Mac travis adventures bo.., p.31
Mac Travis Adventures BoxSet, page 31
part #4 of Mac Travis Series
“Hey,” he called to the bartender. “Send down a round, would ya?”
The only redeeming factor about Jimmy was his wallet. He was always flush with cash, buying him friends in a town where the natives barely got by. His means were unclear and his persona shady—also okay in a town that lived on the edge. The bartender set three glasses in front of them. Pamela finished her old one, pushed the glass forward, and started in on the new one, all without taking her eyes from the phone.
“So, whatcha been up to?” Trufante asked, feeling he owed him something now that he had bought a round.
“This and that. It’s Key West. Always an opportunity,” Jimmy said.
Trufante nodded his head. That was something he could relate to. Pamela swung around and, with a loud slurp and a giggle, finished her drink.
“Babe. You think we could get out of here? It’s a little creepy-crawly,” she said.
Jimmy appeared not to notice the comment was directed at him. He moved down the bar, slapped someone on the back, and reached around him, grabbing an oyster from the tray on the bar. He moved back to Trufante and Pamela, slurping the mollusk directly from the shell. Trufante felt a jab in his side, so he turned to the bartender and asked for the tab. Seconds later, as if the bartender couldn’t wait to get Jimmy away from his customers either, he handed Trufante a slip of paper.
“Here, babe, ya got it?” he asked, his smile back.
She gave him a vacant look. “My purse is in the saddlebags on your bike—back at TJ’s place.”
Trufante’s smile faded.
“We’ve been on boats, like, nonstop. I didn’t even think.”
“Tru, Tru, Tru.” Jimmy overheard the conversation and zeroed in for the kill. “Your old friend Jimmy knows you’re good for it. You just give me that coin, and I’ll hold it for collateral. From the looks of it, I could float you something extra on top.”
The something extra got his attention. After all, it was Key West. If he could put some cash in his pocket and rid himself of Jimmy, why not? It was just another old coin. He reached into his pocket and pulled the dull silver out. Just as he was about to hand it to Jimmy, Pamela stopped him.
“Let me get a picture of it. I’ll put it on Facebook, like we’re real treasure hunters,” she said, grabbing the coin and placing it on the bar. She stood hovering above it with her phone and took a picture of the front and back.
Jimmy reached in and grabbed it, biting it like a pirate before putting it in his pocket. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Close enough that Trufante could smell the horseradish from the oyster on his breath, he opened the wallet, wide enough for anyone nearby to see the stack of hundreds. With a flourish, he pulled out two and handed them to Trufante. “That’ll be three bills when you want it back,” he said, returning his wallet to his pocket.
“Three hundred? For two? That ain’t hardly right,” Trufante pleaded.
“Shit. A small price for saving your ass. I got no problem keeping the coin. Either way.” He turned and walked down the bar, grabbed another oyster, and continued his search for more victims.
“Come on, babe.” Trufante pocketed the money and led Pamela outside.
“Where we going now?” she asked. “You going to show me a good time in paradise? Sloppy Joe’s, The Bull, Hog’s Breath—let’s do it up.” She took his hand and started across the parking lot.
He pulled her back into a dark corner by the bar. “How ’bout a little Key West intrigue?”
“Intrigue? Like spy stuff?” She grinned. “That could be fun. Can we still get a drink?”
“As many as you want,” he said, pulling one of the hundreds from his pocket. “Why don’t you run on in there?” He pointed to another bar next door. “And get us a couple of drinks to go. I’ll keep an eye on our friend here.”
She took the money. “That guy creeps me out,” she said.
“We gotta help Alicia, and I got a feeling he’s gonna lead us right to her.”
“This isn’t going to get dangerous, is it? Like with those guys at the house?” she asked.
He leaned in close, flashing his vintage Cadillac grille smile. “Would I be asking you to get cocktails to bring to a knife fight?”
