The Double

  “The biggest risk is in taking him off the street. We do that without getting burned, we’ll be all right.”

  “You got a place to take him?”

  “We’re set. I’ve got a one-day rental.”

  “That’s all well and good. But what you’re fixin to do to this man is…”

  “A little extreme,” said Lucas. “You in?”

  Dupree nodded. “I got nothing else goin on.”

  “You’re gonna need to change out of that RG-Three jersey.”

  “I wouldn’t want to soil it.” Dupree nodded at the nylon bag Lucas had set on the coffee table. “What you got in there?”

  Lucas unzipped the bag. Dupree moved a small bolt cutter and a roll of duct tape aside and had a look at the rest of the contents.

  “Damn, boy,” said Dupree. “Where’d you get that stuff?”

  “Amazon dot com.”

  “That piece right there, in that holster? It’s illegal to receive it in D.C.”

  “I had it shipped to my mom’s house in Silver Spring.”

  Dupree’s teeth bucked as he smiled. “Do I get to be the good guy or the bad guy?”

  “We’re both gonna be bad,” said Lucas. “Change into something less conspicuous and let’s get going.”

  “I got a ninja suit hanging in my closet.”

  “Bring your throwing stars, too.”

  They parked the Buick on 22nd, between R and S, near Dupont Circle. There were many cars traveling on the roads but few pedestrians. Lucas was optimistic.

  “Okay,” said Lucas. “Go on up to his door and hit the buzzer. I want to make sure he’s in, and I want you to get a look at him.”

  “That means he’s gonna get a look at me,” said Dupree.

  “So? I’m gonna approach him when he comes out. Not you.”

  “What am I supposed to talk to him about when he lets me in?”

  Dupree was a big black man wearing jeans and a gray Georgetown T-shirt. Lucas guessed that he wasn’t going to be buzzed in. But he didn’t want to break that to his friend.

  “Improvise,” said Lucas. “Ask for directions.”

  “All right, then. I’ll be right back.”

  From the driver’s seat, Lucas watched Dupree go to the door of the shop and push the buzzer. He watched Dupree mouth something to someone inside, and he watched his face go from hopeful to agitated. No one came to the door, and Dupree returned to the SUV and got into the passenger seat.

  “Asshole,” said Dupree.

  “Describe him.”

  “Thin white dude, short hair, itty-bitty nose, wearing those artist-looking eyeglasses. Had on an expensive suit.”

  “That’s Lumley.”

  “Man didn’t let me in,” said Dupree, shaking his head. “He mouthed the word closed.”

  “He let me in.”

  “That’s what I’m sayin.”

  “You could write your congressman.”

  “I live in D.C., so that doesn’t work for me.” Dupree took off his glasses. “People be hatin all over the world. You remember in Iraq, the hajjis would yell out to us from wherever they were hiding? They’d call us ‘Dirty Stinking Jews.’ Even after they had a look at me, they’d call me a Dirty Jew. Do I look Jewish to you?”

  “Sammy Davis Jr. was a Jew.”

  “Do I look like Sammy Davis Jr. to you?”

  “There was that night in the desert, when you drank all that beer? Your eye did look kind of glassy.”

  “Funny.”

  “You angry?”

  “A little,” said Dupree.

  “Good,” said Lucas. He wanted him to be.

  They were ready when Lumley stepped out of his store about an hour later and walked down the sidewalk, along the space where the Buick was parked.

  “Here we go,” said Lucas, and he got out of the SUV. He waited for Lumley to come along the side of the Buick, then walked around the rear and met him on the sidewalk. A well-dressed elderly gentleman approached from the opposite direction. There was no time to stop this or try again.

  Lumley recognized Lucas and stopped. He had little choice; Lucas was blocking his path.

  “Charles,” said Lucas. “Remember me?”

  Dupree had come out of the passenger side of the Buick. He stepped quickly forward and placed a high-amperage stun gun directly on Lumley’s upper back. He triggered the device and sent 150,000 volts into Lumley’s body. Lumley made a short, high-pitched sound, spasmed, and collapsed, immobile and helpless, into Dupree’s arms. Dupree dragged him backward, opened the back door of the Buick, sat on its seat, and pulled Lumley inside.

