Repairman Jack [09]-Infernal by F. Paul Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

you could say we bonded.”
    Bonded… the lump reformed in Jack’s throat, smaller this time, but definitely there. If he’d only known how little time they had left.
    “Yeah? How? I saw him a lot more than you did over the past fifteen years and we never ‘bonded.’ What happened?”
    “We took care of a problem together.”
    “What sort of problem?”
    “Not important.”
    “Shit. You’re as oblique as he was.”
    Jack shrugged. He was glad Dad hadn’t discussed it with Tom. Jack didn’t want to.
    Since Tom was making no move to pay for the drinks, Jack reached for his wallet.
    “I’ve got it,” Tom said. He pulled out a roll of bills, peeled off a twenty, and passed it to Jack. “How’s that look to you?”
    Jack recognized the workmanship—the same crew that had made the C-notes he’d passed to a pair of psychics last summer.
    “Queer.”
    “Damn it! You can tell?”
    “Stuff’s been all over town. Question is, what’s a judge, an officer of the court, doing with bogus bills?”
    Tom shrugged. “Evidence in a case. They looked fairly genuine so I pocketed a sample.”
    “Why? You haven’t been passing them, have you?”
    Another shrug. “It’s kind of a hobby. You know, to see if I can get away with it.”
    “Jesus, if you get caught—”
    “Hey, I’m a judge. I had no idea. Someone passed it to me and I innocently passed it on.” He smiled and put a hand over his heart. “I shall adopt the plaint of victimhood.”
    That might work for Tom, but Jack couldn’t risk being pulled in as an accomplice. Someone might ask him questions he couldn’t answer.
    “Well, don’t try it here.” Jack pointed to a twenty and a C-note taped to the mirror next to the cash register. “Everybody’s on the lookout for them.”
    Tom’s smile held. “No problem. I’ll bet I can work out a way around that.”
    This time he took out his wallet and removed a fifty. He waved to the barmaid and handed it to her along with the tab. Seconds later she was back with the change.
    As she turned away, Jack watched Tom pocket the real twenty and hold up the queer.
    “Oh, excuse me, miss. Can I have two tens for this?”
    She said, “Sure,” and went to the cash register and pushed in the twenty without checking it. Why would she? She thought it was the same bill she’d just given him. She returned and handed Tom the tens.
    When she was out of earshot, he grinned at Jack. “How about that for slick?”
    It took Jack about half a minute to recover. He’d seen a lot—a lot —of off-the-wall things, but his brother the judge pulling a two-bit bill switch…
    “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Tom. Are you crazy?”
    “Maybe. So what?”
    “Get that bill back.”
    “Relax. It’s a game. And it’s only twenty bucks.”
    “It’s not ‘only’ to her, and she’ll get docked for accepting it.”
    Tom shook his head and stared at him. “No need to get all touchy-feely on me, Jack. I got the impression from Dad that you were some sort of tough guy. I guess I got it wrong.”
    “If I’m tough, it’s not with working stiffs trying to earn a living.”
    My brother the judge, Jack thought.
    Wasn’t that about as high as you could go in the legal profession? The arbiter of right and wrong, of admissible and inadmissible, the guy in charge of the blind lady’s scales… and he was acting like a lowlife. A bottom-feeding lowlife.
    Jack knew loads of people on the wrong side of the law, and could think of a few who’d be only too happy to knock over Houlihan’s and clean the cash registers of every last dime. But none of those guys would stoop to stiffing the barmaid. Okay, maybe he knew one or two who’d shortchange their blind, deaf, crippled mother, but they left a telltale trail of slime wherever they went and topped Jack’s AVOID list.
    “Well?” he said, giving Tom a hard stare. “You gonna get it back?”
    Tom looked at him as if he’d just told him Dad was a space alien.
    “Hell no.”
    Jack