Steadman's Blind

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

Nan’s cup of coffee sat untouched on the table in front of her, the rising tendrils of vapor waning as it grew cold. Steadman watched her face, the leaden lump in his stomach growing with each moment that passed. She was tough, his sister, and the bones of her skull stood out under pallid skin like a Mt. Rushmore monument, solid and unmoving. But there was fear in her eyes, tinged with despair. That alarmed him, and the swelling at her temple and blackened eye sent anger swirling through his growing sense of dread.

“Tell me what happened, Nan,” he prompted. “When, where, and—if possible—who.”

A wash of color came into her face, and he was relieved to see there was still some spirit left in her.

“Oh, I know who well enough,” she said, her voice shot through with acid. “They made no effort to disguise themselves.”

“Did you tell the police?”

She pressed her lips together, blanching them white. Her nostrils flared as she drew a breath through her nose. “I did not.”

The heavy lump in his gut sank. “What’s going on, Nan? I guess you’ve got a lot to tell me, but first I want to know about Hank. How bad is it?”

She closed her eyes, face twisting as she wrestled her emotions. Steadman covered her shaking hand with his own and waited. Almost a minute passed before she swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak.

“They kicked him. Two bastards taking turns with their heavy boots.” Her voice went squeaky, and she paused, taking a deep breath. “He’s got four cracked ribs, a broken arm, a broken nose, and a ruptured spleen. He lost three teeth and his face is unrecognizable. He’ll never again be the pretty boy I married.”

Steadman squeezed her hand. Bad as it was, he had feared worse. “Well, Nan,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood, “that ship sailed a long time ago.”

She gave him a weak smile. “Don’t I know it. But—” A little sob escaped her lips and she bit down hard, staunching the flow. “I love him so much, Rand.”

“I know, Sis. I know.”

A loud clatter reverberated through the room as an attendant deposited a load of clean trays into a rack at the head of the cafeteria line. Steadman watched an elderly couple pry one from the top of the stack and begin working their shaky way along the path of options, consulting each other with every choice. Hank and Nan would grow old together like that—sweet to each other, caring, united.

He turned his gaze back to Nan. “Hank will be okay, then. His prognosis is good, right?”

Her lips thinned to a grim line and again he saw that spark of color come into her face.

“He’ll survive. Until they come for him again.”

“Why would they do that, Nan? Who are these guys?”

“They’re sharks.”

“You mean, like loan sharks.”

She nodded. “Yes, and worse. I’m not sure what all they’re into, but they’re bad news.”

“How on earth did Hank get mixed up with them?”

She sighed. “You know Ronnie’s in his second year at MIT.”

Steadman stared at her. “Hank borrowed college funds from a loan shark?”

She leveled that big sister glare at him across the table. “He’s not stupid, Rand. It didn’t happen like you think. Hank got sucked in, little by little, by pros who know just where to put the pressure.”

Despite the anxiety that gnawed at his gut, Steadman admired Nan for standing by her man. They might be going down, but they were going down together. He hoped he could find a way to throw them a lifeline.

“Start at the beginning, Nan,” he said, trying to keep his voice free from any trace of judgment, “and put me in the picture.”

She canted her lower lip and blew out a frustrated sigh that reached her bangs, fluttering them as it passed. “As you know, Hank’s a night manager at the Hilton. In the course of his business, he became aware that these guys were running an illegal high-stakes poker game from their hotel suite. Their leader is a man they call Honest Abe, and no one even tries to keep a straight face about it. He offered Hank a thousand dollars to look the other way.”

She broke off, swirls of red staining her cheeks. “It sounds terrible, the way I put it,” a pleading note crept into her voice, “but you’ve got to understand there was a lot going on for us. We were squeezed pretty tight with no room to breathe or see our way clear. Car broke down, late on the mortgage, bills coming due, and time to pay another round of tuition. College costs more than a house, these days. Hank thought it would be a onetime deal. He let it slide.”

Steadman saw all too clearly where this was going. It was like letting the camel put one foot inside the tent. Pretty soon you’ve got the whole animal on your lap and you’re drowning in sand.

“I can see the wheels churning inside your head, Rand, and whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably not far off the mark. The games continued, the payouts got bigger, and by the time Hank realized how deep he was in, he couldn’t get out. He was complicit. So when they stopped paying him there was nothing he could do about it. They had him by the balls.”

Steadman grimaced. “Ouch. So why’d they beat him up? Did he end up ratting them out?”

Nan clenched her fists on the table in front of her, nearly spilling the cup of congealing coffee.

“I only wish he had. No, we’d come to count on that extra money, and when they stopped paying for Hank’s silence, it hurt. But Abe wasn’t finished with Hank. He brought him into his fancy suite, buttered him up, told him the hush money had stopped because he was one of them now, part of the team, and he was welcome at the table. They’d even stake him the first game.”

Steadman groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding. What the hell was he thinking, Nan?”

She scowled at him, her teeth going up over her lip in that classic Nan expression of stubborn annoyance.

“You don’t know these guys. They’re urbane and charismatic. Car salesman types that can convince you they’re your best pal while they’re sizing you up for a coffin. Hank figured it wouldn’t hurt to play that first game, with their money. He cleaned up, too. Brought home a pile, that night.”

Steadman snorted. “Naturally, Nan. That’s how it’s done. He was hooked, right?”

She sighed. “By the nose. They sucked him dry, and then some.” She rubbed at a spot on her forehead with two shaking fingers. “We’re putting the house on the market and hoping it sells before they come back to break Hank’s legs.”

“Oh heavens, Nan,” Steadman felt a vein of cold misery spreading through him. “Why didn’t you tell the police?”

She gave him a pointed look. “That’s the first thing they warned us about. Told us they had police protection, key officers on the payroll, and it would only go harder on us if we squealed.”

Steadman swallowed and tossed through his mental inventory for some way to bring her comfort.

“They’re not going to hurt you so bad you can’t cough up the money. They want you operational, Nan. It sounds like they’re giving you some sort of deadline?”

“Six weeks. They said if we didn’t pay up in six weeks, Hank’s a dead man.”

He patted her hand. “They’re not going to kill him, Sis. That’s just to scare you.”

Her face crumpled, and she bit her lip, silent tears spilling from her reddened eyes. She brushed them off and stared across the table at Steadman, her jaw hardening.

“Jeb Openshaw, the man Hank replaced at the hotel—he died in a hit-and-run accident. A newspaper clipping about the incident was left in an envelope on Hank’s desk. If they don’t get their money, they cut their losses and make an example.”

Steadman saw the shudder that ran through her. He moved his chair next to hers and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her, wondering what the hell his next move should be. After a few moments, she pulled away and smoothed the hair back from her face, sitting taller in her chair, chin lifted.

“I spent a lot of time thinking,” she said. “While Hank was in surgery, while I waited beside his broken body for you to arrive.” She speared Steadman with her big sister gaze.

“And I came up with a plan.”