  The elderly gentleman had come up on them and was staring at the scene. Lucas flipped open his wallet, which showed only his driver’s license, and said, with authority, “Official business, sir. Please move along.” The man complied. Lucas closed the passenger door, went around the Buick, and got behind the wheel of the SUV.

  From the nylon bag Dupree had retrieved two sets of double-cuff disposable hand restraints. He had already bound Lumley’s hands and was doing the same to his ankles. He next reached into the bag and brought out a roll of duct tape. He tore off a long strip for Lumley’s mouth.

  “We’re good,” said Dupree.

  Lucas pulled away from the curb.

  They were in the commercial space of the Woldu property on North Capitol, just above Florida Avenue. They had parked in the alley and walked Lumley in through the back door after removing his ankle restraints. Once inside, Dupree had used the bolt cutter to take the handcuffs off as well. Lumley himself ripped the duct tape from his mouth. Lucas told him to go into the bathroom, and he complied.

  Lumley had said nothing. He was not being stoic. He had lost his color, and he seemed too afraid to talk.

  The bathroom was large, with exposed pipes in the ceiling and a full tub. When Dupree entered, wearing the stun gun in a holster clipped to his belt, the space shrank.

  “Take off your clothes, Charles,” said Lucas.

  “What for?” said Lumley, uttering his first words since they’d pulled him off the street.

  “All of them,” said Lucas. “Fold them neatly and hand them to me. I’ll put them outside the door.”

  Lucas knew that there could be few things more humiliating for a man than to be naked in front of two fully clothed assailants. Lumley would now be submissive.

  “Nice suit,” said Dupree, as Lumley stepped out of his shoes and then removed his jacket and tie.

  “Canali,” said Lumley, trying to endear himself to his captors.

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “I have a salesman at Saks on Wisconsin Avenue.”

  “I bet he let you in when you came to the door.”

  Lumley kept his eyes downcast and finished undressing. When he was done he handed Lucas his clothing. Lucas, as promised, placed his folded clothing outside the door, along with his wallet and cell.

  Lumley stood naked before them. He was a thin man with gym muscles on his chest and arms. He’d made the common mistake of not working his legs, so that the effect in total was artificial and incomplete. His penis wasn’t small. Still, he crossed his hands over it as if he was ashamed.

  “Relax, Charles,” said Dupree.

  Lumley let his hands rest at his sides.

  “This is about Grace Kinkaid,” said Lumley, to Lucas.

  “Correct,” said Lucas. “Answer our questions and I’ll give you your clothing back and let you go.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “You’re working with Billy Hunter,” said Lucas. “What’s Hunter’s real name? Where does he stay?”

  Lumley looked down at the checkerboard tiled floor.

  Lucas glanced up at the pipes in the ceiling. He’d seen no chairs out in the main space, and Lumley wasn’t tall enough to reach the pipes. If he had a chair, he could have Lumley stand on it, bind Lumley’s hands behind his back, bind his hands to the pipes, and wait for him to fall forward. This would cause much pain
and dislocation. The venerable Palestinian Crucifixion. But Lucas had no chair.

  “Okay,” said Lucas. “Go stand in the doorway, Charles. Raise your hands and grab the molding up top.”

  Lumley went to the doorway and did as he was told. “Like this?” he said, hopefully. It didn’t seem like anything, yet.

  “Just like that,” said Lucas.

  Lucas and Dupree had a seat on the edge of the tub as Lumley held his position.

  “We shoulda brought a deck of cards,” said Dupree.

  “We’ve got our phones,” said Lucas. “We could play Words with Friends.”

  “I don’t want to play that game with you. You make words up, man.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Last time, you played dhole. What is that?”

  “It’s a word,” said Lucas.

  Lumley began to feel some ache after fifteen minutes. It was hard to hold his arms up as the blood rushed to his lower body and he lost his strength. At the half-hour mark he experienced cramping and dizziness. He was sweating profusely. He made childish choking sounds.

