“Alright,” I said, “good enough. So where is Damon now?”
“Now?” Vince looked at his watch. Rolex. His smile returned. “I can’t know exactly, but on a highway somewhere, far from here.”
“Far from here.”
“Yes. Damon’s on his way to Phoenix. He has family there. As part of the…agreement I’ve brokered, he needs to be out of Colorado.”
“Temporarily?”
Vince shook his head. “Damon will not be working with us anymore. An unfortunate necessity to make the arrest go away, but an easy decision to make.”
I nodded. “Which is why his phone isn’t working.”
“Correct.”
“And why it won’t work.”
“Correct. He’ll get a new number, but none of us will know what it is. We’ve seen the last of him.”
Quick, surgical, and heavy-handed. But a no-brainer.
“Makes sense,” I said.
“I’m glad.”
“Here’s the thing though: why was he even arrested?”
Vince smiled and took a sip of coffee, his large hand engulfing the cup. “Ah yes,” he said. “And we arrive here.”
“That’s kind of an important part, no?”
Vince thought about it and shook his head. “No. Not for our purposes.”
“I disagree.”
“It’s not important,” he said, “because you already know the answer.”
And there was the sweat. And the adrenaline. And the clammy palms and the increased heart rate. Time and time I thought I was out of these things, that the tank was empty, and each time they returned.
I said nothing, and felt for my knife.
“You know we aren’t just hauling electronics in those trunks, Julian. And I know that you know, and I would venture a guess that you know that I know that you know.”
I did not know that he knew that I knew.
“Heroin,” I said with a dry mouth. It was poker, we had both placed our bets, and I had laid my cards down on the table.
He nodded and looked at the table. “Mostly. And now we reach the part in which I owe you a second apology, for willfully deceiving you about the contents of those cars. I do it to all of my drivers for reasons you can probably understand. But most of my drivers are average in intellect, and do not run the risk of putting themselves in harmful positions by inquiring and investigating. You of course are not this way, which I knew when I brought you in and which was also the reason I had a plan for you.”
“A plan?” I tried to swallow but could not.
“But that’s neither here nor there, at least not now,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Now I must tell you I’m sorry I deceived you, but what’s done is done. The two of us must handle the situation presented to us.”
“How did you know…I knew?” I asked.
He waved his hand again. “Please. If I can get a narcotic trafficking charge completely removed with no legal maneuvering, I think I can monitor my own operation.”
I nodded.
“But now,” he said, “we must be very careful about what happens next.”
“I think I should leave,” I said, probably too quickly. “Just quit the job altogether. It’s probably the best solution. I could even leave the area if you think it’s necessary. It’s…you know, it’s compromised.”
He frowned and shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not a possibility.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it.” He waved his hand. “You see, I understand why you’d like to just cut ties. From your perspective, that would be the best solution. But you and I are in this together now, like it or not, and we must find a solution that works for both of us. You up and leaving, unfortunately, does not work for me.”
“I’m sure you can find plenty of other qualified candidates to drive a car from Grand Junction to Summit County.”
“Of course,” he said. “But the matter doesn’t simply end there. Your knowledge of my operation puts me in a problematic position.”
“Meaning?”
“Do I really need to connect the dots for you, Julian? You were a stockbroker in a previous life.”
I inhaled deeply. “So your saying you’re afraid if I leave the operation, I’ll go to the police.”
“The police, a friend who will go to the police, a family member. There are just too many inherent risks.”
“I see,” I said.
“It’s unfortunate,” he said.
“But if I wanted to go to the police, wouldn’t I have done it by now? Why does it matter if I’m working for you or not?”
Vince took a sip of coffee and smiled. “He won’t stop until he has all the answers. No stone unturned!” He raised his fist in mock jubilation. “For one, you’ll be engaging in the same activities as me. You implicate me, you implicate yourself. Two, I’ll just say it’s easier to control the things that are under your umbrella. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”
I didn’t understand the last statement, totally, which was his intention. A vague threat is an effective threat.
“So,” he said, “this is the situation in which we find ourselves. Unfortunate, certainly not ideal for either party, but necessary for the time being. We’ll continue on as we have been, for the immediate future.”
“And then what? How long is the immediate future? How long does this have to go on?”
He shrugged. “Until you and I repair the trust between us. And once that happens, we’ll decide how to proceed.”
Repair the trust. Right.
“In the meantime,” he said, “I’d like to move things forward on the right foot. No more secrets. And please, let me take you to dinner. The two of us, and our women.”
And our women. As soon as he said it, the sweat came back.
“Sounds nice,” I said, “but I’m not sure. Suzanne’s not exactly my woman.”
He waved his hand. “Understood. Labels aren’t important. But knowing Suzanne, I’m sure she’d enjoy a private table at the Otter Ridge Steak Room.”
“She’s not too happy with me right now.”
Vince leaned forward, smirked, and motioned toward the living room. “She’s happy with me about once a season.”
We both shared a laugh, and in that moment, if only briefly, we were nothing but buds. A couple of guys, talking women troubles, relating to one another. It was fleeting, but it was real. And it was dangerous.
As we chuckled, Vince began showing me out.
“I’ll make a reservation,” he said. “Tomorrow night. The women will love it.”
He patted me on the back, and I felt myself slipping into his warm, comfortable incubator. I felt it, engrossing my body like a shot of morphine. I could give in. I could play the game. I could be one of the guys. And one day, before long, I could be his apprentice, or better. It could be easy; I could just keep making runs, working a handful of hours a week and making good money, and spending the rest of the time doing whatever the fuck I wanted. It could be easy. I could just keep doing it, keep playing the game, keep not saying anything, until the money grew and so did my influence. I could be him. I could have her. It could be easy.
It flowed through my veins and warmed me, all in seconds. I understood. I understood everything he wanted me to understand, and nothing more. I was smart and strong but so was he, and so were wealth and power. They were slick bastards, and they’d taken better men than me.
He walked me to the door of his office, and the pull came back. It came suddenly, just like that morning in New York when Ray Lamontagne sung on the radio. It arrested my thoughts, my feelings, instantly, and put an end to the warm embrace of wealth and power. It was like methadone to the heroin he injected into me.
It told me to fight, while I still could.
“You know,” I said, stopping in my tracks and turning toward him, “I could just do it anyway. I could just go to the police.” My voice was low and my eyes were narrow, and we stood in the doorway to the hall. I needed to show strength. The tone in the room turned easily.