Read Online Cold City (Repairman Jack - the Early Years Trilogy) by F. Paul Wilson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: F. Paul Wilson
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Bridge Tunnel to Norfolk, then south from there to Elizabeth City in the northeast corner of NC.
Hours later, after a stop for coffee and gas, he roused Bertel who guided him to The Lonely Pine Motel. The name gave Jack a start. He’d grown up not far from a different Lonely Pine Motel, on Route 206 in Burlington County, NJ. Took its name from the huge solitary pine on its property. He’d witnessed something weird there as a kid.
A dark-haired guy, who could have been forty but might have been fifty, was waiting in the parking lot. He was good looking and might have been better looking without the beard he was trying to grow.
Bertel introduced him simply as Tony but didn’t mention Jack’s name. Jack immediately found out why.
“So you’re the new Buechner,” Tony said as they shook. He was smiling and his big chicklet teeth reflected the light from the motel, giving him a Cheshire Cat look.
“There’s been more than one?”
“Of course there’s been more than one,” Bertel said, sounding a bit testy. “Good driver’s licenses don’t grow on trees.
Maybe he didn’t like being awakened at 2:30 in the morning.
“What happened to the last Buechner?”
“Got domesticated. He stashed away enough for a down payment on a house. Married a teacher and joined the nine-to-five life. Is that what we can expect from you?”
“Not likely.”
Bertel looked dubious. “We’ll see. This is where you’ll drop off and pick up the truck. You will give Tony the truck keys, and he will give you a room key. While he takes the truck off to stock it, you will catch a little sleep. He will return at six A.M., at which time you will both trade keys again. Then you will drive north to an address I will give you later.”
He sounded like he was reading from a teleprompter.
“That’s it?” Jack said.
“That’s it. I believe in keeping things simple.”
And cellular, Jack realized. Jack knew neither Tony’s last name nor where he took the truck to stock up. Tony knew nothing about Jack except that his name was not Lonnie Buechner; probably didn’t know where Jack was dropping the cargo either. He’d bet only Bertel knew the whole operation.
Smart.
Jack checked the number on his key: room A-9. He yawned.
“See you in a few hours.”
As he started toward the motel he glanced over his shoulder and saw Bertel climb into the truck cab with Tony. They were gone by the time he reached his door.
Not a bad room, not a great room. Just a room with a bed. Jack had assumed he’d conk right off, but that hadn’t happened. He kept thinking about the drive back, about being pulled over for some careless minor infraction and having the cop tell him to open up the back of the truck.
So now he sat by the window and waited for that truck.
2
Bertel and Tony arrived at 6:07. They brought donuts in a box labeled “Krispy Kreme.” Jack jumped on the coffee first. Not so great, but he desperately needed caffeine. He tried one of the donuts. He’d never heard of Krispy Kreme – he was used to Dunkin’ Donuts – so he played it safe and chose a glazed. It all but melted in his mouth.
“Holy crap, where’d you get these?”
“Down the road apiece,” Tony said with a knowing grin. “They’re a local chain. To die for, right?”
“They’ve got to come to New York. They could clean up.”
He grabbed one of the heavier cake donuts and found it even better than the first.
“Okay,” Bertel said. “Now that you’ve been introduced to the local delicacies, down to business. You’ve got forty master cases of Marlboros on board.”
“What’s a master case?” Jack said as he scarfed down the second Krispy Kreme and reached for a third. He could binge on these all morning. He felt like a young Abe in training.
“Fifty cartons – five hundred packs.”
Jack blinked as he multiplied. “That’s…”
“Right – twenty
Hours later, after a stop for coffee and gas, he roused Bertel who guided him to The Lonely Pine Motel. The name gave Jack a start. He’d grown up not far from a different Lonely Pine Motel, on Route 206 in Burlington County, NJ. Took its name from the huge solitary pine on its property. He’d witnessed something weird there as a kid.
A dark-haired guy, who could have been forty but might have been fifty, was waiting in the parking lot. He was good looking and might have been better looking without the beard he was trying to grow.
Bertel introduced him simply as Tony but didn’t mention Jack’s name. Jack immediately found out why.
“So you’re the new Buechner,” Tony said as they shook. He was smiling and his big chicklet teeth reflected the light from the motel, giving him a Cheshire Cat look.
“There’s been more than one?”
“Of course there’s been more than one,” Bertel said, sounding a bit testy. “Good driver’s licenses don’t grow on trees.
Maybe he didn’t like being awakened at 2:30 in the morning.
“What happened to the last Buechner?”
“Got domesticated. He stashed away enough for a down payment on a house. Married a teacher and joined the nine-to-five life. Is that what we can expect from you?”
“Not likely.”
Bertel looked dubious. “We’ll see. This is where you’ll drop off and pick up the truck. You will give Tony the truck keys, and he will give you a room key. While he takes the truck off to stock it, you will catch a little sleep. He will return at six A.M., at which time you will both trade keys again. Then you will drive north to an address I will give you later.”
He sounded like he was reading from a teleprompter.
“That’s it?” Jack said.
“That’s it. I believe in keeping things simple.”
And cellular, Jack realized. Jack knew neither Tony’s last name nor where he took the truck to stock up. Tony knew nothing about Jack except that his name was not Lonnie Buechner; probably didn’t know where Jack was dropping the cargo either. He’d bet only Bertel knew the whole operation.
Smart.
Jack checked the number on his key: room A-9. He yawned.
“See you in a few hours.”
As he started toward the motel he glanced over his shoulder and saw Bertel climb into the truck cab with Tony. They were gone by the time he reached his door.
Not a bad room, not a great room. Just a room with a bed. Jack had assumed he’d conk right off, but that hadn’t happened. He kept thinking about the drive back, about being pulled over for some careless minor infraction and having the cop tell him to open up the back of the truck.
So now he sat by the window and waited for that truck.
2
Bertel and Tony arrived at 6:07. They brought donuts in a box labeled “Krispy Kreme.” Jack jumped on the coffee first. Not so great, but he desperately needed caffeine. He tried one of the donuts. He’d never heard of Krispy Kreme – he was used to Dunkin’ Donuts – so he played it safe and chose a glazed. It all but melted in his mouth.
“Holy crap, where’d you get these?”
“Down the road apiece,” Tony said with a knowing grin. “They’re a local chain. To die for, right?”
“They’ve got to come to New York. They could clean up.”
He grabbed one of the heavier cake donuts and found it even better than the first.
“Okay,” Bertel said. “Now that you’ve been introduced to the local delicacies, down to business. You’ve got forty master cases of Marlboros on board.”
“What’s a master case?” Jack said as he scarfed down the second Krispy Kreme and reached for a third. He could binge on these all morning. He felt like a young Abe in training.
“Fifty cartons – five hundred packs.”
Jack blinked as he multiplied. “That’s…”
“Right – twenty
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