“Whoa!” Pandora said.
“What?” Jeff said.
“The phone, it went hot.”
“Where is it?”
“Don’t know. It only engaged for a few seconds, then disappeared. They turned it on but they didn’t make a call.”
“You get enough to track it?”
“Working on it.”
Although Jimmy quite naturally hated Pandora down to the rotten marrow of her bones, he couldn’t help but be amazed by someone who had two-inch fingernails and still typed like a Tasmanian she-devil. She was the first long-nailed hacker he’d ever seen. Sure would be nice to pull those damn claws out, one by poxy one. He could sharpen them to a pencil point, and then slice her up with them. No use daydreaming, though, while such a carving was so unlikely. Jimmy slowly worked his hands and finally got a thumb and index finger on the knot.
Neckless was standing behind her now, leaning forward to watch the screen, his hands gently kneading her shoulders. Was he tapping that stuff? Yes, yes he was. Maybe Jimmy could put that little factoid to good use. The knot was starting to loosen.
“Come on, baby, track that bad boy down and we get ten large. We’ll parrrr-teee this weekend.” Pandora looked up from the screen long enough to blow a kiss.
Jimmy burst out laughing and Neckless spun around. “What’s your damage, fool?”
“You people are doing a level three cell-track for ten thousand dollars, and you’re calling me a fool? Oh, that’s rich.” Each jolt of the laughter shot a searing red pain through his right side, but he kept it up. Tears streaked his face and he wondered if they could tell they were from pain, not laughter. The rope was moving in the knot.
He of No Neck wasn’t laughing, just staring at Jimmy with a bewildered look on his face. Pandora stopped typing and turned around, too. Turned around quite easily, due to Jimmy’s Aeron office chair, thank you very much. Slut.
“What’s he talking about?” Neckless asked.
Pandora stared at Jimmy, her black-lipsticked lips curled back like an angry cat. “He’s full of shit. We’re getting paid well for a level three.”
Jimmy started cackling again, and this time it was only half fake. There was no such thing as a level three cell-track, but people just can’t stand to look ignorant, especially in front of a rival. The pain from the laughter was stunning, unlike anything Jimmy had ever felt, but he kept it rolling.
His captors stared at each other, puzzled looks on their faces. Pandora finally shrugged, spun around, and went back to work. Neckless glared at Jimmy. “If you’re smart, you’ll clap your trap, asshole.”
“That’s my problem,” Jimmy said, tears streaming down his bloody face, “I never have been too smart like that. Always getting my butt in a sling. Pox a monkey, I just can’t seem to help it. Can’t seem to rise to the top of the Smart Ladder like some dickheads I know.”
Neckless started toward him and Jimmy stopped laughing. “Oh, please don’t hurt me,” Jimmy said, feigning a tiny trembling voice just before breaking into an off-key rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.”
“I’m just a poor boy, from a poor family, spa—”
The backhand caught Jimmy on the right cheekbone and hurt like hell, but he kept singing, because it kept Neckless looking at his face while he pulled the knot free. Timing. It was all about timing now.
“Got it,” Pandora said.
Cripes.
Neckless turned around and started back toward her. “You found the phone?”
“The cell, Jeff. I found the cell.” She looked back at Jimmy and rolled her eyes as if to say, Sheesh, what a maroon I’m with. She was holding Jimmy hostage, and probably planned to kill him, but was looking to him for sympathy as she dealt with her tech-illiterate partner, or enforcer, or toy, or whatever the hell the Neckless Wonder was to the bitch.
“Whatever, Pandy. No need to act like I’m stupid, you know.” Stoopid. “Where is it?”
“Montello, Mississippi.” She typed and clicked, and a high-resolution map filled the screen, with a pulsing red circle in the center. Pandora leaned in closer to the monitor. “Actually, looks like the call came from this cell out here in the boondocks.” She pointed. “Ten or fifteen miles north of town.”
Cripes. Cripes. Cripeola and cripearama.
Neckless pulled out a cell phone and dialed. He paced the room and relayed Pandora’s findings to someone on the other end. He closed the phone, stuck it back in his pocket. “I feel a parrr-teeee coming on, baby!”
Jimmy knew they’d be leaving soon. He was running out of time.
Chapter 96
We made our way back out toward Doc’s house, driving under the speed limit, but not far enough under to attract attention. Penny kept trying to reach Jimmy and kept failing. A quarter-mile from the little road that would take us through the woods and on to Doc’s place, a sheriff’s department cruiser came around the curve, heading south, toward us.
Penny was driving, which had allowed me to slump down in the seat while we were in town, and my first instinct was to do some more serious slumping, but the car was too close. It would look suspicious as hell. He was close enough to recognize now. Oscar Yancy. Good fellow, but not someone I wanted to see at the moment. It occurred to me that if I had recognized him, he was close enough to see who I was, too.
I turned my head to the right, away from him, just as Penny braked and turned onto the road. “What’s he doing?” I said.
She looked back over her shoulder. “He’s going on by...no, wait...he’s slowing down.”
