Wet Work - A Greg Kelton Short Story Page 2

  Kelton was on his way to the door at the end of the hall on the right when he heard raised voices coming from the nearest one to his left. He peeked in and saw a gaggle of 20-something boys and girls drinking and smoking. All of them were trying their damndest to act and look disaffected but all of them were failing miserably. All except for one; a tall, Nordic-looking blonde in her early thirties standing in the corner.

  Her name was Heather Dutrun and she alone pulled off the look. As well she should. She had spent most of her life perfecting it. Kelton watched as she just stood there, holding court, not taking part in any of the conversations but dominating all of them by her mere presence, getting sly glances from the rest of the group to see if she was watching them. Which she was. Just not when they were looking.

  Heather glanced up and saw Kelton. A tiny smile skittered over her features, as extreme a reaction as she ever showed in public. It went unnoticed by every one in the room except Kelton, who’d spent enough time with her over the years to pick up on it. She held up one finger, telling him she’d be there in a minute. He nodded in acknowledgement and stepped out of the doorway and waited.

  She exited the room less than a minute later and together they headed towards her office at the far end of the hall.

  Heather unlocked the door to her office and led Kelton inside. It was a sparsely adorned room with plain white walls and no decorations. Against one wall sat an old leather couch. Opposite the couch was a plain oak desk with two laptops and a pair of speakers atop it. Next to the desk was a single bookcase full of books. Nothing else, no television, no stereo, no entertainment center. As much as she loved to play up her appearance when she was in public, once she got down to work she was all business. But sometimes it took her a while to get there.

  As soon as he shut and locked the door behind them she hooked her arm in his. He didn’t bother trying to pull away. She was only trying to get a rise out of him, just like always. He’d learned quickly that the best way to deal with it was to just ignore it.

  “So what do I owe this pleasure?” she said.

  “I want you to look at some stuff for me,” Kelton replied.

  She released his arm, stepped back from him and looked him over. “I know what you want me to look at,” she said, smiling wickedly at him. “But you have to get naked if you want me to see it properly.”

  “You can do what I need you to with your clothes on,” Kelton said, keeping it completely business-like despite Heather’s ribbing.

  “Well, I’m sure I could, but it wouldn’t be as much fun.”

  “I’m not here for fun. I’m here for business.”

  “With you everything’s business, all the time,” Heather said. “Why don’t you let your hair down, have a little fun. You never know, you might enjoy it.”

  Enjoying it was exactly what Kelton was afraid of. But he’d never admit that to anyone, let alone Heather. Besides, he didn’t know how much of her song and dance was just an act and how much of it was genuine. And he wasn’t about to test the waters. Even if he wanted to. He had no desire to ever go down that road again. So he just looked at her blankly and waited.

  Eventually she gave in. “Fine,” she said, pretending to pout. But her smiling face belied her tone. “Then down to business it is. What exactly do you need?”

  “I need you to check out some information,” Kelton said. He pulled a zip drive from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “What’s this?” she said, a curious little smile on her face.

  “I think it’s called a flash drive.”

  “I know what it is,” Heather said. “What I mean is, what are you doing with it? I thought you despised technology.”

  “I do.”

  “I mean, you don’t even own a cell phone yet, right?”

  “Not yet,” Kelton said. And not ever, he could have added, but there was no reason to get into that right now. “As for the flash drive, it was given to me.”

  “By who?”

  “A man who wants me to do a job for him.”

  “Do I know this man?”

  “I doubt it,” Kelton said. “I only met him tonight.”

  Heather tilted her head and gave him a funny look.

  “What?” he said.

  “It’s just not like you to take a job from someone you don’t know.”

  “I haven’t agreed to do anything yet.”

  “Then let me rephrase,” Heather said. “It’s not like you to consider taking a job from someone you don’t know.”

  Kelton shrugged. “Earl sent him my way so I figured I’d give him a chance.”

  “And?” she said.

  “And what?” he asked.

  “And how much is he paying you?”

  “You know it’s not about the money with me.”

  “It may not be about the money, but that doesn’t mean the money doesn’t matter at all."

  “It doesn’t,” he said.

  She laughed. “You can’t tell me that if some stranger would have asked you do a job for him for free, you would have even considered it, even if Earl did send him your way.”

  “If the cause was right, sure I would.”

  “Bullshit,” she said, waving him off. “You’d say thanks but no thanks.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said, just to get the conversation back on track.

  He’d never before been able to convince her that it was about the cause with him, not the money, and he knew he stood no chance of doing so right now. Better to just move on.

  “So how much did offer you?” she said.

  “A hundred thousand dollars,” Kelton said, seeing no reason not to tell her the truth.

  She smiled, satisfied in her own mind that she was right, that it was about the money. Which was fine by him. He didn’t care what she thought, as long as they could move on to business.

  “Must be one hell of a job,” Heather said. “What’s it entail?”

  “Breaking into a house and killing the man who lives there.”

  “That’s it?” she said.

  Kelton nodded.

