“Not so fast, boss. There’s still a few million in Asrani’s account. I’ll help myself to that and be on my way. So just hand over the eyes and fingers,” Nino directed.
Forbes stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I went to the cemetery. You took Patel’s eyes and thumbs to clean out his Cayman Island account. And now you’re tying up loose ends. Good for you. But that money is mine. I did all your dirty work. I’m the one who whacked Patel. I’m the one who took care of that punk, Lilo. And now I’m taking Patel’s money as payment. All’s fair…as they say.”
Forbes was furious. He stepped toward the dirty detective. “I don’t know what you’re talking about so just put your gun down and…”
Nino moved like a cat. He pistol whipped Forbes across the temple with lightning speed. The retired Boston Police superintendent collapsed, out cold.
“You killed my husband!” Firuzeh said, her rage dulled by the drugs.
“Did you poison Pablo Souza, too?” Raimy demanded.
“Yeah, that’s right. We also got your pal Sweeney. And you two are next…unless…” he teased.
“Unless what? You dirty piece of crap,” Firuzeh shot back.
“I need your husband’s eyeballs and thumbs. Tell me where they are, and I’ll let you go.”
“I’d rather kiss a Wookie. Even if I knew what you were talking about why would I trust you?” Firuzeh mustered.
“Here’s why, pretty lady. Forbes ain’t gonna say nuthin’. If he does, he just implicates himself. He’s smarter than that. You ain’t talkin’ either. Patel’s your husband and you’re a smart girl with a banking background. No jury will believe you were innocent…especially after my buddies on the force fix the evidence and frame you up good.”
He strolled around the bed to smirk at Raimy, tied up and helpless “And the doc, well, his reputation is in the shitter. He ain’t credible. I’ll take my chances.”
“Tell him…it’s a chance…our chance…you know he’s right…no one will believe us. Just tell him where they are,” Raimy slurred.
“No…never…I don’t trust him…I don’t. And don’t you say anything either. Don’t you dare,” Firuzeh pleaded.
“It’s up to you. Think about it. I’ll be right back. Tell me what I want to know…otherwise I’ll just let Warren’s fire burn you both alive. Your call.”
Nino turned, holstered his gun and dragged Forbes downstairs, planting him near the great room. The detective was so eager to search for Patel’s body parts that he didn’t pat down Forbes. He never saw the revolver sheathed inside the unconscious man’s waistband at the small of his back.
Upstairs Firuzeh and Raimy were starting to drift…time was running out.
Chapter 81
Gabriel walked up to the front door. It was ajar. He saw Firuzeh’s car and another one on the half-moon driveway.
This isn’t right. She would never leave her door open like this, he thought, and drew his Glock.
Gabriel walked in, quietly. He stepped cautiously toward the great room and abruptly stopped when he saw Forbes on the floor, unmoving.
He crept to him and heard Forbes mumbling, “Pahlooshi…don…be…stupit. Lemme geh rid of dem.”
Paolucci! Here? Shit. But where? Gabriel rolled Forbes onto his side, saw the abrasion on his temple, found the revolver, and picked it up.
Detective Paolucci walked into the room, carefully carrying the small cooler. When he saw Gabriel, he almost dropped it.
“You?!? No way. You’re dead.”
Gabriel recognized the dirty cop immediately. “Not yet, scumbag.”
Paolucci dropped the cooler, drew his sidearm and fired two quick shots across the great room.
Gabriel lunged for cover behind a big couch, scrambled to the far end, raised his guns and started pulling the triggers, firing wildly in the direction of the armed cop.
One of the shots blasted into Nino’s right clavicle near the sternum. He collapsed to the floor, blood pooling quickly.
Gabriel slowly emerged from behind the sofa. Forbes’ revolver felt warm in his right hand. But his Glock was still cool. He walked over and checked on the man he shot. Holstering the Glock, he realized he hadn’t taken the safety off.
Jesus! All the years of gun training and I forgot to take the goddamned safety off. Dumbass. I’m damned lucky I used Forbes’ revolver.
Paolucci was alive, but he was bleeding heavily. Gabriel kicked his gun away, and then smelled the smoke…not gunpowder…but the acrid smoke from burning textiles. He raced upstairs.
