by John Silver
"What the…" said the valet, staring at the gun.
"Get in the booth. Now," said Clarence calmly. The attendant froze.
"I said get in or die. Choose."
The valet squeezed into the small booth, dropped to the floor and huddled against the corner.
"Stay there, shut the fuck up and don't do anything stupid," said Clarence.
A valet rounded a corner of the parking structure in a silver Lexus and stopped at the booth.
"Where's Leroy?" he said.
"Leroy got fired," said Clarence. "Boss sent me."
The valet, confused said, "But he was just here."
Clarence shrugged. "Don't know nothin' about that. Boss just sent me over." Clarence's hand tightened around the gun.
"God damn," said the valet.
Clarence opened the gate and the valet drove out of the structure and turned on Larned. Clarence pulled a small yellow two way radio from his pants pocket, turned it on and said "Bird's in the nest."
Chris heard it through the static on his end, sitting in the drivers seat of the old but reliable Suburban. "Got it," he replied. He turned to Zippy and Jesus and said, "Alright. This is it."
"Why don't you just use cell phones?" asked Paulie.
"No record of a call," said Chris. "Can't ID us or put us at the scene. No more questions." He turned and faced Paulie. "Listen up. Stick with Zippy. Do everything he says, watch everything he does and don't say a fuckin' word. Got it?" said Chris.
"Got it man, just like last time," said Paulie. "Chill out. Let's do this."
Chris drove a block closer, pulled the Suburban over and let Zippy and Paulie out.
"Remember what I said," said Chris, pointing at Paulie.
He drove another half block and let Jesus out. Chris then drove around a corner, pulled into an alley, killed the ignition, put the keys under the drivers seat and got out.
* *
Chris walked through the front vehicle entrance, made eye contact with Clarence and walked silently by. Washington watched through a pair of near-field binoculars. "White male entering the structure," he said.
"Can you make him?" asked Peabody.
"No," said Washington.
Zippy and Paulie went in a side entrance and climbed a flight of stairs to the second level. Two valets stood near the key locker, smoking. One started dancing like James Brown and the other laughed as Zippy and Paulie approached. Zippy pulled his 38 and pointed it at the dancing valet.
"Hey, man. What is this?" said the valet.
"Shut the fuck up," said Zippy. "Turn around and walk."
Jesus walked up, gun in hand and covered the other valet while he rifled through the key locker. He pulled out three keys, two Mercedes, one of them an M class and one BMW.
"Give him your cell phones," said Zippy, motioning to Paulie. The valets handed Paulie their phones.
"Now lie down," said Zippy. "Face first."
The two valets lay on the ground, heads turned, cheeks on the cold, oil-spotted cement. One started whimpering.
"Shut the fuck up, asshole," said Paulie. Zippy gave him a quick look. Them shut up? How about you? Jesus walked over and with two large nylon tie-wraps bound their hands behind their backs. He held his gun to each of the valet's heads, going back and forth, making sure they could feel the barrel against their skulls as he tightened the straps.
Zippy walked over and knelt by the valets. "You make one noise, just one, even when we're gone, I'll know. My friend will know. He's not as nice as me. He will come back and kill both of you."
"Okay, man."
Chris walked up to Jesus. "What we got?"
Jesus handed out the keys, smiling. "Take number ten," he said, handing him the M class keyfob. He handed the other Mercedes fob to Zippy. "Number twenty two," said Jesus. Chris looked at Paulie and pointed to Zippy. "Stick with him," he said.
"This is such a fucking rush, man," said Paulie.
* *
Clarence pulled a different radio from his pocket, much smaller. He pressed a button and said, "It's going down." Instantly Washington was on the radio. "All units, five-o-three. I repeat. All units, five-o-three."
* *
Zippy and Paulie eased the sleek Mercedes out of the parking space and headed down the exit ramp. They passed the open gate, courtesy of Clarence. Chris started the Mercedes and started driving down the low ceiling structure. Jesus came down in the BMW. Clarence was gone.
Walter Robbins watched the laptop display. The driver's door and ignition indicator lit up and the Mercedes was moving, just exiting the parking structure.
