J. Fynn - The Long Game

“Revenge,” Pop said.

THE WORD “REVENGE” hung in the air as Pop continued his explanation.

“There’s an old wrong that needs setting right, and you’re the perfect person for the job,” he said.

“Sorry. I don’t quite follow.”

“Did you ever wonder why, out of everyone in this clan, you were allowed to finish school?” Pop punctuated his question with a quirked brow.

I frowned. “Because Maggie wanted me to.”

“She did, but I didn’t ask why you finished. I asked why you were allowed to finish.”

Electricity prickled down my spine, and I squirmed, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation.

“Something wrong, son?” Pop asked.

I shook my head. “No, sir. I guess I just never really thought about it.”

“Well, let me fill you in. Maggie wanted you to finish school instead of going out on the road with your brother, and I gave her permission to bend the rules because it served my purposes. See, I’ve had this plan in the works for a long time—since before you were born—and keeping you tucked away in school meant there wouldn’t be much chance of you getting a record.”

Almost every man and several of the women in the Village had at least a few misdemeanors on their rap sheets, and more than a handful had done time. Even Jimmy Boy had been pinched as a minor for shoplifting. “So my clean record is an asset?”

“Your anonymity is an asset. And, on top of that, it looks like your education might actually come in handy as well. Though I’ll be honest, that hadn’t occurred to me at the time.” He snorted in amusement.

“Okay. So what’s the job?” I was intrigued now. All my experiences as a Traveler were small-time. Quick and dirty jobs like the trailer sale. I’d heard of cons who played the long game, drawing out scams for a few months or even a year for a big enough payout, but a plan that had been put into motion two decades ago was something unheard of. And something I was anxious to hear more about.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard the legend of Saint Thomas,” Pop said.

“The apostle? The one who didn’t believe Jesus had risen from the dead?”

“The Traveler.” Pop’s voice was sharp with hostility. “The one who betrayed your father, stole from us, and disappeared without a trace.”

I blinked at him. A thousand questions banged into each other in my mind, warring for the chance to be asked first. I turned to look at Jimmy Boy, and he shrugged, apparently as unfamiliar with this story as I was.

“What did he do to my father?”

“Shay, I don’t—” Jimmy Boy said, but Pop silenced him with a flick of his hand.

“Twenty years ago, Tommy Costello disappeared with $500,000 of the clan’s money after a con went wrong with your da. We’ve been looking for him ever since, but every time we got a lead on where he might be, he disappeared again. Costello used that half a million as seed money, and he’s made himself a very rich man in the two decades since he left. A few years ago, we learned he has a daughter, just a little younger than you actually, and as it turns out, that’s the best break we could’ve asked for. The girl got it in her head that she wants to go to college.” He said the word in a tone that suggested higher education was about as valuable as dog shit on his shoe, probably even less when it was for a girl. “Tommy’s bought himself a house and settled down near Balanova University to be close to her.”

“So you want me to get the money back? The five hundred grand and maybe some interest?” I cracked my knuckles, making a show of my willingness to get my hands dirty if necessary.

“The money isn’t what we’re after.” Pop leaned in, his voice a low rumble now. “There’s a book. A sort of ledger, full of important information. He took it from my safe along with the money, and I want it back.”

“What information?” I asked.

“That ain’t important now. All you need to worry about is getting it back. It’s about this big.” He held up his hand about eight inches apart, first horizontally, then vertically. “And it’s thick, with a leather cord tied around it to keep it shut.”

I nodded, committing this description to memory.

“And it better stay shut,” he added, stabbing a thick finger at me to drive his point home.

I leaned back to put some distance between us. “Of course. Get the book, bring it home. Got it.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.” Pop sounded amused, but there was no humor in his narrowed eyes.

“I guess I am,” I said. In truth, I was almost disappointed. A long game that had been in the works for over twenty years, and all I’d have to do was break into the guy’s house to steal a book?

“I’d suggest you use the girl,” Pop said, interrupting my thoughts.

“Sorry?” I asked, my eyebrows inching toward my hairline.

“His daughter. Sweet talk her a little, get her to invite you over for dinner. Get access to the house.”

“All due respect, sir, but wouldn’t it be easier to just break in and steal it? I could be there and back in a few days.”

“‘All due respect’ means you do what your clan leader says without question, and unless that school of yours taught you how to disarm security systems, I’m pretty sure getting an invitation for dinner is easier than breaking in. Not to mention, I want to keep this quiet. Don’t do anything to rouse the attention of the police.”

Damn. I hadn’t thought about security, but of course someone paranoid enough to spend twenty years looking in the rearview would have a state-of-the-art system. And now, I looked like an ass for not realizing it right away.

“What’s all this then?” Maggie was suddenly beside me as if she’d just appeared from thin air.

Pop Sheedy fixed her with a warm smile. “Maggie, my dear, you get more radiant every day.”

“Hmph,” Maggie said, unimpressed. “And you get more rotund.”

I winced, embarrassed by her brashness, but Pop chuckled. “You’re not wrong,” he said and slapped his round belly. Only Maggie could speak to the clan leader that way and get away with it.

“So, what is it you want with my boys, Michael?” Maggie asked, her knuckles thrust deep into her hips. That was something else Maggie could do. Not even Bridget called Pop by his given name anymore.

“I have a job for your son, Maggie, and he seems happy to oblige, so I think we’re done here.”

“That so?”

I felt her eyes on the back of my neck, and my shoulders instinctively moved toward my ears. Suddenly, eagerness to accept Pop’s offer didn’t seem like such a great idea.

