Two for Flinching (20 page)

“Uh huh, we’ve covered that,” I said. “Tell
me why you sent Q across the Rubicon for me?”

His face twisted in confusion. “What?”

“Q, Trey, and the boy in the Cutlass. You
sent them to my house.”

He opened his mouth, considered answering,
and closed it. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Fuck you.” He
looked up and smiled. “You ain’t going to do nothing. Nero would,
but not you. And you won’t let Nero.”

I nodded. “I know when you see me, you see an
ex-cop. The worst I’ll do is maybe slap you around.”

Jeremiah grinned.

“What you don’t see is the man who yanked
Taliban and Al Qaeda out of their homes and got what he needed from
them. You remember, a few years back, all those stories about water
boarding and torture?”

For the first time, fear crossed his face,
sweat popping out on his bald head.

“I was
trained
to do that. That was my
job.
And I was pretty damn good at it.” I paused, the cold
filling my soul. “You’re right, though, I won’t be doing that.”

Jeremiah raised a cautious eyebrow.

“The reason is, people will tell you anything
in those circumstances. They will do
anything
to get out of
that pain. You, me—even Nero. When the pain gets bad enough—and it
will—you can’t get them to shut up. And unless you have some way to
verify the intelligence, you can’t sift the wheat from the chaff.”
A partial truth. The whole truth was that I was unwilling to trade
my soul for another man’s. Not again. “Tell me about Trey.”

Jeremiah shook his head. “Man, I didn’t send
Trey after you.”

“No?’

“Fuck no. That boy couldn’t find his ass with
both hands. If I was coming after you,
I
would be coming
after you.”

I had to admit, it held the ring of truth.
Jeremiah would have come. And he wouldn’t have come alone. “Maybe
you can explain it to me.”

“Word is, ya’ll had some problems at the gas
station. He came to me for the green light and I told him you would
light his ass up.”

“What about four years ago?”

“What?”

“My partner. You have anything to do with him
missing?”

“You back on that? I done told you I’m not
stupid enough to go after police.”

I turned and started across the factory
floor.

“Where you going?”

“Verifying the intelligence.”

Jajuan gave me the same dead stare.

“You know Trey and two of his boys came at me
last night?”

“What?” Sincere surprise. “That’s what this
is about?”

“My house,” I said. “The home I share with my
daughter.”

His head was shaking before I finished. “No
way. If we was gonna get at you, it wouldn’t be in some white bread
neighborhood. And it wouldn’t be Trey. You really think you
could’ve grabbed us so easy if we had declared war on you? We know
you. And we know Nero.”

“You remember when I came and talked with
Jeremiah?”

“Yeah?”

“He take out my partner?”

“No. We don’t know nothing about that.”

I watched him, waiting.

“What?”

“If Jeremiah gets gone,” I said, “you’ll take
over.”

“Fuck that shit.” Jajuan smiled. “I’m having
too much fun to be the man.”

“Are we going to have a problem?”

“Naw, man. We cool. Matter of fact, I
appreciate you grabbing us like this,” he said. “If it had been me,
I would’ve just dropped your ass.”

“You’re welcome,” I said and walked back to
Jeremiah. Nero didn’t seem to have moved. “What are we going to
do?”

“About what?”

“Us,” I said. “You.”

I could see Jeremiah going through the
options in his head. He chose to talk his way back into the living.
“You grabbed me and my boy because you thought we put Trey on
you?”

“Yes.”

“I can understand that.” He nodded. “Don’t
care for it, still pissed about it, but I understand it.”

“That’s a start.”

Jeremiah wiped a hand over his face. “What
you gonna do in the way of reparations?”

“Let you live.”

Jeremiah grunted. “Okay. We cool.”

“I don’t think we are,” I said. “Not
yet.”

“Not yet?”

“There was this day, couple years ago back in
sandland, I was chasing hajji into this valley. About twenty of
them, nothing special, we just rolled up on them while they were
putting out IED’s on the road. Scruffy, tired, dirty, no idea what
they were fighting for, some guy in a turban giving them twenty
dollars apiece to mine the road. They had to go, or they would just
come back and do it again.”

