“About that . . .” We had been close once. He was only a couple of years older than me, and after Dad had died Bob had become the family rock, while I had run off. This was a lot more difficult than I had thought it would be. “I’m not a businessman. I was never in the Peace Corps. I think they’re a bunch of hippies. Look . . . I’m . . . I’m a crook.”
“Crook? Like a criminal?” The last little bit of a smile faded. His normally jovial face grew hard, and now he really reminded me of Dad. “What kind of crook?”
“A very good one. Ever hear of the Cape Town diamond-exchange robbery?” I asked. He slowly nodded. I was sure the FBI had passed around a memo about that one. It had been rather impressive. “That was me. Bangkok National. Me. Bahrain Museum of Antiquity. Me. Vladivostok gold-train heist, all me.” Bob’s eyes grew wide. Of course he had heard of those. They were some of the more infamous robberies of our generation. “After that, I decided I didn’t like robbing normal people and I started to rob from other bad guys. Those jobs you probably haven’t heard about, but I’m pretty good at this stuff.”
“You can’t be serious,” he stated.
“I worked for a man called Big Eddie for a long time, the crime lord who has a piece of everything in Asia. I’m assuming the FBI’s heard of him?”
“Of course. The organized-crime guys have a task force dedicated to just that group. Personally, I thought he was a fairy tale.”
“Oh, he’s real.” I tossed the manila folder from Thailand on the coffee table between us. Bob picked it up and started to leaf through the family pictures. “He had one last job for me, and he gave me this to assure that I’d do it. I know he’ll hurt every single person in there, and I need you to get to them first, as quiet as you can.”
My brother crumpled the edges of the folder as he read. I could see the realization that I was telling the truth dawning on his face. “I can’t believe this. This . . . this is nuts. Sure, you were always pushing the boundaries, petty theft, joyriding cars, stupid crap, but this?”
“Bob, I know this is a shock, but listen to me. You can’t be obvious. Big Eddie will find out. You can’t bring in the FBI. Eddie has men on the inside. He will find out. This man sits on Satan’s right hand. You have no idea what he’s capable of. I need you to help me stop him.”
“I can’t believe you’re some sort of international super thief, I mean, come on man, you were such a . . .”
“Dork?” I offered. It was true. Bob had been the tough one.
“No offense, but heck, when we were kids, when I played football, you did gymnastics.”
“It comes in handy. I’m a good second-story man.”
“You were in the drama club. You were really good at it too, before you dropped out.”
I shrugged. “Playing pretend comes in handy,” I answered, my voice a nearly perfect impression of his own. I’d always had a gift for being someone else. Compared to some of the cons I had pulled off, sophomore-year Hamlet was a piece of cake. “Do you believe me?”
He rubbed his face in his hands. After a long pause, he looked me in the eye. “Yes. I can see it. You always were the crazy one.” I could tell that this was breaking his heart. He had always looked out for me, like a good big brother. “Hector, you’ve got to come in with me. The FBI can protect you. I can protect you. You can testify against this Big Eddie. I can get you into the witness-protection program.”
“Bob. This is bigger than that. Way bigger.” I stood. “Please, just get everybody to safety. You don’t have much time. And you’ve got to keep it low profile. Nothing official, because he will know. You’re the only one that can do this. Eddie tried to kill me. He shot one of my friends and murdered the others. He cut one’s head off. I’ve stalled him for now, but the man is a snake, and he’ll bite soon. It’s his nature.”
My brother stood, too. He towered over me, and his face was dark, clouded with anger. The shotgun was still leaning against the couch.
“You gonna try to arrest me?” I asked. Bob was a good and honorable man, and I did not know what I would do if he tried. “If you do, then you’re signing our family’s death warrant. As soon as Eddie finds out I’ve made contact with you, they’re all dead.”
“What do you plan on doing?” Bob was seething.
“I’m going to kill Eddie first.”
“You’re a murderer, too?”
No point in beating around the bush. “Bob, I shot three Chechens and tortured a fourth one to death before I ate breakfast this morning. What do you think?” I answered, hard and low.
He was taken a back. “That was you? I saw the bulletin about the SAM and the bodies. ICE nailed some more coming over at dawn with missiles because of an anonymous tip. The report said that one of them had been cut to ribbons, bullets in the other one’s heads, execution style. . . . I can’t imagine my little brother doing that.” Bob slowly sat back down. “What have you become?”
“I’m a monster,” I answered truthfully. “But I’m still your brother. Protect them, Bob. It’s up to you.” I turned and walked for the back door. I’m sure this was a lot to take in.
“Hector.”
I stopped, hand on the doorknob. He sounded broken. It tore my heart open. “Yeah, Bob?”
“Be careful, little bro.”
“You, too,” I answered as I slipped out the door and into the night. I had to pause to wipe my eyes before scaling the back fence.
Chapter 26:
Qagmire
VALENTINE
Quagmire, Nevada
June 28
0500
The sun wouldn’t be up for a while, but the little diner where Jill worked opened at five. The place opened at oh-dark-thirty so the local ranchers could get their breakfast and coffee. She was on early shift today and was probably getting ready for the early birds. At this hour, she’d be the only one there, doing both the cooking and the serving. The regular cooks and waitresses came in later in the morning.
I hadn’t planned on being up that early, but I still had terrible nightmares sometimes. Once I woke up from one of those, I was up for the day. Hell, I didn’t want to go back to sleep anyway. I was hungry, too, so off I went to the only place in town where I could get breakfast at that hour without cooking it myself.
A few days earlier, Hawk and I had pulled my Mustang out of his shed and dusted it off. He’d taken very good care of it. The oil had been changed, the tank was full, and the registration fee had been paid for me. I’d missed my car, and it was nice to have it back.
The diner Jill worked at was called Shifty’s, which I thought was hilarious. The place had been a staple of Quagmire life for forty years. The food was good, too. I’d eaten here every time I’d returned to Quagmire over the past few years. It was a decent place for Jill to work while she tried to figure out how to start her life all over again.
Really, I was in the same situation. After being gone for months, I was back in the United States, home sweet home. Nothing had changed. The fall of Zubara had been pretty big news while it was happening, but the press had no idea there was direct American involvement. The only ones that even suspected that were conspiracy nuts like Roger Geonoy and the kooky guests on From Sea to Shining Sea. I began to wonder if any of their other stuff about aliens, ghosts, and demons was true, too.