Reassured, she started bopping over to the bar. He turned to watch the door. Jimmy was seldom welcome anywhere for very long. He should be coming out any minute. As long as Pama-Bama-Jama got back with the drinks first, they were all good.
She came back from the bar carrying two large red cups and two miniatures. “Look, these are so cute, I had to get a couple.”
He took the small cup, being careful not to spill it. “Jell-O shots?” he asked.
“Party on.” She smiled and clinked the plastic cups together. They both placed their heads back and shook the Jell-O from the cup.
With the shot in his mouth, he reached in to kiss her, but Jimmy walked out of the bar, distracting him. Trufante took the larger cup and pulled her into the shadows.
“This spy stuff is fun,” she said, kissing him.
He almost gave into the temptation to close his eyes and enjoy it, but Jimmy was gone. Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss, giving her butt a hard squeeze. “007 here. Ready to roll?” If the spy stuff didn’t work, at least they’d have a good time.
Slowly, he moved out of the shadows. He looked down the street and saw Jimmy bending over to unlock a scooter.
“Shoot.”
“What’s wrong?” Pamela asked.
“We’ll never keep up with him,” he said, pointing to the scooter.
“There’s an app for that.” She pulled her phone out and pressed an icon. “Two minutes,” she said. Catching his confused look, she added, “Uber, dude.”
He drew a blank and was about to ask what she was talking about when a rickshaw pulled up at the corner. She grabbed his hand and led him toward it. The driver, sitting on a bicycle with a small cart behind it, greeted them. “Your Uber is here.”
Trufante was still confused when Pamela pulled him into the open seat behind the driver.
“I need your destination,” the driver, a rail thin man probably in his mid-thirties, said.
“How about we go off the clock and do a cash deal?” Pamela asked. “And the first thing would be a drink.”
“We got to keep him in sight.” Trufante pointed Jimmy out to the driver.
“Jimmy Bones?” the man asked.
Trufante had never heard his last name, and he laughed, sure that he had fabricated that along with the rest of his persona. Jimmy was on the scooter now and pulling into traffic.
“Yeah, follow that scum,” Trufante said, playing the odds that the driver probably didn’t like Jimmy either. Keeping him in sight was not a problem. It didn’t matter what you drove in Key West. A bicycle was as fast as a car on the narrow crowded streets, and the rickshaw had no problem keeping up with the scooter. Jimmy paused at the stop sign at Duval, and Pamela jumped out.
“I’m getting us a refill.” She grabbed his cup and ran across the street to a counter that called itself The Smallest Bar in the World.
He would have stopped her, but with the traffic cruising Duval, she would easily have the drinks in hand before they were able to cross. Finally, the driver found an opening, pedaled hard across the street, and picked her up on the other side. Trufante took the cups, and she hopped in, a huge grin on her face.
Jimmy was a block ahead of them. He crossed Whitehead and started weaving his way to the water. Trufante and Pamela sat back, watching the Victorian houses cruise by like any other tourist couple, except their destination would be determined by Jimmy Bones.
Mac crouched down by the dock, watching the trawler. From his position, the windows on Hawk’s boat were hidden behind equipment or bulkheads. The only way to see what was happening was to board one of the boats docked on either side. He looked at the boats adjacent to it, trying to see if they were empty and if they allowed for a better vantage point, but was distracted when he heard someone coming toward them. Turning for a better look, he caught the flash of a lighter and saw the red end of a cigarette. Before he got any closer, Mac slithered back to TJ, pointing to the approaching figure. He whispered for him to stay put and slowly moved toward the dock.
His eye followed the flare of the cigarette butt, as it caught its last breath of air, before being dowsed in the water. The man was still fifty feet away and looked to be approaching Hawk’s boat. Creeping forward, Mac crouched down by the shore power box, fiddling with the cord like there was something wrong with it. Slowly he moved to the sailboat docked on the starboard side, rose to his full height, and approached it like he owned it. Just as he was about to step from the concrete section of the dock to the wooden finger pier, their eyes locked. The last thing he expected was to see someone he knew, or rather who knew him.
