The Infiltrators Page 10

  He visualized himself one day sitting at a table with Mr. Brass himself, offering advice on where they should focus their shipments to avoid police. Mr. Brass would nod gratefully at his wisdom and end every conversation with the phrase: My right hand man.

  He didn’t know whether Mr. Ritmer represented a serious bump in the road, or whether the elusive man might somehow propel his career. His claim he could provide Smokeless Green twenty percent cheaper than his going rate couldn’t be passed off as mere puffery. It seemed consistent with the fact he didn’t deign to touch a single gram from the hundreds of pounds he had at his fingertips at the stash house.

  But what was really behind all those deaths . . . if he just wanted to talk business?

  Maybe he just wanted to get your attention and show he was the real deal.

  Maybe he had started out killin’ people for Lefty and then decided it would be better to do business with you?

  Rob was anxious regardless of which path this meeting took. If the guy was for real, and he offered Smokeless Green twenty percent cheaper than what he got it at from Ethan, Ethan wasn’t going to be too happy about him breaking ranks and going outside Mr. Brass’s organization.

  Heck, Mr. Brass himself might not be too happy about it.

  But with a guy like Mr. Ritmer in your corner, maybe Mr. Brass would know better than to meddle.

  But he knew that was a bit simplistic. The word on the street was Mr. Brass himself had blown the police station sky high and scared the daylights out of the city’s politicians, causing them to quickly round up a few of Mr. Brass’s disposables and hang them to save face.

  Any dude who can pull that off you shouldn’t be messin’ with!

  But Mr. Brass had not always been Mr. Brass. He had once been a nobody, while everyone swore Heavy Sam was going to rule this city for decades and pass it on to his children and create a dynasty. But with a little guts and a lot of ambition, Mr. Brass had broken the rules and risen to the top practically overnight.

  That’s what you need to do! Get some guts! Form an alliance with Mr. Ritmer!

  When Rob realized it was 11:05 p.m., he quickly became furious. He had paid off every cop on the beat within three blocks, in case things got ugly, and had dragged practically his entire crew here, leaving several of his other stash houses almost completely unguarded.

  And after all that, Mr. Ritmer is gonna be a no-show?!!

  He looked suspiciously at Thin Tim, who avoided eye contact but had clearly cringed upon seeing Rob’s stare from the corner of his eye.

  “Eleven p.m., he said, right?” Rob asked with steel in his voice.

  “Yes, sir, Robert. That’s exactly what he said.”

  “On Wednesday?”

  “Yes.”

  Rob considered it a sign of weakness to wait for anyone more than ten minutes past the scheduled time. Mr. Ritmer’s offer—if Mr. Ritmer even existed—was just what it sounded like: too good to be true.

  It vexed him that he still didn’t have a clue just what in the hell was going on. The lack of any assassination attempt so far, coupled with the lack of Mr. Ritmer showing up, seemed to suggest Mr. Ritmer simply didn’t exist. But Thin Tim sure hadn’t killed all those people at the stash house or masterminded it.

  But he knows more than what he’s saying.

  “Well, our date stood us up, men,” Rob said with affected jocularity, seething on the inside.

  He would have to go on dealing with Ethan, whom, while he had never disliked him before, he suddenly hated. He now saw Ethan as a repressive obstacle, practically a slave master.

  All in good time.

  Part of him wanted to wait another hour if that’s what it took to meet Mr. Ritmer, but he knew he had already lost face. He nudged one of his gorilla bodyguards and told him, “Take Thin Tim to some place far from listenin’ ears and do what you have to to find out all he knows.”

  Richard looked at him with a serious face but smiling eyes and nodded. He then grabbed Thin Tim by the left tricep so hard he almost made him squeal.

  No one noticed the keen interest the drunken man was paying to the entire scene with his right eye just a few centimeters open.

  Chapter 18

  “Some of it’s rumor. Some of it’s as good as fact.”

  “Just spit it out, Tats.”

  “Someone’s—some group of people’s—climbing up the hierarchy killin’ people as they go.

  “They say it started with a random attack on some street dealers; then, when their boss—Jack Hillmeyer—tried to lay an ambush on one of these guys, Jack and all his muscle just plain disappeared. Then, they hit Lefty’s stash house and killed everyone except for some toady named Thin Tim.

