Devine's Providence: A Novel Read online

  The stairway, of course, did not lead all the way down, but rather stopped abruptly on the second floor. This hospital, like all hospitals, was designed to mimic a rat maze, with no purpose or efficiency to anything. After a bit of wandering, I somehow, accidentally, found myself in the main lobby. The sliding automatic doors at the front were all that separated me from freedom.

  The lobby was full of people, so I held myself back from bursting into a full-blown sprint. I kept my head down and prayed that all of these people were uninformed enough to have not seen my picture on the news. Just as I was approaching the sliding doors, a security guard stepped out in front of me, blocking my path.

  “Hey, excuse me, sir?” he said.

  Shit.

  I didn’t say anything. I stood perfectly still.

  If you stand perfectly still, they can’t see you. That’s security guards, right? Or maybe that’s a T-Rex. Shit, I hate these meds.

  “I just gotta tell you,” he said. “I love your shirt, brother.”

  He held out a fist. In retrospect, I realize I was probably supposed to bump it back with my own fist. But in my anxiety and drugged up stupor, I shook it with my open palm, staring at him with wide eyes.

  Way to keep a low profile. Just blend right in. No one will ever remember you.

  He clearly got the message that I was not in possession of the entirety of my marbles, and stepped aside to let me pass. Though he side-eyed me my whole way out.

  I lumbered out into the blazing heat of the day, the humidity so heavy you had to clear a path in the air with a machete just to walk through it. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had no place to go and no way to get there. I was just as trapped out here as I was inside the hospital.

  Okay, Harry, think. You’re out now. What’s the plan?

  I have to find Chelsea.

  Why?

  She could be in danger.

  You don’t know that. You do know that you’re in danger.

  So I’m already done for. But it’s not too late to help her.

  Not without a plan first.

  She could be anywhere.

  Last time she ran, it took you a week to find her.

  And only then because she got herself caught.

  You can’t wait for her to get killed. You need a plan.

  Get someplace safe.

  Can’t go to your office. Or your house. Or Rick’s. Or anywhere in public.

  The War Room.

  The War Room?

  Yes.

  …

  …The War Room.

  Get to the War Room.

  Chapter 24

  ESCAPE

  It took me a couple of hours to walk to the garage where the secret tunnel to Terry’s grow room was. I took side streets only, keeping my face covered with my hand while trying to not look too suspicious about it. I must have looked like a crazy person.

  Thank Christ, the effects of whatever opiates they had pumped into me were finally starting to subside, and I was starting to feel normal again. The trade-off, of course, was that the pain in my side and my stomach had made an appearance, and was gradually getting louder. Like a child who demanded a parent’s attention.

  Every other muscle in my body ached as well. My mouth was as dry as the Sahara, and a wave of nausea kept overtaking me, causing me to stop periodically.

  I finally stumbled into the garage, leaning against the wall to catch my breath. The three Latino kids stopped what they were doing and stood up straight. One of them rushed to uncover the tunnel for me, without me even having to say anything. There was a respect—almost a fear—that exuded off of them, quite a different feel from the last time.

  That’s right, boys. Harry Devine, mass murderer and extremely dangerous criminal is here. Step aside.

  As I passed, one of them made eye contact with me and leaned in.

  “Dope shirt, ese,” he said.

  “Shut up,” I said.

  He averted his eyes, mumbled an apology, and resumed his work under the hood of a car.

  It’s probably best that they don’t know that they could kick my ass just by looking at me.

  I scurried into the dark hole. Once down the tunnel, I slowly opened the door at the end. I was praying that, just maybe, Chelsea would be in the War Room. Perhaps working on the computer, greeting me with a, “Oh, hi, Mr. Devine. Nice of you to finally drop in. I have a plan that’s going to fix everything, and then we can run away together and I won’t be nearly as confusing. Also, I’m naked.”

  But there was no Chelsea, clothed or otherwise, in the War Room. There was no one at all.

  She had been there, though. The privacy screen was down and propped up against the wall. All of her belongings were gone. She hadn’t even bothered to take them all the first time she disappeared, so she definitely meant business now.

  I collapsed on the sofa. I had to think.

  Where would she go? What would she be doing?

  I needed to get inside Chelsea’s mind. It would be easier to get inside literally anyone else’s. I had spent every moment I’d had with Chelsea trying to guess what she was thinking, what was going through that superior brain of hers, and I was no closer now than the day she had first walked into my office.

  According to Bruce, this went higher than even Frank Temple. Regardless of who gave the order (Temple? Chief Delgado?), killing either/both of them wouldn’t be satisfactory justice. Everyone answers to somebody. As much as she dug her heels in, I felt like Chelsea knew that, deep down. I had to believe that she was too smart, too in-control, too patient to let her emotions get the best of her to that point. She had to know that she’d still feel empty and unsatisfied until the entire operation was brought down. And that was something she was simply incapable of doing.