"Fish on," said Robbins.
Before Jesus made the exit Clarence said to the valet, "Have a nice day," turned the corner and walked to the Suburban. He took the keys from under the seat. Three quarters of a tank of gas. He had two thousand cash in his pocket, wondering how far it would take him. Fuck the cops and their deal. Clarence drove away, heading toward Mexico.
"Bait's out," said Robbins, hearing two squad car sirens.
"Kill it," said Washington.
Zippy and Paulie turned right onto Woodward when they heard the sirens and saw the squad cars.
"Holy fuck!" shouted Paulie.
Zippy hit the gas and swerved around a small white delivery truck. He pressed the accelerator all the way to the floorboard but the vehicle slowed. Two squad cars were lit up behind him. The Mercedes rolled to a stop.
"Fuck me," said Zippy. What were the odds, he thought. Popped. He put his hands on the steering wheel and was already calculating his time. One prior, served five years, but that was when he was a kid. Maybe this time ten to fifteen, depending on the judge. Maybe out in seven, based on good behavior and overcrowding, maybe less if he gave the others up….and he wasn't about to do that.
"This is bullshit," said Paulie. He pulled the 22 pistol from his jacket pocket, swung out the door and aimed the gun at one of the squad cars.
"What the fuck are you doing?" yelled Zippy.
"I ain't going to jail." Paulie fired, pinging one of the squad car's rear view mirror and radiator. Both officers in the other squad car opened their doors, crouched behind them and opened fire. Three shots hit Paulie in the chest, sending him flying back onto the pavement. Another shot passed through the rear windshield and hit Zippy in the left temple and passed through his right. Zippy's eyes blinked once, faded, and went blank. He slumped forward on the steering wheel.
Washington and Purdy jumped from the van with their guns drawn, running toward the blue and whites.
* *
Chris flew out of the structure and sped east on Larned. He saw the squad cars converge on the Mercedes in the rear view mirror. Who was shot? A body was on the pavement. He stepped on the gas and looked in front of him and saw a young woman, crossing Brush at the intersection. He hit her squarely with the left front quarter panel with a bone crushing clunk. The woman pinwheeled through the air and flopped onto the pavement.
"Oh God, no, no," murmured Chris, looking in the rear view mirror. The woman lay crumpled and broken like fresh road kill, blood pooling under her red hair. No movement. Chris went straight on Larned and headed east through an abandoned neighborhood. He drove for six blocks with the lights off and ditched the car in an open field. He walked in the dark back to his small apartment in the Cass Corridor.
* *
Chris lay on the bed with the lights off, bathed in the cold light of the television, watching the news. A female reporter from Channel 7 stood in front of the Millender.
"Two of the car thieves were killed in a shootout with police," said the reporter. "And unfortunately, a young, single mother was killed crossing Brush Street, leaving a five year daughter behind."
Chris sat up.
"If anyone knows or saw any of this go down, please contact the Detroit Police Department immediately," said the reporter. They flashed a photograph of the woman. Pretty, smiling. Red hair and bright green eyes. The segment ended with the camera at the intersection.
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Chris put his head in his hands, just wishing to God he could take it all back, that it didn't happen. He just killed an innocent woman. With a kid. It rolled over and over in his mind, and didn't seem real. But it was.
He got up and pulled a large duffel bag from a closet and started packing clothes. Underwear, socks, shirts, whatever was clean, and his cash. He was done with Detroit, and it was only twenty-four hours to Florida.
Chapter 29
Party Time
Miri and Elena stood in front of Vlad's desk in the back office of the Tiger's Den. The door was shut, music leaking through. Cletus B. Lincoln sat on a couch perpendicular to the desk.
"Both of you are going to a party tonight," said Vlad.
"Where at?" asked Miri.
"A place my friend has arranged," said Vlad, motioning to Lincoln.
"Hello ladies," said Lincoln, smiling.
"What kind of party is it?" asked Elena.
"One that will be lots of fun," said Lincoln, looking Elena up and down. "A very important person will be there," he said.
"We are very discreet," said Miri.
