“Yes. And I returned the favor, unless you’ve forgotten.”
“And isn’t he the reason you got that special commendation for busting that spy ring?”
“I get the point, Reuben.”
“No, obviously you don’t,” the big man said, rising up to stand next to the tall Secret Service agent. “Because if you say anything to help them find Oliver, you’re a traitor, plain and simple.”
“There’s nothing simple about it, Reuben. I’m still a federal agent. I took an oath to uphold the law.”
“What does Annabelle think about that?” Reuben demanded.
“What the hell business is that of yours?”
“She thought it sucked too, didn’t she?”
“Please,” Caleb pleaded. “I’m sure Oliver would not have wanted this to drive a wedge between us.”
“There’s no wedge, Caleb. There’s just the right way to be a friend and a wrong way,” Reuben pointed out. “And I just want supercop here to be real clear on which side he needs to come down.”
Alex did an eyeball-to-eyeball with Reuben. “Is that some sort of threat?”
“Oliver has been through hell and back because of Simpson and Gray. I’m glad they’re dead. I would’ve put a round in their heads myself.”
“Then you would’ve gone to prison.”
“Right, under your way of thinking I guess Hitler deserved a trial.”
“What the hell is your problem? You’re making it seem like I’m against Oliver.”
“It sounds to me like you are!”
“Alex, maybe you should leave, before things get out of hand,” Caleb said. “Please.”
Alex looked from the red-eyed Reuben to the distressed Caleb and walked out the door.
So much for the Camel Club, he thought. That was over. Done. Dead. And he was reasonably certain he would never see Annabelle again.
So preoccupied was he that Alex never saw the two men watching him from their car. When he drove off they followed. Meanwhile, another pair waited outside Caleb’s apartment. The hunt apparently had already started.
CHAPTER 8
AS THE TRAIN pulled out of the station that was basically a few planks thrown together and poorly lighted at that, Stone looked at the quarterback. Then he eyed the three punks, who were staring at them both with looks of unfinished business they wanted to jump right on.
Stone heaved up his duffel bag and grabbed the young man’s arm. “Let’s go.”
He jerked back. “I ain’t going nowhere with you.”
“Then you can stay here and let them finish what they started,” Stone said, nodding at Beefy and his boys.
“They’ll wanta jump you mor’n me. You kicked their ass.”
“Your ass, on the other hand, they were kicking pretty easy. So which road do you think they’re going to pick?”
For the first time Stone saw some element of reason slide across the young man’s features.
“Okay, now that I seem to have your attention, why don’t you start by telling me where you’re coming from?”
“Home. Just getting away. Make my own life.”
“I know the feeling. But as things stand right now it might make more sense to go back home, get patched up and then start your trip over. You got parents?”
“Got a mom.”
“Where’s home?”
The kid looked angrily over at the gang of three, who hadn’t moved a muscle.
“I don’t want to go back there. I just got away from that damn place.”
Stone ran his gaze over the kid’s jacket. “Looks like you were some athlete.”
“Best ever to come out of that little shithole, and look what good it did me.”
“Not many people make it in professional sports. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it, or that you’re some kind of failure.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, changed my whole life,” the kid said scornfully.
Stone let out a heavy sigh. “Look, son, I’ve got my own problems, so I’m about five seconds from leaving your ass to the hyenas over there unless we get an attitude adjustment real fast.”
“What do you want me to do?” he snapped.
“Tell me your name and where you’re from.”
“Danny. Danny Riker,” he said grudgingly. “Satisfied? And what’s your name?”
Stone didn’t hesitate. “Ben.” That had been his father’s name. “From where, Danny Riker?”
“Divine, Virginia. Little coal-mining town just this side of hell.”
“How far from here?”
“About here to the moon.”
Stone sighed again. “Is your mother still there?”
“That’s right.”
“So you just left her in the little hellhole all by herself?”
“She’s not alone, trust me.”
“You got money to get back home?”
“Maybe.”
“You sure, or did you lose it all in the poker game? They say you were cheating.”
“They just said that because they can’t play cards worth shit.” He glanced over at Beefy and cracked a smile. “Ain’t that right, fat boy?”
“Where were you headed to on the train?” Stone asked.
“Where there ain’t no coal to mine.”
“You worked in the mines?”
Danny looked around. “I’m hungry.”
He walked off toward a greasy spoon visible about a block away. It had a neon sign spelling out “restaurant” in cursive, with only the final “T” still lighted. In his head Stone instantly dubbed it the “One T.”
Stone glanced back at Beefy and his battered goons. Beefy had a knife in his hand. If Stone left Danny alone now he was certain the men would finish him off. He’d killed many men over the years. Perhaps it was worth a bit of a detour from his plans to save one.
They ate at the counter with Stone occasionally looking over his shoulder to stare at Beefy and his boys sitting at a booth gobbling up their burgers and fries and shooting nasty glances at them from over their beer mugs.
When Stone went to pay the check Danny dropped the cash on the bill and rose.
“Thanks for helping me out back there,” he said, without a trace of an attitude.
“You’re welcome.”
“You fight pretty good for a geezer.” Somehow this statement did not come out as an insult.
“I might not be as old as you think. I’ve just had a tough life.”
“Ain’t we all.”
“So where to now?”
“Gotta keep rolling or else you die. Think somebody important said that once.”
Not bad advice to live by, Stone thought. I’m a rolling stone right now.
As they left the One T Beefy confronted them outside the door, his two mates right behind him.
“Where the hell you two think you’re going?”
“You know, I can set your nose back in place if you want,” Stone said amiably.
“You lay another hand on me, you son of a bitch, I’ll cut you bad.” He brandished a knife. Well, it was technically a knife, but it was so small and the guy was handling it so awkwardly that Stone had trouble thinking of it as actually being a weapon.
“Okay. Good luck then.”