  “They demanded a meeting with Lefty’s older brother, Rob, and I just got wind that it went down last night, but the guys were a no-show. No one’s sure exactly what these guys are after, Mr. Brass, but they’re climbing straight upwards. Some people fear Rob’s days are numbered and that even though they didn’t attack him last night they got a look at him and followed him.

  “Above Rob, there’s Ethan Forrester and then just a couple more wholesalers, and then it’s me. No one’s exactly sure what these guys are really after. The leader calls himself Mr. Ritmer, and supposedly he wanted to meet with Rob ‘cause he could sell him unlimited Smokeless Green at a twenty percent discount. But since he was a no-show, obviously that ain’t what the meetin’ was about.

  “No one knows what these guys are after, but they’re movin’ upwards fast. Real fast.”

  “Me,” Righty said calmly. “It’s me they’re after.”

  Tats gulped, not quite sure how to respond.

  “Remember when I told you I’d expand the amount of knowledge I entrusted you with if it became necessary to the survival of this organization?”

  Tats nodded somberly.

  “Well, it’s about to expand again. Can you take me by Ethan’s place tonight?”

  Tats had objections. He felt like bunkering down and not peeking outside until someone cleared the streets of this menace eating its way through their organization like a fox inside a henhouse. And going past Ethan’s mansion, which by now was likely under the surveillance of these phantoms, seemed a good way to get himself under surveillance and make this his last night on earth.

  But a private would have sooner voiced these objections to a four-star general than Tats would to Righty.

  “Give me a minute. I’ll make it happen.”

  Tats dashed upstairs and began asking amongst the dozen or so toughs posted inside the house at various windows and doors (another couple dozen were outside) whether any of them knew where Ethan lived.

  Finally, he discovered that one of the men’s sisters was dating Ethan. She had bragged to him once about her new beau’s gorgeous mansion, and he had followed her one day to it and surveyed it with a combination of awe and malicious envy.

  He thought that perhaps Ethan was in trouble of some sort, so he happily conveyed the information to Tats, hoping Ethan had some kind of comeuppance in store tonight.

  Tats ran downstairs with the information and quickly began consulting a large map on the wall showing the entire city. He studied it cautiously and mentally noted the spot after touching it with his finger, though putting no marks there. He didn’t want to make the police’s job any easier if they ever raided this place.

  “I’ll get two horses. Should we bring any muscle?”

  “Just our own. This is a low-profile job. You ride in front by a hundred yards or so, and, without stopping, just grab your hat and adjust it slightly when you’re next to his house. Will it be to your right or left?”

  “Right.”

  “Got it. Let’s go.”

  They stepped outside, and Tats quickly explained to the guards that if for any reason Mr. Brass came back alone he was to be given full access to the house and they were to take whatever orders he gave.

  Tats then rode off down the street. Righty waited a couple minutes a
nd then began after him.

  The trip was without hitches. Road traffic was very light, and there was nothing obstructing the view of Tats when he adjusted his hat.

  Righty had begun to worry he wouldn’t know the exact spot Tats had been at when he himself reached there, but the exquisite nature of the mansion—even though surrounded by luxurious houses on either side—left no doubt as to which was the one in question.

  A couple hours later, Tats and Righty were back in the basement, and Righty told him.

  “We need to talk outside in the backyard. No guards.”

  Tats went out and sent all the guards to the front, and their curious faces darted back and forth multiple times as they headed away, wondering what spectacle they would miss, but not thinking it worth their life to sneak a peek at it.

  A moment later, Righty and Tats went outside, and to Tats’ surprise he saw five small birds on the table, looking directly at him and showing no signs of fear.

  “Say hello to your new friends.”

  Tats mechanically said “hello,” feeling so foolish he blushed in the process.

  “You ever heard of talking parrots?”

  “Heard of them, yes. Some say they’re a myth.”

  “They’re not,” Righty responded, realizing then that he actually had never seen one himself.

  “These birds are a tad smarter. I’ve raised them since they were chicks. I trust them with my life, and I would view any injury to them as an injury against myself or a family member.” Righty paused to let that sink in.

  “They’re going to be watching you, for your own protection. If anyone suspicious attempts to approach you—whether at your houses or while you go down the street—they will take certain steps to help you. If you need to send me a message at any time, just whistle and one will fly down to you. Give him the message, and he’ll take it to me right away.”

