Gateways, page 19
Tom shook his head. “No. This was a big rig, and seemed to be in good shape. At least its bumper was. I remember seeing what looked like a wall of shiny chrome slamming into me. Why did you think it was a pickup?”
“Just a thought.” Somehow Jack looked disappointed.
“Getting hit wasn’t the worst part. The really frightening part came after the impact. I was lying there, feeling sick, hurt, bleeding, barely able to move, but alive and so thankful I’d worn my seat belt, when I heard these voices, growing louder as they got closer. I remember hearing someone sounding mad, cursing, saying something about hitting me too hard and what if they’d killed me. And then the door was pulled open and I almost fell out of the car. That was when I heard someone say, ‘Look! He’s moving! You damn well better thank your lucky stars he’s still alive!’”
“That sounds like they meant to hit your car.”
“They did.” Tom repressed a shudder. He glanced at Anya who was watching him impassively, her expression neutral. “It didn’t click then, but now I’m sure they did.”
“Sure?” Jack said. “What makes—?”
“By what came next. They unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me out and laid me on the road. I thought they were being awful rough with a man who might have a spine injury. As I was lying there I saw the big truck pulled over down along the side of South Road.”
“Wait,” Jack said. “The truck pulled over? But the police said it was a hit and run.”
“In a very real way, it was. It’s just that the run part was delayed a bit. Let me finish, will you?”
“Okay,” Jack said. “Just trying to keep all this straight in my head.”
“Forget about the truck for now. I know I did as soon as I saw that big alligator start to waddle toward me. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought the men who’d pulled me from the car were waving it forward. Like they wanted it to maul me…kill me…eat me.” This time he couldn’t repress the shudder. “It was within ten feet of me when I heard a siren. I couldn’t see any flashing lights but I could hear the two men start cursing about a cop car and what was he doing out here. That sort of thing.”
“Officer Hernandez,” Jack said.
“You know him?”
“Met him. Remember I told you that a call about your accident came in twenty minutes before it happened?” He glanced at Anya but she didn’t react. “He’s the one who went out to investigate. Sounds like that call saved your life.”
But that didn’t make sense, Tom thought. How could anyone have known about the accident before it happened? Yet something with a siren had been coming down the road.
“I don’t know who or what was heading my way. All I know is that it scared off the two men who’d pulled me from the car, because they started calling to the alligator as if it was human, as if it could understand. I heard one yell, ‘There’s a cop on the way! Get out of sight. We’ll meet you back at the lagoon!’ And then they started running back toward the truck.”
“Did you notice anything about them?” Jack said. “Like did one have a funny-shaped head?”
“Funny-shaped head? Why—?”
“Anything distinguishing,” Jack added quickly.
“No. Not that I could tell. I didn’t take my eyes off that alligator until it slithered off the road and into the grass, and by then they were almost to the truck.”
“Do you remember anything at all about the truck? Like what kind? Was it a semi or a big van or what?”
“A semi, maybe, but it didn’t have the usual big rectangular trailer. This had an odd shape, like those trucks that carry gravel or something.”
“What about a name or a sign?”
“None that I could see. I had only moonlight and starlight to go by and…” Something flashed in his memory.
Jack leaned closer. “What?”
“On its rear panel…I think I saw something that looked like a flower, but all black. At least it looked black in the moonlight. After that, I remember flashing lights and then I didn’t see anything until I woke up this morning.”
A sudden realization hit him like…like an onrushing truck. He looked at Jack and then at Anya.
“Someone tried to kill me.”
“Not necessarily,” Jack said. “From what you heard them say…‘thank your lucky stars he’s still alive…that sounds like they didn’t want to kill you.”
He sensed that Jack didn’t believe a word of it, that he was just trying to make him feel better. But it wasn’t working.
“They wanted to hit my car. And I have a feeling they were going to feed me to that alligator.”
“Maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
No…that didn’t wash. No question in Tom’s mind: Someone wanted him dead.
The thought sickened him. When he’d been in Korea, the NKs and the Chinese Reds had wanted him dead, but that was war, that was to be expected. This was Florida. He’d been here just a little over a year. He’d made a number of new friends but couldn’t imagine how he could have made an enemy.
Yet someone had tried to kill him.
Suddenly Tom felt exposed out here on Anya’s lawn. He wanted walls around him. He rose unsteadily from the chair.
“I think I’ll head home.”
“You okay?” Jack said.
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll just go inside and lie down. Excuse me, Anya.”
“Go, Tom,” she said. She was still in her recliner, the wet dog curled up on her lap. “You should rest.”
“I’ll come with you,” Jack said.
“That’s okay. I can find my own way.”
“That’s not the point,” his son said, rising and gripping his arm. “Come on. I’ll walk you back. I know how you feel.”
No, you don’t, Tom thought. And I hope you never do.
A good kid, Jack. No, not a kid. A man, and a pretty gutsy one at that, placing himself between a ferocious gator and the old folks with only a lightweight resin chair as a weapon. But Jack couldn’t know what it was like to fear for his life, to have someone wanting him dead. That took a war. It had been Tom’s great hope for his sons that neither would have to go to war as he did and know that kind of fear. And it had worked out. Both boys had been too young for Vietnam, and a volunteer army had been in place by the time the Gulf Wars rolled around.
