The Third Rescue Page 7

  “Who’s she?” he said, leaning in toward Gus to be heard over the helicopter, and nodding at the girl who was sitting next to Gus, shivering.

  She was wearing what looked like pajamas, dark and flimsy, with a drawstring waist on the loose-fitting pants. She sat in the dirt with her hands covering her eyes, as if she didn’t want to see what was happening, her back to the car, pushed as tight against the protective surface as she could get.

  “I don’t know,” said Gus. “She escaped from over there, that truck that’s lying on its side, taking fire. Where were you? Was that Faccio I saw running down the hill?”

  “Yeah, he made a break for it when the shooting started. Oaf went after him. Jesus, what a clusterfuck.”

  “I can’t believe you sent Oaf after Faccio, out into the middle of all that,” said Gus, dipping back below the car. “You know, one of them is down. I think it’s Oaf.”

  “I didn’t send him, dipshit. He just took off after Faccio.” He paused and looked at the still-active battle. “Shit. Oaf was an okay kid.”

  He turned to the girl and asked, “What’s going on out there?”

  The girl didn’t answer, but huddled smaller, pushing even harder against the car and against Gus.

  “No, really,” Little Bull insisted. “Who are these people? Who are you?” He reached over and grabbed the girl’s arm to pull her closer to him.

  Still, the girl ignored him, turning her face away.

  “What do you want to do?” asked Gus, looking at Little Bull.

  Little Bull let go of the girl and looked out at the battle. “Get out of here.”

  “What about Faccio and Oaf?” asked Gus.

  “I don’t know. Faccio isn’t worth chasing. Oaf, well, he’s a big boy. If he’s still alive, he can take care of himself. We’ll check back for him later.”

  Little Bull reached into the car, grabbed the keys, went around to the back and opened the trunk. He leaned into the trunk, hidden from Gus’s view. After a few seconds, he slammed the trunk closed and yelled to Gus. “Get in. I pulled the wires to the tail lights so they won’t be able to see us drive away.” He jumped into the driver’s seat and started the car. There was so much noise from the helicopter that the sound of the car engine had little chance of being overheard.

  Gus stood and opened the back door. He pulled the girl up, realizing that she weighed almost nothing. He pushed her into the back seat, crawled in after her, and pulled the door closed. “Okay, we’re in,” he said.

  “You sure you want to bring her?” asked Little Bull, looking over the seat at the two of them huddling low in the seat.

  “Yeah.” Gus said. He felt extremely protective of the girl. She’d asked for his help, and he was set on making sure she got out of there. “Just drive,” he said.

  Little Bull crept slowly off into the desert. They edged around rocks and trees and cactus, working their way further from the battle.

  After a few minutes, Gus said, “I had to shoot one of them.”

  “Oh, fuck, Gus,” said Little Bull. “One of who? The soldiers? Fuck.”

  “Soldiers? Yeah, probably. He was trying to shoot her.” He pulled her closer to him.

  “Well, all the more reason to get the hell out of here.”

  Gus looked out the back window to see if they were clear yet. “Hey,” he said. “It looks like some of them are getting into the helicopter.” He could see figures running into light that looked like it came from an open doorway.

  The girl sat up and looked out. She gasped, “Oh no. No,” and pushed her hands against the window.

  As they watched, the helicopter lifted, and then rose and flew back over the mountain, leaving them all in silence.

  The girl slumped down in the seat, brought her hands to cover her eyes and cried, stifling sobs, shaking uncontrollably.

  “Talk to your girlfriend, Gus,” said Little Bull. “Find out what the fuck is going on.”

  15

  Las Vegas, April 2018

  CJ struggled to get out of bed the next morning. He’d slept poorly, lying awake, thinking about what he’d learned—and not learned—from Aunt Donna. He couldn’t wait to ask her more about Nini, especially about where Marcio and Noga had met her. He’d bet Donna knew something, and he hoped it was enough to go back to find where Nini had grown up, and maybe that would be enough to find who her parents were.

