From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 24, Sorry

This is episode twenty-four of the novel, From Here To 1137. If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

Sorry

The Darter was a little larger than a motorcycle. It was a black metallic, similar to the pod. It was cylindrical with a rounded front, and the rear was flat. As Tom approached it, the see-through canopy and a small side door opened. Tom slid comfortably inside. The door and the canopy closed.

Telepathically, he said, “Give me the instructions and skills to operate the Darter.”

He felt a slight tingle in his head, and he knew how to operate the Darter.

“Darter, shroud,” Tom commanded.

He pulled back on a lever and soared into the night sky. In a moment, he leveled the Dart and accelerated. The lights of Long Island below him became a blur.

Soon, he was over Brooklyn. The Darter slowed and flew quietly into the alley close to Rossi’s.

Tom climbed out of the Darter and hurried to Rossi’s. He dashed inside. Edgar sat across the table from Grasso. 

Grasso looked up at Tom approaching. He appeared relieved to see him. Tom sat in a chair at Edgar’s right.

Edgar’s eyes shifted quickly toward Tom and back to Grasso. “Tom,” Edgar said, “what are you doing here?”

“Tell him, tell him, we made a deal,” Grasso said, distressed.

Tom glanced at Edgar. Edgar held a revolver in his hand and had it pressed sideways against his chest so that the barrel would be unnoticed. 

“Put the gun away,” Tom said quietly but firmly. “I was here earlier and made a deal with Grasso.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him,” Grasso said.

“Deal, what kind of deal?” Edgar said.

“I gave Grasso enough money to pay off your debt,” Tom said.

“Where did you get that kind of money?” Edgar said. “You told me you had no money.”

“I got the money,” Tom said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“And you expect Grasso to uphold his end of the deal,” Edgar said. “You don’t understand; once these guys get their hooks in you, there is no letting go.”

“We made a deal,” Grasso said. “A deal is a deal.”

Edgar smirked at Tom. “You poor, naive farm boy.” He looked at Grasso. “He’s my younger brother and doesn’t understand the ways of the world.” Then he shifted his eyes back to Tom. “You are so out of your league, Tommy Gun. If something ain’t done with this guy now, I’ll belong to him the rest of my life. And the day I’m of no use to him anymore, it’s over for me. Ain’t that so, Grasso?”

“I think you got your brother all wrong,” Grasso said. “He came in here and threatened me with my mother and father.”

“Threats,” Edgar smirked. “Anybody can make threats.”

“Yeah,” Grasso said, “but he knew my parents' address in Boca Raton. He knew their phone number. He knew their friends. He knew it was their card night. And he knew some things I’d rather not go into.”

“What?” Edgar said, glancing at Tom and back to Grasso.

Grasso bobbed his head. “I don’t know how he knows all that stuff, but we made a deal. And if you pull that trigger, the deal is off. People will be after you.”

“Believe him, Edgar,” Tom said. “Believe me.”

Edgar shoved the revolver into the inside pocket of his coat.

“I don’t owe you anything?” Edgar asked.

“Nothing,” Grasso said.

Edgar stood, and Tom stood.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding,” Edgar said.

Grasso nodded. “You know something, Bales, I asked your brother a little while ago who he was. I mean, the guy comes in here, threatens me. I send him on a walk with a couple of my men. He’s not gone more than two minutes, and he walks back in. He sent my two boys to the hospital. I don’t know how he did it, but they’re in the hospital. So I figure I got a right to know what I’m dealing with, and after I asked him who he was, he says, ‘Edgar’s brother.’ That ought to tell you something.”

Edgar gave a slight glance at Tom.

Tom said, “Let’s get out of here.”

They turned and walked away. Tom stopped at the bar. He put a five-dollar bill on the counter. “Bartender, can you call us a cab?”

The bartender looked at Grasso, and he nodded.

They walked out into the cold, vacant street. Tom turned and took a couple of steps away from Edgar. 

Edgar caught up with Tom and stood in front of him. “What is going on? What did you do?”

“You know you’re through in this town, don’t you?” Tom said. 

“Are you kidding me?” Edgar said. “We’ve got something on Grasso. He’s on my payroll, now.”

“Let me tell you something, Edgar, once Grasso finds out that the money I paid off your debt with belongs to him in the first place, he’s going to react irrationally.”

“What!?” Edgar said. “His money? How stupid!”

“You are thick, Edgar. It was you who started this whole thing. You’re the one with the tit in the wringer.”

“Yeah,” Edgar said, “and what kind of future do I have?”

“At least you have one,” Tom said. “It’s just not here.”

“What am I going to do, be a small-time country lawyer like Gene Francis in his twenty-year-old off-the-rack suits? A side of bacon for a will and a bushel of apples for a fence dispute.”

