Hostage Zero

“That’s right,” Chris confirmed, his face brightening with recognition. “He said that he found some medals that belonged to you. I don’t know, in a basement or something. Said he wanted to get them back to you.”

New flavor: acid. The next mouthful almost made him gag. He kept his Navy Cross and Distinguished Service Medal in their original cases, hidden in a hole he’d dug under his tent. He fought the urge to bolt from his barstool and tear for the door.

“Now that I see you, though, that might be bullshit,” said Denim. “He must be twenty years older than you. I have a hard time seeing you two serving in the same unit. You might want to be careful.”

Harvey eyed the denim guy carefully, then shrugged it off. He wanted this conversation to end.

“I think we all need to be careful,” Chris said, absently wiping the bar top even though it didn’t need it. “That stuff at Resurrection House the other day. I don’t like stuff like that happening around here. If little kids aren’t safe, then nobody’s safe, know what I mean?” He shook his head sadly, and then seemed to realize he was bringing the mood down, so he became a little too cheerful. “So, where are y’all from?”

Harvey’s gut jumped again. He’d assumed that Denim was a regular.

“I’m from everywhere,” Denim said. “I’m willing to hang my hat wherever I can find work.”

“Oh yeah?” Chris said, clearly intrigued by the prospect. “What kind of work do you do?”

Denim shrugged. “None, right now. I’m sort of looking around.”

Was Harvey imagining things, or was this guy glaring at him as he spoke? One of the problems with being a diagnosed paranoid is that you never know when the paranoia is justified.

“For what?” Chris pressed. “What’s your specialty?”

“I was in the weapons business for a long time,” Denim said. “But this new outbreak of peace is killing me.”

Chris laughed, but Harvey’s hand started to shake. Weapons business. New in town. Happened to be here right at this moment. Coincidence or strategy?

“And you, Harvey?” Chris asked. “Where do you come from? What do you do?”

He knew the kid was just trying to be friendly, but Harvey wanted to shove a wad of napkins in his mouth. He should have prepared an answer for this. “I used to work for a charter fishing company,” he lied. “I got laid off, though.”

Chris looked concerned. “Which one? I didn’t know charters were laying off.”

“In Georgia,” Harvey clarified. He had no idea why he’d just said that. He’d never even been to Georgia. “Out of Savannah.” Please, God, let Savannah be on the coast.

“Well, that’s a great line to be in around here if you’re any good at it,” Chris said. “Where are you staying?”

Jesus Christ, did he not have an off switch? “With friends.”

The kid’s smile brightened even more. “Anybody I know?”

Harvey opened his mouth to say something, but no words formed. His library of lies had just checked out its last edition. He found himself staring.

“Give the guy a break,” Denim said. “He just found out that a stranger is looking for him, and you keep leaning on him for information. Would you want to be answering your questions if you were him?”

A lightbulb went on over Chris’s head. Almost literally. “Oh, jeeze, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push too hard. I was just-”

Harvey waved him off. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“Sure looked spooked, though,” Denim said. He toasted him with what looked to be a pint of Coca-Cola.

Harvey forced a smile, and tried to devise an exit strategy. Denim worried him. Assuming he was a bad guy, Harvey would be foolish to leave a public place. The guy would only have to follow him, wait for the right moment, and then do whatever he came to do. On the other hand, waiting would guarantee a meeting with the big Bostonian.

Even if Harvey did leave, where would he go? He wasn’t the most selfless guy in the world, but there’s no way he could lead killers back to the mansion.

When you’ve got no good options, all you can do is hope to choose the least shitty one. In this case, it meant finishing his Harp and getting out of here. He waited a couple of minutes after he drained the pint to ask for the check. While Chris rang the order, Denim defused everything by dismissing himself from his stool and heading to the men’s room.

“I hope our friend isn’t stepping out on his bill,” Harvey quipped as he slipped a twenty into the little plastic folder embossed with yet another set of ass-kissing fish.

Chris smiled and shook his head. “Nah, he looks honest to me.” As he cashed out the change he added, “Sure you don’t want to stick around for your friend?”

Harvey spun himself off the stool. “Chris, I gotta tell you. I don’t know anybody who fits the description you gave, and I’ve never won any medals. If he comes back, feel free to forget you ever saw me.” He eyed the cash in Chris’s hand. “Keep the change.”

The kid’s eyes saucered at the three hundred percent tip. “Forget I saw who?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE