“What are we going to do?”
The fear in Hilary’s eyes was still there.
“Kill’em, if I’m lucky,” I said.
“You have a gun?”
“That’s my problem. I don’t,” I said. “I’ll have to improvise.”
“Oh God. What are we going to do?”
“Calm down. I’m better at this than you might think.
“Okay. We have a change of plans. Keep following the road until you come to the first airfield. I’m going to get out just past that big tree,” I said, pointing to a large pecan tree on the right.
“After I get out, you keep going. As you go around the next bend, there’s going to be an old runway on your right. Turn onto the runway and head for a large tree on your left. You will see a sign that says ‘Ramp’. You will see a lake to the right of the sign. Stop near the sign and wait for me.”
“Where are you going?”
“As I said, a lot of things have changed since I was last here.”
“Who owns that big house over there?”
“I forget,” I said. “Years ago, before the Army messed with the place it used to be part of a plantation where they grew tobacco.
“I later learned that the place had been a gambling house and home to a bunch of Savannah mobbed up guys running hookers.”
“With the windows all knocked out, the house looks like an old lady with no teeth,” observed Hilary.
“Yeah, well, we haven’t time to do any remodeling,” I said. “I’ll meet you by the ramp.”
I really didn’t want to tell Hilary what I planned on doing. Killing someone and actually doing it can cause a problem. I already had enough of those. My hope was that I could avoid it, but that was not always possible.
“By the way, does your friend have a tire iron in the trunk of this heap?” I asked.
Opening her door, Hilary got out and said, “She must have if she’s got this donut wheel on.”
Opening the car’s trunk she reached in and pulled a tire iron out and handed it to me, flashing me a ‘Don’t leave me look’, but I was already walking away.
Chapter 9
Fifteen years ago I buried fifteen million dollars taken from the Golden Slipper Casino robbery in three, fifty gallon drums. Henry Lowe had left the drums in one of the abandoned maintenance sheds on the old airbase. He had sprayed them with a water resistant sealer on the inside and coated them with tar on the outside to prevent any corrosion affecting the metal. As an extra precaution, the money was divided and stored in waterproof duffle bags, five hundred thousand dollars to a bag. There were thirty bags with ten bags to a drum. I had scratched an “X” on one of the drums with a screw driver so that I would know which one had the weapons and ammunition Lowe had insisted we store inside as a precaution, in addition to the money.
When I reached the gator hole, I looked around to make sure the two gators were not sitting nearby waiting for lunch. Lowe had said that the gators could live for fifty years or more. At least twelve feet long and weighing around seven hundred pounds each, Lowe said they would make good watch dogs. The moment I saw them, they had my vote.
The hiding place was all that remained of a large tree that had rotted away at its base leaving a deep pit of about ten feet or more wide and maybe twenty feet deep in the pond.
I retrieved a treated four by four from one of the nearby sheds and using one of the large limbs from the dead tree as a fulcrum, set the four by four on one of the knobs of the tree and lifted the marked drum out of the hole. Then I swung it over to the side of the pit and set it on the ground. Taking the flat end of the tire iron, I popped open the lid and removed the top bag. Looking around to be sure Hilary hadn't tailed me, I put the lid back and resealed it and put the drum back in the pit. Stepping back, I opened the duffle bag and saw that the money was still there in the waterproof wraps in stacks of ten, twenty and fifty dollar bills. A smaller waterproof bag next to the money held the weapons, a Glock-17 and a Walther PPK, along with the ammunition for each.
Opening the bag, I took out the two pistols and dry fired them to make sure they were still good to go. Then I took clips for both revolvers and inserted them and shoved the PPK behind my back. I left the rest of the ammunition and clips in the weapons bag and returned it to the duffel bag with the money. The clips were loaded with nine millimeter hollow point ammo.
After putting the drum back in the water, I thought about all the time I sat in my cell thinking about this day. I had always feared that some gator would find the drums and eat the money or worse, some over curious game warden or hunter would find them and was now living in retirement bliss.
I popped the clip back out of the Glock, racked back the slide and dry fired it again just to be sure everything was working fine. It still smelled of the gun oil I had used before hiding it. I took the box of shells and stuffed them into my coat pocket along with the extra clip. I put the clip back in the Glock and racked a shell into the chamber as I walked back to Hilary and the car.
By now the two following us had found Hilary and put a plan in motion to use her as bait to get me out in the open. I could see the red car parked next to the piece of junk we had picked up from Hilary’s friend. I was right about it being a Mustang convertible. I saw one of them holding Hilary with a gun to her head. It was the canary man who made a run at me just outside the prison gate a few days ago. The other one, who I called Bimbo, had walked down one of the paths to a pond looking for me. When he didn’t find me, he raised his hands and cupped them to his mouth.
“Hey Malloy, we got your woman. Come out or we’re going to start to hurt her.”
Button guys were not the brightest souls in the world. That’s why they do what they do for a living. They are not paid to think. Both of them had their backs toward me and were looking down one of the paths to another pond. But for Hilary, I could have easily shot them both.
My plan was a simple one. After walking up behind the one holding Hilary, I was going to hit him as hard as I could. Then, as that guy went down, I was going to clear Hilary from the line of fire and put a bullet into the other one doing the yelling. That was my plan. Whatever happened, I wanted to take them alive. When I got two feet from the one holding Hilary, she turned. Seeing me, she yelled at the top of her lungs.
“Lou, help me for God’s sake.”
Before I could do anything, the one holding Hilary jerked his gun toward me. I shot him in the head as he turned, scattering his brains all over the car we had been driving and Hilary, along with everything else that was within a ten foot radius. The one with the face that looked like a pound of hamburger, turned like some actor in a crime movie, and began running back toward me holding his weapon in a two hand grip.
Without any additional movement on my part, I shot him twice. Once in the right thigh and once in the shoulder joint of his left arm spinning him around like a top. The hollow point round nearly blew his arm off. When he hit the ground he started flopping around like a chicken, screaming at the top of his lungs. I walked over and told him to settle down or I was going to have to kill him. He stopped.
“What’s your name fat boy?” I said. When he didn't answer I stepped on his injured shoulder. He started yelling again. After kicking him a few times he stopped.
“I’m not going to ask again.”
“Mickey.”
“As in Mickey Mouse,” I said.
“No.”
He was the talkative type.
“Who sent you, Mickey? And if you tell me Walt Disney I’m going to put one in your other shoulder and you’re going to need someone real friendly to hold your unit while you pee.”
“Some guy in Atlanta named Garcia.”
“I don’t know anyone named Garcia. Why me and why Garcia,” I said.
“I don’t know. I’m not paid enough to know either,” he said.
His answer made some sense.
“Where can I find these people in Atlanta?”
“Some club on
a road called Howell Mill.”
“That the best you can do?” I said.
He decided not to say anything more.
“I get it, you’re a tough guy?”
I shot him in the other shoulder. Can’t say I didn’t warn him.
“Shit, I need a doctor.”
“All in good time,” I said. “Now, tell me again. Who sent you?”
“Ah…Some guy named Garcia. Runs a club in Atlanta. That’s all I got.”
Bending down, I said, “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Standing up, I said, “What good are you,” and shot him in the head.
“What the hell are you doing?” yelled Hilary.
I was getting tired of the screaming. However, I could see Hilary’s point. She was jumping around hysterically while flicking brain matter off of her face and clothes. She was not a happy camper.
“Calm down,” I said. “You are alive. Count your blessings.”
“Fuck you, Malloy. You just made me an accessory to two murders.”
“You keep it up, I may go for three,” I said. “We couldn't keep them alive. They knew it, but before we get into all that, help me get these bodies into that pond over there.”
“What are you planning to do with them?” Hilary asked.
“It’s feeding time. The two gators in this pond will have a feast. Come on,” I said.
Before I dumped the bodies into the pond, I stripped them of their clothing. Then I took the tire iron and scooped out a hole and stuffed their clothes in the hole and covered them up. Walking back to the car we drove up from Jacksonville, I got in and started it.
“Where are you going to do with Sammy’s car?” asked Hilary.
“On the other side of that big tree is a bend in the river and the water swirls around making a hole about sixty feet deep. The car will make a great place for breeding crabs and fish.”
After walking back from dumping the car, I saw that Hilary was still upset. She probably thought she was next. Standing next to the driver’s side of the Mustang, I told her to get in while I put all our stuff along with the duffle bag of money and weapons, into the trunk.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she said.
“What,” I said.
“You dumped those bodies in that lake like they were rocks.”
“Not really,” I said. “More like food. The gators and cotton mouths will eat like kings and make short work of them.”
“What am I going to tell my friend about her car,” she said.
“What’s to tell? I just did her a favor. Besides, the car was collateral damage. When we get back to Jacksonville you will give her some money, money enough for her to get a better car and she can buy her own gas. But I have an even better question.”
“What?”
“How about telling me who you really are?”
Chapter 10
I waited while Hilary took her jacket off, shook it clean and walked down to the lake to clean up. While she was gone, I went through her purse. Hilary Kelly was her real name, but she was no student. In her purse there was a thirty-eight Smith and Wesson Airweight and a badge holder that indicated she was a private investigator. After taking the shells out I put the pistol and badge back in her purse. In about twenty minutes, she returned and stopped before me.
“Okay. I worked with your sister as a hooker. She told me the whole story and I figured I could cut myself in somewhere along the line.”
“I see.”
After finding her PI badge, I didn’t believe her, but there was no reason to get into a catfight about it so I just said, “Okay, let’s go.”
“What do I tell my friend?”
“Nothing more than what I had just said. Now let’s get going.”
Twenty minutes later we were driving north on I-95 heading toward Savannah in the Mustang. The only difference being, I was doing the driving.
