Dream Noir and Other Tales

By Sean P.G.

An adult only trio of short fictional crimes stories of the dark underbelly of Alaska as only the locals ever get to see. Alaska - Land of high mountains, high prices, and high drama. The age old questions prevail regardless of location. How far would you go for those you care about? Do you like a good game - or even a bad one? Can you really do what you have to do? Do you have the skills not just to survive, but to get ahead? Can you really outwit your opponents - or are you just thinking you can?

Even the best lit places have shadows. Those who live in the shadows see - and do - things those in the light are rarely ready for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sean P.G.
• Release date: Dec 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311362995

Sean P.G.

Born in '65 in California, I grew up in Alaska when my family moved there in '75. Musician, song writer, motorcyclist, artist, CNA, now trying my hand at writing stories. Seen a lot, done a lot, and I'm drawing on some of those experiences to write fiction. Did a few years in the U.S.Navy in the 80s, and saw an overseas deployment, with the good fortune to see several foreign countries. Been to a lot of places, and intend to see more.

Book preview

Dream Noir

By Sean P. Gallatin

Copyright  2013

Copyright Notice:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

Author's Note: Reader discretion advised.

Smashwords Edition, license notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Artwork: All art and graphics by Cherime MacFarlane

It's raining like all hell as I pull up to the warehouse. It’s dark and 10:00 pm. It’s been raining for days. As I roll up to the building, I honk the horn as instructed; three times, once, twice. The big bay door rolls upward and a man waves me in. I drive the car in. This may seem altruistic on his part, but its not. Should I flunk the 'job interview', it's easier to dispose of me and the car. This had been made clear to me during my 'interview' with the piece of sit that had been my contact for this job.

I had heard a little bit about the Ortiz brothers, enough to know that wasn't their real names anyway, and that this warehouse was sometimes a chop-shop. I needed a big score quickly, and this was the best thing around that I could find on short notice.

Whoo-hoo.

So, I was offering my services to them.

I parked the car inside and the door rolled down shut.

Let the games begin.

I got out of the car. The guy that had been at the door controls walked up to me.

You packin’?

No. I was told to come alone and unarmed.

He peered at me for a few seconds, then said. Rocetti send you?

Yeah. Told me I was to meet Carlos here today. Told me to just bring myself and my skills here. I was told you needed someone who could keep their shit together and drive a car and stay low profile doing it. He said you pay well. Then told me he'd be out of town for a few weeks. That was two days ago. You Carlos or Manny?

I'm Carlos. You are?

I made a name up on the spot. Sam.

Sam what?

Just......Sam. I'm gonna guess Carlos ain't your real name and I don't care if it is. If we're doing certain......business transactions, then I suggest we do like pros and invent names. So; I'm Sam.

I stuck out my hand. Carlos seemed to think it over for a moment and I thought I was gonna have trouble with him. I hoped not. I needed cash, not trouble. I needed all the coin I could find, and quick.

He shook my hand.

I like the way you think. Good.

He gestured at the office area, which was open to the shop's interior. As we walked over, I made sure to memorize the layout and details of the place. They had no cameras, alarms or dogs. Good. It seemed I had chosen well. So far.

This way. Manny!

A figure at the desk looked up.

You the man Rocetti sent over?

Yeah.

Why are you here?

'Cause I need a lot of money fast. I have a life depending on it.

Manny looked at me for a second, and said I don't give a shit about your problems. Can you drive?

Yeah.

Can you shoot? When the time comes, if some motherfucker is shooting at us, will you freeze up, or come out shooting? Will you have our back?

Manny stood up as he spoke and stepped closer until he was in my face.

You a pig?

Not a fuckin’ chance. Do I look like I make that much money?

I'm bald, fifty one and 6'2. I'm in pretty good shape and I can still bench 300. I look like an older, taller version of a couple of action stars like Bruce or Mickey. I wore hiking boots that were a little too large, loose black jeans, a black tee shirt and an old black leather jacket. I'm not small, but Manny was big, ripped and well over 6'9. I'm sure that he was intimidating to some. I'm sure this little show was pretty scary to the weak minded. Not to me. I have skills and I'm not weak minded. Not yet, anyway.

I blew it off.

Look, I was told that there was work for me here.

Can you fight?

Do you need an audition?

He seemed to ponder the idea, then took a swing at me, trying for a sucker punch. I side stepped, pulled his arm forward and around, twisting as I stepped around. I levered in behind him with the arm and slammed him face down on the desk, landing with my full weight. I knocked his legs out from under him at the same time. I kept control of the arm. This knocked the air right out of him before he could react. I let him go and stepped out of reach of his gorilla length arms. He recovered then slowly stood up.

You're good, old man. I'll give you that. Can you shoot like that?

If I have to.

Where'd you learn that shit?

I shrugged.

Does it matter?

It does if you learned it in the Police Academy.

It wasn't. The people who taught me that didn't want their targets to live.

Manny thought about that

Ok. We pay-

I get thirty three percent.

What?

I get thirty three percent of a score, if this job's a raid for cash, drugs or bling. Cars are by the car and depend on the car. If this is a hit, that starts at ten thousand a piece. If you don't like that, get someone cheaper and I can guarantee that it will be an amateur who sells you out or leaves you hanging.

For a second he looked like he was going to laugh then he did.

Good. Someone I can understand. What's your name old man?

Sam.

Sam what?

Just.....Sam I answered.

Manny smiled.

You know that if you ever talk to anyone about this, the hit will be for you....right?

Finally.....Someone I understand.

Good Carlos! Our new employee needs to rest up. Sam, be back here this time tomorrow night.

I drove away from the shop. Once around some corners and out of view, I cut the lights and drove around until I reached a good lookout point, where I could get a good look at the shop. I staked it out with my spotter's scope and a thermos of coffee.

A couple of hours later, the big door rolled up. I watched Manny, then Carlos drive off. I went to the shop. I was back in about an hour. I laughed quietly to myself as I changed into boots my normal size. This was looking easier than I'd thought.

Scary

If there is anything I have learned in a life that often involves crime, it's that sooner or later, there's a double cross. It never fails. The larger the potential haul, the more likely it is that there will be a fight over it. So I went down to the shop and put a few just-in-case surprises for, well, just in case.

I had a big problem. I hadn't been kidding when I'd said that there was a life at stake. So for me, the choice had been made before I'd even driven out here.

It still sucked.

The next night I turned up at the shop when I was supposed to. It was raining even harder than last night.

For me this was good. The dipshit DJ on the radio had predicted even more rain for the next several days and I liked that even better. Carlos rolled the door open and I parked the beater inside. He lowered the door behind me. I shut off the beater and got out, setting my bag on the hood.

Fucking rain. said Carlos Think I'm gonna grow fins. This way.

We went to a desk that had a cover over it. Manny came in from the front door.

Hey, it's 'Just Sam'. You ready to go to work?

Yeah. When do we start?

In a couple hours. Look at this.

Carlos pulled the cover off the desk. There was a map spread out on the desk. It had been drawn with a marking pen and weighed down with car parts.

This is the old mill outside of town. You familiar with the area?

Yeah. I was

He pointed as he spoke. "A bunch of meth heads own it. The plan is that we pose as buyers, big buyers with big money to spend. These guys cook up huge batches at one time and sell the shit off in one night. They don't sell small amounts so there's no string of small fry coming and going. We'll be the last buyers of the night. That way, all the real buyers have already been there and paid up. The dumb