Lostport

Chapter 2

 Chapter 2

At Buffalo-Niagara International Airport, they collected their bags and went up to the arrivals level. Ben shivered in his light jacket as soon as they exited through sliding glass doors. The sky was bright and blue like it had been in Virginia, but goddamn it was cold, cold enough to hurt his lungs, every breath coming out in a startling cloud. Twenty-four degrees, according to a digital read-out by a taxi stand. Larkin wasn’t dressed any warmer than Ben but showed no sign of feeling cold.

Ben realized he was going to miss Larkin. He had spent more time with Larkin than anyone else at WITSEC, building his new past, preparing his new identity, getting his documents together. Sometimes they just sat up late at night and shot the shit, Ed telling him stories about people in WITSEC whose demands were legend. Guys who milked the program for years while feeding out their testimony bit by bit, holding the good parts back until they got what they wanted. Family men who wanted to bring dozens of people into the program with them, the current record held by the South Jersey guy who sponsored nineteen, mother-in-law included.

“If it was my mother-in-law,” Ed had said, “I’d take my chances with the mob.”

“How long you married?”

“Be twenty-nine years in August.”

Larkin’s all-time favorite was the guy they relocated to a quiet Midwestern city with his wife and family. A month later, the guy brought his long-time mistress to the same town on the sly. Got his cover blown and his head shot off a month later when the wife called home and told his old boss where to find him.

Larkin had been the closest thing to a friend Ben had had since his life in Tampa imploded. Ben had pictured them flying to Tucson together, hanging out a few days while he got his bearings. That, apparently, was no longer the plan. Ed was going to hand him over to the resident marshal in Buffalo, then fly back to Virginia. The last tie to his past, about to be cut.

“That looks like one of ours,” Larkin said, pointing to a man leaning against a midnight blue Explorer. A big man with a sullen face made red by the cold, or else by too much alcohol swelling the veins in his nose and cheeks.

Larkin showed him his badge and said, “Where’s Andy Summers? They told me he was the resident here.”

The man said, “He is. But he’s running late so he asked me to meet you. I’m Bill Dunlop.” He shook hands with Larkin but when Ben put out his hand, Dunlop ignored him and kept his at his side.

Okay, Ben thought. There’s your welcome.

“Give us a second,” Larkin said to Dunlop then turned to Ben and took him aside.

“This is as far as I go,” Larkin said.

“Mr. Warmth takes it from here?”

“Listen, Ben. You’re going to do okay. I’ve steered a lot of guys through this program over the years and you’ve got a better head on you than any of them. Half of them can’t balance a checkbook and never in their life paid taxes. They’ve never done anything but peel bills off a roll and throw them down on a table.”

“You sure I’m different?”

“Yeah, smart guy. Whatever you did before WITSEC is your own business, but how you handle yourself now is mine. Remember what I told you about the one in five?”

This was back in Virginia, when Ed had been prepping him for life in the program, telling him fewer than one in five WITSEC participants ever went back to crime.

“Just follow the rules,” he said. “Keep it simple. Don’t be the one who ruins my stats.”

“Right.”