places: you're dead

He looked hard and defiant at me.

I grinned at him.  I didn’t bat an eye.

“You’re dead!”

“That’s what I heard.’

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“You’re life isn’t worth a plugged nickel.”

“I’ve known that for quite sometime now.  I don’t have anything to lose - so I’d talk if I were you.”

“Everyone has something to lose Johnny - even you.”

“Camille.”  He smiled knowing it would set me off.

"Mention her name again and I will plant a bullet in your head."

“By the way, I talked with Rod tonight.”

“He’s alive?  No, he couldn’t have survived what we had in store for him.”

“Clayton.  I’m not supposed to be alive either.’

“No.  Larkin is dead and you lived by some stroke of luck.  I don’t know how you lived or why you’re doing this but...”

“I am doing this because Rod told me that I am to kill you.”

“He’s one of Uncle Sam’s badges - he wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Nevertheless Rod told me to kill you.  He told me that if I kill you, you can’t kill me. So I came tonight to cut the head off the snake.  Perhaps the rest of my troubles will disappear when you’re dead.”

“Dream on.  Rod knew better than that.  I’m not the one behind all this.  I’m just a supplier.  I’m on the payroll just like you.  If you kill me – you still end up dead.  You’ll see.”

Clayton kept his eyes on me.  I moved even nearer so he could see how serious I was. 

He shouted, “Larkin is dead.  Larkin is DEAD!  You wouldn’t be here asking questions if Rod wasn’t dead.  Rod knew everything I was up to on my end.  He was embedded, I trusted him - he KNEW everything.   After I was informed of his real identity, he had to be killed.  It’s apparent to us all that he stayed on the job so he could find out who exactly I was working for.  He got caught reaching too deep into the cookie jar.  There’s no way he could have survived tonight.”

“Yes. He’s dead.  His body isn’t far from here.   Let’s just say that killing you was his last request.”

Clayton’s features softened. For the first time he seemed to sound like a regular guy. “Put an end to me and they’ll find someone else to do my job.  This doesn’t make any sense.  I am just the middle man here.  There are bigger fish to fry.”

“Listen Johnny.  Let me go and I’ll get you out of this.”  He was full of it of course. 

“Maybe you can, but I still have questions that need answering.” 

He yelled.  A vein the size of a garden hose popped out the side of his neck.  “Questions?”  Do you want to live or die?”

“That’s a coincidence, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Clayton face hung down for a minute or two.  He just gazed at the ground.  I could only guess that he was trying to keep from losing his head - before I decided to help him lose it for him.

“The parcels?” I asked.

Clayton looked bewildered.

“Money and documents.  I assume when you said you were a supplier, you were supplying false identification for aliens?”

“Yes. Clayton replied, “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“You’re a counterfeiter.”

“The money is real - supplied by those for whom I am working.  I supplied the counterfeit documents.  They are quite good actually.  You were just guessing that they are forged.”

“You expect me to believe otherwise?”

“Where are these people coming from?  I’ve delivered a lot of packages, a lot of money, a lot of false papers.”

“You’re just trying to get yourself killed, aren’t you Johnny?”

“I want to know what kind of trouble I’m in.”

“You’re in deep – unless you let me help you.  You already know too much.”

“So tell me the rest of it.”

“Who are these people you work for?  Where are they coming from.  Is this espionage - saboteurs?  This has to be subversive - too big. What’s going on?"

"To big for you Johnny." Clayton said matter-of-factly.

"Tell me what's going on."

Clayton looked up at me with a queer look.  I guess he was trying to sound like a parent scolding a dim-witted child, but he really wasn't in the position to pull it off.  “Listen, Johnny, I didn’t ask.  Sometimes if you ask, you don’t get the job, worse - you'll end up dead.”

“You of all people should know this.  You do the job and take the money.  I’m just like you Johnny.  I’ve got somewhere I’m trying to go too - just like you.  I’ll wash my hands of this when this deal is done.  I’ll walk away from this after I’m finished with my contract. I know you can relate.”

“You think you know me?”

“I know you better than you think I do.  I know you.  I know you love Camille.  I know how she feels about you.  We’re all in the same boat - going up the same short river.”

‘Keep Camille out of this.”

“Johnny, Camille is part of this whether you like it or not.”

“I said keep Camille out!”

“Johnny, we are both trying to get somewhere.  Let’s let bygones be bygones.  I realize now that you aren’t as dumb as I presumed you first to be.  After tonight, I realize that you are far from expendable.  I can get you out of this - that is - if Rod is indeed dead.

“Dirty money.”

“You knew it was dirty money from the start.  From the first night and all the nights you came to my office and put more and more of it in your pocket.  Don’t play Boy Scout with me.  We are a lot alike Johnny, we both know that dirty money spends just as well as clean.  The good thing about dirty money is that it’s easier to make.  Well, what do you say?”

“I need to know who’s behind this Clayton.”

“You’re not listening to me Johnny”, he said impatiently. “My wrist’s hurt, my head hurts, my feet are cold, and I want to go home now!”

“Soviets?”

“Yes Johnny. Soviets.”

“Communists?”

“Of course Johnny, no twixt the two.  There’s nothing wrong with people wanting to come to the new world.  Nothing wrong with people reaching for a big slice of that pie!  They want in, and willing to pay for a quicker way.  Surely you can relate to that?  They are very generous Johnny.”

“And you?  What are you?”

“I am homegrown American Johnny.  I don’t see all communists as bad.  They are willing to do business. As you can plainly see, I am a capitalist.  I am a manufacturer,  a supplier, an employer, and a possible cash cow for you.”

“A capitalist?”

“Yes Johnny.  I’ll let you in on the ground floor if you’ll let me get back to work.  Seriously, I’m a good friend to have.”

I walked to the car and turned the headlights off.

I walked to the tree and untied him.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.  He put it to the back of his head and then inspected the rag.

“That was quite a blow....I am surprised I’m not bleeding.”

He moved around and stretched a bit.  “You did the right thing Johnny - you’ll see.”

I was getting in the passenger side to let him drive.  It was if I knew what was going to happen, even though it was impossibility for it to happen. Instincts. A quick movement from the opposite side. He drew a gun.  He drew a gun from out of nowhere.  I saw it from the corner of my eye, as he stood on the other side of the car.  Like William S. Hart, I had my gun cleared long before Clayton had his.  I shot him through the open front windows.

He backed up a couple of steps and stood there.

I walked around the car with my gun still trained on him.

He seemed dumbfounded.

He then sat down in front of me.