Chapter 49

Chapter 49—Jack’s other friend

8:16 a.m., Wednesday, December 28

Jack did not immediately acknowledge his guest. Instead, he just continued reading his New York Times. It was obvious that he was not surprised. “Hey, Bud,” the man finally said to Jack.
The coffee shop was upscale, but Jack’s guest looked anything but upscale. He was wearing a very soiled Yankees cap pulled down over a pair of dark sunglasses. His pants were worn and stained. When he sat down, they slid up his calves to expose a pair of once-white socks, and well-travelled brown leather shoes. Threads dangled from each of the sleeves of his green waist-length jacket.
After at least a minute, Jack folded his newspaper, and laid it on the table. He then glared into his guest’s eyes. Still he said nothing.
After another long moment, his guest spoke, “Thanks for meeting me, Bud. I know you’re not excited about this, but I needed you to improve my comfort level.” When the new arrival spoke, it was in a voice very well known to Jack. Roger Minsk, the head of Allison’s Secret Service detail, had just joined him.
“I understand,” Jack said. “At least you’re up front about it. … And I’m going to need something from you.”
Roger knew how to disguise himself without appearing unnatural. Reginald could have passed him on the sidewalk, and not suspect he had just walked by his friend. In fact, he quite possibly just did.
“Are you going to be able to work with that group? At least nominally?” Roger asked, knowing that Jack would not tolerate small talk. He had picked up on Jack’s comment that he needed his help, but he withheld comment on it until Jack was ready to bring it back up.
“That remains to be seen,” Jack said. “Reg seems comfortable with Jerry. Jerry, for me, represents an unknown.”
“Is he the only issue, as far as you’re concerned?” Roger asked.
 “He’s my major dilemma. What’s your take on this guy?”
“I know him through Allison. That’s it. I haven’t worked with him directly. From what I can tell, he is very loyal.”
“Yeah, that’s what Reg says,” Jack said. “Reg thinks Allison wants him around to ease the strain between himself and Steve. Is that how you see it?”
“There’s an element of truth to that. But I think Jerry also brings common sense to the table.”
“Well, that makes him pretty useless, then. The time for common sense has long since passed. There is nothing common or sensible about what they are contemplating.” Jack then paused for a moment, then he pointed a very thick finger at Roger’s chest. “What I wanna know is this. Does this guy have the balls to do whatever needs doing? Can he keep his mouth shut? Could he squeeze the trigger on his own mother? Where does he draw the line?”
“I’m not sure I can answer that,” Roger said. “Could you ‘squeeze the trigger’ on your mother?”
“I’m not the issue here,” Jack said. “I can’t work with anyone who senses any reservation.” Both men sat there for a moment, then Jack continued. “This guy, Jerry, strikes me as weak. Steve is scared of me—and he should be. Allison and Reg are okay. James is okay, too. But I am still not sure about this other guy.”
“I’m not going to try to convince you of anything,” Roger said.
“Hell, why should you have to do anything on his behalf? This guy has to stand on his own.” Jack countered. “Look, what’s the deal with his hearing problem? He wasn’t born that way.”
“He lost his hearing a year ago. As I understand it, he has Limbaugh’s problem.”
“You can’t be serious!” Jack exclaimed. “Oxycodone?”
“That’s the rumor,” Roger answered. “And he doesn’t deny it. It’s not a real issue anymore, not with his cochlear implant.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jack followed. “He’s weak. People who abuse are weak. And if he’s weak in one area, he’s weak, period.”
“He’s not your typical drug abuser,” Roger said. “Jerry had his back broken in a car crash a few years ago. The story is that he took a number of painkillers—oxy being one of them. Apparently it irritated his stomach, so he started breaking the pills up and mixing them in his food. That’s how he got hooked. It didn’t take long …”
“So he says,” Jack interrupted. “How long has he been clean?”
“He cleaned up as soon as he developed his hearing loss. I have no doubt that he’s been straight ever since.”
“Well, let’s move ahead. But I do not want to work directly with this guy,” Jack said. “Or any of the others, for that matter—except for Reg. He’s going to be my only connection with that group. … And you, of course.”
“That makes sense,” Roger agreed. “I don’t think there is a better man for the job than Reg. And your reputation is stellar . . .”
“That’s true. He and I are very good at what we do,” Jack interrupted. “All that we are expecting of them is to keep their mouths shut, forever. … That’s what worries me about Jerry. I don’t think much of drug heads—regardless of how they acquired their habits. I fear he might be unreliable. If any part of this thing goes south, he could be a problem.”
“Then we have to make sure it doesn’t go south,” Roger said, almost chiding Jack.
“That’s right,” Jack agreed.
“Now, what did you need me to do for you?” Roger asked, referring to what Jack had said earlier.
“You’ve got the equipment to trace and patch cells, right?”
“I can do that,” Roger said. “What do you need?”
“They’ve got my daughter,” Jack said. “Kidnapped. I need to get her back tomorrow night. It will be my one and only shot at it. I could use your help. I’ll call you to set it up.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Right. Early evening”
“I’ll be looking for the call,” Roger said.
Thinking that the conversation was over, Roger stood and started to leave.
“Hold on a minute,” Jack commanded Roger, who had not totally risen to his feet, obligingly sat back down. “I’ve got something for you.”
Jack reached down under the table and pulled a wrinkled brown paper bag out of his briefcase. “Here, take this,” Jack said, as he handed Roger the bag.
“What is it,” Roger asked.
“It’s a gift for you,” Jack said, pushing the bag across the table. “Take a look at it.”
Roger received the surprisingly heavy bag, and opened it enough to examine the contents. He looked back up at Jack, and asked, “What is this about—and what’s it for?”
“It’s for you,” Jack said. “It’s worth a lot of money—ten, twenty thousand, I would guess. If you don’t melt it down, probably a lot more. It’s an antique. In fact, it’s not just an antique, it’s an antiquity.”
“Why are you giving it to me?” Roger asked.
“When this job is over,” Jack said, “you might have a use for it. They tell me it’s a death mask—an ancient Egyptian death mask.”
Jack then looked directly into Roger’s sunglasses, and stuck his very thick finger toward Roger’s nose. Speaking in a frightening tone that was barely above a whisper, Jack said: “I might never see you again after Thursday night. Just know I’m expecting you to behave yourself too. I know you’ve always been a straight up guy. There should not be anything to change that, right?”
“I’m good.”
“Me too,” Jack said, no longer looking at Roger.
After that chilling exchange, Roger turned and left. Neither of the men spoke as Roger walked away, carrying under his arm the gift Jack had given him.