The Predators (28 page)

“They’re on to us?” I asked, my stomach a little knotted.

“Not that,” he said irritably. “I’ve just heard from the blue suit that they have all of the cars they need from us. The order is to shut everything down.”

“We’ve only given them forty cars,” I said. “That’s all they need?”

“They’re all shipped to Corsica. It’s a small island. That’s a lot of cars for them.”

“But I have fifteen jeeps in the garage that we are ready to repair. And what about the extra men we brought back for them?” I asked.

“Blue suit says you should send orders to ship them back to their original units. He says it’s already taken care of and it won’t be any problem for you. He said that they all made a lot of money. None of them will complain.” He looked at me. “Now we can go back to our original idea. We’ll be able to sell those fifteen cars in a minute.”

I lit a cigarette. “I’m not worried about the cars. I’m worried about the men. What can I tell them?”

“Tell them the truth. They’ll shut up and leave. They know they can’t talk about it; otherwise, they will wind up in big trouble too.”

“You know, Paul,” I said, “you’re talking like an American. Where did you get that?”

“In my business. I had to learn and think like an American, as a Frenchman. It’s not easy!” He laughed. “Let’s have a cognac. We’ll make everything right.” He gestured to a waitress, who brought our cognacs without a word. “What is your plan after all of this is over? Are you and Giselle marrying?”

We clinked our glasses.
“Salut.”
I smiled at him. “Giselle and I want to be together, but neither of us has spoken about marriage.”

“Après la guerre,”
he said, “you can stay here in France. There are many things you can do. Many opportunities.”

“But I don’t speak French,” I said. “What kind of work or job would I be able to do? Nobody could understand me.”

“You’ll be able to learn to speak French quickly enough,” he said. “And if you stay here after the war I’ll help you.”

“Paul,” I asked, “Do you have something in mind?”

“I have a few ideas,” he answered. “But we must wait until the time is right.”

I looked at him for a moment. “Meanwhile, I still have fifteen jeeps I’ll need to get rid of,” I said. “And I’ll be losing more than fifty percent of my workers.”

“We can get them sold the same way that we did before. We can sell at least two a week.” Paul smiled. “There will still be a shortage of cars for the average Frenchman and I can get in touch with the right people to move the cars.” He looked down at his watch. “Giselle will be coming down soon. Just relax and go home. Everything will be fine.”

*   *   *

The next morning I told the men the bad news. Much to my surprise, most of them didn’t complain. They were looking to go back to their own army groups. They all had seniority in their division and the word was that they would be the first to be shipped home for discharge.

Buddy was the only one who was pissed off. He had planned to go home from France, even though Ulla was going back to Norway; he didn’t want to be with his division because of his low discharge priority.

“You have to get to the colonel,” Buddy said desperately. “I don’t care how much it costs. I have to get home before Ulla and the baby get there.”

“What are you so hot about?” I asked. “Maybe it will be better if you can all go home together.”

Buddy lit a cigarette and shook his head at me. “You’re an asshole,” he said. “Do you think if it wasn’t important that I would be this hot?” He took a deep lungful of smoke and then let it come out slowly. “I have a girl that I married in Harlem before I went into the army. I thought it would get me out of the draft, but I was stupid. I’ve got nothing but grief from that cunt. Now I have to get divorced from her or kill her before Ulla gets to the States.”

I stared at him. “And I thought I was in the shithouse.”

“Then you’ll go to the old man?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’ll go.”

He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “We’ve been friends a long time,” he said. “I appreciate you helping me out. You know that anything that I can do for you, all you have to do is say the word.”

*   *   *

Late that night after Giselle and I had gone back to the apartment we sat at the table having a coffee. “Paul told me what was going on.”

“He talks a lot to you,” I said.

“I told you we go back with family,” she said. “He wants you to stay in France. Do you want to?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “The only thing I know is that I want to be with you. But I don’t know what I can do here.”