“Raimy, Firuzeh! Where are you? RAIMY!”
No answer.
He checked room after room until he finally saw the smoke rushing out of the master bedroom. He covered his mouth and darted in. There they were, completely out of it. The fire in the bedroom started to rage, crawling up the heavy drapes, whipping across the carpet.
Gabriel raced to them. He tossed Firuzeh over his shoulder and ran down the stairs. He flipped her light body onto the couch in the great room. She was barely conscious, but the fresher air downstairs was helping.
Climbing three steps at a time, he tore back up for Raimy.
“C’mon big guy. Help me out here,” Gabriel coughed. Raimy tried to stand, choking and mumbling.
Gabriel jerked his left arm around Raimy’s waist and pulled his friend’s right arm over his own shoulder. The pair lurched out of the smoky room as the flames licked at the bed skirt.
Raimy kept mumbling. “Fahzi…wunna vun. Fahzi…Fahzi…wunna vun.”
“Okay, buddy. Fawzee wunna vun. Whatever. Keep moving.”
As they approached the stairs the air cleared a bit as did Raimy’s head, if only briefly. He stopped and wheezed into Gabriel’s ear.
“Forzee won…forzees won of em…heez one of em.”
“What? Foresee one of M?”
“Nooo. Forbzzz.”
“Who? What? Forbzz see one of M…wait…do you mean Forbes is one of them?”
“Yesh…yesh…heez wunna vem.” Raimy slumped to the floor and leaned against the stairway railing.
Gabriel looked down and saw Firuzeh. She pointed from the couch at Forbes. She slurred something.
“Shoo…im…shoo…im….SHOO IM!!”
Forbes was on one knee when he looked up and saw Gabriel with Raimy at the top of the stairs. He reached for his gun…it wasn’t there. But two steps ahead of him he saw Nino’s gun on the floor near the bloody detective.
Gabriel drew his Glock, flipped the safety this time, and took aim at the moving target. Forbes dashed toward the stairs. On his second stride he picked up Nino’s gun and raised it to fire.
On the third step his heel came down hard into Nino’s slick blood puddle as he opened fire. Forbes’ foot slipped forward, pulling his hips in the same direction, and whip-lashing his torso and arms backwards.
As he fell, Forbes kept shooting – each bullet rising higher up the stairwell wall and into the ceiling. He slammed onto the floor, still firing. Every bullet missed Gabriel and Raimy. But one round smashed the ceiling mount holding the immense, one-hundred-and twenty-five-pound Gothic-style chandelier.
Stunned from hitting the floor so hard, Forbes had a dizzy vision of a seven-foot diameter circle of light and pointy metal racing down to him from the twenty-five-foot cathedral ceiling. When the lighting fixture impaled the retired Boston police official, the force of the blow also knocked the wind out of him.
He struggled to take another breath and his vision dimmed. Dying, he heard the crackle of a full-blown blaze ripping through the mansion and he smelled the rancid odor of burning carpet.
Gabriel grabbed Raimy and helped him down the stairs. Firuzeh staggered to her feet.
“We have to get out of here,” Gabriel shouted.
Shaky, but powered by an adrenal rush, Firuzeh took command.
“Cu out...thosh two paintins....sh-shtuff in Plooshee shacket....”
“The fire is spreading fast, come on! We don’t have time to…”
”Jus-just do it!” Firuzeh staggered to one of the paintings and tried to get it off the wall.
“Goddamnittohell stubborn ass woman.” Gabriel muttered. He tucked away fhis Glock and handed Forbes’s revolver to her. “Okay, okay I’ll do it! You keep an eye on them. They’re both still alive,” he warned before grabbing the two paintings she’d indicated, pulled them off the wall, and smashed the frames.
“I cah hep…lemme hep.” Raimy stood now, still wobbly but boosted by the excitement.
“Raimy, pull dow…pull down that third paintin’.” Firuzeh struggled to speak. “Remoo the can…canvas...row it up…roll it up…bring it wif you. Cah…can you do that?”
“Yeah…yeah…I fink fo...think so.”
While Gabriel and Raimy hurried with the paintings, Firuzeh stepped over to Detective Paolucci. She turned him onto his back and whispered in his ear, “Burn in hell you roach. Boro gomshou.”
