Tommy sat at the bar and picked at the stale peanuts while nursing down his beer. Special Forces, FBI and National Guard were scouring the town for this Lister guy while Tommy was stationed at the Sonoran Brewhouse. A local pub where Eddie Lister was known to hang out.
The place was a dingy pub with wood columns along the ceiling and booths along each side of the main room. At least it was quiet, making it easier for Tommy to inspect each individual as they entered. He watched a West Coast college football game on the TV while keeping an eye on the door.
A little after 10 P.M. a man came in and stood inside the doorway allowing his eyes time to adjust to the darkness of the dreary tavern. Tommy watched through the mirror behind the bar as the man headed his way. He was tall and athletic-looking, maybe early-fifties. Sitting a couple of stools down from Tommy, he ordered a draft beer. He wore a button down shirt and blue jeans. Too fancy to be a local. Since they were the only two people sitting at the bar, the man took notice of Tommy and raised his glass in a mock toast. Tommy returned the gesture.
It was the fourth quarter of the football game and UCLA was beating Oregon State by three touchdowns. Tommy was losing his patience waiting for this guy to show up, especially since he didn’t have any action on the game.
“You’re not from around here,” the man next to him said.
Tommy turned in his seat to face him. “You pick that up with just my clothes?”
“Naw,” the man said. He seemed to have a mid-western accent. “I’m good at reading people. Sort of a hobby of mine.”
Tommy placed his elbow on the bar and rested his head in his hand. “Really?”
“Sure,” the man said, picking up a peanut from the wood bowl and popping it in his mouth.
“Okay,” Tommy said. “Where am I from?”
Now the man swiveled to face him. He appraised Tommy with a pair of intense eyes. “From your attire, to your demeanor, to your accent … I’d have to say somewhere around the East Coast, maybe Washington D.C. area.”
Tommy smiled. “You’re good,” he said extending his hand. “I’m Tommy Bracco. Baltimore.”
The man shook his hand with a firm grip. “Norm Jennings. West Lafayette, Indiana.”
Tommy snapped his fingers. “I had you pegged for the mid-west,” he said. “West Lafayette. The home of the Purdue Boilermakers.”
“That’s the place,” Jennings said.
“How’s the basketball team doing this year?”
“Lousy.” Jennings said, then took a sip of his beer. “Just one and four so far.”
“I see,” Tommy said. He drank his beer, then returned his attention to the game. He pulled his phone out and checked the Purdue Boilermakers’ record, just for something to do. One and four, just like the guy said.
“Bracco?” Jennings said. “Any relation to the sheriff?”
Tommy nodded. “My cousin.”
“Really?” Jennings seemed to perk up. “You two must be close.”
“Very,” Tommy said. “Pretty much grew up together.”
“So are you in law enforcement as well?”
Tommy chuckled. “Hardly. I just came by for a visit after one of these terrorists took a shot at him. ”
“That’s right,” Jennings said, swirling his finger around in the bowl of peanuts until he found the one he wanted. “I read about that. Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” Tommy said. “He’ll be even finer once we catch the rat bastard.”
“I see. So you’re helping him track this guy down?”
“Something like that,” Tommy said, suddenly realizing he’d been answering a lot of questions. “How about you? What brings you into a war zone like Payson?”
“My mom lives up here and refuses to leave. I thought I’d better keep an eye on her if she’s going to stay.”
“So you’re staying with her?”
“Yes. How about you? Are you staying with your cousin?”
“I am,” Tommy said, checking out the new arrivals as they entered the bar. Two girls and one guy. The guy fit the description. He watched the trio slide into a booth. The guy, maybe Eddie Lister, opened up the plastic menu from between the salt and pepper shakers and looked it over.
“People you know?” Jennings asked, following Tommy’s gaze.
“Maybe,” Tommy said. He returned to his beer trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation. A little patience might help him, but Tommy wasn’t so good with patience.
“Is there something I could do?” Jennings asked.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean with this terrorist,” Jennings added. “Is there anything I could help you with?”
“Sure,” Tommy said. “Just tell me where he is and I can go home.”
“Hmm,” Jennings said. “That’s a good question. Where would you hide if you were trying to outrun the authorities? In plain sight, or tucked away in a cabin somewhere?”
“Me, I’d hide out. But then, I’m not into killing innocent Americans.”
“Why do you think there’s such a spike in violence recently?” Jennings asked solemnly, like a schoolteacher searching for the correct answer.
“Beats the crap outta me,” Tommy said.
