Behind us we heard footsteps. I pumped a round in the shotgun and turned.
It was Manny hastily making her way toward us.
29
Manny saw Alton on the floor, said, “They got him, those bastards.”
“Wrong bastards,” I said.
I saw the realization wash over her face. “You guys shot Alton?”
“Technically, Hap did,” Leonard said.
“He switched sides,” I said.
“We’d been a second slower, him and his two buddies, who are now holding down the wet concrete outside, would have come in,” Leonard said.
“Alton has the lock code,” she said.
“Had,” Leonard said.
“Damn you, Alton,” she said.
“Remember he brought us a good pie, and let his memory go,” Leonard said.
“Do you think he might have given the code to the others?” she said.
“Probably not,” I said. “That would have meant they didn’t need him at all. Knowing the code and not telling them could have been his trump card. Then again, what do I know?”
“Believe him,” Leonard said. “He doesn’t know much.”
We saw the nurse then, peeking around the corner of the cell section. From there she could see us but not what was down that short hall, the one where Alton lay in a puddle of blood.
“It’s all right,” Manny said as we hustled toward the nurse. “But we are going to have to make some tough decisions.”
“Tough decisions?” she said.
“Is Nikki awake?” I asked.
The nurse nodded. “She’s groggy, but awake. We heard gunfire.”
“You did indeed,” Manny said. “Come on, let’s get Nikki.”
As we hurried into the cell block, Manny said, “I gave the dispatchers guns, told them to stay inside the dispatch room. They aren’t cops, though, aren’t professional shooters, so the ones outside get into the station, it’s only a matter of time before they break into the dispatch office.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I said.
As we reached Nikki’s cell, Leonard said one of his favorite sayings. “Hope in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up first.”
30
The nurse unhooked the IV bag from Nikki, and then we had them moving. We guided them down the hall to the dispatch office, Nikki kind of stumbling along, about half doped up. Manny knocked at the dispatch door. It was a couple of knocks, followed by a series. Code she had given them.
One of the men, a guy with longer hair than you would expect on someone working for dispatch, opened the door. Manny went inside with the nurse and Nikki. We stood outside the room and waited.
Manny came out. “She’s safer there, at least for now.”
That’s when we heard a clacking sound in the hallway, a voice. We followed the sound, came back to Alton’s body, which was leaking even more blood, like a spilled can of red paint.
Leonard, careful not to get too much blood on his shoes, bent down, patted Alton’s coat pocket, found a little walkie-talkie, old-school. Leonard fished it out.
Leonard touched the walkie, turned on the speaker.
Leonard said, “Hello, Pippo’s Pizza Parlor.”
“Who do I have?” a voice on the other end said.
“Well,” Leonard said, “it ain’t Alton.”
“Ah,” said the voice. “I’m assuming Alton met with a bad end.”
“You could say that,” Leonard said. “You can also mark the two that were with him off your Christmas-card list.”
“I see. Well, I’m going to assume you’re the black guy. You sound like a black guy.”
“You sound like an asshole,” Leonard said. “But I’m going to assume you’re Wilson Keith.”
The voice on the other end laughed. “You know, I know who you are. You’re Leonard, and Hap’s there, and that cute little cop piece, Manuela, is there with you as well.”
Alton had given him that information, of course. I wished then I could shoot him again. I was glad we didn’t save him any pie.
“We just want the girl, then we go,” said the voice.
“That’s it? You don’t want maybe some coffee first, little hand job?”
“We just want the girl.”
“Yeah,” Leonard said. “What we want is better insurance, some new clothes, and a trip to anywhere but here, but I don’t think that’s happening.”
“Leonard,” said the voice. “That sounds practiced.”
“A little. I like to have some quips on hand. Sometimes I say things over and over, I like them so much. Here’s one now: You’re an asshole.”
“Alton said you two thought you were smart guys.”
“Maybe not that smart, but smart enough not to give you the girl and expect a free ride out of here.”
“I can see why you might not trust me, but I think we should talk.”
“Aren’t we talking?”
“I mean in person.”
“So you can shoot us?”
“You could shoot me. What say you to this? I come to you, through the front door, but I bring in one of my guys, and we work this out.”
“We can’t work this out.”
“Might be a way we all go home happy.”
“I’m not seeing that,” Leonard said.
“What’s it hurt to talk?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Fair enough. But it might be productive for all of us.”
