Down the River unto the Sea

“I should go with you.”

“You been talking to people about this guy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That means you should be living your normal everyday life in case anybody wants to look at you. Also we need to get this van away from where your friend’s airplane is to keep you out of that. I mean, we don’t know if maybe somebody saw us drive away. Don’t worry, Joe. I didn’t go through all this to trick you now.”

He was right. And I really didn’t want to go away just then.

“You brought my duffel bag down from that office?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He rummaged around the back and gave it to me.

I pulled out the leather satchel that Teegs had given me.

“There’s one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in here. Twenty-five is to cover your costs. After you pay the pilot the rest is for Man.”

Mel took the satchel and smiled.

“You see that, Joe? A man like Mr. Man here is one’a my people. And there you are on the other side of the wall doing what’s right.”

“You better get outta here before we start kissin’ or somethin’.”



I parked the van in the long-term section of an automated underground parking lot. I had a hat and my whiskers and hope in my heart that there was no camera to see my disguise. Then I took the train from Newark back to Manhattan and the A train, which ran local after 10:00 p.m., to High Street in Brooklyn.





39.



I got to bed by noon and slept for nineteen hours without even getting up to urinate.

In the early morning I read all about the daring prison escape. Stuart Braun had set up seven visitors for his client. The man’s wife, three doctors, Willa Portman of course, Stuart himself, and a Catholic priest for prayer. All were questioned. None were held. The investigation would go on for decades, if I was lucky. Even if Willa told about the package we gave her she had no proof of what was in it. Our note told Man to destroy and discard the note and packaging after taking his powder.

I should have been afraid, but there was nothing but joy for me that morning.



In the following days Aja came back to work. The only thing she said was that she knew what happened and we never had to talk about it.

On Friday Mel dropped by and gave me a small memory chip.

“I gave him what money there was,” Mel said. “He recorded a message for his wife. I watched it and heard what he had to say. He didn’t mention a thing that would get him or us in trouble.” He took a slip of paper from a pocket and handed it to me. “Here’s his mother-in-law’s address. Print out a note that says ‘For Honey Mama and Lil Sugar,’ and she will make sure it gets there.”



Later that day the buzzer to my apartment sounded.

“Yeah?” I said into the intercom.

“It’s Gladstone.”

I hesitated but then decided that whatever my ex-friend had to say I should hear him out.



We were sitting at my table-desk drinking Irish whiskey that Gladstone brought.

After some small talk he said, “I hear that they made a settlement with you.”

“Maybe.”

“That guy Teegs is a trip, right?”

“Why are you here, Glad?”

“I know you feel like I sold you out, Joe, but the way I look at it I saved your life. I couldn’t have stopped them from doing something. I tried to tell them to pay you off then, but they said they couldn’t take the chance.”

“They were probably right,” I said. “Back then I was blue all the way to the core.”

“And you aren’t anymore?”

I took in a deep breath and looked at my friend.

“It’s okay, Glad. I get it now. Back then I didn’t understand. I thought I knew the rules, but now I see that the rules don’t cover every damn thing.”

My eternally smiling friend frowned a little then.

“You still wanna be in that poker game?”

“Sure I do. After all you did, I should let you win a little of that money. And you’re right, you did save my life.”



Late that night I put the memory chip into a reader connected to my computer. An icon appeared on the screen and I clicked on it. Immediately the image of A Free Man appeared. He was wearing a loose shirt of a yellow hue. His dreads were tied back and then piled up at the back of his head. His smile seemed to want to lift up off his face and fly around his head.

“Hey, babe. I went to sleep a condemned man and woke up in freedom. I’m in the bright sun and as happy as a man could be. I can’t tell you where I am or how I got here, but you and Lil Sugar have to know that I love you and we’ll be together as soon as I can make that happen. I will be in touch and if you need to get to me all you have to do is remember that North Blue thing we used to do.

“Hi, Lil Sugar! I know you’re there too. I love you and I never did anything wrong. Don’t listen to what they say. Your heart knows the truth.”



I felt that I was set free along with Man. It was a deep grinding feeling that hurt but at the same time felt like the hand of some momentary apparition of God.





About the Author

Walter Mosley is one of America’s most celebrated and beloved writers. A Grand Master of the Mystery Writers of America, he has won numerous awards, including the Anisfield-Wolf Award, a Grammy, and a PEN USA’s Lifetime Achievement Award, as well as several NAACP Image Awards. His books have been translated into more than twenty languages. His short fiction has appeared in a wide array of publications, including The New Yorker, GQ, Esquire, the Los Angeles Times Magazine, and Playboy, and his nonfiction has been published in the New York Times Book Review, the New York Times Magazine, Newsweek, and The Nation. He is the author of the acclaimed Easy Rawlins series, including most recently Charcoal Joe. He lives in New York City.

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