Chasing China White by Allan Leverone (interesting novels in english txt) 📕

He paused, and seemed to be awaiting some sort of acknowledgment, so Derek said, “So I’ve heard.” The words caught in his throat so he cleared it and repeated them. “Yes, so I’ve heard.”

Crowder nodded. “Well, I’m active in a number of other business enterprises, and it may—or given your situation, may not—surprise you to learn that clients involved in some of those other enterprises occasionally encounter credit difficulties. You are not unique in that regard.”

“Okay…”

“Obviously you’re wondering where I’m going with all of this.”

Derek nodded wordlessly.

“Then let’s get down to business. I need you to pay a little visit to a client of one of my other enterprises. The man has run up a dangerously high debt load, and all you have to do is talk a little sense into him.”

“That’s it? I just have to talk to some guy?”

“Yes and no.”

Derek’s heart sank. He knew the “favor” had sounded too good to be true. “What does that mean?”

“It means that we’ve already ‘talked’ a number of times. Talking is unlikely to yield a satisfactory outcome.”

“So…”

“So you will visit him at his home. You will leave his home with enough cash and/or liquid assets to pay off the man’s debt load, or at least lower it to a reasonable level.”

“You expect me to do a home invasion?”

Crowder spread his hands. “Tomato, tomahto. I prefer to think of it as simply executing a business transaction.”

Derek squinted in concentration. He’d never done well in school but he wasn’t an idiot. Something was wrong here, and even confused and in pain it only took a second to figure out what it was.

“Don’t you have people for that? The two guys that brought me here seem well equipped to handle that sort of thing.” He rubbed his elbows unconsciously.

“As I mentioned a moment ago, representatives of my organization have spoken multiple times with Mr. McHugh regarding his credit issues. Words have been had, threats made. If McHugh sees my men within a hundred yards of his house he’ll be on the phone to the police immediately. They’ll come running and the opportunity to extract what is owed to me will go by the boards, for who knows how long.”

Crowder smiled. Derek didn’t think he’d ever seen anything quite so chilling. “That is where you come in. Mr. McHugh has never seen you. He doesn’t know you. I hope you won’t take it personally if I say you look…harmless. You are exactly the person I need.”

Derek swallowed heavily. He’d never been good at confrontation. He was more the “go along to get along” kind of personality, and the notion of storming some poor bastard’s house and making off with his valuables seemed so far out of the realm of reality he was having a hard time picturing it.

Crowder took in his hesitation and said, “I’ll even sweeten the pot. Offer you a little signing bonus, like they do with professional athletes.”

“A bonus?”

“Yep. If wiping out your debt doesn’t provide enough of an incentive, I’ll instruct your dealer to give you a couple freebies upon successful completion of your assignment, as a token of my gratitude.”

Free heroin. Derek felt himself salivating. He was actually salivating like one of Pavlov’s fucking dogs at the thought of a couple of free fixes. Christ, how pathetic was he?

Crowder interpreted his continued silence as uncertainty. He said, “Of course I won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m offering you this opportunity as a way to get ahead of your own credit difficulties. If you choose not to take me up on my offer I completely understand.”

“You do?” Derek realized he’d been breathing shallowly, and now he took a deep cleansing breath.

“Of course. I don’t believe in issuing ultimatums, so I’m happy to offer you a second option.”

“And what’s that?”

“I own a couple of lobster boats, signed over to me several years ago to satisfy another debt. You can hire on as a deck hand.”

“Deck hand? On a lobster boat?”

Crowder nodded. The smile had disappeared, and his face looked as though it had been carved out of a block of New Hampshire granite. It was hard and cold and his eyes glittered blackly behind lids that had closed to slits.

“That’s right. Of course, if you select that option you can expect a one-way trip. The boats get pretty full, I’m told, and there isn’t a lot of extra room once those traps start getting emptied.”

He leaned forward, placing both palms on the desk and starting up that infernal thrumming again with the fingers of his right hand. “But I’m sure a three mile swim back to shore through the frigid waters of the Atlantic would be no problem for you, would it?”

3

McHugh’s property was impressive, just as Crowder had said it would be. Massive front lawn. Long, sweeping driveway that curved gracefully to the left for no particular reason.

And the house itself? Big and beautiful, like something out of a magazine, and featuring a wide wraparound farmer’s porch. Decorating the porch was a pair of wicker rocking chairs and some kind of fancy swing hanging from shiny chains bolted to the porch ceiling.

Derek hadn’t even entered the damned house yet and he already knew it was going to be the nicest place he’d ever stepped foot in, not that that was saying much. He’d grown up in a dumpy apartment in Southie, left home at sixteen and lived in a succession of ever-nastier shitholes since.

The nicest place he’d ever laid his head for more than a couple days was an old farmhouse way out in the country that had been converted into a rehab facility. He lived there for four months before being kicked out for relapsing and recalling it as “the nicest place he’d ever lived” wasn’t exactly the same as saying it was a nice place to live. It had been old and drafty and creaky and about as welcoming as