  He could see Tats thought he had gone crazy and was making inhuman efforts to disguise his disbelief.

  “It’s all right,” Righty said, chuckling. “I wouldn’t believe it either if I didn’t see it. Go ahead give it a try.” He looked upwards, and the birds immediately flew away.

  “Now, just a soft whistle. We don’t want your guards coming back here and seeing something they’ve got no business seeing.”

  Still feeling foolish, Tats let out a really soft whistle.

  A konulan immediately dropped down and landed on the table smiling.

  “Call another if you feel one’s too few for a party.”

  Tats let out four short whistles, and the rest immediately dropped down onto the table.

  “Well, let’s convince of you of the rest. What would you like Sammy here to tell me?” he asked, pointing.

  “Mr. Brass is a good man,” he said, the words coming out mechanically.

  Sammy turned to Righty, “Tats says you’re a good guy.”

  “Were those his exact words?”

  “No.”

  “What were they?”

  “‘Mr. Brass is a good man.’”

  Tats’ face was now a completely different shade of incredulity. Skepticism as to whether Mr. Brass’s claims could possibly be true was replaced with skepticism as to what his eyes and ears had just reported to him.

  “That’s . . . that’s—”

  “Amazing. Yes, it is.”

  Tats exhaled in astonishment.

  “Tats, look at me.”

  Tats turned.

  “You now know essentially all of my secrets. I trust you more than anyone else in this organization, and so I had no choice but to part with this. Believe me—it wasn’t easy. I hope you’ll understand that if this information were to be discovered in any way that was due to your lack of discretion I would be very disappointed.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “The day may come where more have to know if we’re to survive against our enemies. But I don’t think we’re there yet.”

  Tats nodded.

  “And I want you to know that your safety is one of my highest priorities. I’m in the process of working on some additional protection, but for now this is the best I can do. These birds will warn you if you’re in danger. If they do, get to one of your mansions as soon as possible. You don’t want to fight these guys out in the open.”

  “What do you know about them, Mr. Brass?”

  “Right now, not much. But I plan on changing that soon. I’m pretty sure a new fellow that’s working at my ranch used to be part of their organization. Finding out more is one of my top priorities,” Righty said.

  Tats wanted to ask more but knew better.

  Righty closed their meeting with a firm handshake.

  “Watch your six, friend, and pass the word down to everyone that they’re to do the same. Ethan would probably be best off if he got himself a new mansion and soon. He should get one that’s far less luxurious, yet far better shielded by trees. Then, he can surround it with guards without catching the neighbors’ attention, and he can brace himself for what’s likely to be an attack very soon.

  “If they were watching Rob secretly when he showed up at the place they told him to, they’re soon going to be following all of his couriers closely, and they’ll eventually discover his source.”

  Tats nodded. “I’ll pass the word down, Mr. Brass.”

  “You take care of yourself.”

  Righty let out a whistle, hopped on Harold, and set off.

  When Harold set him down at the periphery of his new ranch that night, near a horse tied to a tree, he told him, “Change of plans. Go find some pholung chicks. I’m not leaving this ranch till you have. And if you don’t, then I’m through with this business. There’s a storm comin’, and I’m gonna need a lot more muscle.”

  Harold nodded immediately and then set off, squawking dominantly, ordering a large portion of the konulans to accompany him.

  “Some first day back on the job,” Righty muttered to himself as he rode up to his house.

  He found some tolerably warm food left in the oven and, when he reached the bed, some tolerably warm company.

  Chapter 19

  “Head south of Ringsetter. Hide in the woods behind Righty’s old house,” Harold said.

  But Ringsetter’s south. The pholungs are northwest of here, the konulans wanted to say, but they had already seen Harold assert himself earlier that day with Mr. Simmers, and they now fully understood there was no appeal to Harold’s instructions.

  “I’ll meet up with you soon—hopefully before dawn—and then we’ll go pholung hunting. I’ve got some pressing business to attend to.”

  Their paths were nearly identical, but whereas the konulans flew almost directly south, Harold’s path was just slightly southeast.

  Around an hour later, Harold perched in a tree outside Pitkins’ house. He wasn’t sure whether he’d succeed at all, much less before dawn.

  His sharp eyes pierced the darkness. He saw a large dog outside the house, but no sign of Koksun.