“Do you know what I think? I think there’s too much violence on TV. Kids can turn on any channel twenty-four hours a day and see explosions in the Middle East, or movies with special effects so real, who can tell the difference anymore? First time I saw the towers going down on September 11th, it felt like I was watching a movie.”
Tommy nodded. “I know what you mean, you get desensitized to the pictures you’re seeing.”
Tommy noticed Jennings was sipping his beer even slower than he was.
“Listen,” Tommy said. “You wanna give me a hand here?”
Jennings looked interested. “What do you need?” he asked, placing his beer down and wiping the foam from his lips with the back of his hand.
“Just make sure no one blindsides me, okay?”
“Blindside? What do you intend to do?” Jennings asked.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe nothing,” Tommy said. He looked at the man who was already twisting in his bar stool and facing the room behind them. “You with me, Norm?”
Jennings gave a small and decisive nod. “I have your back.”
Somehow, the way he said it, Tommy believed him.
The bartender paused in front of them as he was going past. “You two still okay?”
They both held up their hands.
“Hey, wait a second,” Tommy said. “Could you get me a small bag of ice?”
The bartender had a questioning look on his face.
Tommy flexed his hand and twisted his wrist. “I messed up my hand at work,” he said. “I just need to get the swelling down.”
The bartender nodded. Before he could leave entirely, Tommy added, “And a clean bar towel.”
The bartender waved his acknowledgment as he left.
Tommy returned to his beer.
“You okay?” Jennings asked.
“Huh?’
“Your hand,” Jennings said.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just thinking ahead.”
A minute later the bartender returned with a small plastic bag with ice and a semi-clean bar towel. When he left, Tommy stood and handed the items to Jennings.
“Hold onto this,” Tommy said. “I’ll let you know if I need them.”
Jennings shrugged.
Tommy walked over to the booth where the three young people sat. The young man sat by himself while the two girls shared their side of the booth. The kid was early twenties, dark complexion with a few days stubble which the women seemed to like these days.
“Hey, Eddie,” Tommy said.
“Yeah,” the kid said, looking a bit confused.
“Eddie Lister, right?” Tommy smiled like he was an old friend.
“Yeah, that’s right. Do I know you?”
Tommy rested his palms on the table and smiled at the two girls. “Ladies,” he said.
All three looked at him waiting for an explanation.
“Listen, Eddie,” Tommy said. “Can I get a word with you alone?”
Eddie’s face grew dark. “About what?”
Tommy looked around the room, trying to be discreet. He noticed Jennings paying close attention at the nearby stool.
“Eddie,” Tommy said, “you don’t know me, but I’m a nice guy. I just need a word with you so we can all go back to our dreary little lives.”
Eddie looked bewildered. He seemed to feed off the apprehension on the girls’ faces. “I don’t think so.”
Tommy sighed. “We don’t need to do this dance, Eddie.”
“What dance we talking about?” Eddie said, fishing around under the table, then coming up with a pistol. It was dark in the room, but Tommy figured it to be a single action Ruger. Popular out west for some reason.
The girls squealed while leaning back in their side of the booth. Eddie held the pistol low so no one else could see it very easily.
“You gonna shoot me, tough guy?” Tommy said, feeling the blood running hard through his veins.
“If you don’t get out of here in five seconds, I’m going to end this,” Eddie said with a convincing expression.
Tommy noticed Jennings watching the event with an intense stare. He didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the event. The bartender was too busy stocking liquor at the end of the bar.
Tommy looked at Eddie with disdain. “This isn’t the movies, kid. You don’t need to count. Either you’re gonna shoot me, or you’re not.”
Eddie did what most people did in situations like this when they weren’t prepared to act. He screwed his face into a tight, angry expression and held the gun out closer to Tommy, as if the shorter distance would add to the threat.
Tommy placed his hand on the back of his neck and shook his head. “You want we should count together, or is this like one Mississippi, two Mississippi and we count in our heads?”
“I’m dead serious,” Eddie scowled.
Tommy jumped sideways, then pulled the gun from Eddie’s hand and cold-cocked the kid in the nose. One hard punch was all he needed and the kid’s head lurched back, then forward. Both of his hands immediately covered his nose. Blood seeped between his fingers as the girls shrieked and scurried out of the booth.
The front door opened and closed as the girls left and the room became quiet. Tommy slid into the booth next to Eddie and tucked the gun between his legs. He pulled a bunch of paper napkins from the dispenser at the end of the table and handed them to Eddie.
“Here,” Tommy said.
Eddie took the napkins and pressed them against his nose. His eyes were glossy and he was anxiously watching Tommy’s every move.
“I got your attention?” Tommy asked.
