“Drive,” Ruby said. “I’m gonna get out of this monkey suit and we are gonna stop someplace and get a lot to eat. Then we’re going back to the room, I’m gonna drink half a bottle of Shiraz, take a nap, and get ready for tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, tonight! I went in there all by myself today, Crockett. I kicked ass! I pulled it off, and those assholes never knew what hit ‘em. Tonight we go get the girl. We. That means me, too. I am not going to sit back in the hotel and wonder what the hell is happening. I’m going along. I’ve earned it, and it’s only fair. Besides, you can’t stop me.”
“Christ,” Crockett muttered. “We’ve created a monster.”
Ruby grinned. “You told me to get in or out. I’m in.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
LaCost accost
By the time they were halfway back to the hotel, Ruby was in the passenger seat dressed in a pink jumpsuit with matching pumps and beret. Brown eyes crinkled at Crockett as he pulled into TGI Friday’s or Applebee’s or some other cookie-cutter beanery. He couldn’t tell them apart. Ruby was nearly dancing as they went inside.
It was too early for evening rush and they were seated quickly. Their waiter approached the table. Before he could start his spiel, Ruby held up her hand.
“I want the biggest burger you have,” she said. “I want that burger with sharp cheddar cheese and enough tomato to cover it twice. No onions, no lettuce, no special sauce, no mayo, no mustard, no pickle. Bring it to me with A-1 sauce on the side. I want an order of French fries with that, an ear of sweet corn, or two of ‘em if all you have are those little ones. I want a Coke in a small glass with very little ice, and I want you to watch me and make sure it never gets empty. Before you ask, I do not want a large Coke ‘cause they get too watered down. Clear?”
The kid looked at her and swallowed.
“Ah, yes, M’am,” he stammered, and turned to Crockett.
“Potato skins and iced tea,” he said.
The young man began to stumble away, every rule of service he’d ever been taught smashed to smithereens.
“Oh,” Ruby said. “Make that burger rare.”
The lad steeled himself. “We can’t, M’am.”
Ruby smiled. “Sure you can,” she said.
“No, we can’t, M’am. It’s against the law.”
“Of course you can,” Ruby said. “You are telling me that because of some ridiculous regulation that you won’t. Won’t is a conscious choice. That is a choice I find unacceptable. You tell your cook, or your manager, or your owner, or whoever has a brain and some say-so around here that there is an Italian woman in the dining room who will gladly pay for her meal if it is prepared her way. If it is not prepared her way, she will cause a scene. She will return during dinner hour and cause another scene. Over the next few days, the police will be summoned to this establishment many times on prank calls. There will be several bomb scares here. There will be numerous Fire Department calls here. There will be assorted Health Department calls here. Over the next two weeks, this Italian woman will make it her mission in life to cut your restaurant’s business by, at least, sixty per cent. She will accomplish that mission. That is a lot of money and customers to lose because someone refuses to honor a perfectly reasonable request. Thank you so much, young man. I’d like my burger rare. Somebody in this joint has a decision to make. Leave now and return when you have our orders.”
She smiled sweetly at him, and the boy scurried away.
“I’m sorry, Ruby,” Crockett said. “I must have drifted a bit. Did you say you wanted your hamburger rare?”
“Why yes, I did,” she said.
“I’m afraid that’s against the rules.”
“Fuck the rules.”
“A little overstocked on adrenalin, are we?”
“We secret agents don’t take no shit,” Ruby said.
“How is the secret agent business?”
“Great. Did a job just this afternoon.”
“How’d it go?”
Ruby smiled. “Smooth as the inside of a cheerleader’s thigh,” she said.
“That’s pretty smooth.”
“It was, Crockett. It really was. They didn’t suspect a thing. I saw about six or seven different Latino types and, other than checking out the Swedish body, none of ‘em gave me a second glance.”
“Nobody questioned you or searched you?”
