“Can we talk somewhere?” he said simply, and Waters nodded.
“There's a park down the street.” He sensed correctly that Peter didn't want to go to a bar or a restaurant, or the living room in the halfway house, where they might be overheard.
“That'll do,” Peter said tersely, and followed him down the steps off the porch.
He was hungry and nervous, and he had a rock in his stomach as they walked down the street without saying a word to each other. It was a full ten minutes before they reached the park, and Peter sat down on a bench, as Waters hesitated for a long moment and then lowered himself onto the bench next to him. He sat there, and took some chewing tobacco out of his pocket. It was a habit he had acquired in prison, and he didn't offer any to Peter. He just sat there, and finally looked at him, half annoyed and half curious.
Peter was exactly the kind of convict he had no respect for. He was some fool with money who had gotten himself busted out of sheer stupidity, and then kissed the warden's ass to get a job in the office. Waters had done hard time, and spent a lot of time in solitary. He hung around with murderers and rapists and kidnappers, and guys who had done a lot of time. Peter's little four-year stint meant nothing to him compared to his twenty-four. And Waters had claimed he was innocent to the end, and still did. Whatever his history, his innocence or guilt, he had spent most of his life in prison, and he had no interest in Peter Morgan. But if the man had come all the way from San Francisco to see him, he was going to listen to him, but that was all he was going to do. It was written all over him as he spat a wad of tobacco several feet and turned to look at Peter. Waters's eyes nearly made Peter shiver, as they had when he saw him in the warden's office. He was waiting, and there was no avoiding it. Peter knew he had to talk, he just didn't know what to say, as Waters spat again.
“What's on your mind?” Waters asked him, looking him right in the eye. The force of his stare took Peter's breath away. He was in it now.
“Someone offered me a business deal,” Peter started as Waters watched him. Waters could see that his hands were shaking, and he had noticed the new clothes. The jacket looked expensive, and so did the shoes. He was obviously doing okay. Waters was loading boxes at the tomato farm, for minimum wage. He wanted a job in the office, but they had told him it was too soon. “I don't know if you'd be interested, but I wanted to talk to you. I need your advice.” As soon as he said that, Waters knew he was up to no good. He leaned back against the bench and frowned.
“What makes you think I'd be interested, or want to help you?” he said cautiously.
“I don't. I have no idea.” He decided to be honest with him, it was the only way to go with someone as dangerous as he was. He figured it was the only shot he had. “I've got my ass on the line. I owed someone money when I went to prison, a couple of hundred thousand dollars, and I walked right into his arms. He says he can have me killed anytime he wants, which is probably about right, although he hasn't till now. He offered me a deal. I have no choice. If I don't do this for him now, he says he'll kill my kids, and I think he would.”
“Nice people you're hanging out with,” Waters commented, stretched out his legs, and looked at his dusty cowboy boots. “Has he got the guts to do it?” Waters was curious, and felt sorry for him.
“Yeah. I think he would. So I'm in this up to my ass. He wants me to do a job for him.”
“What kind of job?” His voice was noncommittal, as he continued to observe his boots.
“A big job. A very big job. There's a lot of money on the table. Five million bucks to you, if you're in. A hundred thousand in cash up front, the rest on the back end.” Peter decided as he said it to him that maybe it wasn't as insulting as he had at first feared. Even if Waters didn't want it, it was a hell of an offer. For either of them. Waters nodded, he had figured that out too, but he didn't look impressed. He was very cool.
“How much to you?”
Honesty again. It was the only way to go here. Honor among thieves. “Ten on completion. Two hundred thousand cash up front. He wants me to put it together and hire the guys for him.”
“How many?”
“Three, including you. If you do it.”
“Drugs?” He couldn't even imagine how much heroin that represented, or cocaine. He couldn't think of anything else that would generate that much income. But that was high even for a drug deal, unless it was incredibly high risk, which it had to be, if anyone was offering to pay that much. But as Waters looked at him, Peter shook his head.
“Worse. Or better. Depending on how you look at it. In theory, it's pretty clean. They want us to kidnap someone, sit on them for a couple of weeks, collect the ransom, send them home, and split. With luck, no one gets hurt.”
“Who the fuck is it?” Waters bellowed at him. “The president?”
Peter almost smiled but didn't. This was serious business, for both of them. “Three kids. Or as many as we can get. One'll do.”
“Is he crazy? He's paying us twenty-five million bucks between the four of us to nab three kids, and send them home. What's in it for him? How much is the ransom?”
Peter was nervous giving him all the details, but he had to tell him enough to rope him in. “A hundred million. He keeps seventy-five. It's his idea.” Waters whistled and stared at Peter for a long moment, and then with no warning, he reached across the bench and grabbed Peter so hard by the throat with one hand, he nearly choked the life out of him. Peter could feel his veins and arteries exploding in his viselike grip as Waters moved his face to within an inch of Peter's.
“If you're fucking with me, I'll kill you, you know that, don't you?” With his free hand, he ripped Peter's shirt open and tore all the buttons off to see if he'd been wired by the cops, but he hadn't been.
“This is for real,” Peter managed to choke out with the last of his breath. Waters held him there until Peter saw stars and nearly lost consciousness, and then let go, and lay back against the bench again, looking unconcerned.
“Who's the guy?”
“I can't tell you,” Peter said, rubbing his neck. He could still feel Waters's hand on his throat. “That's part of the deal.” Waters nodded. It sounded right to him.
“Who're the kids?”
“I can't tell you that either, until I know you're in. But you'll know soon, if you are. He wants us watching them for a month or six weeks, so we know what we're doing, their routine, and when to grab them. And I have to set up a place for us to go.”
“I can't do surveillance. I've got a job,” Carl Waters said practically, as though he were organizing a work schedule or a car pool. “I can do it on weekends. Where is it, Frisco?” Peter nodded.
“I could do it during the week. It's probably less noticeable if we mix it up a little.” That made sense to both of them.
“They've really got that kind of money? Or is this guy dreaming?”
“They had half a billion dollars a year ago. It's hard to spend that kind of money in a year. The guy died. We're hitting his wife up for the ransom. She'll pay to keep her kids.” Waters nodded. That made sense to him too.
“You realize we could get the death penalty if they catch us,” Waters said matter-of-factly. “Who's to say this guy won't sell our asses out if we do it. I don't trust people I don't know.” He didn't say it, but he trusted Peter, although he also thought he was naïve. He'd always heard he was okay in prison. He was no hardass, but he had done his time and stayed clean. That meant a lot to him.
“I think we'd all need to figure out where to go afterward. I guess we do it, and we're on our own. If anyone talks, we're all screwed,” Peter said quietly.