The kid nodded ardently.
Tommy gestured to Jennings and the guy came over with the bag of ice and towel, then returned to his seat at the bar.
The few people in the room seemed to miss the action, but were paying close attention now. The minimal staff was too busy to notice.
Tommy handed the towel to Eddie and said, “Here, put your head back and hold this.”
“You didn’t need to do that.” Eddie sobbed openly. “It wasn’t even loaded.”
Tommy took the bag of ice and covered the knuckles on his right hand, pressing it down on just the correct spot.
“Let me ask you something,” Tommy said. “You ever shoot a gun before?”
“Uh uh,” Eddie mumbled through the towel, his head back now.
“See, that’s your problem,” Tommy said, wincing as an ice cube found the tender part of his hand. “You’re a beginner pretending to be a professional. Anyone with experience sees you’re a virgin. That’s a single action revolver you got there. You gotta have the hammer back to shoot the damn thing.”
“Aw, shit,” Eddie said, feeling his nose with his free hand. “I think it’s broken.”
“Of course it’s broken, you idiot.” Tommy lifted the kid’s chin. “Keep your head back,” he said.
Large tears trickled from the corner of Eddie’s eyes and meandered down the side of his face while his torso shuddered.
Tommy rubbed the kid’s back. “It’s okay, Killer. I need you to breathe.”
Eddie tried to take a full breath and coughed into the towel.
“You know, Eddie, there’s Payson tough and then there’s West Baltimore tough. I’m sure you’re a real handful in Payson, though. Maybe you could steal some milk money tomorrow and get right back on the saddle, huh?”
Eddie’s eyes were wide and frightened. “What do you want from me?”
Tommy removed the bag of ice from his knuckles and flexed his hand. “Apparently you came into some cash not long ago and there’s an ample amount of evidence to suggest you may have found some easy money.”
There was nothing but fear on the kid’s face.
“And,” Tommy continued, “at this very same time a delivery of Turkish cigarettes was stolen from a delivery truck outside of town.” He raised his eyebrows. “You putting it together yet?”
Eddie’s entire body shook, which made him appear to be nodding.
Tommy got closer to him and lowered his voice. “I need to know some information about the heist.”
“A … a … are you the law?”
Tommy put his hand on his forehead. “Good grief, Eddie, you think I look like the law?”
“N … n … no.”
Tommy shook his head. “I’m not. I need this info so I can track down some bad people. People who are much worse than me even. And that’s hard to do.”
“But I don’t know anything,” Eddie pleaded. “Please, just let me go. I won’t ever steal anything ever again.”
“Here’s the problem,” Tommy said. “The people you did the job for are terrorists. You’ve been watching the news, right? The KSF? That’s who you’re dealing with.”
A flicker of recognition crossed Eddie’s face.
“It’s all making sense now, isn’t it?” Tommy said.
Eddie pulled the towel down and examined the large red spot.
“Look at me, Eddie.”
The kid turned with glossy eyes and a mangled nose.
“Here’s how it works,” Tommy said. “We’ll bring you to the sheriff’s office and take a statement. He’ll announce it to the press that they’ve discovered the cigarette thief and have found valuable information about the KSF from this thief.”
“N … No,” Eddie stammered. “You can’t. I thought you weren’t the law?”
“I’m not, but my cousin is the sheriff, and he’ll make sure the KSF knows about your little visit with him. Then he’ll release you.” Tommy raised his eyebrows. “How long before these terrorists come by to pay you a visit? Only with guns which have bullets. And I promise there won’t be any counting when it happens. I’d give you good odds you don’t live to eat lunch.”
“You would do that?”
Tommy rolled his eyes. “Eddie, I just broke your nose. You don’t think I’d give you up to these terrorists? Shit, I’d give them your home address and sleep like a baby.”
Eddie’s eyes roamed around the bar searching for something, maybe thinking of a way out. Tommy wasn’t about to spoon feed him the answer. It was always better if it was the mark’s own idea.
“What if I can help the sheriff find these guys?” Eddie blurted, his nose beginning to leak again.
Tommy took the kid’s hand with the towel and placed it up to the leaky nose.
“That something you can do?” Tommy asked while applying pressure to Eddie’s nose.
“Uh huh,” Eddie murmured through the towel, excited about seeing a positive ending to his dilemma.
“Okay,” Tommy said. “Let’s see what you got.”
Tommy grabbed Eddie and pulled him from the booth. As he headed toward the door, he noticed Norm Jennings was no longer sitting at the bar. He looked around but didn’t find him. A loose thought entered his mind. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about.