Tom reached inside his coat and pulled out an envelope. “Here’s some cash. When the cab comes, take it to your place. Pack your bags and get out of the country. No exotic place. I suggest Central America. Call me when you get settled in.”

“Please tell me what’s going on,” Edgar pleaded angrily.

“I’m going to stay with you until the cab arrives,” Tom said. “You get in the cab and do exactly what I told you to do. I told you to stay in that bed and breakfast on Long Island. You had a better idea. An idea that would have landed you in prison or a landfill in Jersey. You should have listened to me. Now! Listen to me, now!”

“I didn’t know what you were doing,” Edgar said. “If you’d kept me in the loop…”

Tom interrupted, “If I kept you in the loop, if I kept you in the loop! What are you talking about? If I kept you in the loop, you would have had a better idea. You would not have responded to one single thing I said. On top of all of this, I’m getting you out of town for a while. I don’t know how this whole thing will shake out, but this way, you’ll be able to possibly keep your license. At least you can practice law, even if you wear off-the-rack suits. It’s better than planting corn and shoveling out the cattle barn.”

They stood apart for a couple of minutes, looking at the night street. 

“Why aren’t you taking the cab with me?” Edgar asked.

“I’m going to walk it off,” Tom said.

“These neighborhoods can be dangerous at night,” Edgar said. He handed Tom his pistol.

“Where did you get this?” Tom asked.

“Black market,” Edgar said. 

A cab moved slowly toward them. Edgar waved at it.

Edgar opened the cab’s door. “I’ll call you.”

“Be sure you do,” Tom said. 

“I’m sorry,” Edgar said.

“You mean all of this?” Tom said, waving his finger around. “It was nothing.”

“No,” Edgar said. “For calling you Tommy Gunn.”

Edgar slipped into the cab, and it drove away.

Tom jogged back to the Darter and flew it back to the pod

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 23, Edgar's Gone

 This is episode twenty-three of the novel, From Here To 1137. If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

Edgar's Gone

Tom rested for a while. 

“Brain.”

“Yes.”

“Earlier, I mentioned a rental car,” Tom said. “And it came to me that I’m too young, so Instaport me to in front of the bed and breakfast that Edgar is staying at.”

“Anytime you are ready,” Brain said.

Tom stepped into the Instaport. “I’m ready.”

Soon, he stood in front of the bed and breakfast. He walked up to the door and pushed the doorbell button.

An elderly man in slippers and casual clothing came to the door. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m looking for Edgar Bales?”

“Are you his brother?”

“Yes.”

“He left a little over an hour and a half ago. He said if you came by, to tell you he would take care of everything.”

“He said nothing else?”

“That’s it.”

“How did he leave?”

“He called a cab.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tom said. “Have a good evening.”

Tom walked out to the street and walked away from the bed and breakfast.

“Did you hear that, Brain?”

“I did.”

“Can you access the local cab companies and find out where he’s heading?” Tom said. “But I think I know.”

“I am running through the data now,” Brain said. “I will have something in a moment.”

Tom continued walking.

“I have it,” Brain said. “He has taken a cab to Rossi’s.”

“Crap!” Tom said. “Can you Instaport me to that alley near Rossi’s again?”

“I can and will,” Brain said. “But too many Instaport encounters in a twenty-four-hour period could be dangerous.”

“Can you explain that in simple terms?” Tom said.

“Your entire makeup is jumbled around, converted into a transferable frequency, and rearranged in another location. A body can only take so much. We can still do it, but it is wise to leave at least a couple of comfortable usages in the event we may encounter other unforeseeable situations.”

“I think my brother is going to confront Grasso,” Tom said. “I don’t know if Tom has a gun or not, but it sounds to me like he’s heading for trouble.”

“Without you asking,” Brain said, “may I suggest an alternative course of action?”

“Wouldn’t that be novel?” Tom said sarcastically.

“I can send you the Darter,” Brain said. “With it, you can be at Rossi’s in minutes. We can shroud it so it cannot be detected. ”

“Perfect,” Tom said. 

“In one hundred and twenty-two feet, there’s a row of hedges, the Darter will be behind it.”

“I see the hedges,” Tom said. “And by the way…”

Brain interrupted, “As soon as you sit in the Darter, the MAS will be in place.”

“You are slowly but surely becoming the brains of this outfit,” Tom quipped.

“You suddenly noticed that?” Brain said.

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 22, Brain's Humor

This is episode twenty-two of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

   If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

Brain's Humor           

Shortly after stepping into the alley, Tom was back in the pod. He sat in the captain’s chair.

“Brain.”

“Yes,” Brain replied.

“Remove the MAS. I know it’s not supposed to bother me, but I feel funny.”

There was silence for a moment.

“It has been done,” Brain said.