  “You recognize this place?” said Lucas. Lumley nodded weakly. “Billy Hunter, or whatever his name is, and a guy named Serge, and a third guy with a beard, they were renting this spot for a while. I imagine you came here when you were doing your dirt with Billy. Let’s keep this simple: again, where are Billy and his partners now? Where do they stay, Charles?”

  Lumley sharply shook his head. He briefly took his hands off the molding and began to lower them.

  “Don’t do that,” said Lucas. “My friend will hit you with the stun gun again. This time he’ll put it right on your testicles.”

  “God,” said Lumley.

  “Ain’t no God in this room,” said Dupree, though to him that was a lie. In his mind, the Lord was everywhere. Today, this disturbed him.

  “Tell me where Billy Hunter stays right now,” said Lucas. “Tell me where Grace Kinkaid’s painting is.”

  Lumley shook his head.

  “Hang there,” said Lucas.

  Twenty minutes later, Lumley fell like laundry to the tiled floor. Lying there in the fetal position, he shook and sobbed.

  “Where’s Billy Hunter?” said Lucas, after Lumley had composed himself.

  “He’ll kill me,” said Lumley.

  “Does that mean you’re not going to tell us?” said Lucas.

  “I can’t.”

  Tough guy, thought Lucas. He was surprised.

  Lucas looked at Dupree and jerked his head toward the hot and cold taps. Both of them stood. Dupree opened the spigots and began to fill the tub.

  “What are you doing?” said Lumley. “Are you two soldiers or something?”

  They didn’t answer.

  “Are you going to waterboard me?”

  Dupree chuckled. “We don’t even know how to do that, Charles.”

  Lucas got two more pairs of restraints from his bag, turned Lumley over, and bound his hands and feet behind his back as the tub filled. He tore a long strip of duct tape off the roll. When he was done, the tub was sufficiently full.

  “Is that water hot?” said Lumley. “Is it hot?”

  Neither Lucas nor Dupree replied.

  “One more chance,” said Lucas.

  Lumley winced and shook his head.

  “All right,” said Lucas. “This could have been easy. You made a choice.”

  “No,” said Lumley. “No.”

  Lucas wrapped the duct tape around Lumley’s mouth. Then he grabbed his biceps and hoisted him up to his knees. He scooted Lumley to the edge of the tub so that he was bent forward and looking into the water. Dupree, behind them, gripped Lumley’s ankles. Lumley was wide-eyed and shaking.

  “Blink if you’re ready to talk,” said Lucas.

  Lumley did not blink, and with his hand firmly on the back of Lumley’s head Lucas pushed his face down into the water. He held him there. At first, Lumley didn’t move. Then he began to struggle.

  “The tape wasn’t a good idea,” said Dupree. “He’s gonna take water up in his nose.”

  Bubbles came to the surface of the water.

  “Maybe you’re right,” said Lucas.

  Lucas waited. He pulled Lumley’s head up. His chest was heaving and he was trying to take in breath through his nose, but there was water in there, and he coughed, his breath out-denting the tape. Lucas ripped the tape away and let Lumley get his breath.

  “Billy Hunter,” said Lucas. “Where is he? Where’s the painting?”

  Lumley said nothing. Lucas pushed his head back down into the water and held it fast. Lumley writhed beneath his grip, his legs kicked out, and Dupree grasped his twisting ankles.

  “Dude’s stronger than he looks,” said Dupree.

  Lucas watched the water and studied the bubbles with a curious distance. Time passed. Lumley jerked violently and a great deal of bubbles burst on the surface. Lumley went lank and urinated on the floor.

  “Luke,” said Dupree.

  Lucas’s eyes regained their focus. He pulled Lumley from the water and put him facedown on the checkerboard tiles. Water spilled from his mouth. He began to heave, then cough, and then he began to breathe. Lucas and Dupree looked at each other. In Dupree’s eyes Lucas saw relief.

  Lumley, his face resting on its side, stared straight ahead.

  “You ready now?” said Lucas.

  “Cut off these fucking handcuffs,” said Lumley, “and give me my clothes.”

  “I can do that,” said Dupree.