“Nope. These guys are real chauvinists. What’s a mere woman going to do to threaten them? Took me upstairs to a fitness room, you know, Nautilus, Bowflex, things like that. I set up the table, covered it with a sheet, and in walked Marilee wearing a robe. All the guys cleared out as soon as she showed up. Guess that Little Ricky would get upset if he found out any of ‘em peeked at his lady.”
“Silly, hot-blooded drug dealers.”
“I popped in a new-age CD, turned it up, she laid down on the table, and we talked while I went through the motions of giving her a massage.”
Ignoring several totally appropriate responses to that statement and the opportunities it provided, Crockett stayed on the straight and narrow.
“She ready to go?” he said.
“Seems to be. She’s scared, but her mind’s made up. She’s not the helpless type. She’s in good shape, well toned and muscular. She’ll be dressed in dark clothing and waiting at two AM. She seemed relieved we were going to do it tonight. She’s obviously frightened of Ricky and his temper. I didn’t see any bruises on her, or any signs of abuse, but I suspect that’s just because she toes the line. She said she’s kept her eyes and ears open more since she met with us. Evidently she saw him beat one of his soldiers half to death over something a couple of weeks ago. He’s also spoken of taking her to Columbia for a few months on vacation and to get married. She’s afraid if she’s in South America and something goes wrong, she might never make it back.”
“That’s not unreasonable,” Crockett said. “Once he got done showing her off to all his old friends in the ‘hood, she might begin to depreciate a little. Jesus.”
“There’s one wing of the house where the staff and body guard types stay. About ten or twelve bad guys in the place now. Security is fairly lax. TV cameras at the gate and a couple of places along the front fence, and some of those movement sensor things around the house, but that’s all she knows of. No dogs, no walking night patrols. Everybody is pretty confident that they won’t be bothered at good old Casa de Corazon. Can you believe that? The guy named his house.”
“I like it,” Crockett said. “I’ve been thinking about naming my place.”
Ruby smiled. “Yeah?”
“Yep. Earl. Got a nice ring to it. ‘Sorry I can’t stay at your dinner party, Mister Mayor. I gotta go back to Earl and clean the cat shit outa the litter.’ Class huh?”
Ruby chuckled. “Definitely you,” she said.
The waiter showed up with a tray. Ruby watched as he covered the table with their orders then stopped him as he turned to leave.
“Just a minute,” she said, removing the top of the bun from her burger. She made a small slit in the meat with her knife and peered inside. Bright pink.
She reached in her purse and removed a twenty-dollar bill.
“Perfect,” she said. “What’s your name, Son?”
“Earl,” he said.
Ruby smiled and handed him the twenty.
“Perfect again,” she said.
They got back to the room around five. Ruby called the car rental company and told them to pick up the van keys at the front desk, then promptly drank three glasses of wine and went to bed. Crockett had one glass and stretched out on the couch with no hope of sleep. He woke up a little before eight, took a shower, dressed in some dark blue sweat clothes, packed his bags, and sat, running possible scenarios over in his head. He heard Ruby’s alarm go off at nine and her shower start fifteen minutes later. Clete knocked at nine-thirty.
Crockett opened the door. “Hey, Hero,” Clete said.
&nbs
p; Crockett smiled. “Savior. Been busy?”
“Oh yeah,” Clete said, flopping on the couch. “When I left him, Stitch was straight, grinning from ear to ear, and getting ready to start working on the helo. I got rid of the car and picked up a Ford Explorer, four-wheel drive and all that shit. I’d rather had a Chevy Tahoe or something, but I couldn’t find one, so I settled for a Ford. Black.”
“Ruby drives a Ford.”
“Really?”
“They call it a Jaguar.”
“Ford’s a Ford,” Clete said. “I set up the charges before I got the Explorer so, if anybody gives a shit, they won’t see the same vehicle twice. Where is Ruby, anyway?”
“Getting ready.”
“For what?”
“To go with us.”
“To go with us?”
Crocket smiled and bounced his eyebrows.
“Oh, no,” Clete said. “That ain’t part of the deal.”
“Is now.”