“Wait,” he said, turning. “We should call the cops or the wildlife control or something, shouldn’t we?”
“Why?” Anya said.
“To let them know there’s a monster gator in our pond.”
“Not to worry,” Anya said with a wave of her hand. “He’s gone. And after such a reception as he got here today, I doubt he’ll be back.”
“Where’d he go?” Jack said.
“There’s an underground tunnel that leads from the pond back into the Everglades.”
“Really?” Tom said. “I didn’t know that.”
Jack stared at her. “How do you know, Anya?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been around here a long time. I shouldn’t know things?”
He saw Jack stare at her again for a moment, then point a finger her way. “We need to talk.”
She raised her wineglass. “I’ll be here.”
Tom wondered at that exchange. As soon as they were in the house he turned to Jack. “Why did you say that to Anya?”
“What?”
“‘We need to talk.’ About what? What does that mean?”
“I’ve got some questions for her.”
“About what?”
“Things. Tell you about it later.”
Why didn’t Tom believe that? What was going on between those two? He was about to press him when Jack grabbed the pen and notepad from the counter by the phone.
“Just thought of something. Give me the names again of those three people who were killed.”
“Why?” And then he knew. “Oh, no. You don’t think—”
“I don’t know what to think, Dad. When Carl told me about the others he said you didn’t fit the pattern because the others were killed by birds and spiders and snakes. You were different because you were hurt in a car accident. But if what you remember is correct, you weren’t going to be the victim of a hit-and-run accident, you were going to be a meal for that alligator. And that does fit the pattern.”
Tom shook his head. “A few hours ago you were implicating Gateways in a scheme to get properties reverted. Now you think it’s…what? How, just how, do you get birds and snakes to attack someone?”
Jack stared at him. “How do you get an alligator to attack someone? Twice. Because, Dad, that gator was coming for you. He was aimed at you like an arrow shot from a bow.”
Tom wanted to deny it—tried to deny it—but couldn’t. Jack was right. Those open jaws had been coming straight at him.
“But it’s crazy,” he said. Even crazier was how the gator had stopped at the edge of Anya’s lawn. He was suddenly too tired to think about that now. Another question was far more pressing. “Why me?”
“That’s what I intend to find out,” Jack said.
Tom noticed a fierce look in his eyes. There was fire in Jack, a heat and a resolve he’d never expected in his appliance-repairman son.
And something else. He had a sense that Jack already knew the answer, or at least where to look. But how was that possible? He’d been here barely two days.
“Give me those three names,” Jack said with the pencil poised over the pad.
14
His father had said good night and retreated to his bedroom. Jack heard the shower run, then the mutter of the TV through the closed door. Maybe Dad was watching it, maybe just zoned out in front of it.
Jack was grateful for the solitude. It gave him time to think. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and paced the front room, mulling what had happened, and what had almost happened. He’d been unarmed. Well, why not? Just visiting a neighbor lady for some conversation and a few sundown drinks. Who needs to be armed?
He’d know better next time. If there was going to be a next time. A few rounds into that gator’s eyes or its open mouth…that would have stopped it. Or at least he was pretty sure it would have.
But a gun would have been superfluous because the gator hadn’t been able to cross the line into Anya’s yard.
Jack was getting used to the surreal, but still…
Could someone or—worse—something be controlling the wildlife around here? This whole situation had Otherness written all over it. He was convinced the Otherness had taken Kate from him, then it had made an attempt at Gia and Vicky and the unborn baby. Was it after his father now?
Giaand Vicky…
He pulled out his Tracfone and punched in Gia’s number. She was delighted to hear that his father was out of his coma. Jack left out the other details, like attempted murder by alligator—twice—and told her he’d be hanging around a few days more, just to make sure he was okay.
Then Vickie got on the phone. She wanted him to bring her back a pet alligator. Jack shuddered at the thought but told her he’d see if he could catch one for her. A little one. Right.
Then Gia again. She was feeling good; she thought she’d felt the baby move but wasn’t sure. All quiet on Sutton Square.
After I-love-yous and goodnights, he hung up and made another call to Manhattan. This time to Abe.
When Abe picked up, Jack said, “Hey. It’s me.”
Jack’s Tracfone was untraceable, but he could never rule out that the BATF had taken an interest in Abe—linked him to an illegal weapon, perhaps—and were eavesdropping. So for his own sake and for Abe’s, he never mentioned his name or anyone else’s, even Abe’s.
“Good evening, Me. How’s the vacation going?”
“Could be better. You know how I thought I’d have an easy time at the tournament? It’s not turning out that way. The competition is a lot stiffer than I dreamed possible.”
“Is that so? As I recall, you weren’t expecting any competition.”
“Turned out I was wrong. Imagine that. But here’s the thing. I need bigger and better equipment. Some new tennis clothes, for sure. Large size.”
