfully as if to ask had he made a wrong turn. Jude continued on and branches scraped along the top and sides of the van.

The road dipped and leveled, ending in a packed-dirt clearing. The sun had risen above the treetops now and the leaves shone but the squalor could not be abated by autumn’s early color. Junk lay strewn about the yard like the aftermath of a blast. Leaning towers of wheel rims and piles of old tires and faded, cracked lumber of every dimension lying under a tarp half blown away. Mechanical parts and scraps of metal welded together into spidery shapes. A rock pile fireplace with blackened chunks of logs and ashes in its center. Two pairs of buck antlers screwed to the drip edge of a shed stacked with firewood.

The house was worse. Once a single-wide modular, additions now grew from it like tumors. A lopsided porch with a corrugated plastic roof. A room annexed to one end never sided beyond the tar paper, windows left untrimmed. There were no neighbors except trees and beyond the trees more and deeper and thicker woods.

For a moment he considered turning around and taking Roxanne with him. How in his right mind could he leave this poor girl here? But he had no choice, really. If he didn’t fulfill this part of the bargain, the supply chain would break and everything would fall apart, he would fail at his goal.

He got out of the van and started toward the house. Roxanne stayed in her seat. Something moved from around the side of the house. A muscular German shepherd loped toward Jude, head pitched down but eyes up and ready. Jude tensed his fists, but the dog just sniffed and stood there.

He went back to the van and escorted Roxanne out. She let him lead her, pliant as tissue. He opened the door to the house and the shepherd stayed back, watching.

More of the same on the inside plus the smell of disinfectant. On a hook near the door was a blackjack and pair of handcuffs hanging with a U.S. Customs hat, a dog collar and leash for the shepherd. He motioned to a ratty couch across from a television the size of a sheet of plywood and he said she should sit and wait, Len would be home soon. She took a seat as she was told, at the edge of the cushion, clutching her bag to her chest. Her lip trembled.

There was a folded note on a chipped coffee table in front of the couch. Jude picked it up.
To my new wife
.

He unfolded the note and read it out loud.
Make yourself at home. I will see you soon. Fondly, Len
.

Jude told her everything would be fine, Leonard was a good man.

He turned and went back to his van without looking at her again. Somewhere on the other side of the world she had dreamed of reaching America and the dream could not have included this place where she ended up. Maybe she would brighten the rooms, add a woman’s touch and nice paint, cook meals for Leonard and he would care for her and love her and they would become a family. Maybe he wouldn’t cuff her to the table or put that dog collar on her and do what he once did as a conscripted warrior unleashed and unabated in the Vietnamese jungle half a world away. Who was Jude to say there was no hope, although despair hammered him now for leaving Roxanne to an unknown fate.

Jude called Aaron twice from the van. The first time Jude woke him. Twenty minutes later he called again. Write a note to yourself if you have to, he told Aaron. Just don’t greet me with a shotgun pointed out the door.

When he arrived, there was an unfamiliar truck parked in front of the cabin. Jude pulled in behind the big silver Tundra, blocking it in. He stayed in the van, waiting.

Aaron came out to greet him.

“That yours?”

“Just got it in Placid.”

“All-wheel drive?”

“With the V8.”

“You should get a plow put on for winter.”

“I’m planning to.”

“How many pounds did we get in all?” Jude asked.

“Thirty-two. Got it all ready.”

Thirty-two pounds. If he could run this deal every ninety days with Sweet he could clear his goal in less than a year. He used to
buy from a guy in Boston, but the quality and source varied. Mexican, skunk weed, hothouse, his Boston guy just another broker taking his cut. The price went up and down, as did Jude’s profit. But demand for hay was growing, everyone seemed to be getting high again; there was opportunity he couldn’t fulfill using his Boston connection. That’s what got him thinking about the old hunting cabin that had been in Claire’s family before Jude had known her. When her father died, the place passed to her and by proxy to Jude, although the name on the deed and in the tax rolls was still Claire Dumont. For years the property lay neglected. When he went to check it out, he realized the cabin could make a viable operation; it had good water and a propane tank, although a new generator would need to be installed for electricity. It wasn’t hooked to the grid. There were no neighbors in view. He just needed someone to operate it. He met that someone on a flight from Washington, a former soldier returning to his boyhood home in upstate New York, minus part of his face and future prospects. A kid all alone who managed a painkiller habit reasonably well, who might stick around for a year or two, long enough for Jude to fill the treasure chest. Worth a try.

Although recently Jude had begun to question his decision to own the means of production. The last few times Jude had seen him, Aaron seemed to be bolting awake from a bad dream. Lost in space and then suddenly jumpy. Hitting his Vicodin too hard or suffering from traumatic brain injury or both or more. Plus that incident with the shotgun. The kid could be getting too unstable.