Page 6 of Resuscitation

Chapter Five

Five days ago…

Mercer inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp wintery air.

After years of confinement, even the most mundane sensations felt like a luxury.

He stood in a parking lot outside a nondescript bar on the outskirts of Newark, watching as Brick parked his car, a well-maintained old Charger.

Brick exited the car, one hand fingering his freshly styled mohawk as he strolled to join Mercer.

“Gang’s on their way,” he said.

Mercer nodded approvingly. His old cellmate had proven himself a valuable ally inside and outside the prison walls. Those connections of Brick’s were going to be crucial for what lay ahead.

They entered. It was early enough in the day that they were the only customers other than a single, wobbling drunk perched at the bar. Mercer led Brick to a large booth in the farthest corner.

A few minutes later, the first of Brick’s crew arrived, a guy called Leon with shaven blond hair and an imposing frame that towered over them both. He gave Mercer a curt nod of appraisal before joining them.

“Good to see you, man,” Brick greeted him. To Mercer, he said, “Leon is ex-Marine, handy in a fight.”

After a few minutes, another man entered the bar with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Reporting for duty,” the man quipped with a South African accent. He slapped palms with Leon. “How’re you doing, dick job?”

“Mighty fine, asswipe.”

Brick introduced the South African. “This is Harper. Handy with electrical issues.”

“As well as weapons and any close combat situations,” Harper added.

Behind him entered a squirrelly young man, bouncing on his toes. “And least as well as last, is my technowiz, Marky Mark Evans,” Brick said.

The kid flinched. “Hey, I’m not last. Where’s Tyson?”

“Right here.” Tyson wheeled from the bar stool, suddenly very much sober. Smart, Mercer thought. Arriving early, checking the place. The Afro-Caribbean man exuded an air of quiet competence that Mercer found very reassuring.

With the team assembled, Mercer felt a surge of anticipation. These men were professionals, each bringing unique skills to the table. But there was still one piece missing: Connor.

Mercer threw down a gym bag filled with the last of his stashed cash.

“The agreed upfront payment and expenses. We’ll be staging out of a hick town in upstate New York, Eastfork.

Plan for minimum of three days—final recon and the job.

So, we’ll need to find a place there where we can fly under the radar. ”

Brick nodded, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as he opened the bag and began divvying up the cash. “Already on it, boss. I’ll text you the address of the place I rented.”

“We’ll go over final plans tomorrow. Today, I’m headed out to pick up my brother.” Mercer checked his watch.

“Free at last, free at last!” Brick pumped his fist in the air, almost more excited than Mercer was that Connor was finally getting out.

“We’ll spend the night in Albany, meet you guys in Eastfork tomorrow.” Mercer stood, put his jacket on. “One thing before I go,” he said, his tone grave. “I’m the boss when it comes to this operation. Is that understood?”

The crew sitting around in the booth all nodded.

“Goes without sayin’,” Brick muttered. “You payin’ the bills.”

“Just want to be clear on that.” He looked around at each of the crew in turn. “Next round’s on me, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mercer ordered the drinks, then left the bar and began the drive up to Shawangunk Correctional Facility.

An hour later, he leaned against his car, anxiously watching the prison gates.

A smile broke across his face as he spotted a familiar figure emerging from the building.

Looking thinner and more fragile than Mercer remembered, Connor stepped into the sunlight, squinting as he scanned the parking lot.

Mercer pushed himself off the car and strode forward, arms outstretched. “Hey, bro!”

The brothers hugged, years of separation melting away instantly. Mercer felt Connor’s shoulders shake and heard a muffled sob against his chest.

Mercer quickly pulled back. “Hey, c’mon, don’t break on me, man. I’ve got plans, little brother. Big plans,” he said, attempting to keep the tone light.

As they drove away from the prison, Mercer filled Connor in. “Brick’s on board and brought in some solid guys. We’re all set. Now all we gotta do is track down Watts. I want to make sure he’s home when we hit the place, see the look on his face?—”

“I thought we were just gonna take the rubies. We’re not gonna kill?—”

“Yeah, of course we are. The bastard stole our future. It’s his turn to pay.”

“Yeah, but I just didn’t think we’d?—”

“Leave the thinking to me. We’ll get what’s ours, deal with Watts, and get across the border into Canada.

I’ve got cash stashed. Enough so we’ll be okay until we fence those rubies.

” Mercer glanced over, noticing the apprehension on Connor’s face.

“This is our chance. Set things right, take back what’s ours. ”

“I don’t know. It sounds risky. We just got out…”

Mercer’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I know you’re worried, bro, but trust me. We do this job, we’re set for life. No more worries, no scraping around, no more looking over our shoulders.” He softened his tone. “I need you with me on this, bro. We’re family. We stick together, right?”

Connor nodded slowly, a faint smile touching his lips. “Yeah. Of course, Andrew.”

Connor was the only person alive who called Mercer “Andrew.” The thought made him a little sad to think they were the only two Mercers left.

Mercer gripped the wheel, eyes fixed on the snow-dusted road ahead as they drove north. The van’s heater whirred softly, fending off the chill inside. Connor gazed out the window at the passing landscape, lost in thought.

The silence between them grew heavy, punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the fan heater. Thankfully, the sign for the cheap motel Mercer had booked for the night appeared.

The next afternoon, as they approached Eastfork, the wind whipped up, a new storm moving in from the west. Mercer slowed the car, peering through the windshield at the nearly deserted streets.

The town seemed even more desolate than when he’d come here to do recon two weeks ago—shuttered storefronts, faded signs, and an air of neglect.

It was too soon to meet the guys, so Mercer stopped at the diner on the main drag. They ordered a couple of burgers and ate in silence before replacing their sodas with coffee.

Mercer stirred his absentmindedly, the spoon clinking against the ceramic mug. The diner buzzed with low conversations and the clatter of dishes.

Connor sat across from him, scanning the restaurant. “So, you reckon he’s around here somewhere?” he asked, his voice low. “Watts?”

“Can’t hide from the internet,” he said.

“Found him in the property tax records. Came up here myself to check it out the week after I got out. Place seemed deserted.” Except for the fancy security system, that was.

But he didn’t want to dump too much on Connor all at once.

Kid seemed more than a bit skittish. The joint could do that to a person.

Connor seemed relieved by Mercer’s report. “Deserted? Maybe that’s a good thing. Hit it while he’s gone, let him be the one wondering what the hell just happened, ya know? It’d be kinda a form of torture, him coming home to find the rubies long gone.”

“Yeah, but then we’d be the ones looking over our shoulders rest of our life. I don’t want to live like that, do you?”

Connor’s gaze dropped as if his empty coffee cup was more interesting than Mercer’s words. “No. Guess not.”

“Exactly. It’s settled. Watts has to die.”