As always, no matter what the hell is going on I’m hungry. So, I order a pizza to be delivered to the hotel. I go down to the desk and leave the money there, tell them to call my room when it comes. I don’t want some fucking Russian weightlifter delivering a pizza at my door. Know what I’m sayin’?
Would they be onto where I’m at that fast? No fucking way, but my car is down there. They know my car and they’ll be looking for that soon. Am I going overboard on the caution here? Fucking right I am.
I swear I’m not scared, though. It ain’t that. I don’t scare. I just never like to be soft, never like to put my guard down, even though I could for tonight. Bad habit to get into, right?
When I finally go down and get the pizza, I eat a couple of slices in like four bites and start drinking again. I’m carving into this bottle pretty good now and settle back into a chair, propping my feet up on the bed. The Bulls are on. Playoffs. Like I give a fuck. I flip the channel and it’s hockey instead. I guess that’s better, at least not so sissy, but it doesn’t matter. I’m staring at the screen; smoking and thinking.
My original plan had been to stay here two or three nights after the hit and that would have been just fine if I hadn’t been made. I’ll have to move tomorrow. No fucking way I’m staying here. Even if they didn’t find this place or the car for awhile, I’d go nuts. Besides, I’d have to move sometime and it might as well be tomorrow.
Plus, that two hundred grand over there in the safe is only half of the take. I have a necklace and some earrings to collect, too. I’m good enough to dodge some big guerrillas and get those rocks too. Fuck yeah, I am. Then I’ll skip town, but only then. I’m not gonna just give away the prize to Mick, or any piece of it. Fuck him. Fuck the Hero.
So, first of all, I’ll never drive that car down there again. Tomorrow morning, I’ll catch a cab early and go rent a car. Call Mick early, too and see where we’re at with the earrings.
I lift the plastic cup up and get nothing but one cube. Jesus, I’m drinking some serious vodka here. Couple more drinks have my name on them, though. I’m good for it.
The Blackhawks score in the background but it might as well be the weather channel or some shit.
I get another drink and go back to the window. Can’t go back to my apartment or Ania’s place. Ambrozy’s is way the fuck off limits. I’ll be drifting for the next few days or a week, no doubt. Speaking of Ania, I need her in my plans. I must be crazy but she goes with me when I bail. I want her all the time, need her. Hell, I want her here right now but that’s a very bad idea.
I try calling her but she doesn’t pick up. I leave her a voicemail that I ought to be ashamed of. All lovey and miss you babe. Another drink.
Some time has got away from me as I’ve been drinking because I just checked my watch and it’s like one thirty now. I sit down heavy on the edge of the bed and do a little weave. I look at the table across the room and the bottle looks to have only about two more big drinks left. Fuck it, drunk enough. Drunk isn’t even the right word.
A slideshow of stray snapshots from earlier today starts running in my mind. Skansi laying there hissing up at me, Andros shooting the old bitch and her head bouncing back against the back of the wheelchair. Then, there he is. Kos, with that stupid ass grin and neck like a goose. Then he points at me. Fucker.
I do the slow lean sideways and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out.
After getting the car rented early this morning, I drive to O’Hare and check into the Hilton inside Terminal Two. I pay up for a week in advance. Never know, might need to fly instead of drive when the time to split comes, and it will come.
Inside my room, I stow the two hundred thousand in the safe in the cabinet under the TV. I set the same combination as before at the Marriot and tuck the slip of paper with the numbers on it back inside my wallet.
I drive around a little bit after getting some breakfast — which I almost tossed up as soon as I finished. I’ve been thinking about calling Mick, too, but I figure I’ll wait for him to call me.
At some point, I pull into a parking garage of the Oak Park Mall, just off the Eisenhower. It’s a Saturday, I think, so every level is loaded with cars and that’s good, a good cover. When I lean back in the seat, the lights go out again until Mick’s call.
This train we’re on right now, though, I mean holy shit, this is the worst. It’s not doing me any good here. Mick just got done giving me the low down on what’s up and where we’re going. I think I heard about half of what he said, although I got the part about the necklace being out of play just fine. I’m drinking my third cup of coffee trying to clear my head which is banging like a mother. Let’s just say I’ve had better nights and damn sure better days. I’m still green.
“So, what’s with the fuckin’ Orient Express train travel here, Mickey boy?”
“You look like hell, Punk. Did you catch anything I just told you about Jimmy and Speedo?”
“Fuck off.” I take the little sippy ass plastic lid off and take a good slug of coffee.
Mick stares at me in frustration. “The necklace being seized and then returned, the earrings still out there, Speedo… anything ring a bell?”
I’m sitting right across from him but my attention is on the guy down at the other end of the car. I’ve been watching the car since we got on looking for anybody that’s looking, if you know what I mean.
“Yeah, I got it, okay? What the fuck, Hero? You think I can’t hear? And by the way, you still sound like a cop reading a report. Why can’t you just talk regular?”
Mick doesn’t bite. “We’re almost there, stud. One more stop and then the next will be Comiskey.” He pauses, then adds, “You want to find a bar, get a couple drinks when we get off the train?”
“What’d you say Little Jimmy’s address was again, smart ass?” The train is slowing down, making the last stop before Little Jimmy’s. I’m trying to be casual while I’m looking through the windows, watching who’s getting on, who’s getting off. And yeah, I’m way paranoid by now.
“Apartment Four B, corner of Pershing and Wells.” Then he leans in closer and looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell is with you, anyway?”
“Nothing.”
“No, it’s something. And not just a hangover, either.”
“Don’t worry about it there, detective. You just be ready when we talk to Jimmy Kerrigan.” I finally look at him. “By the way, how we handling this? Hard or harder?”
He sits back again but he is still eyeing me. “I think we see how it goes and just play it by ear. We’ll know what to do.”
A couple of minutes later and we’re off that fucking train finally, walking down Wells Street a block away from Jimmy’s apartment.
“South Side’s a wonderful place, huh?” I actually feel pretty good here because there ain’t no pale skinned Russians creeping around this part of town and I’m sure as hell not going to run into anybody I know.
A car comes bouncing down the road in front of us. The rap is turned up so loud that the bass is shaking my fillings. My headache is back, too. The car slows and the four brothers inside it give us the once over and they keep staring us down. Finally, they stop and put it in reverse following along the curb matching our walk. Long stares from the bloods, so I stop and stare back at them. I’m about two seconds from pulling my gun out. I ain’t going down in some fucking drive-by shooting bullshit with a car load of seventeen year old shines.
Mick, though, he just looks at them and smiles. Then he puts one finger to his ear and says something to nobody while staring at the sidewalk. Looks up again and hooks a quick thumb to them. Jerks his head real quick for them to go. Like he’s giving them a break, a pass or silently telling them he’s got bigger shit to fry. Goes back to his imaginary earpiece. And fuck me, they stop and put it back in drive.