Quick Fixes: Tales of Repairman Jack by F. Paul Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

some of the heroin. The cocaine and the rest of the heroin had been in a duffel bag in the trunk. “What am I going to do with that? ”
    “ There’s a storm drain outside. Next time it rains...”
    Jack thought about that. The heroin would definitely go down the drain. Any alligators or crocs living down in the sewers would be stoned for life. But the cocaine...that might come in handy in the future, just like the bogus twenties had come in handy against Cirlot.
    Cirlot. Something about him was perking in the back of Jack’s mind.
    “ I’ve always wanted a Mercedes,” Abe said.
    “ What for? You haven’t been further east than Queens and further west than Columbus Avenue in a quarter century.”
    “ Someday I might like maybe to travel. See New Jersey.”
    “ Yeah. Well, that’s not a bad idea. No doubt about it, the best way to see New Jersey is from the inside of a Mercedes. But it’s too late. I gave the car to Julio to dispose of.”
    Abe sagged. “Chop shop?”
    Jack nodded. “He’s going to shop it around for quick cash. Figures another ten grand, minimum, maybe twenty.”
    A take of sixty seventy K so far from one visit to Tram’s laundry. Which meant that Jack would be returning Tram’s down payment and giving him a free ride on this job. Which was fine for Tram’s bank account, but Jack didn’t know what his next step was. He’d shaken things up down there. Now maybe it would be best to sit back and watch what fell out of the trees.
    He headed for Gia’s. He kept to the windy shadows as he walked along, kept looking over his shoulder. Cirlot had seemed to know where he was going, and when he’d be there. Was he watching him now?
    Jack didn’t like being on this end of the game.
    But how did Cirlot know? That was what ate at him. Jack knew his apartment wasn’t bugged – the place was like a fortress. Besides, Cirlot didn’t know where he lived. And even if he did, he couldn’t get inside to place a bug. Yet he seemed to know Jack’s moves. How, dammit?
    Jack made a full circuit of Gia’s block and cut through an alley before he felt it was safe to enter her apartment house.
    Two fish eye peepholes nippled Gia’s door. Jack had installed them himself. One was the usual height, and one was Vicky height. He knocked and stood there, pressing his thumb over the lower peephole as he waited.
    “ Jack, is that you?” said a child’s voice from the other side.
    He pulled his thumb away and grinned into the convex glass.
    “ Ta daaa!”
    The deadbolt slid back, the door swung inward, and suddenly he was holding a bony seven-year-old girl in his arms. She had long dark hair, blue eyes, and a blinding smile.
    “ Jack! Whatcha bring me?”
    He pointed to the breast pocket of his fatigue jacket. Vicky reached inside and pulled out a packet of bubblegum cards.
    “ Football cards! Neat! You think there’s any Jets in this one?”
    “ Only one way to find out.”
    He carried her inside and put her down. He locked the door behind them as she fumbled with the wrapper.
    “ Jack!” she said, her voiced hushed with wonder. “They’re all Jets! All Jets! Oh, this is so neat!”
    Gia stepped into the living room. “The only eight-year old in New York who says ‘neat.’ Wonder where she got that from?”
    She kissed him lightly and he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She shared her daughter’s blue eyes and bright smile, but her hair was blonde. She brightened up the whole room for Jack.
    “ I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I think it’s pretty neat to get five – five – members of your favorite team in a single pack of bubblegum. I don’t know anybody else who’s got that kind of luck.”
    Jack had gone through a dozen packs of cards before coming up with those five Jets, then he had slipped them into a single wrapper and glued the flaps back in place. Vicky had developed a thing for the Jets, simply because she liked their green and white jerseys