Pop seemed to sense my wavering. “And if he pulls it off…” He paused to smile broadly before delivering his final enticement. “…he’ll have a bride waiting for him when he gets back.”

My back straightened like someone had pulled an invisible cord attached to my spine. I gaped at him. “You mean…?”

He nodded. “If you get my ledger back, I’ll have no doubts that you’ll make a fine match for my Rosie. And I hardly think she’ll have any objections,” he added with a wry smile.

My eyes moved from Pop to his sons. The oldest three were stone-faced, but Judd’s barely contained rage had turned his face the purple-red of a ripe raspberry. There was no stopping the grin that spread across my face.

Except the look on my brother’s. When I turned back to Maggie and Jimmy Boy, they both stared at me with twin expressions of disappointment.

Maggie dragged her eyes from my face back to Pop, who was extracting himself from the picnic table. “Would you like to come in for some tea, Michael?”

“Thank you kindly, Maggie, but I won’t keep you folks any longer than I already have.”

“I think you should come in,” she said, though it no longer sounded like a polite invitation.

Pop hesitated for a moment, then turned to his sons. “You boys head back to the house and tell your mother I’ll be along shortly.”

“Sure, Pop,” Sonny said, although none of them moved to leave.

I got to my feet as Pop circled around the picnic table to join Maggie. “Thank you for this opportunity,” I said and offered my hand. “I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t.” He gave my hand a quick shake, then offered his arm to Maggie, and the two of them headed toward the trailer.

Jimmy Boy waited until Maggie and Pop were gone, then uncrossed his arms and let them fall to his side. “Shay, think about what you’re doing,” he said. “This is just the kind of thing you don’t want to get mixed up in.”

“Listen to your brother, Buffer,” Judd said. “This is no job for a sublia like you.” He tossed an amused grin to his brothers. “Fifty bucks says he comes home crying for his mama before the week’s out. Whaddya say, lads? Any takers?”

Jimmy Boy moved so quickly that I couldn’t restrain him before he’d bloodied Judd’s lip with a savage right hook. Immediately, Sonny and Pat rushed to their brother’s aid. Jimmy Boy swung again, but they each grabbed one of his arms and pinned them behind his back. Judd spat a mouthful of blood and rubbed his jaw. He fixed Jimmy Boy with a cruel smile that smeared blood across his teeth. It made him look insane. Jimmy Boy struggled against the men holding him.

I scrambled over the picnic table and lunged for Pat, but he threw his elbow up as I charged him. It made contact with my chin and sent a burst of painful light through my skull, disorienting me long enough for Eddie, the fourth Sheedy brother, to tackle me to the ground. Eddie outweighed me by at least thirty pounds, and all of it lay on top of me, pinning my arms and legs. I lifted my head in time to see Judd’s fist plow into Jimmy Boy’s stomach. My brother lurched forward as far as he could with his elbows still locked behind him by Sonny and Pat.

Judd grabbed his shirt collar in both hands and thrust a knee into his ribcage. Jimmy Boy grunted, sucking air into apparently uncooperative lungs. Sonny yanked him upright again, using the hair at the back of his head like a pull string. Judd drew his arm back and released it, smashing his fist into Jimmy Boy’s cheek.

“Stop!” I struggled in vain against Eddie’s bulk. “You’re gonna kill him.”

Sonny and Pat allowed Judd one final swing. The blow made a nauseating thwack, like the sound of raw steak being tenderized. The men let go of Jimmy Boy’s arms. He fell to his knees, swayed for a moment, then dropped to his hands. He braced himself against the ground with one arm, holding his middle with the other as he spilled everything in his stomach onto the grass.

“You’re both trash,” Judd said. “Your whole family is trash. Always were and always will be. God only knows why my dad is wasting his time with you.”

“Fuck you,” Jimmy Boy said between gagging coughs. “You’re just pissed Pop chose Shay over you. But he ain’t stupid, Prince. He knows you’d fuck it all up.”

Judd’s foot hit Jimmy Boy’s face so hard my brother flipped off his hands and knees. He crashed to the ground again, flat on his back. Judd swiped at his mouth, then wiped the blood from his hand onto the leg of his jeans. He spit a gob of rusty saliva that missed Jimmy Boy’s face by half an inch and splattered into the dirt by his ear.

The door of the trailer opened again, and Maggie’s head appeared. “What the hell is going on out here?” she asked. Her eyes fell on Jimmy Boy, and she flew down the steps and across the yard to where he lay motionless on his back. “Who do you think you are, coming to my home and carrying on like a bunch of maggots?” She knelt beside her son, but her sharp gaze remained fixed on Judd, who seemed to shrink under it. “Go on! Get out of here before I whoop the lot of yeh.”

Maggie was a small, fleshy woman and not the least bit imposing physically, but her tone was enough to scare four grown men to their senses. Eddie pushed me harder into the ground as he stood and clambered over to join his brothers, who’d already bolted for the Mercedes.

Pop appeared at Maggie’s side, and the two of them helped Jimmy Boy to his feet. She tucked herself under his arm and supported his weight with one hand to his chest and one to his back. I could see her scanning his face, already inspecting the broken and bleeding skin of his cheeks and lips.

“Come inside, love. I’ll fix you up.”

Jimmy Boy’s head lulled in what may have been an attempt at a nod but was more likely his neck’s inability to hold up his head. They moved in limping steps toward the trailer.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, Maggie,” Pop said.