Wrong Side of the Law

Chapter 2-2

Two weeks later, Dirk Steele, formerly known as Dan Hudson, had a place to live in the Baker District, and all the ID he needed to back up his new persona. One thing about being an ex-undercover cop, he knew the ins-and-outs of establishing a new identity and how to find the right people to make it happen. After getting in touch with someone he knew back in New Orleans, he had a person to contact in Denver who got him everything he required to become Dirk Steele.

His new apartment wasn’t anything to brag about. Not compared to the one he’d lived in with Paul for the last five years. But it had all the necessary amenities and was reasonably priced. It was also within walking distance of the local bars and shops. A plus as far as Dirk was concerned. The less he had to drive, the less he had to spend on gas. Now all he had to do was locate the right contacts so he could make some money.

One thing he found very interesting, especially as an ex-cop. m*******a was legal in Colorado. It made him wonder, since pot was relatively cheap here, if that had led to more out-of-state buyers coming in to make large purchases they could transport across state lines. If so, that might be one way to make some fast cash. A boring way though, for an adrenaline junkie, and he was definitely that.

I’ll become a hit man. Without question I have the skills for that. He chuckled softly, garnering the attention of the man sitting next to him at the bar.

“Telling yourself jokes and laughing at them is a sign of loneliness,” the guy said, smiling.

“Or a sign that I’m not looking for company,” Dirk replied coldly.

“Sorry, just trying to be friendly. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Because I haven’t been around before,” Dirk snapped out. Picking up his beer, he finished it in one gulp before walking out of the bar. I should have stayed home but, damn, I need to get out and get a feel for the area.

He surveyed the nighttime street. It was busy. People of all ages wandering in and out of those shops that were still open, the bars, the various restaurants. As he strolled further north, he spotted a couple of small banks. Now there’s an idea. I’ll take up bank robbery. Not. He had the feeling he might actually be successful if he tried it, but it wouldn’t come close to being a fulltime occupation.

Then he hit a block with several ‘adult’ stores and from what he saw it was obvious they catered to gays. In the window of one of them was a display of leather goods, including a dummy wearing nothing but a leather codpiece and a spiked collar. Next door there was a movie theater that did not show the kind of films you could take your kids to.

With nothing better to do, he continued walking, and soon found himself in front of a pawnshop. ‘Powell’s Easy Pawns’ according to the signs painted at the top of the windows. A rather low-level shop in his opinion and he knew whereof he spoke. Some of his best contacts on a job he’d done in New Orleans came from prowling the pawnshops down there.

He stood in the shadows of a doorway across the street, watching the two men he could see through the window. One was talking rapidly to someone Dirk couldn’t see, gesticulating as he spoke. When he showed the invisible third person what he was holding, there was a momentary pause and then the speaker vanished deeper into the pawnshop, apparently following whoever he’d been talking to. The second man leaned against a case, keeping an eye on the front door. Five minutes later the two men left, obviously happy about what they’d accomplished. Dirk had a damned good idea what that was, from what little he’d seen. And it didn’t have anything to do with one of them trying to pawn his watch for a couple of dollars.

Curious, Dirk went inside. The place was just about as he’d expected. There were two cases of cameras, another full of watches and other jewelry, electronics on shelves behind the cases, some guitars and other instruments on display on one of the walls. There was even a rack of rifles behind a case of pistols and knives.

As Dirk wandered through the shop, he kept an eye on the man in the cage behind the barred window at the back. He also studied the security system that, other than the cage for the cashier, seemed to be pretty lousy.

“Looking for something specific?”

Dirk turned to the speaker, a burly man in his early thirties. “Just checking out what you have,” Dirk replied. “Slow night?” Since he was the only potential customer in the shop at that point it was a logical question.

The man shrugged. “We’re about to close, so yeah.” He eyed Dirk before starting to walk away.

“Best time for a robber to hit you up. And given your lack of security, this place would be a pushover.”

The man spun back to look at him. “You have no idea what kind of security we’ve got.”

“Yeah I do. Two cameras,” Dirk pointed them out, “undoubtedly a buzzer in the cage to lock the exit doors in case of trouble. Before you ask how I know that, I’ve dealt with pawnshops and I know the routines. And that is the extent of what you’ve got going, other than the fact the cashier is in the cage. I’d bet my ass that’s where you keep the good jewelry and other items of real value. Oh yeah, your cases for the guns and watches lock, too. Probably securely, but that won’t stop a smash-and-grab because the glass isn’t tempered.” He glanced toward the man in the cage then back at the guy standing in front of him. “You might want to suggest to your dad that he upgrade the cases.”

“How did you know he’s my father?”

Dirk laughed. “Anyone with a good eye for faces could figure it out.”

“Maybe, if they’re trained to.” The guy eyed Dirk suspiciously.

“True that. So, how close was I in my assessment of the place, umm…? You got a name?”

The guy hesitated then shrugged. “Jesse. Yeah, you pretty much hit the nail on the head.” He leaned back, resting his elbows on the gun case. “You work for a security company?”

“Nope. At the moment I’m unemployed.”

“But you did work security.”

Dirk spread his hands. “In a manner of speaking.”

“That’s fairly cryptic.”

“It was meant to be.”

Jesse turned to glance at his father momentarily, then said quietly, “Look, if you know what you’re doing, and what we need, could you tell him? He’s dead sure we’re safe because of the door-lock button and the gun he keeps back there.”

“I’ll make you a deal.”

“Like?”

“If I convince him, you hire me to do the upgrade.”

