Chapter 29
Bronco made him drive to a sprawling storage facility on the outskirts of town. A sign said that air-conditioned units were available by the month or year. The facility was surrounded by chain link fence, and Bronco told him the code to open the gate.
Moments later they were inside. Bronco pointed at a unit and Gerry braked in front of it. They both got out. Bronco punched another code into the keypad by the door, all the while holding his shotgun on Gerry. The sliding door went up, and Gerry stared at the brand new Ford Taurus sitting inside the unit.
“We’re going to exchange cars, and park yours in here,” Bronco said.
“Whatever you say.”
They exchanged the two cars. As Gerry pulled the rental into the unit and killed the engine, Bronco slipped out of the car.
“Been nice knowing you,” he said.
Coming around to the driver’s side, he pointed the shotgun at the side of Gerry’s head, then closed one eye and took dead aim.
“Got anything you want to say?”
Gerry shut his eyes, and tried to think of what he wanted his dying words to be. It didn’t really matter, yet somehow it did. He had to say something, only, he couldn’t, his body gripped in fear. Thinking about dying always did that to him.
“No.”
“That’s what you want to say?” Bronco asked.
“No, I’m just…”
“Spit it out, god damnit.”
“… scared, man. I’ve got a wife and kid. She’s three months old.”
“Say goodbye to them.”
Gerry choked on the words. It had taken him a long time to realize that all he really wanted out of life was a woman who loved him, and a child to call his own. And now they were being taken away from him. It was the worst form of robbery, and he shut his eyes and started to cry. Bronco cursed him.
“You little piece of shit. Why did you have to go and do that? Why?”
Gerry was watching his life pass before his eyes and regretting all the dumb things he’d done. Opening his eyes, he turned his head and stared into the shotgun’s barrel.
“Do what?” he said.
Bronco grabbed Gerry by the back of the head, and smashed his face into the steering wheel. “ That!”
Gerry looked straight down. His crotch was wet. He’d pissed in his pants, just like the night on the Boardwalk twenty years ago when his bowels had betrayed him. “Why did you do that?” Bronco yelled at him.
“Because I’m scared,” Gerry whispered.
Bronco cursed him some more. Gerry didn’t know what was worse. Dying, or being humiliated right before he died. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, then turned his head. Bronco was staring at him, his face twisted and confused.
“God damn you,” he said.
Walking outside the storage unit, Bronco punched a command into the keypad by the door. Moments later, the sliding door came down, and Gerry was enveloped in darkness.
Gerry listened to the Taurus drive away, and took several deep breaths. He cracked open his door, and the car’s interior light came on. In the mirror he saw the purple-black bruise on the bridge of his nose. He touched it and winced.
He pressed the button that released the trunk. He needed to call his father on his cell phone and tell him he was okay, but first he was going to change his clothes.
He walked around to the trunk, and from his suitcase removed a pair of slacks and clean underwear. His heart was beating a hundred miles an hour and his head was spinning. Growing up Catholic, he liked to think there was a reason for everything. Maybe someday, he’d know the reason why Bronco hadn’t shot him.
He changed in the light of the open trunk, then balled up his dirty clothes and threw them in the corner. He’d had some humiliating things happen to him in his life, and he’d always pretended later that they hadn’t happened. It had seemed like the easiest way to deal with them.
But he couldn’t run away from this one. His father was going to want to know what had happened, and Gerry would tell him how he’d saved himself by pissing in his pants.
And that was the only person he was going to tell.
Chapter 30
Valentine was standing on the side of the highway when his cell phone rang. The caller ID said GERRY. He fumbled hitting the Receive button.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Pop, it’s me.”
Hearing his son’s voice brought a flood of emotions over him that Valentine couldn’t control, and he sat down on the shoulder and began to weep. He hadn’t done that since his wife’s funeral, and the tears burned his eyes.
“You still there, Pop?”
“Yeah,” he choked. “I’m here. Where are you?”
“In a storage facility on the north side of town,” his son said. “I banged on the door, but no one came out. I didn’t see any people when we drove in, so I’m guessing the place is self-serve. I’m going to leave the cell phone on so you can find me.”
A trailer truck appeared on the highway. The driver didn’t slow down, and Valentine guessed it was common to see grown men sitting on the side of the road, bawling their heads off. Rising, he dusted himself off.
“How am I going to do that?”
“Call my cell phone company,” Gerry said. “They’ll know which tower my phone’s signal is originating from. It will be within a five mile radius. Once you know that, the Reno cops can look at all the self-serve storage facilities within that radius.”
Valentine saw another car coming up the road, the driver behind the wheel looking like Bill Higgins. Waving, he said, “How do you know that?”
“I saw it on a cop-show on TV,” his son said.
Valentine said goodbye to his son and killed the connection. Climbing into the passenger seat of Bill’s car, he told him that Gerry was still alive. Then, he explained his son’s clever solution to finding him in the storage facility.
Bill called the Reno police on his cell, and asked them to call Gerry’s cell phone company. Hanging up, he said, “You realize Bronco did this to stall us.”
The same thought had occurred to him. While they were finding Gerry, Bronco would be running away. Bill did a U-turn on the highway, and headed back to Reno. He drove way over the speed limit, the desolate scrub landscape going by in a blur. After a few minutes had passed, Valentine said, “Have I ever told you how smart my son is?”
Bill shook his head.
“Yesterday, when we were at Bronco’s house, Gerry said that he thought your bad agent was stealing jackpots using computers. Well, since there’s no physical way to rig modern slot machines, Gerry must be right. Which led me to realize something. Your bad agent works for Fred Friendly in the Electronic Systems Division.”
Bill looked stunned. “You think the bad agent is in ESD? That’s a stretch, Tony.”
“No, it isn’t. Bronco said this bad agent stole hundreds of jackpots. A field agent couldn’t do that, simply because hundreds of stolen jackpots — even small ones — would be noticed if they occurred in the same part of the state. But, they wouldn’t be noticed if they were spread out across the entire state. Somebody working for ESD could do that.”
Bill’s mouth worked up and down in silent thought.
“You’re right,” he said.
Another minute passed. They could see Reno ahead in the distance, the city a black dot on the brown landscape.
“How many agents work for ESD?” Valentine asked.
“Seventy-five,” Bill said.
“Those are our suspects,” Valentine said.
Gerry had discovered that being a father had its drawbacks. He couldn’t listen to loud music anytime he wanted to, like he had when he was single. So, he’d bought an Ipod, and plugged himself in whenever he got the chance. He was tapping his foot to Arethra Franklin’s soulful singing when his cell phone lit up. He’d turned the car’s interior light off, fearful of the battery dying, and stared at the cell phone’s illuminated face. It was his father.