  It hadn’t only been Nini and Donna who’d kept him awake; it had also been Penny. He went over and over the fight they’d had. Had he really been such a shit, such a phony? He’d never said the things she said he’d said, but wondered if he sounded as ridiculously pompous as she made it seem. Did he treat everybody like that? What about his friends? Did they think he was a suck-up? He’d always been able to sense what people felt, to put himself in their shoes. And he always—or at least often—tried to be nice, to say the things they’d like to hear, or to answer the questions they wanted answered, even if they hadn’t asked them. It was his gift, Nini said. So why wasn’t he feeling good about it now?

  He lay in bed for a long time after he’d finally slogged up to consciousness. He dreaded facing the Hancocks and trying to keep up the charade about his interest in Marcio, but strangely, at the same time, he was anxious to see Penny. What was that thing last night, when she’d smiled at him? Had she forgiven him, or was it something else? He took a long shower trying to somehow divine the answer, but eventually gave up and went out to face the music.

  Mrs. Hancock, dressed in a dark blue pantsuit with cream blouse, was picking things up in the kitchen. She greeted him and told him Oval hadn’t yet appeared. She offered him coffee, which he politely declined, and pointed out where he could find cereal, bread for toast, or eggs if he preferred. He nodded, and glanced over at Penny, sitting on a stool pulled up to the other side of the big island in their kitchen. Penny was watching him, and he couldn’t read what she was thinking.

  “What’s on your agenda today, kids?” asked Mrs. Hancock, looking from CJ to Penny and back, as if they had jointly planned something.

  Penny put the focus on him. “Yeah, Deckard, what’s the plan?” she said, looking at him, still unreadable.

  “Deckard?” asked CJ.

  Penny frowned “The detective dude in Blade Runner? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Blade Runner?”

  “Oh. Jeez.” He shrugged and shook his head. Turning to Mrs. Hancock, he said, “Well, I’d like to check out the newspaper office first. Then, maybe the library, depending on how much time the newspaper takes. I’ve got an appointment with Aunt Donna at two.”

  Mr. Hancock walked into the kitchen, said, “Good morning,” and then looked at Mrs. Hancock. “You ready?”

  “Yes, dear,” she said, taking her purse from the counter. She turned back to CJ and said, “I don’t know what you could have left to talk to my mother about, but have fun.” The two of them went out to the garage, carpooling today so the kids could use the Honda to get around.

  CJ felt uneasy, alone with Penny quietly chewing on a piece of toast, watching him. She was wearing a white cotton sleeveless blouse with denim shorts, rolled up so they were shorter, and running shoes—definitely a more casual look than she’d sported the previous two days. CJ interpreted that to mean that she had quit trying to impress him. In fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she were completely done with him.

  He looked in the refrigerator for some orange juice, but finding none, he opted for milk instead. Downing half a large glass in three quick gulps, he put the glass on the counter and looked at Penny.

  “You want some cereal with that?” she said.

  “Nah. I’ll just have some toast.” The half piece on her plate looked dry. “You have some peanut butter?”

  “In there.” She pointed to the cabinet next to the refrigerator.

  “You don’t have to go with me today,” he said while looking for the peanut butter.

  She didn’t say anything until he turned around. “Hah. And you will ge
t around how?”

  “I don’t know. Uber or something.” He knew how lame that sounded, but he hadn’t thought it through.

  She smirked. “Right. Finish your toast, and we’ll hit the road as soon as your loony friend makes his appearance.”

  As if on cue, Oval appeared, looking wide awake and ready to go. Like CJ, he was wearing a polo and cargo shorts. Nini had refused to let CJ pack his usual array of t-shirts, and he’d passed on the dress code to Oval—collared shirt at all times.

  Oval greeted them with, “What’s up for today, fellow party animals? Hike the desert canyons? Storm a casino? Ravage a hotel buffet?”

