“That’s pretty close to me.” Greene gave Jones directions to Donna’s Bar and Grill and told him that he’d be waiting outside when they got there. “But first,” he insisted, “I’ve got some urgent business to attend to, and I’m not willing to do it while we’re on the phone.”
THE
Mustang stopped in front of the crowded club and pulled away with its new passenger. As the car picked up speed, Greene greeted Payne and Jones, warmly shaking their hands. “Military? You guys never told me you were in the military. What branch were you in?”
Payne answered first. “I went to the Naval Academy. After that I got selected by the government to work on a special forces unit.”
“That’s where I met him,” Jones added. “I was assigned to the same team as Jon, even though I was from the Air Force. And we’ve been side by side ever since.”
“I’ll be damned,” Greene muttered. “I’m sitting here with two Rambos. No wonder you guys were able to escape the tattoo parlor. I’m surprised you didn’t kill the shooter in the process. What, are you guys rusty or something?”
“Actually, we wanted to get the bastard but weren’t able to because of you.”
Greene looked at Payne, confused. “Because of me? What did I do?”
“It’s what you didn’t do. You didn’t get us guns that worked.”
“They didn’t work? What do you mean they didn’t work?”
Jones jumped into the fray. “Just like he said. We pulled our triggers several times, and nothing came out. Like a guy with a vasectomy.”
Payne grinned at the analogy. “Tell me more about your gun dealer. Has anything like this ever happened before?”
“No,” Greene assured them. “He’s got a first-class rep on the streets.”
“Maybe so, but his faulty products almost got us killed.” Payne slowed to a stop at a red light and turned toward Greene. “I’d love a chance to meet this guy. You know, to see if I get a good feeling about him. Do you think you could set something up?”
Greene glanced at Payne and shrugged. “I could, but it won’t do you any good. You guys already met him, and you trusted him just fine.”
“Terrell Murray?” Payne asked. “The owner of the Fishing Hole?”
Greene nodded. “The one and only.”
“Why didn’t you mention that before we talked to him?” Jones demanded.
“Terrell is very hush-hush about his activities. Sure, he owns and operates some skin clubs, but those things are legal and can’t get him into trouble. What he refuses to do, though, is flaunt the things that could get him busted. If he sells something illegal, he deals with a restricted list of clientele, and if they betray him, he cuts them off immediately. That’s why I purchased the weapons by myself and why I didn’t mention his name earlier. Can you understand that?”
“Sure,” Payne admitted. “That makes plenty of sense to me. So, why tell us now? If Terrell is so secretive, why risk his confidence by mentioning his name?”
“Sometimes you gotta betray one trust to gain another.”
Payne and Jones pondered the comment, nodding their heads in admiration. For an ex-jock, Greene possessed a pretty good understanding of human nature.
“And besides,” he continued, “when we go to get your refund, I want you to do the talking. I’d feel safer if you pissed him off instead of me.”
CHAPTER 25
AS
they drove to the Fishing Hole, Jones patiently waited for Greene to answer the question that he’d asked earlier, but it was apparent that Greene had completely forgotten about it-or was trying to avoid it. “Levon, since you’re out of the john now, can you please tell me how you managed to escape from Sam’s? That’s been bugging me for the past hour.”
Payne glanced at Jones and smiled. “You must’ve been reading my mind. I was getting ready to ask him the same thing.”
Realizing that he was the center of attention, Greene grinned mischievously, his eyes twinkling like a small child’s at a birthday party. When he could hold it in no longer, he blurted the secret. “I went through the back wall.”
Jones laughed in a disbelieving tone. “Who are you, the Kool-Aid guy? I don’t remember seeing any Negro- shaped holes in the back room.”
But Greene stuck by his story. “How hard did ya look?”
“Pretty damn hard.”
“Apparently not hard enough, because I got my ass out.”
Payne joined Greene in laughter. “He’s got you there, Sherlock. I guess you aren’t the infallible detective after all.”
Jones leaned forward to object. “Yeah, but-”
“Actually,” Payne interrupted, “why don’t you let him explain things? Maybe you can learn a thing or two from the big man.”
Jones rolled his eyes while he waited for Greene to begin.
“Thank you, Jon. I’d love to help him out. When I got into the back, I did as you asked. I looked for anything suspicious, but there was nothing there but a bathroom and a closet.”
“Right,” Jones blurted. “That’s what I found, too.”
“So, like I said, I went into the bathroom to take care of my business, and-
– I heard a gunshot then glass breaking in the front. I wanted to come out to check on things, but my pants were around my ankles, and that slowed me down a bit.”
“I bet it did,” Jones muttered.
“By the time I got my pants up, I heard a number of shots. Glass was breaking, walls were shattering, chaos! At that point, I assumed you guys were dead. I mean, come on! How was I supposed to know that you were commandos in a former life? Anyway, I figured I needed to get out of the place without going out the front door, right? I remembered from when I walked into the shop that there was a historical landmark plaque on the front wall, and it said the building used to be a part of the Underground Railroad.”
“Seriously?” Jones asked.
Greene nodded. “Like I told you guys, I’ve been doing a lot of research on my hometown, and one of the things that fascinates me was New Orleans’ role in the slave trade. A number of ports on the Gulf of Mexico were notorious for bringing slaves into this country, but at the same time, a number of ports were used to smuggle slaves out. Shit, there was so much diversity in this city during the eighteen hundreds that people often confused slaves with their masters. In fact, there was one period, in 1803, when ownership of New Orleans passed from Spain to France to the United States in less than a month’s time. If a city doesn’t even know what country it belongs to, how’s it gonna keep track of the people?”
Jones tried to absorb all of the information. Historical facts and local folklore normally fascinated him, but in this case, he wanted to get to the important stuff. He wanted to know how Greene got out of the damn shop without being seen. “Levon, not to be rude, but-”
“I know, I know. You want to know how I did it. Fine, I’ll tell you. The landmark plaque clicked in my mind, and I remembered going on a tour or two where there was a trapdoor or a hidden set of steps that allowed fugitives to slip out of the place undetected. And guess what?”
Payne answered. “You found something.”
“Exactly! The rear wall of the closet was actually a door. A well-concealed door.”
“Once you got outside, did you try to get the shooter?”
“To be honest with you, no. My nickname is the Buffalo Soldier, but I don’t have much experience with killing people. And the truth is, I thought you guys were already dead.”
