The Devil's Copper Jamie Crothall (i like reading books TXT) 📖

work, I tried raising my voice.  I was in the back lot of a garage in an industrial park backing on to the woods. What did I have to be subtle about?

“Walter!!”

He shifted slightly. It was only after a vigorous shaking that he finally opened a single eyelid.

“…whuh?”

“Walter!  It’s Billie.  Are you okay?”

“…buh…” he muttered groggily as his hand reached out.  He ended up putting his hand about ten inches away from where my shoulder was.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said.  “It’s okay, don’t worry.  You’re safe.  No one will find you here.”

“…guh…”

“Hey, don’t go back to sleep.  Focus.  Did you do what you had to do?”

“…yuh…”

“Good,” I said.  I exhaled a breath it felt I’d been holding for hours.  “So you gave the info to their inside guy?”

“…nuh…”

“What?  Hey, wake up!”

He shook his head slightly as he tried to find the ability to speak in more than grunts.  “…gone…”

“Gone?  Who’s gone?  Their guy?”  Oh god, what the hell was his name again?  “Campbell, right?”

His head gave a shallow nod.

“…pocket…”

With that, he lost consciousness again. There would be no more rousing him anytime soon.

I checked his coat pockets.  Go figure it would have to be the pocket he was resting on.  After shifting him around, I was able to extract a small notepad.  I flipped through it and found a bunch of scribbled codes and passwords.  It meant nothing to me, but hopefully it meant something to Frankie.

I threw an old sheet over Walter as a makeshift blanket, and stroked his head as though he were a sleeping puppy. I climbed down from the truck and returned to the office.

“He good?” Pat asked.

“He’ll be fine.”

“Are you good?”

I had to ponder that.  “I think so.”

“We have three more jobs at the Creighton mine.  Everyone hates that run.  Should I give them to Todd?”

Everyone hates Todd. “Absolutely.”

I spent some time debating what to do next.  It seemed Walter did the job he was sent to do.  But for whatever reason, their inside guy was unavailable.  I had the book of codes, but without contact from their inside guy, they may have thought that Walter wasn’t playing ball, so to speak.  As much as I hated the idea, I figured I had to contact Frankie myself, to tell him we had the information he wanted.

“Pat, you remember that guy Joey had in his office the other day?”

“Which one?”

Good point.  “The one he never introduced.”

“Oh, him.  Yeah.  I’m pretty sure this is the guy,” he said, scanning his notepad.  “He called yesterday.  Asked Joey to call him back.  Frank…something-or-other.”

“You got a phone number?”

“Yeah.  You want it?”

The fact that I immediately stood and walked over was all the answer he needed.

Pat quickly scribbled it onto a sticky note and handed it to me.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” I said.

I went to the back office to use a private phone.  I rehearsed my dialogue a few times and gave myself a moment to work up the courage before calling the number.

“Greater Sudbury Chamber of Commerce,” a voice greeted.  “How may I direct your call?”

Are you frickin’ kidding me?

“Hi,” I said. “I’m looking for Frank Chambers?”

Was his last name a pseudonym?  Or one hell of a coincidence?

“Just one moment please.  I’ll put you through.”

Well what do you know?

The hold music was playing ‘Lovers in a Dangerous Time’ by the Barenaked Ladies.  It was halfway through the entire song by time someone picked up the call.

“Joey,” he said. “I told you I’d get back to you in a few days.  I guess you’re more eager than I thought about that disposal permit.”

“This isn’t Joey,” I said flatly.

There was a pause, as he questioned whatever form of caller I.D. he had.

“Who is this?”

“Billie.”

Long pause.

“Walter’s friend.”

His tone changed dramatically.  “What makes you think you can contact me?  Here, of all places?”

“Look. I’m just trying to wrap this up and get you what you want.  I have Walter’s book of notes.  Apparently your man Campbell wasn’t available.”

“My man Campbell is dead.  Apparently he killed himself yesterday afternoon.  Shame though, so near the end of his contract.”

I tried not to relay any reaction.  “I’m sorry to hear that.  Walter kept up his end though.  I have the notebook.”

“How is Walter?”

“Tired, as you can imagine.”

“Maybe I should swing by and thank him for his good work.  Is he home?”

“No.”

“Well, where is he now then?”

“I’d rather not say,” I replied.  “I have the notebook. I’d like to give it to you.  Can we do that?”

“We certainly can.  I’m willing to meet with you and Walter…”

“No Walter.  Just me.”

He laughed.  “Fine.  Meet me in the parking lot of the Waste Management building at eight o’clock tonight.”

I did not immediately reply.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“You might see how I’d find that a little concerning.”

“You’re braver when you’re on the phone, aren’t you?  Alright. Eight o’clock at the parking lot in the back of the Southridge Mall.”

Best place to go if you don’t want to run into anyone else.  At all.

“And you’ll have Jack?” I asked.

“I told you.  I don’t have Jack.  But I can get him for you.  Give me what I want, and you’ll have what you want in no time.”

He hung up before any more could be said.

***

I finished my day optimistic it would all be over soon, overshadowed only by Joey’s dog crying out for it’s master again.  Pat made sure to keep the dog away from me.  Joey returned, regaled us with tales of the lodge meeting, then took his dog home just after four o’clock.  At the lead–up to quitting time, I debated whether to contact