“Paul said that he will help your friend Buddy to stay in France and go from here to the States, if you will stay here in France after your discharge.” She looked as if she were close to tears. “I want you to stay here, Jerry. I know you can find something to do.”

I leaned across the table and cupped her face in my hands. “I will try, Giselle.” Then I kissed her warm lips and we went into the bedroom.

Quickly, we threw our clothes on the floor and, naked, rolled onto the bed. With my fingers I opened her pussy. My cock was already dripping as I drove into her.

She gasped. “Jerree! Give me your baby! Come inside and make many children inside me. I love you, I love you!”

I felt her fingernails tearing into my buttocks. Then I felt my body shuddering and I opened my mouth to gasp in air as my orgasm tore through me and I felt my life essence pouring into her. “My God! My God!” I collapsed like dead weight on top of her. Our bodies were pouring sweat.

She pulled my face to her and kissed me. “I really love you, Jerree,” she whispered. Her tears were wet on my face.

18

It was almost a week later that I had my last meeting with blue suit and gray suit. It was in a small curtained-off corner table in the Blue Note. This was different than any other meeting. The Frenchmen were in uniform. The gray suit was dressed in the French army brigadier general’s uniform and the blue suit was in the gray Sûreté police uniform with a hard round hat and two braids on the shoulder. Paul brought me to their table. This was a section of the club in which I never sat. It was the homos’ side of the runway.

When Paul brought me to the table the two Frenchmen stayed in their chairs. I saluted them and “yes sir’d” them to death. There was a bottle of cognac on the table before them, and the general poured a drink for Paul and myself.
“Salut!”
he toasted.

“Salut!”
we answered.

The policeman looked at me. “We are very pleased with your assignment. It went very well.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

The general spoke to me. “Have all your extra personnel returned to their divisions?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “All except one. He was in my platoon since before we came to France.”

The policeman looked at me. “The one who had been transferred to Norway?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Why didn’t you send him back to Norway?” the general asked.

“He wanted to stay here,” I said, looking to Paul for help. “He was originally transferred because he had a problem with the MPs while driving our commanding officer to an off-limits club.”

The policeman smiled. “Your friend was sent to Norway to cover up the incident?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Did you arrange that transfer?”

“No, sir,” I answered. “That was not my jurisdiction at the time.”

“But you knew that your commanding officer arranged for the transfer?” the general asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Do you think that your friend is trustworthy and can keep his mouth shut?” the policeman asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

They turned to Paul. “What do you think?” the general asked.

“Jerry and he have been friends since long before the war started,” he said. “I have no doubt that they can both be trusted.”

This time it was the policeman who poured the drinks.
“Salut!”

“Salut!”
I returned and toasted.

The general then pushed an envelope across the table to me. “This is a bonus in appreciation for a job well done.”

I picked up the envelope. It felt full and thick with banknotes. “It is not necessary, but I thank you for your generosity, gentlemen.”

The policeman smiled. “And I want you to know that you will not be bothered by any of the authorities if you choose to sell the rest of the jeeps on the street.”

“Thank you, sir,” I answered.

We all stood up and shook hands formally as they left. Paul and I returned to our chairs. The envelope was still lying on the table.

I picked it up and opened it. I counted the bills. Five thousand U.S. dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills. I looked at Paul. “I think they meant for half of this to go to you.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been taken care of already. This money is all yours.”

I whistled softly. “This is crazy,” I said. “This will make over twenty-five thousand dollars from the time we started to now.”

“Let me assure you,” Paul said. “There was a lot of money made for those two if you made that much. You owe them nothing. You are safe; they will not forget your help.”

“I don’t know how to hide this from the American authorities,” I said.

“Why not do the same thing Buddy did?” Paul asked.

“But he’s married. He’s covered it by giving it to his wife,” I said.

“Giselle could hide it for you,” Paul said.

“But we’re not married,” I said.

“Giselle loves you—the money makes no difference to her. She’ll hide it for you and protect you.” Paul smiled.

I thought about Kitty and how she had protected me.

