Already Gone

– 42 –



Once we get to the warehouse district, I lean over and look out at the road ahead. The snow is falling heavier now, reflecting the headlights and making it hard to see what’s coming.

Briggs asks if this is the way.

“It’s just up ahead.”

A few minutes later I see the sign in front of Gabby’s warehouse, and say, “Drive up to the gate.”

The driver looks back in the rearview.

Briggs nods. “Do it.”

We pull up, and at first nothing happens, then a motor kicks in, and the thick metal gate slides open along a track in the cement. The driver waits until it stops, then drives in with both SUVs behind us.

There are two small U-Haul trucks parked out back by the loading dock. One is closed, and four men are loading crates into the other.

Gabby is standing next to the elevator smoking a cigarette, watching us pull in. When we stop, he drops his cigarette and crushes it under his foot, then walks down the steps and across the lot toward us.

“Is this him?” Briggs asks.

“That’s him.”

I open my door and slide out. My muscles are stiff from sitting for so long, and I brace myself against the car to stand.

Gabby sees me and stops walking, then he starts again, slower. The look on his face burns through me.

I move away from the door and Briggs steps out.

Gabby’s face softens immediately, and for an instant, I barely recognize him.

“Mr. Briggs.” Gabby holds out his hand. “We’ve got almost all the crates packed and ready to be moved.” He motions to the trucks. “I split them up into two trucks this time, just in case, and I’d be happy to have my men drive them wherever you want them to go.”

“That’s not necessary,” Briggs says. “We’ll handle that ourselves.”

Gabby nods. “I can’t tell you how sorry we all are about this misunderstanding. I only hope we can move past it and build a—”

“How soon until they’re ready to be moved?”

Gabby bites his lower lip, then turns and looks at the men loading the trucks. “Not long. If you’d like to come inside and get out of the snow, maybe we can discuss the other matter.”

“The other matter,” Briggs says. “Yes, why not.” He nods at Carlos, then waves a hand toward one of the SUVs. Hull gets out and comes over. “We’ll follow you.”

I watch the SUV, hoping to see Diane, but I don’t.

Gabby takes my arm, and we start walking toward the stairs on the side of the loading dock. Once we get to the top, we go inside and head for the door leading to the workshop.

Halfway there, Gabby’s words drift to me, barely a whisper. “How many men?”

“Six, I think.”

Gabby lets go of my arm. He stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns back to Briggs. “This is my workshop where we make the furniture. My apartment is upstairs.”

No one speaks.

Gabby starts to say something else, but he stutters over the words and doesn’t try again.

I’ve never seen him like this, and it worries me.

“Are you okay?”

Gabby ignores me, then starts up the steps toward his apartment. Once we get to the top, he leads us into the living room. Briggs and Hull sit on the couch. Carlos stays standing, his back against the wall.

“Would anyone like a drink?” Gabby asks.

Briggs leans back and crosses his leg over his knee. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Gabby nods and sits across from him in the leather chair. “Whatever you like.”

I stand by the windows overlooking the city and the lot below. My muscles are stiff and bruised. I’m afraid that if I sit, I won’t be able to get back up.

At first, no one says anything. Gabby rocks back and forth in the chair, absently tapping his fingers on his legs.

Briggs watches him and exhales long and slow. “What exactly is it you want, Mr. Meyers, or am I to guess?”

Gabby laughs, loud and fake. “I guess I’m a little nervous. I had no idea who was involved when we agreed to do the job. Had I known, I never would’ve taken part.”

“But you did take part.”

Gabby leans forward in the chair, and when he speaks, his voice is slow, pleading. “You have to understand, Frank Reese was a close friend. He asked me—no, he begged me to help. I couldn’t turn him away.”

“Because you’re loyal to your friends.”

“To the end.”

“It’s a worthy trait. Unfortunately, in this instance, your loyalty led you down the wrong path. You took the wrong job.”

