The Aftermath

38

Life was fickle, Jim Stewart reasoned as he sat in the driver's seat of the van and waited for the lawyer lady to show up. He was calm and at ease. He had done similar things many times while working for his country. Snatch and grabs were just one of the skills they taught him. But Bobby was going to loose his mind if that lady didn't show up soon.

Bobby was only nineteen, but he had conviction and a will to do what was right. The only trouble was he had no patience and Jim couldn't figure out how to teach it to him.

That was the whole purpose for the drive-by on the freeway. Jim explained his plan to Bobby and Bobby couldn't accept it, "Just kill him! Drive up and put a bullet in his head!" Bobby had said. There was enthusiasm in his voice as well.

Jim taught him what he would need to know in order to do that. He taught him about how to position the truck,and how to make the stop. He taught him about letting Blake's car crash into the back of the truck so Blake would be in good position. Then Jim turned Bobby loose in a stolen F150.

Tom Blake was a predator. A cowardly predator, but still one of the hunters. Jim knew that there was no way a youngster like Bobby was going to surprise a predator like Tom Blake. He told Bobby that, and told him what to do if Blake turned the tables on him. "Get to the underpass as soon as you can. It's the same either way. Don't do anything else! Straight to the underpass." And of course Bobby nodded dutifully not having the experience yet to know that violent situations had a way of making you do stupid things. Right now, in the hotel room, the plan sounded simple enough. But out there, facing the cobra, was a whole different perspective, and perspective was everything.

The kid got much closer than Jim thought he would, he had to give him that. Hell, got two shots through the windshield. Good shots too. From the picture in the newspaper, those two shots weren't very far apart. Head shots, both of them.

"Now," he asked Bobby when he read that Blake was still alive and unharmed, "can we do my way?"

"But you know how to do the drive-by right, why not just do that?" Bobby asked.

Jim took a moment, trying to find the words. He liked words, and enjoyed learning new languages. Words were important. The right phrase could melt a heart or turn a crowd into a riot. "Bobby, are you still in pain? Do you still wake up thinking about her death, and go to sleep thinking about her death?"

"You know I do Jim." Bobby said, looking at the floor, "Sometimes it is real bad."

"Killing Tom isn't going to make that pain go away Bobby. In fact, its going to fester into something after we kill him, which will change you forever. It's going to make you a monster."

Bobby looked at him confused, but Jim continued before he could get a question in. "There is no balance here, no justice here. There is nothing except pain and more pain. Right now, we are in pain while Tom Blake enjoys acquittal and the warmth of his family. Do you get to enjoy her warmth Bobby?"

"No." Bobby answered horsley.

Jim nodded his head, "No. Neither do I and it hurts more than I can stand. And I'm going to make Tom Blake hurt more than he can stand. I'm going to take everything from him. His love, his home, his family, everything! And then I'm going to watch him live with it for awhile. And then I'm going to kill him." Jim backed up a step and took a cigarette from his pack and lit it up, "You in or out?"

"In." Bobby said without hesitation.

"Now let's get this clear," Jim told him, "this is just about pain and terror. That's all. You aren't going to feel better doing this Bobby. You might even loose your mind. You still in?"

Bobby nodded his head and swallowed hard. "I'm in," he croaked.

Jim met Bobby the Friday when the impossible happened. The Friday they let Tom Blake walk out free. Jim lost control of his temper and threw his Bible at Tom. Bobby threw a soda bottle at him in the hallway, and was tasered. Bobby was still shaken from that experience when they pushed him into the holding cell. There were others there too. Other relatives, friends, lovers -- the girls were all represented.

Bobby was the only one who wasn't feeling guilty about his actions in that group. Jim could see it in their eyes, everyone of them. They lost control and went mean for a moment. If they could, they would take it back. All except Bobby. Bobby was seething to get out of that cell and do something more than throw a soda bottle.

So Jim talked to him. Talked to him in short bits at first. They were moving from holding cell to holding cell for four hours. Bobby was stand offish at first. He didn't want a friend. Jim kept it up though, bringing around the subject of death. Not the death of the girls; the death of Tom Blake.

When Bobby got the message, Jim saw in his eyes what he was looking for; eagerness. Bobby was perfect for his needs. Jim then called a friend and got bailed out, and then he bailed out Bobby, and took him to his house. There they drank beers and talked. They talked all night long, until Bobby passed out on the couch.

Felt like years ago, and yesterday all at once.

Jim watched the parking garage with disinterest, but not boredom. Jim was never bored. He could sit in the same spot for two days and not move. Boredom was caused by expecting the world to entertain you, but Jim had no expectations on the world. He knew what the world was made of, and what made it go around. He has seen and done it all, at least twice.

"What time is it?" Bobby asked.

Jim looked at his watch, "5:45."

"She's late."

"She's a lawyer, and one of the best. She has a lot of work to do. She'll be down when she comes down." Jim told him. "Besides, there could be witnesses, or someone walking her down to her car, or any number of other things, and you know what we do then, right?"

"Drive away." Bobby muttered as if it was a curse.

"That's right. So just sit back, relax. I'll let you know in plenty of time to get into position." Jim promised.

The minutes ticked by then, and the garage became darker. Shadows crept out from walls and pillars until they became darkness.

It was 6:18 when the door opened from the stairwell and Charlie Davis walked out. She was carrying a purse, as well as a laptop case, and some folders. Jim swept the garage with his eyes. It was perfect. "Get in position Bobby. Do it like I told you to do it. Do it like you are bored, like its a chore, like you've done it a hundred times. It is not exciting, or dangerous, it's like taking out the trash or doing the dishes. That's all."

"Yes." Bobby whispered, but Jim could hear the adrenaline rush inside that whisper. Bobby was jacked and there was no coming back down now. Jim shrugged and started the van.

The van was a hybrid mini van. Starting it consisted of turning the key to 'ON'. There was no sound, no revving motor, or smoking tires. There was just 'ON'.

The important part of a snatch-and-grab was the approach. Things went bad when the prey ran. That was why Jim was driving and Bobby was grabbing. The approach had to be perfect, and snatch-and-grabs were fluid actions so you had to be fluid as well. There was no room for panic or adrenalin rushes in the approach. Jim steered the mini-van down the drive of the dark garage.

Charlie Davis never looked back. It could have been that she didn't hear the van coming up behind her. It could have been that she did, and counted it as something that wasn't part of her immediate world. She probably had a hundred things to do tonight, and tomorrow and this weekend. She had a cat to feed, cloths to change into and a benefit to show up at, or maybe a dinner party.

Jim timed it perfect. Charlie was just turning down the isle between her car and another, when Jim clipped her with the van, and told Bobby, "Now!"

The door flew open and a surprised, dazed Charlie Davis had time to see Bobby hurtle out of the van, before the taser gripped her nervous system and fucked it all to hell like a bucket of sea water dashed across the mainframe computer.

Bobby grabbed the unconscious woman just as Jim taught him, lifting her in a fireman's carry. Bobby dumped her into the van, jumped in and slammed the door closed, "I'm in!" he shouted, "Go!"

Jim went, but not like Bobby thought he should. Jim eased out of the parking garage, and then eased into downtown traffic, and then eased onto the freeway. No rubber burning, or sirens, or shooting.

"Perfect." Jim told Bobby. "You did perfect."