The Coldest Mile by Tom Piccirilli Page A

facts and was just going deeper into denial. But Chase knew the way to get aman to do the things he didn't want to do, he'd been taught by the best.
    “What would your father do, Jackie? Think it through the way Lenny might've. How would your old man handle a situation like this? Where would he go?”
    “Vegas,” Jackie said. “I have a little place in Vegas too. I can stay there for a couple of days.”
    “I'll take you to the airport. Don't pack anything except cash. You have to be autonomous, Jackie, self- reliant. Didn't your father teach you anything when he threw you off the pier at Asbury Park?”
    “How the fuck did you know about that?” Jackie asked.

T hey pulled up to the estate, everything the same as usual, except Jackie was in the back climbing around like a wet cat. He poured himself another drink and Chase reached back through the partition and put his hand on Jackie's shoulder.
    “Just be cool.”
    “Will you—?”
    “Yeah, I'll come in with you.”
    “Thanks.”
    The thugs lolled about. For the first time Jackie seemed to notice just how many guys there were standing around doing nothing, everybody trying to figure out what they could grab for themselves before they left. Moe Irvine was out on the sundeck, his face dappled with baby oil.
    The house was already emptying fast. Furniture was being moved out the side door, lots of boxes and bundles all about on the lawn.
    Chase walked Jackie inside, followed him to his office, and watched as Jackie stepped directly to Aristotle Contemplating a Bust of Homer. It was a five-tumbler combo. Jackie had wads of cash in there and pulled a briefcase out from somewhere under his desk, filled it with the money. The stacks were thick but there weren't all that many—it would be enough to go after Jonah and Kylie, though.
    Chase had been right, the safe wasn't where the big money was kept. He'd never cracked the pattern and now he wouldn't score the serious cash. He looked up at the ceiling thinking about Sherry up there, waiting for the call that would tell her that her brother had been capped.
    He said, “You should take more, Jackie.”
    “That's all I have access to.”
    “What about all the cash flow? You must have it squirreled away all over the place.”
    “It all goes into accounts to keep the business solvent. We've taken hard hits the past year. Attorneys’ fees cost us more than two million the past six months, trying to keep our men out of prison and the right people paid off.”
    Briefcase in hand, Jackie led Chase upstairs. Jackie's mother was sitting in a rocking chair, her bedroom mostly packed, a couple photos and paintings still on the walls. Lenny Langan as a young man. Jackie and Sherry as kids. Chase shut his eyes and tried to resist the pull of history around him, swirling him backward into an ocean of his own life, full of the dead.
    Jackie kissed his mother and she said, “You're leaving.” The lady was smart, and she knew Jackiewould be wrecked in the fallout. “Good, it's time. I wasn't sure if I could protect you. Go find a safe place to stay for a month or two. Let me know where you are when you get settled. On my private line. Don't talk to anyone else.”
    “I'll be home soon, Mother.”
    “There's no home left, Jackson. This is the way it happens sometimes. I'm sorry.”
    “You forgive me for missing the funeral?”
    “Your father wouldn't give a shit, why should I?”
    “I need to talk to Sherry first.”
    “No, Jackson, you don't. She's busy.”
    “I'm taking money from the safe, Mother. I should tell her.”
    “Leave her be. Go now. Go.”
    She kissed her boy and Jackie turned away, Chase following, wondering if Jackie's mom would've warned him if he hadn't shown some initiative.
    Nobody noticed them leaving the house. Chase backed the limo up to the servants’ quarters and got out. Jackie squawked, “You're leaving me?”
    “For a minute.”
    “That's all it might take.”
    Chase ignored him and ran inside.