In our last episode, Martin falls under increasing pressure and finds his future as a teacher more uncertain than ever. This week, we see whether he’s given in to looming temptation.
2.
Martin awoke alone that Saturday morning, with aching muscles and swollen eyelids. His whole body felt tense with shame and the remnants of his fight with Lena. She had already headed out and probably wouldn’t come back until the end of the day.
I was such a dick last night, he thought as he lumbered into the bathroom to wash his face and start the day. While the tea kettle warmed up, he picked his pants off the bedroom floor and began emptying the pockets. He found that phone number and threw it onto the table.
He wafted the fragrant tea and sat in silence. It was unlike the building to be this tranquil. Maybe they heard us this time, he thought, with a smirk. He grabbed his cell phone and called the number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Martin LaSalle — “
“Yeah, yeah! Thanks for calling. You busy today?”
“Nah. Just… here.”
“Okay. Come by 6th and Filbert. I’ll meet you in a half hour.”
Manny hung up before Martin could say goodbye. He stood in his kitchen, with his cooling tea. What the hell am I doing?
Martin arrived early and waited near a stop sign on the corner. A young man of no more than 20 approached with a rehearsed confidence.
“Hey, Mr. LaSalle. Thanks for coming. Follow me,” Manny said quickly. He held a wide stride to hold up his baggy pants and kept adjusting his ear-length hair.
They entered a nearby apartment building and Martin stopped for a moment in the doorway, scanning his surroundings before entering.
Manny opened an apartment on the third floor that looked more like his grandmother’s place than his own. It was. He led Martin to the dining room.
“This is my Uncle Leo. Uncle, this is who we told you about.” Without another word, he left the apartment and locked the door.
“Sit down,” Leo said. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink or eat?”
“Oh, no thank you.” Martin tried his best to feign comfort, but one leg of the chair seemed slightly shorter than the rest. It kept rocking under his weight.
“I don’t like a lot of chatting and from what I hear, you don’t either. A no-nonsense type of man, am I right?” Leo chuckled, revealing a gold tooth at his left canine. “I’m in the business of opportunity and I want to share that with a straight shooting man like yourself. It’s very simple work. I’m sure you’ve done more for less.
“You seem like you know how to maintain. How to keep organized. You don’t let people get you out of your element.”
“That’s true.” It was taking time to get to the nature of this job.
Sounds came from the kitchen and Leo called out, “Caraaaa! Come in here, baby.” Cariann soon emerged, innocently looking at Martin.
“This is my princess, Cariann. You know Mr. LaSalle?”
She gave a shy wave. Leo pulled her closer and planted a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes cut into Martin. Yet another dare.
“Family is very important here. Hopefully you feel welcome,” Leo said.
Then he looked around expectantly and, as if cued, the door opened. Another man appeared and Leo gestured to the newcomer.
“Follow him and you’ll meet my associate upstairs. Good luck.”
Ascending two more flights, they approached an apartment tucked into a back corner. The stranger knocked loudly and waited a few seconds before opening the door for Martin. As Martin entered, he heard the deep hollow sound of the door closing and a heavy deadbolt sliding into place behind him.
“Mr. LaSalle. Pleasure. I’m Leo’s nephew Matthew.” This young man, only slightly older than Manny, shook his hand. “What we need from you is help… with logistics. We move sensitive items that we’d like to keep out of customs. Now, we deal in a lot of different products. I have connections all over.” Matthew motioned toward objects in bubble wrap in boxes on the floor behind the desk.
“They say it’s worth however much. I’m just here to satisfy the customer,” he said shrugging. “Now, to maintain confidentiality, we do not disclose the package contents. We simply need you to transport it to a designated location and drop it off. Each run varies in payoff. You can make a very easy 2k by the end of the week depending on the job.”