"I bet you are."
"Go get your jackets," said Vlad.
Elena and Miri walked out of the office.
"Take the older one," said Vlad. "Trust me. She will do anything."
* *
Elena and Miri entered the large house two blocks off the west side of Woodward. Lincoln rented it at the beginning of the Mayor's second term. They walked through the large foyer and into the great room. A few empty glasses and bottles littered the tables and by the oak fireplace mantle. The air was stale with residual cigarette, cigar and a minute trace of marijuana smoke.
Miri and Elena followed Lincoln into a back room, a library, with books stacked on mahogany shelves reaching to the ceiling. The classic library, left by the owners, was furnished with a large desk and oversize leather reading chair and a dark leather sofa.
"This is the one I was telling you about," said Lincoln, putting his arm around Elena. "Happy birthday."
The Mayor of Detroit looked Elena up and down.
"Very nice, very nice," he said. The Mayor motioned toward Elena. "Come here and sit down next to me." Elena walked over and sat close to the Mayor. He looked at Lincoln and Miri. Lincoln smiled. "See you later," said the Mayor.
Lincoln, stung by the abrupt brush-off, grabbed Miri's arm and walked out of the library.
"Shut the door please," said the Mayor. He scanned Elena. "You're a very beautiful woman."
"Thank you"
"I like the way you talk," said the Mayor. "It's sexy. European." He paused. "Do you know who I am?" he asked.
"No," said Elena.
The Mayor laughed. "That's a first," he said. "That's good. Let me just say that I have a busy schedule and a wife who is not very accommodating."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Elena.
"Don't be," said the Mayor. "We just have a little arrangement. She goes about her business and I go about mine. Discretely." He smiled. "Kind of a don't ask don't tell policy."
The Mayor put his hand between Elena's legs and slowly moved it up. Elena tightened at the initial contact, then relaxed, wishing she had taken a painkiller. She had cut down almost to nothing, thinking about Sanja and bolstered by the slim chance that Milos would read the letter she sent. He might get to read it if Rada didn't get her filthy hands on it first. She opened her legs. "That's it, baby," said the Mayor, then he kissed her.
* *
Lincoln led Miri up the winding stairs. She ran her hand along the massive oak bannister and Lincoln took her into a dimly lit bedroom. He sat on the bed.
"I want you to do exactly what I like," he said.
Miri shrugged. "I am up for anything," she said.
"Take off your clothes."
Surprised at such a mundane request, Miri said "sure." She slipped out of her dress and stood nude.
"Nice," said Lincoln. He patted the bed. "Come here."
Miri slowly strolled over and sat next to Lincoln. Lincoln stood and took off his clothes, tossing them on an easy chair. He started kissing and fondling Miri. She moaned, her eyes open, staring at a wall.
"You like that baby? You like that?" said Lincoln. He pushed Miri down on the bed, got on top of her and entered her. Miri loosened and Lincoln put one of his large hands around her throat and squeezed.
"Try this, baby," he said softly. "This turns me on so much…"
Miri gasped and Lincoln let up, allowing her to breathe.
"Please," said Miri. "Not so hard. I cannot breathe."
"That's the point, baby," said Lincoln. "Heightens the experience. For both of us."
Lincoln drove it hard into Miri, moaned and wrapped his right hand around Miri's throat and the held her arms behind her head with his left. He squeezed her throat and pumped harder. Miri choked, the started flailing.
"That's it, that's it baby," said Lincoln. "Feel it? Feel good?" Lincoln pumped and squeezed harder, her throat and neck so soft, so flexible. He closed his eyes.
Miri went limp and turned blue as Lincoln finished. He rolled over. "That was good, baby. That was so good," he said. He looked at Miri, not breathing.
"Hey," he said. He shook Miri, and then shook her again. "Hey! Oh shit, oh shit," said Lincoln, looking around the room. "Fuck me, fuck me, Jesus." He scrambled from the bed and dressed. He stood in front of the bed, looking down at Miri's body, her eyes wide open. He picked up her dress and put it on the bed. Thinking for a moment, he then wrapped Miri in the loose bedspread. Lincoln pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called the Mayor.
