Chapter 89

Chapter 89—Jack has some new digs 

3:27 a.m., Friday, December 30 

Jack looked down at his phone just as he was walking through the door. He did not recognize who was calling. “Hello,” he said.
 “Jack, Roger here.”
“I didn’t recognize your number,” Jack said.
“Right. Well, you ready to head up to your apartment?”
“Apartment?” Jack asked, a little surprised.
“We’re thinking that you’re going to be in town a while,” Roger said. “At least until Kate repairs a bit.”
“As long as there’s a bed,” Jack said. “I think it’s been a lifetime since I’ve touched a pillow.”
“Running on nervous energy,” Roger said.
“Way past that,” Jack said. “I’m ready to shoot somebody just to buy a bed in lockup. …You got an address and a key for me?”
“Better than that,” Roger said. “If you can make it downstairs without help, I’ll be waiting. Black Expedition.”
“If I’m not there in five,” Jack chuckled, “check in the elevators. I’ll be curled up on the floor of the express.”
“I’ll take care not to startle you. I’ve seen what you can do.”
“See you in a bit,” Jack replied, disconnecting the call just as he entered the elevator.
There was no one else on the elevator when Jack got in. He just stood there staring at the buttons. For the longest time he tried to think. Had someone stuck a pistol in his face, his reflexes would have taken over. But he was so exhausted that he could not figure out which button he needed to push to go to the lobby.
Just then another man got in the car with him. “Excuse me,” the man said, reaching in front of Jack to push the “Lobby” button.
Jack forced a slight smile, and took a step backward. He had been tired before. He was never able to sleep on international flights. Travelling abroad always took its toll. But factoring in the stress element, right at this moment he did not care whether he lived or died.
When the elevator door opened, he took a look around surveying his surroundings as he exited. He always exercised caution, even in exhaustion.
Immediately he spotted Captain Spencer standing over a well-dressed man who was seated in a chair. It occurred to Jack that Spencer appeared to be agitated. For one thing, he was standing very close to the seated man. “That would be uncomfortable,” Jack thought. “Spencer does not look happy.”
At first Jack was unable to get a good look at the other fellow because Spencer was blocking his view. But as he doglegged toward the hospital exit, he caught a good look at the seated man’s face. “I’ve seen him before,” Jack thought. “That is the police commissioner. What would he be doing at the hospital? And why would Spencer be so animated? Could he be the one who set the captain up? Anything’s possible, I suppose.”
Jack was not anxious to be spotted leaving. But, as should be expected, he was unable to escape the attention of the two over-the-hill detectives.
“Jack,” Spencer shouted across the lobby. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
Jack did not respond. In fact he did not even glance in the captain’s direction. But he did wave his left hand in a perfunctory manner as he walked past. “If I have to talk to that bastard one more time today, I’m gonna shoot him,” he muttered as he reached the revolving door.
The cool early morning air felt refreshing on his face. It revived him just enough that he was able to locate Roger’s Expedition.
As he approached to get in, the heavily tinted window on the front passenger side opened, and he heard a familiar voice. “Get in the front,” Roger said. “I’ve got a black coffee waiting for you.”
Jack opened the door and slid in.
“Great,” Jack said, popping the lid off the hot black coffee. “That’s just what I need. Maybe you won’t have to carry me up to my bed.”
“Let’s hope not,” Roger chuckled. “I’m not getting any younger, and you’re not getting any lighter.”
Jack took a quick sip of the hot coffee. Just enough to determine that it was not too hot to drink, and that it did not have any sugar. “Perfect,” he said, taking a full-mouth gulp. He held the coffee in his mouth, savoring the flavor. And then he swallowed.
“What’s the status on Reg?” Jack asked.
“Hey, Buddy,” Roger said. “He’s still dead.”
“Have you contacted his wife?” Jack asked.
“I have,” Roger answered. “And the ME has signed off on his coronary.”
“His wife’s okay with that?” Jack questioned. “She knows better, right?”
“Probably,” Roger said. “But she also knows better than to question me. She’s good with it.”
“And his belongings?” Jack asked. “Where are they?”
“You requested his clothes, shoes, etc. Right Jack?”
“That’s right,” Jack responded. “Is that a problem.”
“No, not at all,” Roger said. “Officially Reg was killed in a car accident. There’ll be no autopsy. I believe his wife is having him cremated. End of story. Of course, his personal effects—wallet, jewelry, wristwatch, cash, stuff like that. His wife gets that bag. And you get the clothes. That’s what you want, right?”
“That would be great,” Jack said. “Any idea when I’ll get it?”
“I’m dropping you off at the apartment right now. Maybe it’ll beat you there.”
“Really?”
“Do you think we should hold off until morning with that?” Roger said. “Don’t you think that would be best? Get some sleep now without distractions?”
“I’d like it as soon as possible,” Jack replied. “I’ll sleep regardless.”
There was a moment when neither man spoke, during which Jack nearly fell asleep.
“You gonna tell me what you want with it?” Roger asked.
Jack paused for a moment. He did not want to sound overly sentimental. And, he wanted to avoid the macabre, after all, Reginald’s death clothes could have been riddled with bullet holes, soaked in blood, and saturated with the smell of incendiary smoke. “You know, Rog,” Jack finally said. “I do not have so much as a Polaroid of Reg. Not a single picture. After all we have been through together. And the way he died. Saving my daughter, … and me. Yet I have nothing to remember him by. I know his wife doesn’t need this kind of reminder laying around in her attic—especially with the blood and all. Better she go with the story of the heart attack. So those clothes are of no value to anyone else in the world.”