I remembered that day. Hot, wind blowing sand
all over us, the Humvees bouncing on the dirt track, the machine
guns spitting out death. The young men falling bloody to the
ground.

“This sniper opened up on us from the village
behind us. Hit one of my boys in the back, didn’t kill him, but he
got a ticket home. Purple heart and all that. You know what I
did?”

“What?”

“I called in an airstrike. I knew there were
women and children and old people with nothing to do with this, but
I called it in anyway. You know why?”

Disdain filled his face. “Because you a bad
muthafucka.”

I ignored him. “Because they were a threat. I
flattened that entire village, probably thirty people in there,
because one asshole was taking potshots at us. I’d do it again,
too.” I paused, watching the sweat roll off his face to the floor.
“What I have to decide now, Jeremiah, are you going to be a
threat?”

He swallowed, licked his dry lips. “No,” he
said softly.

“Because if you ever become one,” I looked to
Nero, “I’ll call in another airstrike. If I can’t get to you
first.”

Nero nodded once.

“We good, Camp.” The voice was on the verge
of pleading.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “For
now.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“You gonna tell me I’m making a
mistake?”

“Wouldn’t do any good.”

It was cold out, one of those days where the
temperature plummeted as the day went on. Nero and I were standing
on the loading dock. I was freezing, on the verge of shaking. Nero
didn’t seem to notice.
Ah, to be young again.

“You think he sent Trey?”

Nero shook his head.

“You were pretty sure about it last
night.”

“No. I said we had to move fast. Once
Jeremiah found out Trey went after you, he would have to go to
lockdown. Wouldn’t matter if he sent him or not.”

“I can’t take an innocent life. Not
anymore.”

“Jeremiah be far from innocent,” Nero said,
“and Jajuan ain’t no altar boy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

“You think it’s over?”

“Maybe. One thing is for sure.”

“What’s that?”

“You didn’t make any friends.”

“You neither.”

Nero grinned.

Jeremiah and Jajuan stumbled out of the
factory behind us.

Jeremiah said, “It’s damn cold.”

Jajuan said, “You gonna gimme my piece
back?”

I said, “No.”

Jeremiah stood next to Nero, stomping his
feet. “You said snatching niggas was half of what you did over
there?”

“Yeah.”

“What was the other half?”

Nero looked to Jeremiah, his face unchanging.
“Taking out niggas that couldn’t help us.”

***

I was in the office, boots on the desk,
lights turned off. I was tired, but not exhausted, not the type of
bone tired you might expect after taking part in the killing of
three men and the kidnapping of two others. I had once stayed awake
for four complete days, ninety-six hours, chasing a particularly
nasty Al Qaeda band—and being chased by them. And that had been
without coffee.

A tap at the door, no warning footsteps on
the metal stairs, and Nero stepped soundlessly into the room. He
went to the table in the corner and poured himself a cup of coffee
before taking one of the ancient visitor’s chairs across from the
desk.

“They glad to be home?”

He said, “Seemed to be.”

“Better than the alternative.”

“For them.”

“I’d rather you not kill them.”

Nero shook his head. “Too late for that
now.”

“What do you think they will do?”

Nero shrugged. “Weren’t you the one who told
me to plan for what the enemy can do, not what you think they will
do?”

“Doesn’t hurt to take it into
consideration.”

“I
think
Jeremiah will act as if it
never happened. It would show weakness if word got out. Jajuan
won’t want anybody to know he got jacked by a cracker like
you.”

I nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“I be keeping an ear open anyway.”

“Also what I was thinking.”

The outside stairs creaked and a moment
later, Melvin Jenks came into the office. He stopped when he saw
Nero in the chair. “Sorry, Beason, I didn’t know you had an
appointment. I’ll come back.”

“It’s okay, Melvin. Melvin, Nero. Nero,
Melvin.”

“Morning, Mr. Jenks.”

Melvin was taken back. A little. He stuck out
his hand. “Glad to meet you, Nero. Please, call me Melvin.”