Gabby looks down at his hands, and I notice they’re shaking. He folds them together in his lap, then glances from Briggs to Hull and back. He clears his throat, says, “I’m trying to fix the situation.”

“For a price.” Briggs smiles. “That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?”

“I’ve had those crates in my warehouse for months, taking up space.”

“Your point?”

Gabby reaches for his cigarettes and taps one out, but he doesn’t light it. “Reimbursement.”

Briggs laughs.

Gabby takes the lighter from the table. He puts the cigarette to his lips. His hands are trembling.

“It seems only fair considering—”

“You stole my property, and now you ask me to pay a storage fee?” Briggs’s voice gets louder with each word. “Is that what I’m hearing?”

“I think ten percent would be a fair—”

Briggs moves fast. I don’t see the gun until it’s pressed against Gabby’s forehead.

“Hey!” I move in, then see Carlos step forward.

I stop.

Gabby closes his eyes and raises his hands in front of him, slow. He mumbles something I can’t hear, then he coughs and says, “This isn’t necessary.”

“Do you actually believe I’d pay you anything?”

Gabby’s lips are moving, but no sound comes out.

“The only reason you are still alive is because you’re nothing. You’re a hired hand.” He leans in close. “You are labor.”

Gabby nods, stays quiet.

“I’m going to walk out of here with the entire shipment you and your friends took from me. You will stay here and be thankful I let you live. That is the only deal I’m offering. Do you accept?”

Gabby clears his throat. “Yes.”

“Good.” Briggs steps back and lowers the gun. “I think you have enough to worry about with the Pavel brothers. If I were you, I’d focus my energy on that little problem. As you’ll discover, they’re a good deal less charitable than I.”

Gabby blinks, once, then looks at me.

Briggs steps forward and says, “If that’s all you wanted to discuss, Mr. Meyers, we’ll go ahead and take the trucks now.”

Gabby lights the cigarette, inhales. “The keys are in them.”

Briggs and Hull start toward the stairs leading down to the workshop. Gabby watches them go, silent.

Carlos stays behind.

Once they’re gone, I turn to Gabby. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gabby doesn’t answer. He puts the cigarette to his lips, his hands no longer shaking, then gets up and walks to the window and looks out over the lot.

I ask him again.

Gabby turns and motions to Carlos standing against the far wall. “Who the f*ck is this?”

I tell him.

“Why’s he still here?”

“He was told to kill me if things went bad.”

Gabby nods, takes another drag off the cigarette, and turns toward the bookshelves. “Do you want a drink, Jake?”

I shake my head. “I want to know what’s going on. Diane is still down there.”

“We’ll get to her later, don’t worry.”

He takes two glasses and a bottle of scotch from the shelf. I watch him pour a drink. Everything about him is different, his body language, his voice, even the look on his face. All of it strong and steady.

I step closer, whisper, “It was an act, wasn’t it?”

Gabby lifts the glass and finishes the drink in one swallow. He doesn’t say anything.

“What are you planning?”

He sets the glass on the coffee table then opens one of the side drawers and takes out a silver handgun with a black suppressor on the barrel.

Carlos sees it too late.

Gabby fires one shot.

The bullet catches Carlos just beneath his nose, and a mist of blood fans out across the wall behind him. He falls backward, hitting the ground hard, his legs drumming against the wood floors.

I look over at Gabby, and for a moment I can’t speak. When I find my voice, it comes out loud.

“What is wrong with you? They have Diane.”

Gabby drops the gun on the chair, then grabs his glass and the bottle of scotch off the coffee table and pours another drink. “You sure you don’t want one of these?”

I walk around the couch to where Carlos is lying. It only takes one look to know he’s dead.

When I turn back, Gabby is standing at the window, sipping his drink, watching the lot below.

“Now they’re going to kill her.”

Gabby, still staring out the window, says, “It’s time.”

“Time? What the hell are you—”

He turns and looks past me toward the hallway. “Get everyone down to the basement. No one leaves.”

I hear movement behind me, and I turn around.

Mathew and Alek Pavel are standing in the hallway.