“I’m going to relax for a while and then go get Edgar. I need some cash for a car and other expenses. I hate to ask the Replicator to provide me with money. Technically, it’s counterfeit.”

“May suggest confiscating more of Grasso’s money,” Brain said. “Either from his safe deposit box or the storage unit on Long Island.”

“I don’t want to go back to either of those places,” Tom said. “I know it can be done safely, but it is tense no matter what.”

“If you want,” Brain said, “the money can be transported without you visiting either location.”

“You mean I didn’t have to go either time?” Tom said.

“No,” Brain said.

“Do you have any idea the stress I was under?” Tom asked harshly.

“Your breathing and pulse were elevated, but still in the range that it was nothing to worry about,” Brain said.

“Why didn’t you at least hold that out as an option?” Tom said.

“You never inquired,” Brain said.

“You should know those things!” Tom said.

“My ability to make decisions on certain matters is limited,” Brain said. “There are occasions when I can offer alternative strategies or suggestions, but not in every case.”

“Now you tell me,” Tom said. “All I have to say is that somebody has to be the brains of this outfit, and it sure can’t be you.”

“Was that an attempt at humor?” Brain asked.

“Yes, it was.”

“Ha, ha,” Brain said.

“You’re killing me,” Tom said. “And let’s work on sincerity while I’m thinking about it.”

“Let’s see,” Brain said, “‘You’re killing me,’ that’s an idiom for ‘are you exasperated or amused?’”

“Let’s just call this a draw,” Tom said.

“I must be winning,” Brain said. “Ha, ha.”

From Here To 1138 AD; Episode 21, The Agreement

This is episode twenty-one of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

   If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback.

The Agreement

Tom walked toward Grasso’s table. Grasso was playing a game of Solitaire. Tom lifted slightly the chair that was across from Grasso and let it drop. 

Grasso looked up to see Tom. Grasso tried to hide the surprise on his face.

Tom pulled the chair back and sat on it.

“It’s a lonely man’s game,” Tom said. “After my dad died, my mother worked crosswords.” 

“I’ve never been good at words,” Grasso said. 

“Crosswords are how you get good at words,” Tom said.

“I know enough words as it is,” Grasso sneered.

“Well,” Tom pursed his lips, “I suppose you’re wondering about your men, or not. Anyway, they’re probably going to a hospital. I’m sure one will have his jaw wired shut, and the other will have his ribs wrapped for a month or so.”

“You got people waiting outside?” Grasso asked.

“No,” Tom said. “Let’s just say I got in a couple of lucky punches.”

“I say the word and this whole bar will come down on you and tear you apart,” Grasso said.

“Mr. Grasso,” Tom said, “I have a SIG P219 in my coat pocket. I can put a round in your head before these heathens put their drinks down.”

Grasso swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair.

“Here’s the way it is going to be,” Tom said. “I’ll assume, because you accepted my bag of cash, that you accepted my offer to forget Edgar’s debt. Do you understand me?”

Grasso stared coldly.

“Mr. Grasso,” Tom said firmly, “I expect a nod or some sort of vocal affirmation.”

“Affirmation?” Grasso said, puzzled.

“See, you do need crosswords,” Tom said. “That means a ‘yes’ or a nod—either will do.”

Grasso nodded.

“Understand this, Mr. Grasso,” Tom said, “I don’t wish to cause you any harm or upset your criminal enterprise, but if my offer is not honored, bad things will happen. I know that you look at me and see a harmless farm boy, but I just sent two of your men to the hospital, walked in here with $100,000 cash, and I know everything about your business, your family, and that bimbo on 42nd Street.” Tom smiled and leaned closer. He held his hand to the side of his mouth and whispered. “I also know about the bathhouse in Passaic.”

Grasso’s mouth drooped as if he might vomit.

“Capisci, Mr Gasso?”

“Certo,” Gasso said sullenly.

“Grazie mille,” Tom said.

“My brother’s debts are forgiven. You go about your business. You will never hear from me again. If something bad happens to you, your family, associates, or enterprises, be assured, it is not me.”

Grasso gave a slow nod.

Tom stood. He reached across the table and offered Grasso his hand. Grasso grabbed his hand and shook once.

Tom pulled his hand out of Grasso’s grip. Tom looked in his eyes and sneered. He reached into the side pocket of his coat and pulled out the pistol just far enough for Grasso to see the handle.

“It’s quite a weapon,” Tom said. “Christmas is just around the corner. How ‘bout if I send you a gold-plated one? What grip would you prefer, pearl, ivory, or—it just came to me, something with your family's coat of arms? Anyway, it will be a little reminder of our brief experience—in case you might forget.”

“Who are you?” Grasso asked painfully.   

A sneer left Tom’s face. It changed to cold and serious. “I’m Edgar’s brother.”

Tom walked out of Rossi’s and back to the alley.