  “Sounds pretty cut and dry,” she said.

  “It is.”

  “Then why the big payday?”

  “Circumstances,” Kelton said. “Apparently the guy I’m supposed to kill isn’t just some regular guy. He’s a former mob hitman that cut a deal with the feds that landed him in the federal witness protection program.”

  Heather whistled through her teeth. “Witness Protection, huh? That’s some serious shit.”

  “It certainly is.”

  “I must say though, this whole thing pokes a pretty big hole in your morals clause.”

  “How so?”

  “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “I’m afraid you do.”

  “You’re working for the mob,” Heather said. “Killing this guy to get back at him for turning on them.”

  “That’s not why my contact wants him dead.”

  Heather scoffed. “Yeah right.”

  “No, really,” Kelton said. “He just doesn’t think this guy’s debt to society should get wiped away because he turned in some of his fellow cronies.”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  Kelton nodded.

  “And you bought that crap?” she said.

  “There’s nothing to buy,” Kelton said. “It was the truth.”

  “Says who? Him?”

  “Says me.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “It doesn’t matter to me anyway. Tell yourself whatever you need to if it makes you sleep better at night. Me, I don’t have any morals, so long as the money is right.”

  “Then quit pestering me about it,” Kelton said.

  “Fine,” Heather said. “It’s done. So how did your contact claim to come by this information? Witness Protection stuff is protected at the highest levels. Even I can’t get into it.”

  “He didn’t offer any specifics and I didn’t ask.”

&
nbsp; “But you’re sure it’s legit?”

  “Nope,” Kelton said. “I have no clue. That’s why I brought it to you, to find out if he’s telling the truth or just blowing steam up my ass.”

  “What’s your gut tell you?”

  “That he’s legit.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he didn’t pause for a second when I told him I was going to check up on everything he gave me,” Kelton said. “In fact, he encouraged me to do it. Which makes me believe that he knows it’s legit.”

  Heather nodded her head. Whether she was agreeing with him or just acknowledging what he said was unclear. Not that it mattered to Kelton.

  “So you’ll check it out for me?” Kelton said.

  “My pleasure,” she said.

  “The normal fee?”

  “Sure,” Heather said. Smiling wryly, she added, “Or we can take it out in trade if you prefer.”

  “Cash is fine,” Kelton said.

  Heather shrugged. “Your loss.” She turned and stuck the zip drive into her laptop.

  “How long is this going to take?” Kelton said.

  “Why, is there somewhere you have to be?”

  “No.”

  “Then just sit tight,” Heather said. “Let me take a quick peek and see what exactly is on here. It could take a few minutes, it could take a whole day.”

  She sat at the desk and started clacking away at the keys. Kelton took a seat on the couch and tried to look for flaws in the plan he’d mapped out to take out his target if he turned out to truly be who Walter said he was. Once again, he couldn’t find any. The job was a simple one with no real headaches, save for the potential backlash. But if he handled things the way he was supposed to (and he always did) then the backlash wouldn’t touch him. The nuts and bolts of the operation were clean. In and out without any serious roadblocks. As it was with most of these kinds of operations.

  Contrary to popular belief, once you decided that you were going to kill someone, actually following through with it was usually relatively simple. Especially if you’d done it a few times before. Which Kelton had. Buck fever was an issue for some, but it was a one-time thing. Either you seized up the first time you’re in the situation or not at all. And those who do seize up the first time rarely get a second chance to do so.

  It was all a matter of willpower, really. And smarts. Both of which Kelton had in abundance.

  “Interesting,” Heather said, interrupting Kelton’s thoughts.

  “What is?”

  “Come look,” she said.

  Kelton stood up and walked over. He stood over her shoulder and looked at the computer screen. There were two pictures up, one on each side of the screen. Driver’s Licenses, one from New Jersey and the other from California.

  Jersey was on the left, and the picture was of a man in his mid-twenties, with a long mane of black hair, a freshly-shaved, non-wrinkled face, pale skin and blue eyes that shone with naked hatred. The name on the license said John Destrado.

  The name of the man on the California license was Mike Wilson. The picture was of a man in his mid to late fifties. The hair had gone gray and it was significantly shorter. The man had a full beard, bags under his eyes, wrinkle-lines everywhere and heavily tanned skin. But it was the same man. The proof was in the eyes. The hatred was still there, only now is was deeper, darker, turned inward.

  “So what do you think?” Heather said. “Same guy?”

  “Without a doubt,” Kelton said. “Is there more stuff on there?”

  “Only a couple more gigs of information,” Heather said.

  “Is that a lot?”

  Heather laughed and shook her head. “One day you really have to come join us in the twenty-first century, Kelton. Yes. It’s a lot. So I’d suggest you grab a chair. This might take a little while.”

  They spent the next hour going through the files. Federal depositions, grand jury testimonies, even communications between individual federal agents. They started with detailed readings but quickly realized that most of the files were just different forms of conveying the same information. So they ended up skimming everything, but even a cursory read gave Kelton more than enough information to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the old man had been telling him the truth.

