“Where have you been? I’ve been watching the whole thing on TV.” She was talking very quickly and frantically. “It’s the only thing they're showing, I can’t believe he got away, I was really worried. They had a couple of news helicopters up there and I was able to see that guy running and shooting up the place, I even saw your car parked on 9th, but didn’t see you anywhere. I was really worried.” Jeff slowly got out of the Thunderbird wearing a different pair of pants.
“Even Lester Holt went live with it. He said it was the most dramatic event since some '97 shootout in LA and said . . .” She then saw Jeff limping. “Huh!” Her hand shot to her mouth, “You're hurt! Were you shot? Are you okay?” She ran to him and grabbed his arm to help him as he closed the car door. “Oh, my God, is that blood? Are you okay?”
“Yes, Twinkie, I’m fine. I just got a few pieces of metal in my leg.”
“Oh, my God! That bomb! You were that close? Does it hurt?” She helped him to the stairs.
“I’m fine, Twinkie. Really.” Trent was saying, as all three started to ascend the stairs.
“Do you need anything? Can I get you anything? How about if I put some coffee on?”
“That would be swell, Twinkie.” Jeff said. “I could use a cup.”
About that same time, Bollar was sitting on the floor of his little one room shabby little one-room apartment, leaning against the base of the dresser. He tore an old sheet into strips and wrapped his arm the best he could. He held a dirty dish rag to where his ear should have been. The bleeding finally stopped, but the pain was excruciating.
He had been able to double back to his car. It was a lucky break that he got into the shootout with the IPF agent. It made for a nice diversion that got most of the local police to that area before they had the time to start searching and impounding abandoned cars.
He started wondering how everything fell apart so quickly. He had planned everything perfectly, down to the last detail. Down to the minute. Yes, it took a little longer then he planned, but that could not have caused everything to unravel the way it did. He could think of only one possible explanation. Prodor Moffit did set him up. Why else would he have wanted to know so much about his next job? It was time to get the hell out of this town and never look back. But not right now. First he would stay low for several weeks. He needed to heal and he needed some help.
He reached over to the IPF radio that was lying on the floor next to his A56 and pulled it toward him. He picked it up with his bad arm and cringed, dropping it. He then grabbed it with his other hand and keyed the mike. “Mr. Bourbon?” he said, taking in a breath. “Mr. Bourbon, are you there?” He thought for a second then said, “Over!”
He heard the mike on the other end key open. “Hell yeah, man!” Billy responded. “Where the hell you been? I been trying to get a hold of you. Your friend came into town shortly before all that shit went down.”
“Yes, Mr. Bourbon, I’m well aware of what happened in town today. Now shut up and listen to me.” He had to take another deep breath. There was an intense throbbing in his head. “I need your assistance and can pay you handsomely for it.”
Chapter Fifty
The following morning Jeff was lying on the couch wearing a red plaid bathrobe, his bandaged leg was resting upon two pillows that Jennifer had stacked up for him. She entered the living room from the kitchen with the coffee carafe in her hand. “Here, have some more coffee,” she said while refilling Jeff’s “World’s Number One Dad” mug. “Do you want another sandwich?”
Jeff had a plate balancing on his lap with a half-eaten sandwich on it. “No, thank you, Twinkie. This is great.”
Genghis, sitting on the floor next to Jeff, he glanced up at Jennifer with his best, I could use a little more coffee too look. His mug was empty. She looked down at him and said, “No, Genghis! No more coffee for you, it’s for Jeff.” She snatched up Genghis’s “Death Before Disco” mug, “And besides, doggies shouldn’t be drinking coffee in the first place.”
She then turned for the kitchen, leaving Genghis with a shocked look on his face. He then gave Jeff a scathing look that said Oh, your leg doesn’t hurt, you're just milking this! Jeff, in response, just gave him a big grin while taking a sip from his mug.
Just then, the walls of the apartment started to vibrate with a distant rumble. Jennifer came out of the kitchen and stared at Jeff and Genghis, who were staring back. Then came the sharp knocks on the apartment door. Jennifer walked over to the door and opened it and took one involuntary step backward.
“Mister Trent, is he here?” Mrs. Remke said, in her machine gun-like fashion. “Where is he? Is he in?” She started darting her head back and forth, trying to see around Jennifer, and spotted him lying on the couch. “Mister Trent! When I said you could use my garage to store that monstrosity of a vehicle in it I did not intend for you to rocket out squealing your tires like a teenager late for a hot date and drawing the attention of my busybody neighbors