Nero stood, shook hands and sat back
down.

“Nero here gonna help you out with those two
clowns?”

Nero looked to me. “What clowns?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing to worry
about.”

“That fat fellow may be nothing, but if I was
you, I’d keep an eye on the little one. He’s dangerous.”

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Melvin was in chinos and a polo. “Today is
Friday.”

“Oh,” I said. “My bad.”

“Fridays are for golf and it’s too cold to
golf.”

“I never knew being a bank president was such
a tough job.”

Melvin paused, reached back with an imaginary
club and swung it through. I don’t know much about golf, but it
looked like a pretty good swing. “Part of the job,” Melvin said.
“Being a member of the country club, making contacts and building
relationships, that’s what golf is all about.”

“I thought it was all about chasing that
little white ball.”

“Not even close. Nero, do you play?”

“Occasionally.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Maybe you would like to join me on the links
one day.”

“Sure. You gonna invite Beason?”

“Beason doesn’t play golf.”

Melvin Jenks was smarter than I had given
him credit for.
First noticing Providence was the true threat
and then divining that I had never picked up a club that wasn’t on
carpet. “What do you need, Melvin?”

He took another practice swing before
answering. “Cynthia is letting me take the kids out tonight.”

“Well, they are your kids, too.”

“I think it was more of a symbolic gesture,”
he said. “She’s softening her attitude towards me.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” he said. “What do you think we should
do?”

“I don’t know, Melvin. They’re not my
kids.”

“Seems like we are always going to some
practice or another for a game or performance.” He frowned. “To be
honest, though, the children have drifted away. Or rather, I’ve
drifted away while they were growing up. Too busy with my rise to
the top, earning civic awards and such. A father shouldn’t let that
happen.”

“No.”

“So what should we do?”

“Movies are always good.”

Melvin snapped his fingers. “That’s a great
idea, Beason. I knew you could help.”

“Glad to be of service.”

Melvin darkened, going wistful. “You know,
Cynthia and I’s first date was to the movies.”

How was I supposed to know that?

“King Ralph. I don’t remember much about it.
Had that guy that was Roseanne’s husband. You remember that
show?”

“Vaguely.”

“I bought the DVD a couple of years ago,
found it on Amazon. Cynthia and I were going to watch it—for
nostalgia—but we never got around to it.”

“Maybe you could watch it with her
tomorrow.”

Another snap, followed by a point. “Damn,
Beason. You’re the best, you know that?”

“Actually, I do.”

“Gotta run.” He stuck his hand again to Nero.
“Nice to meet you. Soon as it warms up, call the bank and we’ll hit
the course.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll call you, Beason,” Melvin promised,
“let you know how it all goes.”

“Thanks.”

Alone, Nero said, “What was that all
about?”

“Don’t ask.” I swung my legs from the desk.
“Lock up when you’re done. I’m calling it a day.”

“It ain’t even noon.”

“Didn’t you hear the man? It’s Friday.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Daddy?” Her eyes were wide with surprise.
“What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick you up, baby.”

“We haven’t had nap time.”

“I thought we could take a nap at home,” I
said. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since I had
seen her, Sarah’s simple beauty struck me. Long hair carefully
brushed (if inexpertly) tiny white teeth, dark eyes that would
someday drive the boys crazy.
Someday in the far, far,
future.
“I can come back.”

“I’ll get my stuff.” She went to her cubby,
dragged out her jacket—and a stack of papers and a popsicle stick
project. I knelt, picking it up as she struggled into her pink
jacket and then the Dora the Explorer backpack. Her teacher, Miss
Gladys, a middle aged woman who made me cringe whenever she walked
to the Jeep, gave me a kindly smile. Fear crept in. “How has she
done this week?”

“She’s an angel.”

“Right.”

“Mr. Camp?”

“Ma’am?”

“We haven’t received her tuition this month.
We sent home a letter…”

“Sorry. I’ll put a check in her bag
Monday.”

“If there is a problem, I’m sure we could
work something out.”