  And a nasty truth it was. According to the information collected on this zip drive, Destrado was responsible for 73 murders, the vast majority of which were ordered up by the people he’d sent to prison as a result of the deal he made with the feds. Most were just straight up hits, a simple gunshot or two in the head. But some were designed to send a message. Torture. Sexual assault. Decapitations. Sometimes worse.

  “A real piece of shit, this Destrado,” Heather said after they’d finished reading.

  “That’s putting it lightly,” Kelton replied.

  “But the feds still cut a deal with him.”

  “Anything to get the big boys.”

  “Even it means letting multiple murders walk the streets,” Heather said, disgusted. “It’s just not right. This guy could be my next door neighbor.”

  “It happens all the time.”

  “I know. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kelton said. “I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Now I just need to figure out how to get into his house.”

  “Piece of cake,” Heather said as she started clacking away at the keys. The menu came up again. She moved the arrow to a file labeled “personal information” and clicked on it. Everything Kelton needed to know about Destrado’s current residence popped onto the screen.

  “This Walter guy sure is prepared,” Kelton said.

  “You can say that again.”

  Kelton opened his mouth to do just that but Heather cut him off before he could say anything.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said.

  He smiled and closed his mouth.

  “What I don’t get is why he came to you,” Heather said. “With the quality of information he’s collected, he could have taken this job to anyone and got it done without a problem. Why go to a stranger? And why pay so much to do it?”

  “I was wondering the same thing myself,” Kelton said.

  “I mean, it seems a little fishy, don’t you think?”

  “A bit,” Kelton said. “But why look a gift horse in the mouth?”

  “Because if you don’t he might bite you with it when you’re not looking,” Heather said.

  “Good point. I’ll make sure to ask him when this thing is all over.”

  “You do that,” Heather said. “And don’t forget to tell me what he says.”

  He offered her a little smile. “If I can remember.”

  “Har-dee-har,” Heather said. She was well aware of his near photographic memory. It was just one of the many things she’d managed to find out about him over the years despite his unwillingness to talk. She was a wily one, that Heather Dutrun. Which is why Kelton continued coming back to her for information despite the grief she always gave him.

  “So when are you going to do this thing?” she asked.

  “No time like the present,” he said.

  “Tonight? Just like that?”

  “Why not?” Kelton said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll scope it out for a bit, but if all looks well, I’ll take care of it tonight. Get it over with.”

  Heather eyed him for a moment. “You just don’t give a shit about anything, do you?”

  “Not really,” he said. Not anymore, he could have added but didn’t.

  “Well, then I wish you luck,” she said.

  “Thanks, but I don’t need it,” he replied.

  She laughed and shook her head. “You’re a real piece of work, Kelton, you know that, right?”

  He flashed her a wink then turned and headed towards the door.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a quickie for the road?” Heather called to him mockingly as he walked a
way. “This might be your last chance.”

  Kelton didn’t even bother answering her. There was no use. No matter what he said she was just use it against him. Better to just keep his mouth shut and move on. It was time to do some business.

  4

  Kelton spent a couple hours watching Destrado’s decrepit two-bedroom house from his car before deciding to make his move. So far the information on the zip drive had been spot on. There was no reason to assume it wouldn’t continue to be so. Might as well get things over with.

  It was nearly 4AM in the quiet residential area where Destrado lived. So quiet that Kelton hadn’t seen a single car drive past nor a solitary light turn on in the previous two hours. But just to be certain, he glanced one more time at his surroundings to make sure all was still quiet. It was.

  He double-checked to make sure the dome light was off, then stepped out of his car and softly closed the door behind him. He made his way around to the side of the house and hopped the fence into Destrado’s backyard. Kelton paused crouching in the grass for a moment, hand gripping his gun, listening and watching intently for any hint of movement from inside the house. After a full minute, he began moving towards the back door.

  Once at the door he used the full moon as his light to read the name imprinted into the lock. Masterlock 2000, just as Walter’s information had said. Score another point for the old man.

  Kelton pulled a set of lock-picking tools from his back pocket and picked the lock in ten seconds flat. Easiest thing in the world if you had any practice at it. And Kelton had.

  He quietly opened the door, slipped in, and closed it behind him. Then he carefully picked his way into Destrado’s bedroom. Time to take care of business.

  Destrado was sleeping peacefully in his bed when Kelton pressed the cold steel barrel of his silenced .38 caliber SigPro against the side of the older man’s nose.

  John’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at Kelton as though he went to bed every night fully expecting to be woken up in the middle of the night by a stranger placing a gun against his nose.

  “Don’t say a word,” Kelton said. “Nod once if you understand.”

  John nodded once.

  Kelton relaxed on the pressure a hair but left the barrel pressing up against John’s right eye. “Now, let’s get something straight right up front. Nothing you can say will get you out of this, so I don’t want to hear you begging for mercy or anything stupid like that. Understand?”