by Stuart Woods
“Buon giorno,” he said to Dino.
“Buon giorno,” Dino replied.
“How you doin’?” he said to Stone and Holly.
“Good,” they replied simultaneously.
“This is Gino,” he said, nodding at the aproned man behind the counter, who nodded at them all.
Vito reached under the counter, pulled out an apron, and handed it to Dino. “Here’s how we’re going to do this,” he said. “Dino, you’re the only one who looks like he could work here, so you put on the apron and stand behind the counter with Gino. Pay attention to the way he works while we’re waiting, so you won’t look stupid when Trini comes in.”
“Right,” Dino said. He took off his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves, and put on the apron.
“You were born to this,” Stone said.
“Aw, shut up.”
“You two,” Gino said, nodding at Stone and Holly, “get over to one side of the store, so the shelves will hide you. Trini comes in, he’ll walk down the center aisle, like everybody. When that happens, Gino, Dino, one of you sing out, ‘Vito, gimme a price on a whole Genoa salami!’ That means Trini is in the store.” He looked out to the street. “Here comes the truck.”
They all turned to see a beautifully painted black truck pull up to the curb. Painted on the side was the legend “Gaetano Galeano & Sons, Premium Provisions” in a florid style.
“Beautiful truck,” Stone said.
“Thanks,” Vito replied. “My old man designed it before the Genoveses got to him on the bocce court at the coffeehouse.”
“Sorry about that,” Stone said.
Vito shrugged. “It’s our game,” he said. “Anyway, Trini comes down the center aisle, you hear the thing about the price of salami, and you two come around the shelves into the aisle behind Trini. You’re carryin’?”
They nodded.
“Don’t shoot nobody, okay? Except Trini, if you have to.”
They shook their heads.
“There’ll be a man up in my office with a shotgun. Dino and Gino are carryin’; Trini’s bracketed.” He looked at Holly. “You got cuffs?”
She nodded. “Three pair.”
“You frisk him and cuff him, then we hustle him over to the stairs.” He nodded to his right, where a door led to stairs to the basement.
Stone didn’t want to think about the basement. “Then what?”
“Then we talk.”
“What’s to talk about?” Holly asked.
Dino held up a hand. “You’ll talk.”
Holly shrugged. “We’ll talk.” She shot a glance at Stone that meant she didn’t like this.
Stone shook his head slightly; this was no time to argue.
“Is the truck real?” Holly asked.
“What, real?” Vito asked. “You never seen a truck?”
“I mean, does it really have the hidden compartment?”
“Comes in handy from time to time,” Vito replied. Then he looked at Dino. “You already forgot this, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dino said.
“Anybody hungry?” He took a tray of sliced salami and olives from under the counter. “We got free samples.”
Everybody took something to be polite, except Stone, who took it because he was hungry.
“Okay, spread out, and let’s do this,” Vito said.
Dino hopped over the counter and took up his position. Stone and Holly moved to where they had been told. They couldn’t see the store entrance.
“What’s your plan?” Stone asked.
“What Vito said,” Holly replied.
“I mean after we’ve taken him. What are you going to do with him?”
“I haven’t given it much thought,” she said, taking the Sig Pro from her purse and pumping a round into the chamber.
“It’s time you did,” Stone said. “In a few minutes you’re going to have a dangerous criminal on your hands, and you’d better figure out how you’re going to handle him.”
“I’m going to take him home,” she said.
“How?”
“Airlines?”
“Think about how much trouble Trini could make on an airplane with a couple of hundred civilians watching. Then you’ve got to get him to Orchid Beach.”
“We’ll get a flight to Palm Beach, and I’ll have a squad car meet us.”
“I’ve got a better idea.”
“What?”
“I know a guy out at Teterboro who can produce a jet charter on demand—something light, like a Lear or a CitationJet.”
“What’s it going to cost?”
“A guess? Eight, ten thousand.”
“I can spring for that. My department’s got a discretionary fund for emergency expenditures.”
“That’s our best bet. We bundle Trini into Dino’s car, drive him to Teterboro where the jet’s waiting with the engines running. Two and a half, three hours and you’re home.”
“You coming?”
“Once he’s on board, you won’t need me,” Stone said.
“Oh, I need you,” she said, leering at him.
“I thought we satisfied that need last night.”
“Only temporarily.”
“We’ll work on that.”
“Vito!” Dino yelled suddenly, “gimme a price on a whole Genoa salami!”
“Trini’s in the store,” Stone whispered. “Here we go.”
58
STONE PEEPED AROUND the shelves and saw Trini walking toward the counter, with a large semiautomatic pistol stuck in his belt in the small of his back. Stone motioned to Holly, and they fell in behind him.
Dino was waiting for him with half a smile on his face. “Buon giorno,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, where’s Vito?” Trini responded.
Dino reached behind him, produced a weapon, and stuck it in Trini’s face.