  But she could do some damage. Like she had said, “hit them where it hurts.”

  It was too late for her to go to the feds. The pressure was on to hunt me down, and going over Delgado’s head would likely only exasperate that for me. She didn’t care what happened to her, but she wouldn’t do that to me. At least I wouldn’t let myself think that she would. Would she?

  No.

  So what would she do? What’s something that would hurt them?

  Money.

  Money and power were all that mattered. Nobody could touch their power—it was too vast. Too unknown. But their money…that would make them pay attention.

  Of course, their assets weren’t just sitting in a vault somewhere, waiting to get heisted. They may have been slightly too careless with murdering people, but they were experts at hiding cash. Their money was spread out amongst lord-knows-how-many people and businesses, laundered over and over again until even the most experienced forensic accountant couldn’t follow the paper trail. Millions and millions of dollars changing hands and accounts daily.

  But it still wasn’t enough for them.

  Future assets.

  That’s what counts. Nobody cares about the money they’ve already made. That’s old business. The real thrill, the real challenge, the real lure, is what money they could make. It’s all about the hunt. About the next big thing. Prospects. Investments.

  “…the payout will be tremendous.”

  “...and the return is going to be staggering. Money the likes of which we’ve never seen.”

  SmartPark.

  I jumped up, an action which my abdomen regretted immediately, and flew over to the computer. Bruce the Thug had said they had bought some property down in the Jewelry District. It shouldn’t be too hard to find out where.

  As it turned out, it was even easier than I had thought.

  When I shook the mouse to shut off the screen saver, the monitor came to life with an already-loaded webpage. It was a Google Maps address for a warehouse in the Jewelry District. Chelsea must have lef
t it open. I was half-impressed with myself that I was able to track where Chelsea was going just by thinking like her, and half-mad with myself for not checking the damned computer first.

  Some detective.

  I turned to leave and was greeted with a screeching voice. It made me screech in return, and also think how I should start practicing my shouts of surprise so they’ll sound just a tad more masculine.

  Terry had turned the corner into the room and almost bumped right into me, neither one of us expecting the other to be there.

  “Oh, Harry!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me in the tightest, warmest hug anyone had ever given me. I was so touched, I didn’t bother to tell her she was hurting me so much I wanted to die.

  “I was so worried,” she said, tears streaming down her face. She pulled apart from me. Then she saw my laser-kitten shirt and burst out into laughter.

  “What…what’s on your shirt? That’s just precious!”

  “Shut up,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better,” she said. “We have company.”

  I tensed up.

  “What do you mean, company?”

  “The police are upstairs.”

  “I know, I saw the news. I’ll steer clear of my office.”

  “No,” said Terry. “They’re in my store. On their way down here. I’m being raided.”

  “Shit,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  I pulled her toward the tunnel door. She pulled back.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Harry. But as much as I’m thrilled to see you and happy you’re alright, you need to get out of here. They’ll be down any second.”

  “Terry, we can both make it out of the tunnel,” I said.

  “I’m an old woman, Harry. I’m not going on the lam. I think I always knew this day would come. I’ll be alright. But…”

  She walked over to the computer desk.

  “I need you to take something for me. I don’t need a firearms charge on top of everything else. And you could use it anyhow.”

  She opened the top middle drawer to find it empty.

  “Uh-oh,” she said.

  “I’m guessing you had a gun in there?”

  Terry nodded.

  “Shit,” I said. “Chelsea.”

  “Chelsea?”

  “She was here. I’m chasing after her now. I’m afraid she may try something that’ll get her into even more trouble.”

  “Oh, no the poor dear. Please try and help her!”

  There was a huge bang as a police battering ram made contact with the heavy steel door in the main room.

  “That door won’t hold for too long,” said Terry. “Good luck, Harry. Be safe. And thank you for everything. What an adventure!”

  She gave me another big, tearful hug, and smiled. “You know,” she said, “you two—you and Chelsea, I love seeing you together.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I said.

  “But,” she continued, “you’re awful for each other.”

  “Huh,” I said. I didn’t quite know how to take her bluntness. Another loud bang echoed through the chamber. “I think I know what you mean. I think we’re too much alike.”

  “No,” said Terry. “You’re too different, trying too much to be alike. You see yourselves as sharing all these common bonds, but you’re actually on two completely different paths. You’ll only hold each other back.”

  I said nothing, trying to make sense of her point. Another bang.

  “But, I love you both. Just please, take my advice on this one: Have the good sense to know when the fun’s over. Speaking of which…”

  She stuck her hands straight up and stepped out into the main chamber, waiting for the police to burst in.

  “Also,” she said over her shoulder, “cute kitties aside, you really fill out that tee quite nicely. You should wear tighter shirts more often.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” I asked.

  “Oh, ‘the man’ was bound to catch up with me eventually,” she said. “That’s the way it crumbles…cookie-wise.”