Martin had known immediately from Matthew and Leo’s guarded language that the “products” were drugs. Even before then, the honey pot lure of an eager teenage girl had probably snagged others before him. He hadn’t been willing to entertain Cariann’s proposal until his contract negotiations tanked. He could not work nights cleaning offices like Rashad. Martin never thought he’d get in on trafficking for quick cash. It was something he’d warned his students about. He knew there could be grave consequences, but, like Rashad said, rent’s due on the first. He convinced himself right away, alarmingly quickly, that this was different. That he was different. He was a grown man, not some naive kid.
“Sounds good,” Martin said. They stood up and shook hands. Matthew handed him a burner phone.
“You need to answer when we call,” Matthew said. He stared right into Martin’s eyes.
In minutes, Martin was out on the sidewalk and the fog of his encounter lifted. What had he just done?
Monday came like any other with the usual routine. Martin had said nothing to his wife when she got home that evening or the following day. She didn’t need to know. Not yet. He kept his burner in his work bag, wedged between worksheets and paperbacks. Martin didn’t know when he’d receive a call, so he stayed on high alert.
Days went by with no contact.
One late morning a week later, just before his free period began, a loud buzz came from his bag. The number was unlisted. He answered.
“Come outside,” a man’s voice said.
He darted out of his classroom quickly, nervous and short on time. As he moved down the hallway, he noticed the principal approaching as if to speak with him. Martin hugged the wall slyly, disappearing into a crowd of students coming back from gym class. Outside, a cab was waiting.
“LaSalle?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Get in, we’re going to the airport.”
His chest tightened. The airport was at least 35 minutes away. He would be cutting it close coming back, even with no traffic.
They sped toward the highway ramp and weaved through traffic, arriving in just over 25 minutes. At the arrival gate, they stopped in front of an old woman with two suitcases.
“This is your grandmother. Take her bags,” the driver said. His eyes seemed to continuously scan his surroundings.
Martin got out and smiled warmly at the old woman.
“You came so quickly! Good to see you,” she said, reaching out for a hug. Martin obliged. He put her bags in the trunk and helped the frail woman into the cab. Martin could scarcely think of anything to say, his thoughts were scrambled and disjointed, though mainly preoccupied with getting back to school on time and praying that he’d face little scrutiny regarding his absence. The driver sped back toward the highway, exiting in a quiet neighborhood. When they came to a stop, the woman finally spoke.
“You did all right for a first timer. The worst thing is to get too involved. Just A to B, no detours. Eyes on the road. You’ll do alright.” She patted his knee, squeezing firmly with her bony fingers, and got out of the cab. She lifted her own bags from the trunk and slammed it, giving a knock on the hood to signal that she was through.
The driver sped off, while Martin, peering through the back window, witnessed Manny ambling out to help the old woman carry her bags inside.
Within minutes, they were back at the school doors. Martin stepped onto the curb but before he could get a glimpse of this hayride operator, he’d sped off down the street.
That’s it, he thought. It had been remarkably simple, yet he was left with an unease in his chest, one that remained as he rushed to his classroom to find Mr. Druthers waiting. “Martin, hi. I just wanted to touch base real quick. I sent your study hall next door.”
Martin held his breath to keep his chest from heaving from bounding up the stairs. He was very late returning.
“I know it’s been hard, but we value you. You’re a great member of the team and I think you’ll be tenured in no time. You’re educated, confident, organized, and never let these students take you out of your element.”
Suddenly, Martin was at attention. He knew Druther’s boilerplate manager-speak, but there was something about the end of that phrase that rang deep in his brain.
“Let’s stick together on this,” Druthers said, winking. He started out the door and called with his back turned. “Take the period off. You look tense.”
Over the next few months, Martin did a variety of drops. Some were like the midday airport run, others consisted of long drives to pick up mail from a PO Box a few towns over or in a neighboring state. He heeded the old lady’s advice, never getting too involved or making conversation. Every driver, every runner, every delivery person was anonymous. Little eye contact was exchanged. To him, these trips became as mundane as running errands and he treated them with the same nonchalance.