  Despite the obvious tension between them, both Penny and CJ couldn’t help but smile.

  CJ responded, “Nothing that awesome, I’m afraid. I want to do some research today.”

  “No biggie.” Oval then nodded toward Penny, as if to ask if she knew what was going on.

  Before they’d even left home, CJ had told Oval about his plan to find Nini’s birth parents. He’d shrugged and said that sounded great. But Penny was still in the dark, thinking the research was about Marcio. Given that he was on rocky ground with her, CJ knew it would probably be better to level with her than risk another blowup if she found out he had been less than honest. But he just wasn’t ready.

  16

  Las Vegas, April 2018

  The ride to the newspaper office was quiet, except for CJ giving directions from Google maps and Oval humming “Viva Las Vegas” in the back seat. CJ had no idea where he stood with Penny. She was here, but the atmosphere was pretty chilly. He couldn’t get any vibe from her, and for him that was really frustrating. It was as if she was waiting—for him to make a mistake, or to commit himself to some course. He didn’t know. He sat paralyzed, mute, stupid, with no idea what to do or say.

  The Las Vegas Review Journal was in a red adobe low-lying building just off the interstate, in a light industrial area near downtown. CJ felt overdressed in his green polo as he watched a stream of men and women enter the newspaper office wearing worn khakis, sweatpants, wrinkled sports coats that would be ugly even if they were clean and pressed, and other various articles that even he thought were disgusting. And based on the fact that these people went past the reception desk and into the offices, they were the employees. No dress code here.

  The receptionist, a middle-aged woman wearing a presentable striped blouse and a pair of glasses that dominated her face seemed nice enough, but had no idea what an archive was. After two phone calls, she sent the trio through a labyrinth of halls, where they eventually found a small office occupied by an older man wearing a narrow tie and a blue shirt that was slightly frayed at the collar. He was seated at a desk only barely big enough to hold the huge old PC he studied through his wire-frame glasses. CJ asked if he was the man to see about the newspaper archive. Rather than answering, he handed CJ a form and said, “Fill it out.”

  CJ sat in the only chair, filling out the information request, while Penny stood in the doorway, watching him, while Oval remained in the hall.

  CJ asked for three things: the full article from the 1982 newspaper that Penny had shown him at the Mob Museum, birth records for Violet Jones for the period 1946–51, and any mention of Violet Jones between 1946 and 1982. As a second thought, he added the same for Venus Jones.

  The man took CJ’s request and read it over. He looked up at CJ, shook his head and said, “Sorry, kid. We don’t go back that far. Anything more than twenty years old, you have to go look at the library.”

  CJ tried to hide his disappointment. He’d already tried the online resources of the library, and knew the online files also went back only about twenty years. He’d have to use the microfilm records, and he wasn’t really sure what they were. But he kept his cool and calmly listened to the directions the man gave them to get to the library.

  After leaving the newspaper, Penny spoke up. “What are you really looking for?” she asked as they walked toward her car.

  “What do you mean?” CJ answered.

  “I mean, you said you were coming to find out about Grandfather Marcio, but that list you submitted back there didn’t have anything to do with him.”

  “Yeah, the article from the museum. That was about Marcio.”

  “But everything else was about your grandmother.”

  “Well, I’d like to find out more about her, too. She was an orphan, you know?”

  “So this whole trip was about her?”

  “No, no.” CJ was caught and he knew it. “Not the whole trip.”

  “God, you are such a liar!” Penny grimaced and got into the car, slamming the door after herself.

  “Dude, I told you,” said Oval, giving CJ an I-told-you-so look. “You take her for granted, and she does not like that.”

  “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

  “Yeah, you weren’t prepared for her,” Oval said, pointing to Penny in the car, ignoring both of them. “She really wants you to like her.”

  “I think she wants more than that.”

  “Right. She wants you to respect her, too.”

  CJ nodded. “You’re probably right.”

  “I know I’m right. And if you can’t do it, I’m ready to take over. Don’t know what she’ll think about it, but I’m game.”