“Damn, damn, damn. He’s probably wondering why we’re driving Doc’s vehicle.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Keep going. Drive normally.” I looked back. He had stopped in the road and was staring. Then I saw the cruiser’s white backup lights come on as he started backing up.
“How far does this road go past Doc’s place?” Penny said.
“Maybe a mile. It’s his private road, just goes to the back of his acreage. We have a real problem.”
Yancy turned onto the road behind us.
“You know him?”
“Yeah.”
“How well?”
“Not so well that he’ll ignore the warrants.”
She shook her head and pounded the top of the steering wheel. “What do we do?”
“Pull into the driveway and park. Nothing else we can do.”
She drove through the little stand of woods, turned into the driveway. Yancy pulled in right behind us. That was the bad news. The only thing approaching good news was the fact that I was pretty sure he hadn’t touched his radio. Penny killed the engine and pulled the keys.
“Leave the keys in the ignition,” I said, “just in case.” She slid the key back in. In my side mirror, I watched Oscar Yancy open his door. Heard the cruiser’s engine stop. Saw him step out. He tucked in part of his uniform shirt that was hanging out, pulled on his tie, then walked toward us. He looked straight ahead, but his eyes darted toward me two times.
The exhaust systems on both vehicles were cooling: tick tick tick. Police boots clopped on the concrete drive, growing louder as Yancy drew closer. When he was even with the back of our truck, Penny opened her door to get out. I saw Yancy’s hand move quickly to the butt of his service revolver. He didn’t grip it, just rested the heel of his hand on it, but he did reach down and unfasten the snap that held the gun in its holster.
No use putting it off. I pulled the Kimber from the door’s map pocket, tucked it into the small of my back, pulled my shirt tail out over it, and stepped out. “Hey, Oscar. What’re you up to?”
He nodded. “Gray.”
“What can we do for you?” I said.
“You’re gonna have to come with me, Gray.”
“Sorry, Oscar. Can’t do that. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you’d get back in your car, drive away, and forget that you’ve seen me. That’ll be the best thing for all of us.”
He shook his head.
/> “I’m innocent of all this crap, Oscar. Every bit of it.”
“Can’t help all that. Still got to do my job.” His gun hand was now gripping the butt, shaking a bit but ready to draw on me. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead. Sheesh, why’d it have to come to this?
I should’ve been shaking myself, but I wasn’t; maybe I was getting used to high-level confrontation. I was also one hundred percent done taking shit, no matter how well intentioned the giver of said shit.
“Don’t even think about pulling that gun on me, Oscar.”
He visibly flinched, but started the draw. I had the Kimber aimed between his eyes by the time his cleared the holster. Cocked by the time he had it halfway into firing position. That’s where he froze.
“Drop it,” I said.
“Jesus Christ, Gray, what the hell’s wrong with you?” His face was dripping sweat now.
“Oscar, drop the gun or I swear to God I’ll put a forty-five slug in your brain.”
“Okay, okay!” He opened his hand and the gun dropped to the concrete. Penny walked over and picked it up.
“What now?” she said.
Chapter 97
ARLINGTON RESIDENCE
WEST MEMPHIS, ARKANSAS
Jimmy’s phone started ringing again, as it had several times since his uninvited guests arrived. They always looked at the caller ID, and were always greeted with the same Out Of Area screen. Probably Penny Lane, wondering what the Hades was going on. He’d really like to warn her that trouble was headed their way, but he had larger issues en el momento. Like staying alive. He fought the urge to start singing like a BeeGee and pulled his mind back on track.
“Time for us to get out of here. Take care of him,” Pandora said as she flipped her head toward Jimmy. “I’ll cover my tracks here, and then we’ll clean this place up and be gone.”
Neckless started toward him, a cold smile on his blocky head. The ropes were completely off now, lying on the floor behind the chair. Jimmy waited for the right moment. Wait. Six feet. Wait. Three feet, two feet, one...now. With every bit of power he could muster, Jimmy swung his right fist from behind the chair in a roundhouse arc and caught the big man square in the nads.
The stunned look on the oaf’s face was priceless but Jimmy didn’t have time to stay and admire his handiwork. He sprang from the chair and across the room. Pandora was out of her chair and turning around when he got there, and he caught her with a vicious punch in the chin. She crumpled to the floor, knocked out.
“Bitch,” Jimmy said, and kicked her in the stomach.
He returned his attention to the larger problem, who was still on the floor, holding himself and moaning. Jimmy walked over, kicked Neckless in the throat. He then went to a closet and rummaged around until he found one of mankind’s most marvelous achievements, a roll of duct tape. Five minutes later, Neckless was in the wooden chair, Pandora in the office chair, and neither of them was going anywhere for a while.
Chapter 98
Our original prepaid cell phone, the one we bought in Tupelo, was ringing. Penny answered it while I snugged up the ropes on Oscar Yancy.
“Oh, no,” I heard her say. Then, “Are you okay? Are you sure?”
“Who is it?” I said. She held up a hand. I finished securing Yancy to a support pole in Doc’s workshop, then tore off a piece of duct tape to seal his mouth.
