The Sham
“Report,” Dempsey said as Buck stepped into the van and pulled off the black ski mask.
Buck shook out his curly hair and chuckled. “I tell you what, your man out there has some Spidey sense going on. I was a thousand yards away, looking at him through a night scope, and I swear he could feel me.”
“Did he make you?”
Buck shook his head. “I told you. I was a thousand yards away. And even at fifty, there ain’t no one out there who could make me. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” Buck removed the scope from the gunstock and put it into a foam, padded case. He pulled himself into the front passenger seat and adjusted the mirror so he could see himself. Then he licked his fingers and tried to put his curls back into place. He was humming an old Hank Williams song.
Dempsey wondered for the fiftieth time if he had made the right decision in including Buck on this contract. The stakes on the job were enormous, and the young man was acting like he was getting ready for prom.
“Buck, I’m only going to tell you this once,” Dempsey said. “Be careful with this one. Like you say, he’s got some Spidey sense going on. You don’t want to underestimate him. And we definitely don’t need you going off on any tangents. There’s a lot of money riding on this.”
“When have I ever gone off on a tangent?” Buck seemed to be satisfied with what he saw in the mirror because he turned it back toward Dempsey and pulled a cowboy hat from under his seat, placing it lightly on his head.
“The real question is when haven’t you gone off on tangents. I remember some significant collateral damage in Argentina, in Nicaragua, in Costa Rica, in Brazil. And those are just off the top of my head. Luckily nobody connected the dots.”
“What makes you think those had anything to do with me?”
“It’s evident by the tightness in your voice when you deny it.”
Buck started to protest but then rubbed his hand against his throat and chuckled. “I guess you know me pretty well, Boss. Let’s just say I’ve got a weakness for lovely Latina ladies.”
“And you know me well too, Buck. So know this: I’m not going to stand for it this time. If I see even a hint of you heading down that path, I will remove you.”
Buck’s smile flickered but did not diminish. “What’s the story with you and the spider man?”
“What do you mean?”
“Seems like you know this guy. Seems like there’s something personal here.”
“Nothing personal. Just a job. One that’s going to make both of us wealthy men.”
Buck grinned wider. “The tightness in your voice says different.”
Buck was smarter than he sometimes let on. Dempsey was going to have to be careful around him.
“I just don’t like working on home soil,” Dempsey said. “This isn’t a third-world country. If things go south, we won’t be able to bribe our way out.”
“No, it’s more than that. You’ve crossed paths with this guy before. What happened? Did he defeat you at one of your own games? You look at him like you did at that Russian who used to beat you at chess—before you took him out.”
Dempsey thought for a moment. He remembered a day a long time ago when Matthew Knight’s fists had pounded into his face as he’d lain on the ground. He could still taste the blood. “You’re right,” Dempsey said finally. “We have crossed paths before. A long time ago, in grunt school. But he definitely didn’t beat me at any of my games.” He just thinks he did.
“It would have been a lot easier if you’d let me just take care of him and the kid tonight. We couldn’t have asked for better conditions: middle of the night, no one around, crosshairs all lined up nice and pretty. Two quick taps on the trigger and our problem would have been solved.”
“That’s not the job,” Dempsey said. “The client wants the packages delivered alive. If we drop them off in body bags, we don’t get paid.”
“Seems like unnecessary complications,” the younger man said. “We both know that once the packages are delivered, the results will be the same.”
“Maybe. But we follow the client’s instructions on this. And we don’t make any moves until the agreed-upon time. Is that clear?”
“Oh, it’s clear,” Buck said. “Clear as a warm Mississippi sky in the summer time. You want some gum?” He held out a pack toward Dempsey, who ignored it and started the van.
Buck shrugged, unwrapped the gum, and folded it into his mouth. “You’re as tight as a garage door spring,” he said. “I think you’re still sore about that man beating you at something.”
“I told you he didn’t beat me.”
“I’m not so sure about that. I’ve been watching him for about a week now. Comfortable house in a quiet cul-de-sac, steady job at a university, nice little family, and a drop-dead gorgeous wife. You may have gone to the same school, but I’d say he came out ahead.”
“You’d be wrong,” Dempsey said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s a sham.”
“It doesn’t look like a sham to me. It looks like the American dream.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“I don’t know about that. I think I could be happy walking a few hundred miles in his boots with that filly on my arm.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Dempsey said. “Take it from me. I grew up in what was supposed to be a perfect family. We were featured on the cover of national magazines. We were the envy of those looking for the ideal life.”
“That’s what I can’t understand. Why would you give all that up?”
Dempsey thought back to his childhood and immediately wished he hadn’t. “Because it was a lie,” he said. “It always is. Behind the façade, there is always darkness. My perfect mother tried to kill herself three times because she was so happy to be part of a perfect family. My perfect father spent more time with his perfect mistress than he did with his perfect kids. My perfect sister almost died from an eating disorder. The perfect family doesn’t exist.”
“That explains a lot about you,” Buck said. “And heaven knows my own childhood was no picnic. But that doesn’t mean it’s that way for everybody.”
“You really think that?”
“I think it’s possible.”
“Answer me this, then. If Matthew Knight has such a perfect family, why is he out in the middle of the night tracking down one of his kids at a train station?”
“He still gets to go back home to his pretty wife. It ain’t all that bad.”
“But all of that is about to change, isn’t it?”
Buck grinned again. “I guess you’re right about that, Boss. On second thought, maybe I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.”