“Mac Travis? In Key West? I should have figured you’d be around if your boy Trufante was here. And a silver coin too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin, flipping it carelessly in the air. Mac was about to snatch it from him, but was distracted by a tipsy couple turning the corner from Front Street, looking like they had enjoyed their evening in Key West. The couple turned at one of the finger piers, and he turned back to Jimmy.
“Where’d you get it, Jimmy?” Mac said quietly. He knew the man, having hired him years ago for a salvage job. Another half-bent Northerner making their way to Key West, needing some temporary work to make it the final sixty miles to what they thought would be their paradise. It was a pilgrimage of the misfits. They often stopped in Marathon, looking for work on the way down, quitting as soon as they had enough money to move on, their minds filled with dreams of the paradise just down the road. Then, disillusioned and often broker than when they had come through before, they’d come back, but with a different attitude. Mac could always tell the ones that would make it and those he would see on their return trip. Jimmy was one of those he’d never expected to see again.
He laughed, and with his face close enough that Mac was forced to step backwards, he whispered, “Payback’s a bitch.” He got in Mac’s face. “Now I have something you want.”
“Here to sell it to Hawk? He’s here for a few hours and already the scavengers are coming in,” Mac said.
“I ain’t no scavenger. Nope, Jimmy’s legit.”
Mac was about to respond when he saw a movement in the shadows. Before the next words could leave his mouth, something smashed into his head and he fell to the deck.
16
TJ sat motionless, blood pounding in his ears but unable to do anything as Ironhead picked up a boat hook, wound up, and swung. Mac dropped to the deck. The thug kicked him and then turned to look at the strange man who Mac had been talking to.
“What do you want?” Ironhead asked the man.
The guy who called himself Jimmy pulled something from his pocket and held it out. “Just want a minute with your boss.”
“You on a fishing trip or you selling?” Ironhead asked.
“Maybe both. I think he’ll want to see this,” Jimmy said.
Ironhead grabbed Mac’s legs and started pulling him to the boat.
“Wait, what about me?” Jimmy asked, clearly afraid to move closer.
“Just stay there. I’ll be back with an answer,” Ironhead said and crossed to the deck of the ship. He turned, pulled Mac across the void, and hauled him through a cabin door.
TJ was alone and far outside of his comfort zone.
Mac tried to lift his head, but it stuck to the deck. It took him several tries before the clotted blood broke free. He sat up slowly, waited for the room to stop spinning, and looked around. The cabin was windowless, leading him to believe it was under the waterline. It was empty—devoid of furnishings or supplies, just the steel floor and bulkheads. Placing his hand against the wound, he was thankful the bleeding had stopped. He sat still and listened for a few minutes, trying to get his bearings. The engines were off, and the gentle lapping of the waves against the steel hull told him they were still in the harbor.
Sitting against the wall, he tried to piece together what had happened. Jimmy Bones’s face flashed in his memory, and he frowned. If there was anyone that attracted more flies than Trufante, it was Jimmy, but where the Cajun was just a magnet, Bones was actually shit. There was nothing accidental or unlucky about him; it was just bad juju.
Without warning the door opened, and Ironhead entered. Mac instinctively moved to the corner in case he needed to protect himself, but the larger man just smiled.
“Boss wants to see you,” he said and moved out of the doorway.
There was no fight in him, and Mac slowly got to his feet. With a hand on the wall for support, he held up his other hand, signaling for Ironhead to hold on, and waited for his vision to clear. It was certainly a concussion, and he hoped nothing more, because he knew that a doctor’s visit was not in the plan. Feeling stable enough to walk on his own, he moved to the hatch and stepped into the companionway. He looked around, forming a picture of the ship in his head. He already knew the main deck, and now he saw the two steel doors behind him and a flight of stairs in front. Ironhead pointed up, and he climbed.
