Dead Man's Hand

Dead Man’s Hand

Wade was running a few minutes early. Judith, his former partner had called him an hour ago suggesting that they needed to meet. Judith wasn’t one to get overexcited, overexcitement resulting in bad judgment could have got them killed in their former lives, so he accepted the urgency for what it was, and agreed to meet her.

“What works for you?” she had asked. Without hesitation he answered, “Well it was good enough for the Russians during the Cold War, it should be good enough for us. How about the Aspen Hill strip mall parking lot in an hour?”

“I can make that. I just left the Mt Vernon Parkway entering eastbound on the 495 loop. You’ll be in your Tesla?”

“Yes, see you in an hour.” Wade said as he replaced the receiver on his landline. Wade preferred to not use cell phones unless he absolutely had to because they were too easy to be tracked and their conversations caught and monitored. Wire to wire hookups, while not perfect, were still safe except to a highly motivated professional. Wi-Fi messaging was an even better way of communicating.

Wade was at home. He took the last swallow of the Laphroaig scotch he had been nursing as he read Brad Taylor’s new book, “American Traitor”. Not having any idea as to where this meet might lead, he secured his travel bag in his car. In addition to two sets of new identities, the bag contained a fileting knife, a Sig Sauer pistol with extra rounds, five thousand dollars cash, and credit cards to go with each of the identities, and, finally, three burner phones.

He really liked his Tesla. Fast and silent, he thought of it as a stealth car. No racing motor, no start up noise, the perfect car for a person wanting to make a quiet entrance or exit. Wade could think of many times in his life when a quiet car would have been desirable. Unfortunately, he thought, all the great electronics in the car would make the car light up like a Christmas tree on a computer screen if the NSA or the Chinese wanted to track him.

Taking Bonifant Road west to Connecticut where he took a left, passing the cemetery on his left and crossing Georgia Avenue, he took a left on Aspen Hill Road and then a quick right into the Aspen Hill Shopping Center. Avoiding the gaggle of cars in front of the Giant Grocery, he parked farther down the row with multiple empty slots to either side of him. This was not a security move. This was to keep other drivers from bumping his car with their doors as they entered and exited their cars. Some damaged other cars on purpose, others out of carelessness. Wade’s car was still virgin to bumps and scratches and he wanted to keep his car that way as long as he could.

Judith arrived and parked nose to nose with him. She got out of her car, retrieved a package wrapped in a repurposed brown paper shopping bag, and joined Wade in his car.

“Is that the subject of this meeting?” he asked, glancing at the package.

“Yes,” she said, handing it to him.

He looked it over. It had been opened. “What is it?” he asked.

“It is a plain brown cardboard box wrapped in plain brown paper. No markings. I peeked, but re-wrapped it so you could have the pleasure of opening it yourself. I found it on the seat of my car when I finished shopping at the PX today. I have no idea how it got there. My car was locked. But it had to have been put there by someone with base privileges, which of course includes about half of Washington, and someone with access to Subaru’s remote locking system.”

“So, let’s see what we have here,” Wade said and started opening the package. He first removed the wrapping and carefully looked over both sides of the paper. He looked at the edges of the paper and noted that it had been torn to shape, probably with the use of a straight edge. Nothing else jumped out. He took a plastic kitchen bag from the glove compartment and after folding the wrapping, placed it into the plastic bag for safekeeping.

Then he opened the box. “Holy shit!” from the normally implacable Wade.

There was a cleanly severed hand, wrapped in tissue paper like a present, in the box.

Quickly gaining composure, he said, “Oh, well,” and started examining the contents of the box.

“There’s a note in here.”

“I know. I saw it. It’s addressed to you. That’s why I called you.”

It was a short note in block letters, “WADE, FOR YOU. WE ARE NOW EVEN. SLEEP EASY!” and signed “M”

Wade looked back at the hand. There was a signet ring on the ring finger. “Do you recognize this ring, Judith?”

“I do”, she said.

The last time Wade had seen that ring was in an interrogation room and the hand it was on had held a burning cigarette to his cheek below his right eye. There is no way he would ever forget that ring or the beast that had worn it. Judith had been slapped repeatedly by that same hand.

“Maurice sent this,” Wade said softly.

“So what now? Asked Judith.

“Now,” Wade thought for a second. “We go across the street to the Outback, get a stiff drink, and maybe get a dessert. This calls for a celebration.”

“Oh Goodie,” Judith said. “I’m up for a slice of chocolate cake with my drink. You are buying.”