Trini reached for his gun, but Stone grabbed his wrist, shoved it up between his shoulder blades, while Holly grabbed the gun and snapped handcuffs onto Trini’s wrist.
Holly hit him in the back of the head with the heel of her hand. “Bend over the counter, stupid, and give me your other hand.”
Stone put some pressure on the hammerlock for emphasis. “Do as the lady says.”
Reluctantly, Trini offered the other wrist, and he was now handcuffed.
Holly stuck her gun in her bag and went over him thoroughly—front, back, and crotch.
“Hey, you want to eat that, baby?” Trini smirked as she felt him up.
“Don’t worry,” she replied, “there’ll be a lot of guys who’ll want it where you’re going, and you’ll find yourself on the receiving end, too. You’ll end up as some big guy’s bitch.”
Trini began kicking and spitting at her, until Stone hit him in the crotch. Then he became more manageable.
“Did I mention,” Holly said, “that you’re under arrest and that you have the right to keep your mouth shut?”
“Let’s get him downstairs,” Dino said.
Two of Vito’s men materialized and hustled Trini down to the basement. Vito beckoned Dino into a corner, and the two men began to talk earnestly. Holly and Stone were left at the counter.
“I can’t believe it,” Holly said. “Just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“and it’s over.”
But Stone was watching Dino and Vito as their conversation, though whispered, became more animated. “Maybe it’s not over yet,” he said, nodding toward the two men.
Holly watched them for a moment. “What’s going on?”
Dino turned and began walking toward them.
“I have a feeling we’re about to find out,” Stone said.
Dino looked embarrassed. “There’s a problem,” he said.
“What problem?” Holly asked.
“A problem about Trini.”
“What, do they want to put him in that grave downstairs?” Stone asked.
Dino shook his head. “No, they want him alive. They want the reward.”
“
What reward?” Holly asked.
“The hundred grand the FBI is offering for Trini.”
Holly seemed to be hyperventilating.
“Hey, wait a minute, Dino,” Stone said, “we had a deal.”
Dino looked away. “Apparently, we don’t have a deal anymore.”
Holly found her voice. “Dino, you tell Vito . . .” She stopped. “Never mind, I’ll tell him myself.”
“Holly . . .” Dino made a grab for her arm, but she shook him off and walked toward Vito, who didn’t seem glad to see her coming.
Stone steered Dino away from them. “Let her try. It can’t hurt.”
“No, I guess it can’t hurt. I’m really embarrassed about this.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Vito says we didn’t close the deal; we never shook on it.”
“Shook on it? What is this, high school?”
“Apparently. Anyway, the hundred grand seems to overrule any argument I could make.”
Stone glanced at Holly and Vito, though he couldn’t hear them. They were talking earnestly, but Holly wasn’t waving her arms or shouting. “Look at that,” he said.
Dino looked toward the two. “She seems awfully calm,” he said. “I was afraid she’d shoot him.”
“Now she’s smiling.”
“Vito is smiling, too.”
Then, to the mutual astonishment of Stone and Dino, Holly and Vito shook hands.
Holly walked back to where they stood. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.
They walked back to the car, and Stone waited until they were inside before he began talking. “What the hell was that all about?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Dino echoed, “what did you two have to say to each other?”
Holly looked smug. “I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
Stone and Dino, who were in the front seat, looked at each other.
“What the fuck?” Dino said.
“Dino, would you do me a great big favor?” Holly asked, digging her cell phone out of her purse and dialing a number.
“Sure, anything.”
“Would you take me by Stone’s house, wait while I throw my stuff into a bag, then drive me to LaGuardia?”
“Why not?” Dino said.
Holly began talking to an airline reservations clerk.
Stone looked at Dino. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
Dino shrugged. “I think the lady is sick of you, and she’s going home.”
“Holly,” Stone said, “what’s going on?”
She waved him quiet. “I’m on the phone,” she hissed.
59
THE FOLLOWING EVENING, back in Orchid Beach, Holly left her office at dusk and drove north on A1A, with Daisy in the passenger seat, her nose out the window, sniffing the damp Florida air.
Holly turned left down a side road and, after half a mile, came to the rear gate of the real estate development that had once been called Palmetto Gardens, and later, Blood Orchid, and which was now in federal hands. She stopped and, leaving the motor running and the lights on, got out and went to where the gate was chained and locked. She knew the combination to the lock because she had locked it herself. A moment later, she took off the chain, then drove her car inside. She locked the gate behind her and bore to her left, along a road that ran alongside the golf course.
The course looked good, since the Feds had kept on the grounds crew until they could sell the place. The auction was scheduled for a week hence, and they had been working hard to make the grounds look good.
Holly pulled into a dirt road and drove fifty yards, then stopped the car, switched off the engine, and got out, followed by Daisy. Using her SureFire tactical flashlight, she walked purposely through the woods, switching on the light a second at a time to find her way. Daisy ran ahead, scaring up rabbits and sniffing at everything.