Jesse snorted. “If you can talk him into it, then maybe. Like I said…”

“By the time I’m done talking to him, he’ll be willing.” Dirk smiled. “Trust me on that. I know what’s needed to keep you from losing any valuables.” He lowered his voice. “Especially the ones that might be on the cops stolen items lists.”

“We don’t deal in stolen goods,” Jesse said adamantly. But he paled some, not looking at Dirk.

“Yeah, and I’m the king of Sheba.”

“Queen of Sheba,” Jesse said with a smirk. “At least that’s the saying.”

“I guess. So when can I talk to him?”

“We’re closing now, if you want to wait around. Otherwise we open at eight tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll wait. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Okay.” Jesse went back to the cage, spoke for a few minutes with his father, and then was buzzed inside. A moment later the older man came out, approaching Dirk.

“I’m Mr. Powell. And you are?”

“Dirk Steele”

“Okay, Mr. Steele. My son says you have some suggestions about upgrading our security. Keep it short and don’t expect me to say yes.”

Dirk chuckled. “That was to the point. All right. As I told him, the first thing you need is tempered glass in all the cases. You also need an alarm system on every case, as well as on the doors and windows. More than what you have now. You should double up on your cameras. I’ll have to go into the cage and see what’s behind it before I can make suggestions for back there.”

Mr. Powell muttered, “Just how stupid do you think I am? No one gets back there except me and Jesse. No one.”

“Except the guy who decides to hide in there,” Dirk pointed to the door two feet away from the one used to enter the cage. “He waits for the sound of the buzzer, letting him know someone’s going in or out and two seconds later he’s got a gun to your head or pressed against your back. Then he’s inside, with you as his hostage. He deals with you, cleans out the safes and that’s all she wrote.”

“He’s right, Dad,” Jesse said, having arrived in time to hear the last part of Dirk’s speech. “I never thought about that and neither did you.”

“So what do we do to keep that from happening?” Mr. Powell asked, frowning deeply.

“What’s behind the door?”

“The john, but we never let customers use it. It stays locked.”

Without replying, Dirk went over to the door. He took out a key ring, trying one key and then a second one. Settling on the first, he put it back into the lock, telling them it was what was called a bump key. Then he asked Jesse to get him a screwdriver or a hammer from a toolkit sitting on one of the shelves. “Theoretically, your thief would have a small rubber mallet with him,” he told them as Jesse got a screwdriver for him, adding, “I’m not in the habit of carrying one on a daily basis.” He worked the key to the position he needed and hit it sharply with the screwdriver handle. Seconds later he had the door open.

“That fast.” Jesse shook his head.

“Yeah, if you know what you’re doing. I knew one guy who could do it behind his back, so no one realized he wasn’t just standing by the door while watching what was going on in front of him.”

“How come you have those?” Mr. Powell asked suspiciously.

“I acquired them as part of a job I was on and hung on to them afterwards,” Dirk replied, pocketing the key ring.

“Meaning you’re a thief.”

Dirk shrugged. “I’ve learned how to get in and out of places. So far I’ve never stolen anything for, shall we say, resale to the highest bidder.”

Jesse tapped a finger on his lips. “You don’t work for a security company from what you said. Now you say you’re not a professional thief. So why do you know all this?”

“Perhaps I’ll tell you, at a later date, if you decide to let me do something about making this place less vulnerable to robbery. How often have people gotten away with stuff from here?”

“It happens. It’s just part of the business,” Mr. Powell admitted reluctantly. “Usually it’s someone lifting something while Jesse and I are busy with other customers.”

“Ever had a smash-and-grab?”

“Yeah. Once. They were fast, too. Got to the door just as I pushed the button. Well, just before. We took a hit on that one. Lost several guns.”

Dirk nodded. “The reason you need new glass in the cases.”

“Yeah, true I guess. But do you know how damned much that costs?”

Smiling wickedly, Dirk replied, “Probably what you can make on one good piece of stolen jewelry on the black market if you’re a halfway decent fence.”

“We don’t…”

“Look,” Dirk said before Mr. Powell could finish, “I don’t give a damn if you do or not. It’s no skin off my nose either way. I just need to make some money and when it comes to making this place as secure as possible I’m your man. I’m not going to report anything to the cops. Someone from a security company would, if they saw something you didn’t want them to.”

“Why should we believe that you won’t go to the cops?” Mr. Powell asked.

“I have no reason to.”

“Maybe you’re a cop,” Jesse said. “Maybe this is some kind of sting to get us to say we’re fencing goods. Which,” he added hastily, “we’re not.”

“Trust me, Jesse, if I was an undercover cop, I’d have come up with a hell of a lot better way to approach you.”

“So you say. But then you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Say that? Yeah.” Dirk studied the two men for a moment. “I’ll say it once, and once only. I am not a cop. Now if you want my help to make this place more secure, I’m willing to do it. If you don’t, just say so and I’ll get out of here. Well, once you unlock the door.”

“You can’t do it yourself?” Jesse asked with a sneer.

“If I had the right tools, you bet I could. But I was just out for a walk when I saw this place. I only stopped in because…I was interested. Nothing more.”

“You live around here?” Mr. Powell wanted to know.

“Yeah, about ten blocks…” Dirk paused, trying to orient himself. “That way,” he pointed. “South. Right?”

“Yep. Just remember the mountains are to the west and you can’t get lost.”

Jesse snorted. “Tell that to the tourists.”

“So?” Dirk c****d a questioning eyebrow at Mr. Powell.

“Let me and Jesse talk about it. You got a number where we can reach you?”

Dirk gave it to him, and then they parted company—once Jesse unlocked the front door to let him out.