  She winked to me as she disappeared into the main chamber. A crash reverberated throughout the bunker as the main door came tearing open. I quickly scooted out into the tunnel and sealed myself in.

  I clambered up the ladder at the end and pounded on the door above. It swung open and my eyes adjusted to the sunlight eclipsed by a mountain of a silhouette. A huge, fat hand grabbed mine and helped to pull me up and out of the hole.

  “Harry, thank Jesus,” said Zachetti. “I heard about the raid, and I thought you’d be…I’m sorry, but what the fuck are you wearing?”

  “Shut up,” I said.

  • • •

  Zachetti’s SUV sped through the city toward the Jewelry District. I had caught him up with Chelsea taking off on me and then waking up in the hospital as Charlie.

  “We sure as shit spooked ‘em,” he said. “Delgado wants you out of his hair for good. I don’t think they’ve made the connection to me—yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jake,” I said.

  “Risks come with the job, I guess,” said Zachetti. He was quiet for a bit, but then added, “I sent the wife and kids to her sister’s place in New Hampshire. For the time being.”

  I nodded. There was nothing I could say. It was true, we did know the job came with risks, but it had still all seemed so unlikely. We were going to be so careful. Operating in the shadows. Just gathering intel and handing it over. We were just trying to do the right thing.

  How did we get here? Where did it all go wrong?

  “I’m gonna be honest, Harry,” said Zachetti. “I don’t see a way out of this. Not anymore. The feds ain’t gonna believe a man wanted for murder thrice over…especially if he’s ranting and raving that there’s some big conspiracy against him for no reason.”

  “I don’t really care about that,” I said. “Let them do what they will to me. I don’t have anything going for me anyway. But I can’t let anything happen to Chelsea.”

  Zachetti scoffed incredulously.

  “What is your obsession with this broad? She’s been nothing but trouble! I get it Harry, she’s the first chick you’ve gotten lucky with in a while. We all have those moments where we think with our—”

  “It’s not that,” I interrupted, unable to conceal my contempt.

  “Then for fuck’s sake, what is it? You keep sticking your neck out for her, and for what? Just so she can screw you over and do the same damned thing again? She left you bleeding out. You could’ve died on the floor of the back room of Rick’s.”

  “Charlie was there.”

  “And thank Christ for that. And for his discretion. But enough is enough. She’s got you on the hook, pal. I hate to tell you, but she’s been playing you like a fucking fiddle this entire time. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Let her go, whatever happens, happens. She deserves what she gets. Whatever that ends up being.”

  “You’re the one who reached out to her when you found the false coroner’s report! You’re the one who flew her back out here! We were all trying to do what’s right, Chelsea included.”

  “I’m not too proud to admit she had me fooled for a bit, too. But you can’t be saying she just changed her mind somewhere along the way. Just like that?”

  I nodded. “And I think I know where. We’ve gotten too close. We all have. She’s just scared. She didn’t want to see anything bad happen to us.”

  “Fuck, Harry. How could you say that? You’re a fugitive! You’re going to jail for the rest of your life. That is, if they don’t kill you first! I promise you, Harry, bad has happened to you, whether she wanted to see it or not. And now you want to help her—again? Take my advice, Harry: Turn yourself in. Get a good lawyer. That’s your only option.”

  “My o
nly option,” I said, “is stopping her from going down a very dangerous path. I’m already screwed beyond measure. But you know what becoming obsessed with revenge can do to people. I can’t let her become that person. She still has a chance.”

  Zachetti sighed heavily but said nothing.

  “Look,” I said. “You said it yourself. My life is as good as over now anyway. I have nothing to lose. Sure, I’ll turn myself in. But before I do, I need to stop her from ruining her life. If she gets caught—or worse—I’ll never forgive myself for not trying, at least. I’m in this to the end. We’ve come too far.”

  I paused before smiling at him and adding, “Whatdya say, partner? Once more for old time’s sake?”

  “Fuck!” he shouted. Although this was something he shouted a lot, because I spoke Zachetti I was able to translate this particular outburst into “he’s going to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

  He sighed and sped up the SUV. He flipped a switch and his dashboard lit up in blue lights, a siren screaming at the traffic splitting in front of us.

  There we were. Partners again. Off to rescue yet another dame in distress. Devine and Zachetti: The Sequel.

  This time, it’s personal.

  Chapter 25

  FOLLOW ME QUIETLY

  Providence’s Jewelry District is mainly an industrial zone. A couple of centuries ago, it was home to several prominent jewelry manufacturers, but now the old factories and warehouses host a variety of other uses. The giant, old mill that was slated to house the SmartPark infrastructure took up an entire city block, and stood tall behind a long brick wall interspersed with heavy, wrought iron gates.

  The Manchester Street Power Station, with its three towering smokestacks, stood just the next block over. The whole area, covered in brick, stone, cathedral style windows, and soot made you feel like you were back in the middle of the industrial revolution. We rolled up to the front of the building, where a guard shack was set up at the main gate.