“Crockett! Jesus! I don’t want to have to worry about her, and you damn sure don’t want her in the helo!”
“The chopper is out of the question. She goes with you.”
“Christ!”
“Then you tell her no, Texican. She is so pumped and focused on all this, I give Ruby seven to three odds of kicking your Lone Star ass. Been nice knowing you.”
“Goddammit! I don’t want her in any kind of danger and I don’t want her in my way! Chances are, I’ll have nothing to do but watch, but if something goes wrong, I do not need a bystander running around loose!”
“Give her a job, Clete. Use her. She needs this. She really does.”
“Yeah. Well, I don’t.”
Crockett shrugged and shook his head.
“What?” Clete said.
“You can have Ruby directing her energy toward our little project, or you can have her directing that same energy, in what will be an entirely different manner, toward you. That’s the choice.”
Clete stared at the floor for a moment, then fixed his rather pathetic gaze on Crockett.
“She’s in,” he said.
At that moment, with her innate flair for the dramatic, Ruby entered the room.
She was wearing a tailored, black cotton jumpsuit with flapped pockets over each breast and on the front of each thigh. Velcro straps secured the suit snugly to her wrists and ankles, her hair was tightly pony-tailed making her eyes look huge, her waist was snuggly cinched with a black web belt, and she was wearing four-inch black suede heels.
She sat in the chair across from Clete, crossed her legs man-style, and smiled.
“We ready to do this?” she said.
Clete and Crockett almost lost it. Ruby tolerated their outburst without losing one speck of her composure. When Clete gained control he looked at her feet.
“Heels?” he said.
“Just for effect,” Ruby said. “I have some sneaks in the bedroom.”
“And you’ve decided to go with us, I hear.”
“Without a doubt.”
“Good,” Clete said. “I can use you. You’ll drive. That’ll leave me free to concentrate on other things.”
“Fine,” Ruby said. “I’ll go change my shoes and we can go through a drive-in. I’m starved.”
Clete tossed a car key on the table. “You’re the wheel man,” he said. “Let’s rock n’ roll.”
Half an hour later, their stuff stashed in the rear of the Ford, Ruby left the drive-through of a nearly deserted Burger King and parked at the rear of the lot. They watched traffic for a while as she pounded down a fish sandwich and fries. Finishing her coffee, she turned to Clete.
“Okay, now what?”
“Now we drop Crockett off out at Stitch’s place and you and I head for the Casa de Cocaine.”
“Anything I need to know?”
“I’ve got eight charges placed near the front gate to set off for the diversion, and a launcher and four flash grenades to loft over the iron fencing. After I detonate the C-4, the bad guys, most of ‘em at least, should come charging out front to show each other how brave they are. As soon as they’re in the yard, I’ll fire a couple of grenades. I’ll give you plenty of warning. Between the screen of shrubbery and our hands over our eyes, we’ll be okay. With luck, the guys out front should be incapacitated long enough for Marilee to make it out the back, down the yard, and to the helo.”
“You have explosives?” Ruby said.
“Mostly for effect. These guys aren’t trained. Once the charges go off, there’ll probably be a mad rush to the front of the building. Most likely, they won’t leave much of a rear guard or flankers. If Marilee waits ‘til a count of fifteen before she heads out the back of the house, she should be fine. With luck, none of the bad guys’ll even think about her until they realize nobody’s rushing the front gate. By that time, all of us oughta be gone.”
“Will they be shooting at us?”
“It’s possible. The main thing for you to remember, Ruby, is what to do if we start taking fire. We’ll be out near the edge of the property to set off the C-4 and flash charges. If they start shooting at us, it will come from our left rear. Get the hell moving past the edge of the property. About fifty yards farther on is a road. Turn left into the direction of fire and stop. I’ll leave the vehicle at that point. You take off again for another quarter of a mile or so, stop, shut off the engine, leave the keys in the ignition, exit the vehicle, and move away from the house into cover. Stay there until I come get you, or the helo shows up. Okay?”