“How large? X? Double-X? Triple-X?”
“Big as you’ve got. Think elephant when you pick it out.”
“Elephant?”
“Mastodon. Oh, and maybe some new racquets.”
“Any particular model?”
“You pick them out. I need something with a nice sweet spot and lots more power than what I’ve got.”
“So it’s a power player you’re up against?”
“Yeah. Back court all the way until today’s round. That was when he started coming to the net. I don’t think I’ve seen his best stuff yet, so I want to be prepared.”
“I should say so. I’ll send you a nice selection of racquets that you should be able to adjust to your needs. You want I should include extra strings in case you break some?”
“Definitely. The more the better. You know how I break strings.”
“Do I. Anything else?”
“Some tennis balls.”
“Balls? I’m not following you here. Surely they have tennis balls where you are?”
“Not like the brand you carry. Yours always seem fresher. And make sure they’re yellow. A pale yellow.”
“Pale yellow…”
Jack detected a note of uncertainty in Abe’s voice. “Yeah, pale yellow. Like the color of my favorite fruit.”
“A lemon?”
“No! Pineapple, my man. Pineapple. You know how I love pineapple.”
“Oy, of course. How could I have forgotten? Yes, well, I’ll check to see if I have any of that shade in stock. I should send you how many?”
“Let’s see…I don’t want to run short. How about a dozen?”
“A dozen. Sounds to me like you’ll be playing a lot of tennis.”
“I hope not. The longer you play, the greater the chance of injury. As you know, I like to rip right through the matches without much wear and tear, but you never know. Best to be prepared, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. You want I should send them to that address you left with me?”
“That’s the place. And make it quick, okay? Who knows what I’ll be facing tomorrow.”
“I’ll pack it up right away and get it out tonight. I’ll use my special carrier. If all goes well you should have them by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Swell. Put it on my tab and we’ll settle up when I get back. I owe you one.”
“I’ll add this to the ‘owe’ list.”
“Do that. Oh, and by the way. Have I got a girl for you. She’s an older woman, but she could be a soul mate.”
“Now you’re a matchmaker?”
“Just trying to enrich your life, my friend.”
“Okay. I’ll humor you. First question: Is she on the thin side or the heavy side?”
“She makes Olive Oyl look like a sumo wrestler.”
“Sorry. Not interested. I need a woman with some meat on her, enough bulk so that we don’t look like Mr. and Mrs. Sprat when we go out together. Someone who won’t frown when I put extra cream cheese on my bagel. Someone, in fact, who’ll ask me if I want seconds, or even thirds. An anorexic woman is the last thing I need.”
“Okay. Just thought I’d ask.”
“Find a Sophie Tucker for me and then we’ll talk. But back to the tennis matches: Listen, be careful. Watch your footwork. Sounds like even a minor misstep could take you out of the game.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Talk to you later.”
“Stay in touch. Let me know the scores.”
“Will do.”
Jack smiled as he cut the connection, but it faded as he turned toward his father’s bedroom. He knocked softly on the door. When he received no answer, he pushed it open and peeked in. His father lay in bed, snoring softly, the remote in his hand, the Weather Channel playing on the TV.
Jack turned and headed for the front door. Time to visit Ms. Mundy. He had a few questions he wanted answered. Hell, he had lots of questions, and he knew she had answers to some of them.
15
Anya’s front yard was deserted. The furniture was as he’d left it but she and Oyv were gone. So were the glasses, the wine, and the beer Jack and his father had brought over.
Jack knocked on the door. Anya, wearing another garish kimono with bright red sampans sailing across her flat chest, answered almost immediately.
“You’re back. That must mean your father’s okay.”
“Shaken up but he’s all right, I think. We need to talk.”
“As you wish,” she said, moving away from the door. “Come in.”
Jack stepped into the greenhouse interior.
“I put your beer in the refrigerator so it wouldn’t get warm,” she said on her way to the kitchen. “Do you want one?”
“Thanks, no. I’m not here to drink.”
She stopped at the kitchen counter where the wine bottle waited. An empty glass stood next to one half filled. Not dainty little claret glasses but big glass balloons that held eight to ten ounces if they held a drop. She topped off both and held out the fresh one to Jack.
“Here. Try this. It’s Italian. Valpolicella.”
“No, really. I—”
She locked eyes with him. “I don’t like to talk to people who won’t share a glass with me.”
Jack shrugged and took the glass. He’d done worse things to get someone to talk. He took a sip.
“It’s good.” There. Was she happy? “Now, can I ask you a few questions?”
“If you wish.” She seated herself on the sofa overhung with plants and vines. She lit a cigarette and began shuffling a deck of cards. She pointed him toward the recliner. “Sit. You want to ask me about a Russian woman with a malamute, don’t you.”
Jack felt his jaw drop. “I—I—”
“And an Indian woman with a German shepherd. The one who told you to stay away from that house in Astoria. The one you foolishly ignored.”
“How did you know?” Jack said, finding his voice.
She blew smoke and shrugged as she began laying out the cards in a classic solitaire tableau. “Lucky guess.”