“I’d offer to hold it for you, but that would not be safe. I’m Corsican and too many people in the French government know that I’m close to the separatist movement. If there is ever a problem, they’ll wipe me out and I’ll lose everything.”

“Christ,” I said sympathetically. “I don’t understand it.”

Paul nodded. “That is the way of the world. The Irish fight the English. The Jews fight the Arabs. There will always be people fighting for their own country. They always believe that it will bring them freedom. Even your own Civil War should tell that to you.”

“Great,” I said sarcastically. “Thanks for the history lesson, but that has nothing to do with my money. I still don’t know how to hide my money.”

“You could always be honest about it.” He laughed. “Tell them you got the money gambling. Then you can pay your taxes and there will be no problem. Of course, you may not have much money afterward, but you will be honest.”

“Shit,” I said. “You’re laughing at me.”

“Of course I am,” he said. “If you can’t trust Giselle there is no one in the world you can trust.” He got up from the table. “If you want my advice, talk to Giselle tonight.”

I stared after him as he walked through the club to the backstage area. The son of a bitch was right. There was nothing else I could do. I didn’t want to be cleaned out like I was when Uncle Harry and Kitty did their number on me. Giselle was the only person I could trust.

19

It was the end of April. Exactly April 30. It was eleven at night and I was sitting at the Blue Note at Paul’s table waiting until Giselle did her turn and we could go home. I was nursing a beer when a voice came from behind me. “Sergeant Cooper.”

I knew the voice. I stood up and saluted. “Colonel.”

“At ease, Sergeant,” he said, and sat down.

“Yes, sir,” I said, also sitting. “May I offer you a drink, sir?”

“Thank you, Cooper,” he answered. “Do you think they have any Canadian rye in this place?”

“I can ask,” I answered, gesturing to a waitress. But Paul was faster. He came quickly from backstage before the waitress could come to the table.

“Colonel.” He smiled. “I’m happy to see you again.”

Paul was great. He hadn’t seen the colonel since Buddy brought him into the club months ago. “The colonel wants to know if you have any Canadian rye whiskey,” I said.

Paul was apologetic. “No, sir. But I do have American bourbon.”

“Okay,” the colonel answered. “Thank you. Also some ginger ale.”

“Right away, sir,” Paul answered.

The colonel looked at him. “I have to talk with the sergeant privately.”

“My office is at your service, Colonel.” Paul bowed. “No one will bother you there.”

Five minutes later we were sitting in Paul’s office. I had never seen it before. It was a small room but tastefully furnished. An antique desk, partly covered in leather with a chair to match. Across from the desk was a two-cushion leather couch. On the wall hung a few French theatrical prints and clown paintings.

The colonel took over the desk and its chair. Paul had placed a bottle of bourbon in front of him with a glass, ice, and ginger ale. He made himself a highball and then leaned over to me. “The war is almost over,” he said to me as though I had never heard anything about it.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“I have orders to close down this whole operation,” he said, making himself another drink.

I was silent.

“I know you still have about eleven jeeps that can be salvaged, as well as a few others that can only be used for extra parts.” He looked at me. “Have you any ideas about how we can use them?” he asked.

“I haven’t thought about it, sir,” I lied. I wasn’t about to tell him that I had already received permission from the Corsicans to sell them on the black market.

“I don’t know, either,” he said, again pouring himself another drink. “I’ve been transferred back to Detroit to set up the discharge headquarters for the platoon so we can get everybody out as fast as we got them in.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“I can take you back to the States with me, Sergeant,” he said. “I’ve received permission to bring certain help with me. I thought that you might be interested because you’ve done a good job with me and I wanted to show my appreciation.”

I looked at him. By this time his face was flushed and he was on the way to getting completely pissed. I was not that stupid. I knew the only reason he wanted to bring me back to the States was to make sure I couldn’t talk about the operation here after he left. Besides, I didn’t trust him. He drank too much and I couldn’t be sure that he would take me to the States.