Payment for his services was unlike anything he imagined. Martin’s vision of a bathtubs full of cash was a fantasy. Cash was conspicuous, too difficult to hide. This criminal organization ran a number of shell businesses with clean owners and supply chains. Members of the organization went shopping at these businesses with nothing in their pockets. The money was all on the backend and there was simply trade of goods, with the legitimate transactions involving fund transfers. On the surface, everything was above board. Everyone involved had a “job” where they reported each morning, only to retire to a back room to sleep or play cards or drink until it was time for the real work.
Martin’s money came as direct deposits, some for freelance work, others for construction, or tutoring. They all traced back to real people with real names and companies. He often wondered just how big this organization was. It was complex and intricate, taking lessons from criminal syndicates and drug lords of decades past. Sometimes a business would go under and be replaced by another. They were farmers of a different sort, leaving land fallow for a season before planting something new.
Martin thought he convinced Lena he was working odd jobs for extra money to hang on long enough to be tenured. He left for hours at a time to “work” and often came back late, giggling and reeking of alcohol. He stumbled in some nights with the naive assurance Lena knew nothing. Their bills were being paid on time and she never complained. But it was a poorly constructed facade.
“Martin, we need to talk,” Lena said.
“About what?”
“These odd jobs you’re doing.”
“Lena, I’m trying to — “
“Martin, do you think I’m fucking dumb? Does it make sense for anyone to pay you real money to go drinking?”
Martin stared blankly. “Manny’s family owns the business. They supply some local restaurants. They’re a cool bunch.”
“You are playing with their money. Ain’t nobody that cool. Where did you even find this ‘work’?”
Martin’s words tangled in his throat.
“What if somebody sees you?”
“No one’s going to see—”
“I do. I see you. And I don’t like it. We could have made a lot of money doing something else. We chose this. How do you think I feel? They got me editing the worst dribble while my own book gets dusty on someone’s desk.” She paced as she spoke.
“You are living like a 22 year old fresh out of college. Maybe they’re paying you what you deserve.”
“That’s not fair. That offer was disrespectful and you know that. They screwed me.”
“And you’re screwing yourself, messing around with those kids who got nothing to lose.”
Martin knew Lena was right and “quit” his most troublesome job, much to her relief. But the work would keep coming.
One idle Saturday, while they were both home, his burner buzzed. Lena looked up, eyeing his bag, but before she could grab it, Martin lunged ahead of her. He snatched up the bag.
“I got it! Thanks, it’s fine.” He slid into the apartment's tiny bathroom and closed the door before answering in a loud whisper.
“Hello?”
“Matthew’s place at 1:30pm today,” a voice said. They hung up and he left the bathroom. Martin avoided Lena’s gaze as he got dressed.
“Marty, you look like you need a drink or something. Ha!” Matthew had a boisterous laugh.
“I’m good. I’m trying to stay dry.”
“Oh, I heard. I hear everything… How’s the money?”
Martin perked up. “Oh! Umm, good. No complaints. I had to quit that one place, but I’m doing alright.”
“Good. Look, I want you to meet someone. Don’t go nowhere.” Matthew went into a back room and shut the door.
The apartment was full of wrapped packages ready for shipping. There was a black leather couch, a glass desk where Matthew sat and a chair on the other side for Martin, but not much else. These sparse furnishings spread across what should have been a dining room but was instead a chaotic nest, filled with mountains of bubble wrap and partially opened products. It looked more like a warehouse than a home.
“This is Alonzo. You’ll be working with him on a couple jobs.”
Alonzo was another young man around the same age as Matthew and Manny. There were few if any men Martin’s age in these operations. His heart pumped with a somber thought: perhaps men in this career didn’t live long enough to grow middle aged.
“You got someplace to be today?” Alonzo asked.
“No, no, I’m free.”
“Good, cuz we’re going out.”
No Way Home: Chapter Two