She stood, and trained Forbes’ revolver at the murderous cop. Nino’s eyes went wide, and he squealed, “Noooo!”
“Oh, yesh,” Firuzeh responded and fired the remaining two rounds into each of Nino’s eyes, killing him.
Gabriel and Raimy turned, shocked, in time to see Firuzeh stalk over to where Forbes was groaning, impaled under the glittering wreck of the massive chandelier. She smiled and took Paolucci’s gun out of Forbes’ clutched hand and replaced it with the spent revolver. She leaned close to his ear and slurred, “Ish not the shlow deaf I wan…wanted for you, but ish will do.”
She stood up over Forbes and fired the remaining rounds from Paolucci’s Glock 9mm into his chest, stomach, and testicles. Then she put Paolucci’s gun back into the fat dirty cop’s hand.
Barely able to stand, Firuzeh grabbed the cooler and moved to the front door. “Hurry!” she said.
Gabriel shoved two of the rolled-up paintings into Nino’s jacket. Raimy was fumbling to roll up the third canvas. Gabriel ran to help him, and then half-carried him through the front door.
The fire raced across the wooden ceiling beams. Falling embers ignited the long stairway carpet, the curved polished banisters. Blazing furniture crashed through the burning bedroom floor flaring up the rugs, the sofas, the pools of blood on the floor, and the bodies of the two dead men.
Firuzeh collapsed into the back seat of her car, clutching the cooler. Her brief adrenalin high was gone, she was out cold.
Gabriel shoved Raimy in next to her, shaking him and slapping his face. “Raimy…RAIMY!”
This didn’t look like smoke inhalation. “What’s wrong with you two?”
Raimy tried to speak. “Dru-drugged...”
“I’m getting you to a hospital, hang on!”
“No. No hoshpital. Don...don’t let ush sheep...” His eyelids closed; his head lolled back.
“Shit!” Gabriel jumped into the front seat, took the wheel and sped off. Looking in the rearview mirror he could see the mansion lodge fire quickly spread. That home was doomed.
But his friends were alive.
So far.
Chapter 82
“Ipecac and charcoal pills? You okay, man?” The rookie drug store clerk asked, providing authentic customer service like he’d been trained.
“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up. Please!” Gabriel’s heart was pounding, heavily.
“Somebody swallow somethin’ they shouldn’t have?” The clerk casually asked, handing over the purchase.
“What? Yeah, yeah. My friends…bad shellfish.” Gabriel grabbed the bag, dashed out of the store, and back to the car where his friends were unconscious, taking shallow breaths.
He roughly shook Raimy and then Firuzeh. “Wake up. WAKE UP! Goddammit! You have to stay awake. GET UP. GET THE FUCK UP!”
Raimy’s eyes opened, a little. Firuzeh was mumbling.
Good enough. Fuck! Gabriel raced to the hotel. In minutes, he screeched into the underground parking lot, and skidded into space near the hotel elevators on the lowest level.
He pulled Raimy out of the car, slapping his face and pleading for him to keep moving. “Stand up. For chrissake, get up, man. You have to help me. She’s gonna die. C’mon, dammit! NOW!”
Inside the suite, Gabriel helped Raimy swallow a healthy dose of vomit-inducing Ipecac followed by a glass of water. Then the two men struggled to force a measure into Firuzeh, who was delusional and involuntarily fought them off
“No…NO…get offa me…get offa me…you basharz…you bashturs…”.,
Ultimately, she succumbed…and then eagerly drank water.
Gabriel didn’t know what to expect next. All he saw were his friends seemingly resting. One slouched on the toilet, and the other sprawled on the bathroom floor leaning on the rim of the tub. He was losing them.
“Now what? Raimy! What do I do…what do I do now?!”
“Jush way…jush way,” Raimy slurred.
“Goddammit. Raimy, I’m calling an ambulance!” Gabriel pulled out his phone and started to dial 9-1-1 when his lifeless friends lurched back to the living, heaving wildly.
Firuzeh hunched over the bathtub and Raimy over the toilet. Gabriel was stunned at the gurgling, hacking noises that came from the pair.
“Raimy, RAIMY! What the hell, man? Did I give you too much? Did I give you TOO MUCH!”