He freaked. “Oh, God, no, please don’t tape up my mouth, Gray, please please please, I can’t breathe.”
“Breathe through your nose, Oscar. I tried to give you an easy out, but you weren’t interested, remember?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so—”
“Save it. I don’t give a damn.”
Yancy was a big fellow, probably three or four inches taller than me, which put him at 6’5” or so. Fat tears streamed down his fleshy cheeks, which for some reason just chapped my ass to no end.
“Grow up, Oscar,” I said, not even trying to hide the disgust in my voice.
“I have a cold, Gray. My nose gets stopped up and I can’t breathe. I’ll suffocate! Please don’t tape my mouth!”
Penny was still talking, pacing. “Your nose doesn’t seem stopped up to me.”
“I used some nose spray a few minutes ago. When it wears off, I’ll suffocate. Please!”
Nose spray, my ass. I slapped the tape on and waited for Penny to get off the phone. She punched off the call and said, “We have to go, right now. They know where we are.”
“How can—”
“I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to go.” She was already out of the workshop and high-tailing it through the house. I fell in behind.
We got into Doc’s truck, me driving, and then realized the cruiser was blocking us. “Why don’t we take the police car?” I said. “That’s the last thing they’ll be looking for.”
“Fine, let’s go.”
We changed vehicles and were on our way. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
“Some people broke into Jimmy’s place, beat him up, used his computer, figured out which cell we’re nearest. He got the upper hand and has them tied up now.”
“When?”
“This all happened over the past couple of hours,” she said, “but we haven’t used the phone today at all, unless Doc tested it or something when he was working on it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “I turned it on, remember?”
“They can trace it from that?”
“Yep.”
I was turning right onto the main road, away from Montello, when an image of Oscar Yancy flooded my mind. His head was blown up like a balloon, snot dripping and gurgling from his nose as he tried to breathe. His face was blue, his eyes bugged out. I stopped the car.
“What are you doing? Let’s go!” Penny said.
Yancy’s head was about twice its normal size now, his features stretched thin like writing on a balloon. To hell with him, he was perfectly willing to haul me in and have me locked up for the rest of my life, or worse. Let the bastard blow up.
I wheeled the car around in a U-turn, throwing up a spray of gravel and dust, then punched the accelerator and headed back toward the house.
“What are you doing?”
“He uses nose spray,” I said, as if that explained everything.
Chapter 99
I psyched myself up for the meanest performance of my life and ran back inside. I pulled my pistol before stepping into the workshop, walked up to Yancy, laid it right on his forehead and cocked it. The guy’s eyes were the size of planets. I held it there for a few seconds, then reached up with my other hand and yanked the tape off. Yancy shook.
“Oscar, listen to me very closely, okay?”
He nodded, or at least tried to among the trembling, which was probably registering on seismic meters across the South.
“You were perfectly willing to haul me in and probably turn me over to the same bastards who’ve been trying to kill me, weren’t you?”
“I was just trying to do my—”
“Don’t start the just-doing-your-job crap with me, Oscar, or I’ll splatter your brains all over this pole you’re tied to. You got that?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s try again: You wanted to turn me in, right?”
“Yes.”
“And I told you I was innocent, right?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t matter to you, did it?”
He started to answer, then stopped.
“Did it?” I repeated.
“No.”
“But you want me to have compassion on your stuffy nose, right?”
“Please.”
“Right. Tell you what, Oscar. I’m different than you. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and leave this tape off—”
“Oh, thank God, thank you, Gray. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Understand this: You’re going to stand here and not make a sound, until Doc shows up and says you can do differently. If peop
le should happen to show up at this house and start knocking on doors or peeking in windows or whatever, you’re going to be quiet as a church mouse.”
He had gotten the shakes under control now and was nodding in emphatic agreement.
“I’m innocent of everything they’ve accused me of, but I promise you, if you don’t do exactly as I’ve told you, I’m going to be guilty of murdering you when I get back. I’m going to hunt you down like an animal and see that you die a slow, painful death. Do you believe me, Oscar?”
Much nodding.
“Good.” I withdrew the Kimber, eased the hammer down, and left.
* * *
Back en route, I explained it all to Penny.
“You’re a good man, Gray Bolton.”
“Yeah, what’s that song say? Only the good die young?”
“Stupid song,” she said.
Chapter 100
Yancy’s hat and a thin police windbreaker were in the back seat of the cruiser, so I put them on. Penny donned a sheriff’s department baseball cap. Maybe we’d look convincing enough from a distance to avoid suspicion. We were headed north, doing about ninety, when the radio barked, startling both of us.
“S-O-twelve, S-O-base.”
Quite naturally, we didn’t answer.
“S-O-twelve, S-O-base. Report your twenty, S-O-twelve.”
“I think Yancy’s been missed,” I said, and turned the radio volume down from its deafening level.
The dispatcher kept calling for S-O-twelve, and after about ten tries, said, “All units, all units, be on lookout for S-O-twelve, last known twenty was road eleven-twenty-five north, repeat, eleven-twenty-five north. Possible radio problem.”
Pawnbroker: A Thriller Page 18