  “No, get in the car,” CJ said, opening the passenger door. “Let’s go.”

  Once in the car, CJ looked over at Penny. He closed his eyes and started talking softly. “I never knew my mother and father, you know. Not that Nini and Noga haven’t been good to me—they have. They’ve been the best parents you could ever ask for. But still . . .” He paused, not sure where he was going with this. It was not something he planned, not something he’d ever thought of saying.

  He continued, staring out through the windshield. “I wonder what my mother was . . . what she smelled like. Whether she laughed just like Noga. Whether my dad would’ve missed playing with his son in the yard. Just, you know . . .” He looked at Penny, who was sitting silently behind the wheel, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “. . . I just wanted to know them.”

  Penny looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

  CJ gulped, blinked and said, “So then I get this stupid project, and Nini doesn’t know her parents either. So we’re supposed to be this family only we’re missing half of it. It’s not fair, somehow. I want more. I want Nini to have more.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll probably write my report on Uncle Marcio. I have enough stuff on him, probably, to do it. But wouldn’t it be cool if we could find out who Nini’s mom and dad were? Maybe it would just be a name. But maybe we could find out where they came from, what happened to them. Maybe it would give her a sense of where she came from, give her a family. Wouldn’t that be cool?” He looked at Penny, wondering if he made any sense at all.

  Penny nodded. Slowly. Touched CJ’s hand. “Yeah,” she said. “That would be cool.”

  CJ glanced back at Oval, and he nodded to him while mouthing the words, “Good job.”

  17

  Las Vegas, April 2018

  The library was in another red adobe building, just east of the Strip. As at the newspaper office, they had no trouble finding a place to park on the street, and they soon found their way to the periodicals section. CJ approached the girl at the desk who was not much older than Penny, he noted, but not nearly as attractive, with long dark hair that lay flat, like it was in need of a good wash. She was wearing a “Library Assistant” badge on her white blouse. He told her what he wanted, and she, too, gave him a form to fill out, only this one was a quarter-page, on green paper. She told him, “One request at a time.”

  He filled out the date and publication for the article from the museum and gave it to the assistant, who told him it would be just a few minutes.

  While waiting, the trio sat in wooden chairs at a very large library table that had a half-dozen chairs arranged around it. CJ noted that there were ten or twelve people scattered around the large room, seated at tables l
ike theirs and in comfortable-looking armchairs. The library at home was a lot older, he surmised. This one was new, modern, contemporary, not how a library should look, it seemed to him.

  The people themselves were mostly older, mostly men, and included a couple who looked like they could be homeless. There were two girls who looked to be in high school or maybe college, seated at two of the three large computer screens on small desks along the far wall. On the other end of the room, large shelving units formed what CJ knew to be the “stacks,” or at least that’s what they called them in the Cincinnati library.

  It was quiet, this being a library, and all three kids sat with their phones, checking out their respective Facebook, Twitter and other social media sites. CJ was tempted to post an Instagram of the library, knowing he’d get instant feedback from Jordan, who was probably lying on a beach somewhere in Florida, if he was even out of bed by now. But he decided not to, sure that Jordan would be quick to make some snarky remark, comparing the library to the beach.

  Oval apparently didn’t have the same reservation, for he quickly showed CJ a text from Jordan. It showed a close-up photo of a girl’s tattooed thigh. “Doing some reading here too,” it said.

  Oval snapped his fingers in front of Penny’s face, took a quick photo of her surprised look, and sent it back. “Not suffering here. LOL,” he said.

  After about ten minutes, they got the article that CJ had asked for. Unfortunately, it was on microfilm, and the library assistant had to show them how to insert the big cassette into the reader, a large machine that sat on a table over near the computers. The librarian told him he could insert dimes to print out pages, or he could use a USB drive to save copies. After a few minutes of instruction, he was able to scroll through the microfilm to find the date he was looking for, and then to the page with the article.