“You’re gonna get out of the car?” Ruby said.
“Yeah,” Clete replied.
“What for?”
“Try to draw the guards away from the house and shoot a couple of ‘em, if I have to.”
“You’re going to shoot people?”
“Maybe.
“And leave me by myself out in the weeds someplace.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be between you and them. I doubt if any of ‘em’ll get past me.”
Ruby stared out the windshield for a moment as Clete stifled his grin and gave Crockett a sly wink.
Ruby returned her attention to the inside of the vehicle.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“You’re a good troop, LaCost,” Cletus said. “C’mon, fire up this piece of shit and let’s get the show on the road. I want to take you out to meet the man of your dreams.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Air Crockett
When they arrived at the tiny airstrip, all three of the Quonset-hut hangars were dark. Stitch’s battered Bell Ranger sat in front of the center one, its big blades drooping sadly in the weak glow of a mercury vapor light.
“Shit,” muttered Clete. “If that shell-shocked sonofabitch ain’t here…”
They climbed out of the truck and stood looking into the darkness. Coyotes yipped in the distance and an armadillo scuttled off from under an old fuel tank.
“Goddammit!” Cletus spat.
A voice slashed out of the deep shadow beside the neighboring hangar.
“What’s the fucking password!”
“Air-Cav!” Crockett shouted.
“Whattda we fucking love!”
“The smell of napalm in the fucking morning!” Crockett yelled.
Stitch, carrying an M-16 at port arms, came walking out of the dark.
He shifted the rifle to one hand and let it dangle by his side.
“Different vehicle and one too many people,” he said, “but, you had the right fucking answers. Wanna go hunt some Zips?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Clete said.
“I’d fuckin’ hate to see you waste the trip,” Stitch replied. “C’mon in.”
He changed course and opened the side door on his hangar, turning on the lights as he went inside.
The Quonset hut was dark, dusty, and smelled of motor oil, gasoline, and grease, and the gritty concrete floor crackled under their feet. Stitch put the M-16 on a grimy table, looked at Ruby, and ra
ised an eyebrow.
“Nurse or USO?” he said.
“Secret agent,” Ruby said.
Stitch grinned and extended a hand encased in a fingerless glove.
“Far out,” he said. “Name’s Stitch.”
“Ruby,” she said, taking his hand.
“Any more around like you, Ruby?”
“Just me.”
“Shit. Coulda used one of my own. You ready to do some Slopes?”
Ruby furrowed her brow.
“She’s ready,” Clete said.
“Be right back for the briefing,” Stitch said. “Gotta whiz.” He stalked off toward the rear of the building.
Ruby looked at Crockett. “Do some slopes?” she said. “Skiing?”
“Kill some Viet Cong,” Crockett said.
“Do some slopes,” Ruby said. “Jesus! If you’d like my professional opinion, this guy’s feet don’t reach the pedals.”
“If I had to guess,” Crockett said, “I’d say “Ol’ Stitch never really made it back from the ‘Nam.”
“Probably just what we need,” Ruby said.
They spent the next half-hour going over the plan, or mission brief as Stitch called it. Clete and Crockett programmed each other’s cell phone numbers in their speed dials, and the Texican and Ruby loaded up and headed for Casa de Corazon. Stitch watched them drive away.
“Whole bunch a her, huh?” he said.
Crockett smiled. “Yep.”
“Yours?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You probably never will be, unless she gets her shit together,” Stitch said. “That chick is wrapped real fuckin’ tight, Man. Got this thing about men, huh?”
Crockett nearly flinched. “Yeah,” he said.
“Old news. She carries it around like I pack the ‘Nam. Ain’t healthy. You can’t straighten her out, Man. She’s gotta do it. It’s a bitch, but she can. That broad is damn near as tough as she thinks she is. Anybody that tough has got to have one hell of a soft streak or they’ll explode, ya know? Nice bod, too. ‘Specially for her age.”
Crockett gaped. “Jesus, Stitch,” he said.
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