“I thought you said you couldn't drive?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said. “Then again, I lied. Lot of that going
around.”
Right now I was feeling pretty good about things. I had stuffed a handful of bills in my pocket and the rest of the five hundred grand was in the trunk in the duffle bag. I was about to step up to some new wheels and some other things I figured I was going to need.
“Where are we going?”
“Savannah,” I said.
“I got that, but where in Savannah?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “There have been a lot of changes since I was there last.”
At this point, I wasn’t going to tell Hilary a whole lot of anything. With Hilary being a PI, I had to make a slight change in plans.
Once I reached Savannah, I had intended to leave Hilary with her friend’s car and some money to drive back to Jacksonville. That plan was now out. For the time being, I had to keep her with me. I thought about killing her, but then, killing a person who had nothing to do with my problems would, in my mind, be murder for sure. Besides, I was starting to like her and, being who she was, presented a challenge. The other thing, even more important, was finding out who she worked for. I suspected I knew the ‘why’, but not the ‘who’.
Driving through Savannah, I was looking for a place called Carlyle’s on the east side of town. From the street it was a place that had that junkyard look. Once you got beyond the front gate and inside the big brick building, the place took on a life of its own.
Being somewhat of a family enterprise, Eddie Carlyle now owned the yard and, like his father, ran it as a chop shop and other things. If it had an engine, Eddie could tear it down and build it back better than the original manufacturer. In addition to his fencing operation, Eddie’s brother was one of the best forgers in the country.
After driving around for about forty minutes, I finally found it.
“Okay, we are here.”
Turning into the parking area, Hilary started in with her questions.
“Got something you want to get off your chest,” I said.
“You mean, besides a bra?”
“If you have a question, let’s have it,” I said.
“Place looks like a junkyard,” she said.
“You have been blessed with a keen set of eyes.”
“Why are we here?”
“I already told you,” I said.
“Yeah, I know what you said, but why here? You really don’t need me anymore. Why not leave me in Savannah and I will find my way back home on my own?”
“I’ll give that some thought,” I said. “Any more questions?”
“How do I know you aren’t going to kill me?”
“You don’t. You’re just going to have to trust me.”
Chapter 11
After parking the Mustang, I got out and walked around to the passenger side and motioned for Hilary to get out.
“What do you need me for?” she said.
“Insurance, if I leave you out here by yourself, someone might steal you and we wouldn't want that, would we?”
Swinging her legs out, she got out of the car and walked in front of me toward the side door of the garage. I had to hand it to her, she had some real stones.
Inside, I saw Eddie talking to one of his men. When he saw me, he waved and walked over.
“Lou, you finally made it out. How long were you in? Fifteen big ones, wasn't it?”
“You always had a way with numbers, Eddie,” I said. “But, I’m not here to talk over old times. I need a new car and some new ID. What can you do for me?”
Looking past my shoulder, Eddie saw Hilary and asked, “You get married while you were in the house?”
“No, she’s just riding with me. Besides, she’s hot and I have to keep her around for a while.”
“Who’s she with?”
“She’s private, but I don’t know how she fits in yet,” I said.
Eddie raised and lowered his eyebrows a few times and said, “Interesting combination with you having snatched that mone
y. What are you going to do with her?”
“Not sure, but I’m not here to talk about her. I need a new car and new ID. What have you got for me as far as wheels and new papers?”
“Follow me,” said Eddie.
Walking me around to the other side of the garage, Eddie pointed to a new Chrysler 300.
“Looks like something my Granddad would drive,” I said.
“Hardly,” said Eddie. “Nothing your Granddad drove had an engine like this baby. Zero to sixty under four seconds with a top end of better than one eighty. Make a state cop drool.”
“How much?” I said.
“You bringing that Mustang to me?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s the plan.”
“With the ID’s, sixty thousand.”
“Make it two sets of ID’s. One set for me and one for her.”
“Add another five grand for her set,” said Eddie.
“When can I make the pickup,” I said.
“Tomorrow after nine o’clock,” said Eddie. “What do you want in the way of ID?”
“Driver’s license for both Georgia and Florida, social security cards for both of us, two credit cards, one American Express and the other, either MasterCard or VISA. We’ll both need passports.”
“What, no Discover? I hear you can get five percent off everything you buy.”
I told Eddie that I would get the car and the rest of the stuff from him in the morning and for him to take the five percent off on his end.
“What name should I use?” he said.
“Use your best judgment as long as it’s something that I can spell,” I said.
“How about John Addams, with two ‘d’s’?”
“Sounds good,” I said.
Once we got back in the Mustang I waited for Hilary to ask more questions, but she never said a word.
Pulling out of Eddie’s, I decided we needed some new clothes.
“We passed a mall on our way into town,” I said. “I need to get something better to wear and from the looks of it, you could use a few things too.”
“What? You don’t like the off the rack hippy look?”
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