Excerpt: Justice Affirmed
Jet noise bluster from Austin-Bergstrom International blew in with two men who entered Dresden Import/Export. The Dresden facility was a single narrow room located in a strip mall not far from the airport. The men moved toward the rear in single file along a cramped somewhat meandering walkway between stacked boxes and cartons. At the end of the walkway was a small walled-off room in the left corner as you faced the rear. This served as an office. Making as little noise as possible they carefully wove their way towards the rear. The larger of the two men stopped, unzipped his jacket, and felt for the Glock semi-auto pistol under his left arm. He assured himself of its presence with a compulsive pat. The smaller man trailing him waited, shifting the large duffle bag he was carrying from his right to left hand. They moved again, quietly, taking almost dainty steps, hoping to make their entry a surprise.
Donnie Ray Beasley heard the increased jet roar from his seat in the Dresden back office, saw the security light blink, and knew the front door had been opened. He glanced at the security monitor on the wall to his right which revealed the visitors. He watched as the two men headed toward him. There was that brief instant of disbelief. He sat bolt upright, surprised to have anyone enter the store, and made sure his pistol was in his hip holster, ready to be brought into firing position.
There is often agony in apprehension, in trying to make sense of things. That agony had been pressuring Donnie Ray since he began work here. It was the pressure of the unknown. Being here almost did not make sense, but here he was, waiting each day for the scheme to take place. He did not know when; Max did not know. Max simply put the pieces in motion with Donnie Ray as one of the pieces.
Donnie Ray realized the day he had been dreading had arrived. The brooding reservations about the deal he had made with Max Woodman had persisted for weeks. Those reservations preoccupied his thoughts since he reluctantly agreed. Max’s snarl, “You owe me,” still jarred him. It was to be a simple ploy: a fake robbery; and he would be the victim. Or rather his employers would. “So easy,” Max said, “you’ll be off the hook and loaded with dough.” Donnie Ray had protested, saying he would be fingered for a tip-off right away. Inside job. But Max prevailed with a couple of seemingly plausible reasons why he would be in the clear.
The reality was that Max’s reasons were bullshit and this whole thing would be a disaster for him. He knew it, but felt trapped in the debt he owed to Max. The deal was happening and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Debbie tried to get him to renege, but he could not, would not do that. She had called him a fool and he knew for sure that he was. Regret crowded his thoughts. He was downright scared as he watched the two bozos pretending stealth. There was no sound for the video, but they were sure making it look good. He waited for the men to come to the doorway.
“Anyone here?” the bigger man called out.
He had stopped when he saw they were caught by security cameras, knowing full well they were watched; anticipated as much, in fact. Still, spotting the cameras brought him up short. He tugged at his jacket to make sure the pistol did not show, although he figured Donnie Ray already knew it was there.
Donnie Ray tensed when he saw the big man straighten his jacket. Who the hell are these guys? Then it clicked. Max, you sonofabitch. He remembered the big one. He had shot Harry Finebaum, another of Max’s enemies. Max had collected several bitter enemies over the years. He had a way of doing so.
“Yeah…back here. Who are you? What do you want?”
He drew his pistol right before the big man stepped in front of the doorway.
“Whoa, take it easy with that thing.”
“Who are you and what do ya’ll want?”
“You Donnie Ray?”
“Yep. Answer up. Who and what?”
“Jordan Hafner, this here’s Dwight Cornelius. We work for Max Woodman. When we come in we was worried when we didn’t see anybody. Thought something might have happened to you. We seen you got a security system. We know you seen us, know we look okay.”
“Yeah, but I still thought you might be trouble,” Donnie Ray cocked his head and stared at them. “Still do. You here why I think you’re here?”
He started to stand.
“Yep, Max sent us. He sure is grateful you let him know the time was right.”
“Aah, damn…”
Donnie Ray was now standing, squarely facing the two men, his pistol at waist level. He could easily shoot both men with little arm movement. It might save him some problems if he did.
“You bet, for real. Max appreciates your help; he really does. And this is the day for collection. You’ll get your share later. ”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand. Okay? Plus, he erases my debt.”
“We don’t know what the deal was between you and Max. But I’m sure if that’s what you guys agreed to that’s the way it’ll be. You know Max is good on his word.”
“How do I know you’s working for Max?”
Hafner laughed.
“It doesn’t matter, you moron, we’re acting this out for the cameras. Besides, who else would know about this unless you told them? Right?”
Donnie Ray nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Put the gun away.”
Donnie Ray holstered his pistol.
“Okay, well, what do we need to do? This has got to look like a real robbery, you know.”
“We know how to fix that.” He pulled his semi automatic and pointed it at Donnie Ray. “First thing is for you to put up your hands. It’s a robbery. Next, you get that safe open for us. That’s where the money is. Right?”
“Right.” He had raised his hands slightly. “Can I put my hands down? Hard to open the safe with them up.”
“Sure enough, go ahead,” Hafner motioned with his pistol.
Donnie Ray sat back down in his desk chair and swiveled around to face the cream-colored safe behind his desk. He twirled the dial back and forth several times, stopping at the appropriate numbers, and then turned the handle to the sound of a loud clunk. The safe locking mechanism released and Donnie Ray pulled open the door.
Before he could look up, the big man pistol in hand, pivoted Donnie Ray back to face him, and fired. Chunk, chunk, chunk, the muffled rounds struck. Donnie Ray was shot three times in the chest. He snapped back against the chair with his right hand in his lap. His left arm was splayed over the chair arm, fingers dangling in a useless pose. Shock was frozen on his face.