* *
The Mayor, finished with Elena, sat back on the sofa in his boxer shorts and lit a cigar. Elena was dressed, except for her shoes. The Mayor's cell phone rang. He looked at the number, frowned and answered.
"Yes?" he said. "You know I don't like being disturbed when I'm with a lady."
"I know, I know. We gotta problem."
"And what would that be?"
"With one of the hos," said Lincoln.
"What kind of problem?" said the Mayor.
"A big one."
The Mayor took the phone from his ear and sneered at it. He was just about done with Lincoln, had been for a long time. This was the capper. "This sounds like something I shouldn't be hearing," he said.
"I'm not sure what to do," said Lincoln.
Alarmed, the Mayor thought Lincoln always knew what to do and always kept a clear, cool head. When the time a deranged laid off city bus driver came at him with a kitchen knife Lincoln stepped in cool and calm. Took fifteen stitches, but he took out the dude with the knife in a fat hurry.
"This sounds serious," said the Mayor.
"It is," said Lincoln. "Bad serious." His voice was shaky.
He should have known better, Lincoln with all his kinky shit.
"Look, goddammit," said the Mayor. "Don't tell me nothin' I don't need to know. Just clean up what you messed up," he said. "And keep me out if it. Understand?"
"Okay, okay," said Lincoln, thinking. "The other ho still with you?" he asked.
"Yes. And I never saw her tonight. Clear?"
"I know that," said Lincoln. "I need to get her out of here. You done with her?"
"Sounds like I am now," said the Mayor.
"I'll be by to pick her up in a couple of minutes."
"Alright." He terminated the call and looked at Elena. "It looks like you're leaving in a few."
Elena put on her shoes and smiled nervously, wishing she had a painkiller. She walked toward the front door.
* *
Lincoln left Miri wrapped in the bedspread, hustled down the stairs, through a side door onto a circular driveway. He got in the black city issued Tahoe and pulled close to the side door, then got out and opened the lift gate.
Lincoln went back into the house through the side door and carried Miri down the stairs. He put her in the cargo area of the Tahoe, shut the gate, turned and walked toward
the front door of the grey stone house.
Elena stood at the door watching Lincoln. He stopped abruptly.
"Get in the car," he said.
"Where is Miri?" asked Elena.
"Don't worry about her. Just get in the car."
"What did you put in the back?" said Elena. "Where is Miri?"
"I told you not to worry about her. Get in the front seat," he said, anger rising in his voice.
Elena walked toward the car, cautiously with Lincoln right behind her. Instead of opening the passenger's door she opened the rear door and peered into the cargo area. The top of Miri's head was exposed, her red hair flowing out of the bedspread. Elena bolted back right into Lincoln.
"I told you to get in the front seat," he said. He grabbed Elena's arm, slammed the rear door shut, opened the front, turned Elena and held her by the hair, forcing her into the front seat.
Elena fought back. "What have you done to Miri?" she screamed.
"Shut up, bitch," said Lincoln. He hit her and her head snapped forward. She raged back and gouged Lincoln's face with her nails, one of the false nails breaking off near Lincoln's eye.
Lincoln cried out and put his hand over his eye. Elena broke free and ran down the brick driveway and onto the street. Lincoln righted himself and walked after Elena, still holding his hand over his eye. Elena ran to a nearby house, pounded on the door and started screaming. Lincoln rushed up behind her. Elena saw him and ran across the large lawn toward Woodward. The world changed when Elena sprang onto Woodward Avenue. Open fields, burned out houses and broken, iron-barred storefronts.
Elena ran down Woodward toward the massive green Renaissance Center in the distance and ducked in a small alley between two derelict storefronts. She hid behind an open trash dumpster.
* *
Lincoln ran out toward Woodward looking for Elena, guessing where she would go. He picked the direction toward downtown and walked. He walked for a block and weighed the risk of not finding her versus someone, especially the Mayor, finding Miri in the back of the Tahoe. He could always deal with the bitch later. Through Vlad. He turned and walked back to toward the house.