Raimy sputtered. “No…no…ish normal,” before turning back to hurl over the toilet bowl and tank…and then collapsed on the floor.
Gabriel felt someone pushing. He looked over and saw the semi-conscious Firuzeh, covered in spittle.
“Lemme out…lemme out! Yoo bashurz…lemme out!”
She doesn’t know where she is. She thinks she’s in her house. Fuck!
Gabriel spent several minutes physically restraining her confused escape efforts and helping her retch into the tub.
When the vomiting subsided Gabriel initiated the second step in Raimy’s garbled, drug-induced treatment.
“Raimy, wake up. You have to take these charcoal pills. Firuzeh! C’mon. You have to do this to absorb the drug. Please, PLEASE, please take these pills.
Firuzeh took the lead, grabbed a handful and downed them with water. Raimy followed suit.
Gabriel kept barking orders.
“You both need to get up and walk around. You can’t sleep. Get up now!” He yanked up Firuzeh, and then they both pulled up a resistant Raimy.
Gabriel stayed between them, arms locked around their waists, making endless circuits around the hotel suite trying to keep them awake as the drugs in their bloodstream were processed out.
“Good. Keep moving. Keep moving. That’s it. Good!”
The first hour was a struggle, as his two charges whined and whimpered to get some sleep or just lay down for a minute. He ignored their dopey pleas, goading them to stay awake with insults, mock death threats, strong pinches on their obliques, cheesy jokes, and anything else he could think of.
By the second hour, they walked on their own, took water, urinated the drugs out of their system, and talked more coherently. They actually became more awake.
Gabriel went the other way.
Chapter 83 – Sunday, August 12 (McLean, VA)
Gabriel woke up on a polyester blend couch, his right check soaked in a puddle of drool. He checked his watch. It was just after six on Sunday morning. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Glancing over, he saw two bodies on the king-size bed in his hotel room, and the previous night’s horror show flooded over him.
“Oh crap!”
Terror-stricken, he rushed over and checked on Raimy and Firuzeh.
They were sleeping…in each other’s arms. Gabriel smiled and put two fingers on her throat first, and then Raimy’s, confirming steady, healthy pulses. He exhaled, long and hard, and oddly felt refreshed given the white-knuckle madness the night before.
Murder, poisoning, gun fights, arson, revenge…and each of us was nearly killed. Sweet Jesus!
Firuzeh stirred. “G
abriel? Is that you?”
“Yeah…how are you feeling?”
“I’m hungry…and tired. Where’s Raimy?”
“Look over your shoulder. That lump next to you is Raimy.”
Gabriel chuckled and picked up the phone to order breakfast for three. He paused at the memory of Pablo’s death and the poisoned hamburgers.
To hell with it. We’ve been dodging bullets all week. I’m so hungry my stomach thinks my throat's been cut.
“Gabriel, where are we?”
“Hotel. It’s the room I had for the bank meetings. Raimy was crashing with me. I didn’t know where else to go. Raimy insisted no hospital.”
Firuzeh swung her legs off the bed, and carefully got up.
“Gabriel, you saved our lives.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face into his chest and hugged him.
“I’m glad we’re alive. Do you remember what happened?”
She suddenly pushed away, staring at him with wide eyes.
“Gabriel. Where’s the cooler? And the painting?”
“Huh? In the car. Why?”
“What! Shit. Gabriel, please go get them up here right away. Please?” she urged.
“Yeah. Okay. I’m sure it’s safe. And…”.
Firuzeh cut him off. “Gabriel. Now! Please! Go get them now. Please!”
“Awright. Sheesh. I’ll be right back. Breakfast is on the way up. You better wake sleeping beauty,” he said, and left.
Raimy shifted under the covers. “Firuzeh? Gabriel? Who’s there?”
“Good morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?”
Raimy sat up in the bed and rubbed his face. “Okay, I guess. My throat hurts…and I’m really thirsty. Christ…what happened? Where’s Gabriel?”
“Welcome back from the almost-dead, my friend. Gabriel’s getting the cooler and painting from the car. He’ll be right back,” she said.
The twosome rested, each slowly waking up to their memory of the night’s mayhem. Minutes passed before Raimy broke the silence.
Deadly Conception Page 23