She came to a live oak tree about thirty feet tall, then stopped. She stood quietly for a few minutes, letting her night vision develop and looking around for other human beings. The property seemed deserted, and as she waited, a full moon rose in the east, making the flashlight unnecessary.
She put the light back into its holster, took off her heavy gun belt, and began climbing the tree, while Daisy watched, baffled. A little more than halfway up, at about twenty feet, she stopped. The case was still there, though it was covered in pine pollen. She looked down. “Daisy,” she said, “go over there.” She pointed, and Daisy followed her instructions. “Sit.” Daisy sat. “Stay.” Daisy stayed.
What the hell, she thought, it was a sturdy case. She took it by the handle, dangled it for a moment, and let go. The case hit one limb, slowing it, then it fell unimpeded to the pine straw–padded floor of the woods. It bounced once, then fell on its side, intact.
Holly climbed down the tree, picked up the case, and put it into the trunk of her patrol car. Then she got Daisy back inside, let herself out the gate, and headed toward town.
She drove into the basement garage under the police station, parked the car, and got the case out of the trunk. It was heavier than she had remembered, and it was something of a struggle to get it upstairs and into her office. There were only two people in the squad room, a duty officer handling the phones and radio and a detective catching up on his paperwork. The rest of the night shift was on patrol.
She got the case into her office, dampened some paper towels, and wiped the pine pollen off the case, making its black aluminum surface look nearly like new. Then she hoisted the case onto a table and opened it. She was greeted with the sight of rows of hundred-dollar bills, sorted into stacks of one hundred, each secured with a heavy rubber band. She counted out twenty of the stacks and packed them into a small zippered duffel from her locker. Then she counted out another ten stacks, dropped them into a Federal Express envelope, and wrote out a note on her stationery. She put the note into the envelope, sealed it, filled out a FedEx waybill, and stuck it to the envelope.
Then she picked up the heavy case and took it into the darkened evidence room. She went through the procedure for setting the combination locks on the case, then locked them and looked around for just the right spot. She found a place among some filing boxes that had been seized during a drug raid, and set it there. Then she got an evidence sticker, put her name on it, and fixed it to the side of the case. If anyone came across it, they wouldn’t be able to open it, and if they asked about it, she could say she’d forgotten to log it in.
She went back to her office, picked up the duffel and the FedEx package, and set them on her desk, looking at her watch. It was nearly ten. The call should come soon. She switched on her desk light, picked up a law enforcement magazine, put her feet on the desk, and started to read. Twenty minutes later, her cell phone vibrated on her belt. “Yes?”
“Hey, you ready for us?”
“Yes.” She asked where he was, then gave him directions, then she hung up, picked up the duffel and the FedEx package, and walked down to the garage with Daisy clicking along on the tile floor behind her.
She got some gear out of her car, then waited in the garage for another twenty minutes, until headlights appeared outside. She walked out and held up a hand for the truck to stop.
Two men got out. “Hey, how you doin’?” the passenger said.
“I’m good. You got my package?”
“Sure. You got my package?”
She handed him the duffel. “It’s in stacks of one hundred hundreds. Count it.”
He counted it carefully. “It’s good,” he said, and he led the way to the rear of the vehicle.
Holly watched as the two men removed a dozen boxes from the back of the truck. Then one man climbed in and walked forward a few steps. He knocked on something. “Hey, man, we’re here,” he called. “You ready to come out?”
Holly switched on her flashlight, illuminated the inside of the truck, and pulled out her gun.
“Here we go,” the man said, opening the door.
Trini Rodr
iguez stepped out into the bright glare of the tactical light, holding up a hand to spare his eyes. He would be effectively blind for a minute or two. He followed the other man forward, then hopped down from the truck. “Hey, what’s with the light?” he said.
Holly held the light so that it illuminated her gun, which was pointed at his head. “Lie down on the ground,” she said.
“What?”
“You see the gun? Lie down on the ground, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
Trini prostrated himself.
“Is he clean?” Holly asked the men.
“Oh, yeah. We didn’t let him have a piece.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Trini asked.
Holly handed the belt to one of the men. “Put this on him,” she said, “buckle to the rear.” She watched as they buckled the belt on him and rolled him over. Then she handed them the cuffs. “Run these through the ring and handcuff him, hands in front,” she said, and they did. “Now get him on his feet.”
They stood him up, then stepped back.
“Guard, Daisy,” she said, pointing at Trini.
Daisy took up a position in front of him and bared her teeth, making a low growling noise.
“You keep that dog away from me!” Trini hollered.
“Behave yourself, or I’ll show you how she’s been trained to eat genitals,” Holly said. She turned to the two men. “Gentlemen, our business is concluded. Please thank Vito for me, and give him my very best.”
They bade her good night, got into the truck, and drove away.
“Now,” she said to Trini, “you’re under arrest. We’re going to pretend that I read you your rights, and I hope that, between here and the cell that’s waiting for you, you’ll give me an excuse to set the dog on you and shoot you in the head. Now turn around and march.”