“What will you do with them?” Roger asked. It’s quite possible that Roger was more interested in keeping Jack awake until they arrived at Jack’s apartment, than he was in listening to any of Jack’s actual answers.
“You would have just burned them,” Jack said.
There was no conversation in the SUV for a few moments. Roger suspected that his friend had fallen asleep. Finally, Jack broke the silence. “Reg was a bit of an odd duck. He was a hard one to understand. I can’t imagine him gone. In our line of work, there just aren’t very many people who really get to know you. Reg knew me. And I knew him. I always felt that if I had him on one of my jobs, I was in good shape. He would always have my back. And, in the end, he did have it. He never stopped to consider potential danger.”
“Yeah,” Roger responded. “He was the consummate professional. But you would have done the same thing for him. Isn’t that true?”
“I always thought I would. We’ve been through a lot together—some really tight places. But it never got to this point. Had it been his daughter, or him trapped in a burning building, I would like to think that I would have reacted the same way. But you never really know about such things.”
There was another lengthy pause, before Jack started back up.
“However, it was always easier for me. I died the day my wife was killed. Nothing was ever the same after that. Then, when Kitty got her job in New York, I felt as though she did not need me so much. At least not the way she did growing up. Back then I felt like I had something to live for—something to get me going every morning. … I’m sure glad I was around during this mess. I’m not so sure how that would have turned out if all Kate had to count on was old Captain Spencer. Without Reg, and you, Kate would not be around right now. … Something like this makes a guy re-evaluate his existence. I don’t want to let go of Reg, of his memory. Aside from Beth, my wife, there has never been another person in my life that I could count on in an emergency. … And they’re both dead now, because of me. In a sense, I killed them both. It doesn’t seem right. It’s not right.”
“You are not responsible for Reg’s death.”
“No, not directly. But it should have been me. I should have found Kate, and pulled her out. I should have taken that bullet. Reg should be home with his wife right now. If someone had to die, it should have been me.”
“We don’t get to make those choices,” Roger consoled his friend. “As long as we do the best we can, that’s all that matters. It just happened that Reg reached Kate first. And, thank God, he got her out safely. That’s just the way it went down. I’m sure that Reg would not change a thing. Were he to have known that he would die saving his friend, he would have done it exactly as he did.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t lighten my load tonight,” Jack said. “I lost a very dear friend—my only friend. …You know, Rog, I don’t even have a picture of him—not in all the decades that I’ve known him…”
Roger chuckled, as he interrupted. “You already said that, Jack. God, I’ll be glad to deliver your sorry ass. … Besides, my friend, just how professional would that be—to keep a hit-man photo album? Would you have captions under the pictures? Like, ‘This is Reg and me after we killed the senator.’ I can’t imagine Reg allowing that. I’ll bet his wife doesn’t even have any pictures of him after their wedding.”
“Hit man? What the hell are you talking about? And what do you know about that senator?” Jack asked, feigning a scowl.
“I’m just kidding, you sonofabi**h,” Roger snapped. “You know what I mean.”
“I think I’m gonna get out of this racket,” Jack said. “I’ve had enough. Maybe I’m just getting too sloppy. When you get your friends killed, it just might be time to retire.”
“Jack, you didn’t get Reg killed. I’ve been around a long time. I don’t think anyone could have pulled off the job the way you two did. It was ingenious. I’m glad I was able help. But you and Reg made it happen. Kate would be dead right now if you two had not come through for her. … Just accept the fact that Reg was happy to be a part of it. You’ve got to trust me on this. I did not know Reg as well as you did, but I do know that he did what he did because that is the way he was. Just be glad that it turned out as well as it did. And I’ll be glad to see you get back to being your old obstinate self. I’m getting pretty sick of the guy I’m talking to right now.”
“… I need some sleep,” Jack confessed one more time.
“Just hang on for a couple more minutes,” Roger said. “I don’t want to carry you into your apartment. … This is it. The one with the bag by the door.”
“What the hell is that?” Jack asked. “A bomb?”
“My guess is that bag contains Reg’s personal belongings.”
“Already?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” Roger said. “You said you wanted yet tonight—this morning. And my man just texted me that he was dropping it off in a taped black plastic bag. That would be it.”
“And he just leaves it at the door?”
“That’s him sitting in the running car. When you take possession, he will pull away. He’s a bit bashful around men like you.”
Jack thanked Roger again.
“You’ve got your key, right?” Roger asked as he bid farewell.
“Sure do,” Jacked answered, as he started to exit the SUV.
“Hang on a second,” Roger said. “Here take this.” Roger then handed Jack a small Smith and Wesson .38 Special. “I share your aversion to semis. Just promise me you won’t shoot yourself in the foot before you get some rest.”
Jack smiled, as he slid the hammerless revolver into his pocket.
He looked around to see Roger’s delivery man pulling away. Picking up the plastic bag containing Reginald’s clothes, Jack turned and waved to Roger.