Chapter One
CHAPTER ONE
Slap! Harry Brown woke, cheek burning. A bearded stranger stood over him.
He tried to get out of the recliner, but was pushed down, his robe askew.
“Sit down and stay put,” the intruder said, inches from Harry’s face. He looked vaguely familiar.
“What do you want?”
“You betrayed us.”
“Who are you?”
Only moments earlier, Harry had been watching the Orioles lose to the Red Sox, his cat, Raven, asleep on a pile of once-clean clothes. Just over the stranger’s shoulder, his grungy cable box glowed 10:30 p.m.
At least Sarah isn’t here. No telling what this guy would do to her.
The intruder clamped Harry’s chin with a single strong hand, forcing their eyes to meet.
“The woman that was here today. What did you tell her?”
“What woman?”
Harry took a deep breath and coughed up greenish mucus. The man’s damp trench coat smelled like sweat and scotch. A bead of water fell from the lapel to Harry’s naked knee.
“Sterling, what’d she want?”
The intruder’s words slurred, and spit sprayed onto Harry’s face.
“They sent you? I promise, I never revealed the secret. Please, I’m a sick man.” Harry coughed again.
“I saw you talk to her.” He pulled on leather gloves.
Isn’t it a little late for that? Oh wait, unless…
The intruder punched him in the face, hard. Harry shielded his now bleeding cheek with shaking hands.
“Stop, please, stop. Yes, I did talk to her, but I didn’t divulge anything. I’ve always been loyal to the industry. Please, I need to take my pills.”
The man didn’t budge.
“Look at me, I’m dying.”
The man crushed Harry’s shoulders with a vise-like grip.
“Tell me what I want to know, or you can die in the next five minutes.”
Oh no. I need a weapon. Anything.
Harry pushed his robe aside, let his bladder loose, and sprayed urine in the man’s face.
“You son of a bitch!” The intruder jumped back spitting and rubbing his eyes, tripped over an ottoman and hit the brick fireplace hard.
Harry bolted from the recliner, old joints creaking, and ran for the kitchen door.
Dazed, the intruder stumbled and grabbed the mantle to steady himself. Harry’s family pictures and snow globe collection tumbled to the floor, shattering. The man rubbed the back of his head and saw Harry in the kitchen fumbling with door locks.
“You’re going to regret that.”
Harry abandoned the locks and grabbed a paring knife next to a half-peeled, slimy apple.
The intruder charged him.
Knife in hand, Harry lunged at the man, who swerved, avoiding the blade. Harry focused on the front door and tried to channel all remaining energy into his legs.
The intruder grabbed Harry by the neck.
Harry flailed, stabbing the knife behind him. The man caught his wrist and bent it backwards, until something popped, and Harry lost feeling, falling to his knees.
This is it. I’m sorry Sarah.
Harry wheezed.
“Forget what you said to the woman. Give me your notes and this will end.”
The man kicked Harry and his face hit the cold linoleum. At that very moment, a piercing yowl echoed through the room and Raven pounced panther-like on the man, clawing his cheeks and forehead. The intruder yelled, swiping at the cat.
“Get off me, you mangy animal.”
The man clawed back at the cat and threw it across the kitchen. The cat landed on all fours with a screech and streaked out of the room.
“No more bullshit, Harry.”
The man dragged Harry off the floor and dumped him in the recliner, his thin, worn, body exposed.
I have no power over this guy, except…
“You can kill me, but the truth will come out.”
The man punched Harry in the face. His head fell forward, nodding like a bobble head doll.
The man seized the lamp from the end table next to the recliner, and the shade tumbled to the floor. He ripped the electrical cord from the base and tossed the lamp aside. He stretched the cord taut, wrapped it around Harry’s neck, and squeezed tight.
A blackness came over Harry and he saw Sarah.
“Traitor” the intruder said.
**********
The man dropped the lamp’s power cord and stared into Harry’s frozen eyes.
So, this is what it feels like to kill someone. My temper got the better of me. I must protect the industry. I just wanted his damn notes, and for him to keep his mouth shut. Well, he won’t talk now. Serves him right for peeing in my face. Ugh, something smells horrible. Probably this pigsty.
He ran his gloved hand through his hair, wiped the sweat off his brow, and walked to the back of the house to begin his search. A single bulb lit the dark and musty hallway. He could barely fit into the back room, filled to the ceiling with newspapers, magazines, and file cabinets.
He choked on dust while he tossed the room. Finding nothing of value, he moved on to the bedroom, living room, and kitchen, tearing each apart.
Damn it. No notes. Unless, he gave them to Sterling. She’ll pay for this. I can’t let her publish that information.
He left the house and walked onto the dark front porch; the humidity overwhelming. Tried to take a deep breath then vomited into a holly bush. He removed his gloves and wiped his mouth.
Will this heat ever end? The Grid can’t take much more.
For the first time in years, he longed for a cigarette. To light one, watch the fire catch hold of the tobacco, and take a long, slow drag.
He yanked a flask from his trench coat pocket and took a swig. The smooth, dark liquid burned his throat. A good scotch, like a good lover, made him want more.
The cat scratches stung, and blood trickled down his face. He ran a handkerchief over the wounds.
Damn pussy. Both of ‘em.
He looked over what was once a decent middle-class white neighborhood, with well-kept yards, maintained houses, and content children. Now the dilapidated houses hid shady characters. He could not imagine why Harry stayed here.
A large bolt of lightning attacked the nearby Maryland Power substation. Sparks traveled in every direction off the towers. Within three seconds he heard the boom of thunder, and his heart skipped a beat.
Damn close. The Maryland Power linemen’ll be busy tonight.
Calmer now, he walked down the crumbling neighborhood sidewalk as steaming drizzle turned into steady rain. He turned up the collar of his coat and tucked his head down.
A few blocks from Harry’s house, he used a rundown gas station pay phone to call a cab. He took another swig from his flask and called the private line.
“Hey, it’s me. I need to see you tonight. Yeah, I know what time it is. There’s something you need to know. No, I can’t go into it on the phone. Meet me at the Center Café. Yeah, that’s the one. You’ll be proud.”