  Lumley sat against a white wall in the main space of the property. He had put on his dress shirt and slacks and hand-combed his hair in a forward direction. His hair was still wet and there were wet spots under his shirt. His cell phone lay on the floor beside him. He limply held a bottle of blue sports drink that Lucas had packed in his nylon bag.

  Winston Dupree sat nearby in a similar position. Lucas was standing.

  “Repeat the location,” said Lucas.

  Lumley again gave him the location of the house in Croom, Maryland, and Lucas typed it into his iPhone.

  “The painting is there?”

  “Yes,” said Lumley, his voice mechanical. “That one and others.”

  “Do they have weapons?”

  “I’ve seen Serge handling a pistol. I don’t know guns, so I can’t be specific.”

  “What’s Serge’s last name?”

  “Bacalov.”

  “Spell it.” Lumley did so and Lucas said, “And Billy’s?”

  “Billy King.”

  “You have a phone number for King, right?”

  Lumley read it off the contacts list of his own cell and Lucas made note.

  “What about the young guy with the beard?” said Lucas.

  “Louis. That’s all I know.”

  “How’d you get mixed up in all of this?”

  Lumley drank deeply from the plastic bottle and placed it on the wood floor by his side. He closed his eyes.

  “Charles?” said Lucas. “I asked you a question.”

  “The recession,” said Lumley. “I was underwater on my mortgage and I’d missed a couple of payments. I drive a Five Series BMW with a seven-year loan. I like expensive clothes. And my business has gone south. Billy walked into my store one day and caught me at the right time.”

  “Walked in and said what?”

  “He was looking for an assessment on two paintings. He told me they were his. Later, after he’d gotten me caught up in all this, I found that they belonged to a woman he was sleeping with. An older divorcée who lived in the Wyoming.”

  “So this woman had money and the paintings were valuable. When you sold them, you got a piece of the action.”

  “Yes.”

  “Billy stole them how?”

  “He had an apartment key made off of her spare. Same way he did with Grace. When he had used this woman up he simply walked in one day and took the paintings off her wall.”

  “You said you got caught up.”

/>   “Billy gets a look in his eye.”

  “You couldn’t say no?”

  “Look, I didn’t like what I was doing.”

  “But you liked the money.”

  “It got me out of a jam. That’s all it was to me. A solution.”

  “And you met Grace at her condo party and you saw that she was, what?”

  “Vulnerable.” Lumley looked away. “I knew Billy could take advantage of that. He’s got a power over a certain kind of woman.”

  “Has Grace’s painting been sold?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So it’s at the house in Croom?”

  “Last time I was there, yes. I had to verify its authenticity.” Lumley looked coolly at Lucas. “Can I go?”

  “Not until we get a few things straight. First: if you tell Billy or his friends about this, I’ll find you.”

  “I have no doubt you would.”

  “You’re done in Washington. Close up your shop and leave town. I’ll give you a couple weeks, and then I’m going to check up on you. If you’re not gone, I’ll turn all this information over to the police.”

  “Are you going to tell the police that you kidnapped and tortured me, too?”

  “You can go,” said Lucas.

  “Aren’t you going to drive me back to my shop?”

  “You have your wallet. Walk down to Florida Avenue and get a cab.”

  Lumley stood, picked up his jacket and tie, rolled the tie into a ball, and stuffed it in a pocket. He didn’t look at Lucas or Dupree. Straightening his posture, with the last bit of dignity he could muster, he walked out.

  “You took everything that man had,” said Dupree. “He ain’t never gonna look at the world the same way. Those fancy clothes of his, that German automobile…They don’t mean dick to him anymore. You robbed him of his manhood.”

  “He shouldn’t have done what he did.” Lucas reached out his hand and helped Dupree stand. “Let’s clean this place up. I told Woldu I’d leave it as I found it.”

  “You do know that Charles peed on the floor in there.”

  “Can you get that?”

  “Screw you, man.”

  Lucas locked the alley door. He and Dupree walked to the Buick.

  “You still with me?” said Lucas.

  “What’s next?”

  “A little recon. Then we go into that house.”