“Well, Travis, we meet again.” Hawk stood in the center of the room. “And it looks like I hold all the cards—or coins this time.” He flipped something in the air.
Mac looked around the cabin. The large room held the living area and galley. The wheelhouse just forward of it stood higher and was accessible by a door to the cabin and one to both sides of the ship. The rear cabin door led to the aft deck. Alicia was sitting in the corner, carefully avoiding his eye, whether from fear of reprimand from him or Hawk, he could only guess. She looked tired, but at least she had not been mistreated. He noticed something around her neck, but Hawk distracted him.
“Catch.” Something flashed from his hands, and Mac reached out for it but missed. Ironhead laughed, retrieved the object, and placed it in his hand. The silver had been cleaned and shined, but he knew the coin.
“You recognize that?” Hawk asked.
“Seen a lot of treasure and old coins in my day,” Mac responded. The fresh air and daylight were helping clear his head and he felt better.
“Come, now. You are my guest for the time being. Let’s not change that status,” Hawk said, opening his other hand and showing Mac the remote control. He looked back at Alicia and realized he was holding the controller for the shock collar around her neck.
There was no point in subterfuge. “It’s from your stash in the confiscated house,” Mac said.
Hawk nodded and held out his hand for the coin. Mac rolled it between his fingers. Ironhead took a step toward him, and he handed it back. “There are plenty more where this came from.”
Mac wondered what game he was playing. He had seen him place a load in the canal and had to assume there was more there than he had seen. “What do you want from me?”
“Quite simple, Travis. Legitimacy. You may have had some run-ins with the law, but I’m totally blackballed after that Marine and you ran my idiots aground. ICE bastards held a kangaroo court, confiscated the house and everything before I could even lawyer up.” He paused and rubbed his bald spot. “They might have taken away your commercial fishing license, but I checked, and your salvage license is still in place. Mine, on the other hand, is suspended pending an investigation.”
“You were dirty long before Jesse and I grounded your goons,” Mac said, biting his tongue. He knew he shouldn’t have gone that far. The only way out of this was to wait and find an opening, for both his sake and Alicia’s. He had dealt with Hawk before and seen firsthand how devious he was.
Ironhead stepped closer again, but Hawk ignored him, holding up a hand to stop him. “With the help of your friend here, we are close to the location of a major haul, but I’ll need you to pull the permits.”
“Why should I do that?” Mac asked.
Hawk pressed a button on the controller. Alicia jerked suddenly and slumped over. Mac took a step toward her when Ironhead stepped in front of him.
“She’ll be all right. And just so you know, that was the lowest setting,” Hawk said, pocketing the device.
“So, if I do the paperwork, you let her walk?” Mac asked.
“Something like that, but she’s running a little behind on her research.”
This was not going the way Mac had planned it. After running into Jimmy and seeing the coin, he could only guess where Trufante was. His only backup was TJ, and for all he knew, he could be locked up below. He had to solve this with what he had in front of him.
“Okay. Alicia figures out the riddle, and I run the paper. Then what?” Mac asked.
“That would all depend on you, Travis. Cooperate and I could even cut you in for a share. As far as divers go, you’re one of the most respected down here. Put away your pride, and you can have the hermit’s island, get your boat back, and maybe a pile of cash to do what you want. If the score is anywhere near what I suspect, you could be set for life.”
Mac knew that plans seldom worked out as they were conceived, but he had no other choice than to play along—for the moment.
“This is fun,” Pamela said, slurping the remainder of her drink through the straw.
They had followed Jimmy to the marina and were sitting on a dock box by one of the finger piers several slips down from where Hawk’s boat was tied up. Jimmy had been aboard for ten minutes, and Trufante was getting anxious. It was not often that anyone, especially Hawk, would put up with him for that long. It had to be the coin, he thought.
