Free Repairman Jack [09]-Infernal by F. Paul Wilson Page A

up to him. He lowered his voice as he hooked Jack’s arm and drew him closer. “You gonna do anything about this?”
    Jack stiffened. “What do you mean?”
    “I need payback. Need it real bad.”
    Jack knew the feeling. “Don’t we all.”
    “You don’t have to play cute with me. I don’t know exactly what you’re into, but I can make guesses. Word gets around and word is you ain’t no guy to mess with.”
    Jack kept his underworld contacts and acquaintances in the dark as to the details of how he made his living, but every so often he’d drop hints to leave the impression that he had his hand in some smuggling and fencing with a little grift thrown in just for fun.
    He shrugged. “Can’t believe everything you hear.”
    Joey’s smile was tight. “Okay. Play it your way. Just let me know you hear anything. You decide to mix it up, I want in on the damage. Big time.”
    Jack slapped him on the upper arm. “You’ll be the first guy I call.”
    “About what?”
    Jack turned and saw Tom standing behind his right shoulder, sipping coffee from a paper cup.
    Joey smiled. “This guy’s got to be your brother, right?”
    Jack felt as if he’d been slapped.
    “What? Yeah. Joey, Tom. Tom, Joey Castles.” As they shook hands Jack said, “How come he’s ‘got to be’ my brother?”
    Joey’s eyebrows shot up. “You kidding? Like peas in a pod, man. Shit, you two could be identical twins except for, well, I mean, okay, Tom here is a little older and a little, um, bigger—”
    A lot bigger, Jack wanted to say.
    “—but no question you’re brothers. Hey, what’re you looking at me like that for? You can’t see it?”
    Jack shook his head and glanced at Tom who was shaking his head.
    “I’m better looking,” Tom said. “But what’ll you be the first to know about?”
    Joey stared at Tom. “You want in? You may look like Jack, but can you hack what he hacks?” He grinned. “Hey. I’m a poet.”
    “‘Hack’?”
    Oh, shit. Jack knew the track this train was on and needed to stop it fast. Keeping his hand out of Tom’s line of sight, he made a cutting motion, but Joey didn’t see it.
    “Oh, yeah. I’m sure you know this, but let me tell you as someone was there: Right from the start your little brother made it clear that he should not be messed with. Hit him with a hammer, he came back with a sledge, know what I mean?”
    Jack felt Tom’s eyes on him.
    “Really.”
    “Yeah, so now nobody, I mean nobody comes at Jack ‘less they’re some kinda fessone .”
    “Is that so? Doesn’t sound like your typical appliance repairman.”
    Joey gave Tom a You-kidding-me? look. “Appliance repairman? Where’d you get that—?” Finally he spotted Jack’s hand going cut-cut-cut. “Oh, yeah, well, I was speaking strictly in a business sense. You got something broke you want fixed, you call Jack. He, um, clobbers the competition. Yeah, that’s it. Clobbers ‘em. I’m speaking pricewise, of course.”
    Joey was starting to sound like Jon Lovitz. Any second now he’d be saying “Yeah, that’s the ticket.”
    Just shut up, Joey. Shut. Up.
    He could see that Tom, who’d probably heard every possible lie in his years on the bench, wasn’t buying.
    “I see. But just what is it that Jack is going to call you about?”
    Joey looked uncomfortable. “Oh, nothing much. Just talking a little business. Probably not the right time or place.” He turned and started off. “Nice meeting you. Stay in touch, Jack. I mean that.”
    They watched Joey Castles head downtown on First, then Tom turned to Jack.
    “Mind telling me what that was all about?”
    Very much, Jack thought.
    “Just small talk.”
    “Well then, what was he talking about? Hit you with a hammer and you come back with a sledge. What’s that mean?”
    “Just running his mouth.”
    “Like hell. By the way, in case you didn’t realize it, your friend Joey is a lousy liar.”
    “Actually he’s pretty good—if he’s got a script.”
    Tom