The Second Life of Nick Mason (Nick Mason #1)(73)

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Mason sat in his car on Lincoln Park West. He’d been there for two hours and still hadn’t gone inside. Instead, he had parked his car on the street and just watched the place, looking up at the high windows of the beautiful town house and thinking about Darius Cole sitting in his cell at Terre Haute.

His driver’s-side glass was still gone. There was a crack on the passenger’s-side window, another on the windshield. But he had bigger problems to solve that day.

He picked up his cell phone and called Quintero. It was answered on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

“I’m around,” Mason said. “Listen to me. This is important.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t have it.”

“What do you mean you don’t have it?”

“Somebody else has it now,” Mason said. “You’ll read about it in the paper.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Mason could hear the sounds of power tools in the background. Quintero was at the chop shop.

“If this is some kind of f*cking joke . . .”

“I need to talk to him,” Mason said.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Okay, fine,” Mason said. “Visiting hours start at eight o’clock on Saturday morning. I’ll be first in line.”

“That would be a big mistake.”

“Then make it happen,” Mason said. “Today.”

He ended the call and tossed the phone on the seat next to him.

Yet another order disobeyed, because now Mason was doing something he should never do, putting everyone at risk. Himself, Quintero, Cole, even some prison guard who’d have to supply the illegal cell phone.

But it was the only way.

He sat there and waited. He watched the town house. He watched the street. People were walking through the park, enjoying the day. Families were on their way to the zoo.

An hour later, the phone rang. It was Quintero.

“I’m going to give you a number to call,” he said. “This is a onetime event.”

“Just give me the number.”

He waited for it, then ended the call without saying another word. His heart was pounding in his throat as he dialed the number and waited.

“Who is this?” a voice said.

“Let me talk to him.”

“Is this Mason?”

Something about the high pitch in the man’s voice made him think about the undersized guard who came to him in the yard that day, just over a year ago, to deliver that first invitation to come meet Darius Cole.

“Let me talk to him,” Mason repeated.

“Hold on,” the man said. Then his voice became distant as he took his mouth away from the phone to say, “You have ten minutes, Mr. Cole.”

Mason pictured the man, two hundred miles south of him, taking off his reading glasses before putting the phone to his ear.

“This is not a smart phone call,” Cole said. “What do you want?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s not how this works, Nick.”

“I’ve done everything you asked,” Mason said. “Things I never thought I’d do.”

“Until last night,” Cole said. “What were you thinking?”

“I did that for myself,” Mason said. “Way I see it, we were already even. Whatever I owed you, I’m paid up.”

“You don’t get it, Nick. For you, there is no ‘even.’ There is no ‘out.’”

“Listen to me—”

“No, listen to me,” Cole said. “I need you to keep doing what you’re doing. And if you ever disobey me again—”

“I can’t do it,” Mason said, his grip tightening on the phone. “Even if that means going back to prison.”

“Before another word comes out of your mouth,” Cole said, “think about what you’re going to say.”

“I’ll serve out the rest of my sentence right now.”

“What do you think would happen if you really came back here?”

“I’d finish my sentence. One day at a time. Like anybody else.”

“No, let me educate you. You remember how I said you was able to move around this place—between the whites, the blacks, the Latinos—without ever compromising yourself? How much I admired that?”

“What about it?”

“It won’t be that way if you come back. All three of those worlds will turn against you. Even the whites. Especially the whites. You’ll be fair game for any man. Anytime. I’ll make a f*cking game of it. Whoever f*cks you up the most, I’ll make sure that man gets taken care of. Anything he wants, anything his family wants. Do you hear what I’m saying, Nick? You come back here and you’ll be passed around this place like toilet paper every single day for the rest of your life. And believe me, I’ll make sure you never get out of this place again. Even after I’m dead, you’ll still be here.”

“There are some things even you can’t do,” Mason said. “I’ll do my twenty, if I have to, and then I’ll walk out.”

“Nick, who you think goes down for those first two jobs you did? You don’t think I’m ready for anything that can happen? You’ll be wearin’ both of those jobs around your neck like a f*cking bow tie. Your twenty years will turn into two hundred.”