We were all listening to this. Manny leaned in to Leonard, whispered something.
Leonard nodded, clicked the walkie. “All right,” Leonard said. “You come in through the front door in five, not before that, and you can have a guy at the door, but he can’t carry a weapon.”
“I would be taking all the chances here. So what about this? You stay behind the reception glass, we’ll talk through the voice hole, and my guard carries a weapon in case things go south. You can have weapons too. Fair?”
“All right. You stay on your side, us on ours, but the bodyguard at the door can’t be carrying a big weapon. He can have a handgun, holstered, put away. We’ll do the same.”
There was silence on the other end for a long moment. Then: “Place me a chair out front of the reception glass. I like to be comfortable. Maybe some bourbon.”
“A chair we got, bourbon we don’t,” said Leonard. “Maybe I could just piss in a jar for you.”
“The chair will do.”
31
We could just shoot him in the head,” Leonard said, “guy at the door too.”
“I don’t think so,” Manny said. “He still has people outside, and maybe a second in command. His son may be out there.”
“Larry sounds like the one we’d rather deal with,” Leonard said. “He’s not as bright. But the dad, he sounds like trouble. Crafty-ass shit on a stick. Kind of guy thinks he can talk his way out of anything and talk you into anything, along with providing a lot of goddamn money. I hate that type. I wish I had money out the ass like that. I did, you and me would retire, Hap. Well, I would. Maybe I could give you a light allowance or something.”
“What we’re doing here is stalling for time,” Manny said. “I have an idea that might help us out, but we got to get our Mr. Asshole to chat awhile.”
“Have Hap talk to him,” Leonard said. “He’s chatty.”
“This is true,” I said.
“Thing is, with the water rising and them knowing exactly where we and Nikki are, this place won’t be safe. They’ll get in, and we’ll be trapped like rats.”
“Okay,” I said, “what’s the idea?”
She told us. It wasn’t that great, but considering our circumstances, hiding under one of the jail-cell bunks was beginning to look like our only other option. This idea of hers, well, it was something.
While me and Manny talked with him, stalling for time, Leonard was to take the others to the old transport bus and start it up. That didn’t sound all that good,
but there was one advantage to it: There was a hidden exit that led into the compound yard. The bus was about twenty feet away from the back door.
Thing was, we then had to have enough time for Manny and myself to get on the bus. And then once we roared out of there, if we made it that far, we had to worry about outpacing them and not getting caught in deep water.
Piece of cake.
Though, actually, I would have preferred another piece of that chocolate mousse pie, no guns, a nice warm house, and a foot massage from my one and only.
32
Before me and Manny went into the receptionist’s office with the walkie-talkie, Leonard said, “Don’t let anything go wrong. Just keep him engaged.”
“That’s all? Don’t let anything go wrong?” I said. “What could go wrong?”
“Remember, this is us.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That means most anything could go wrong.”
“I’ll wait on you.”
“Don’t wait any longer than we’ve talked about waiting. You go when you should go. Don’t worry about me.”
“How can I not? You’re so incompetent.”
“Yeah, but I have my charm to fall back on.”
“You better have that pistol instead of your charm.”
“Listen, Leonard. Me and Manny, we’re not out there on time, you head out.”
“You think I’d wait on your ass?”
Manny was bringing everyone out of the dispatch room right then. She hustled them down the corridor, and Leonard waved them to him, and away they went, my brother heading out into the unknown, a pack of ducklings behind him. Except one.
The long-haired guy.
Manny said, “Jordan, you know what you got to do?”
“I think so,” he said.
“No thinking so,” she said. “You go into the generator room and in fifteen minutes from when I say ‘Mark,’ you do what I told you to do, then you go out the back door and run to the bus like your ass is on fire. Do not mess around.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“Here’s a flashlight for when the lights go out.”
Jordan took it. I saw him take a long breath like he was about to jump into deep water, and with the weather the way it was, he just might be doing that.
Manny looked at me. “You ready?”
“I am. Hearing Keith on the walkie, I think he’s a guy likes to talk, same as me. His plan is to wear us down with fear, make us give up and give him the girl, so I think it’ll be easy to keep him talking.”
Manny turned back to Jordan. “You got a watch?”
“Phone. Well, it’s nothing but a clock now.”
“What time you got?”
He told her. She adjusted her watch. He held up his phone and they compared timepieces.
“Mark,” she said.
“Mark,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. “Get into position.”
Jordan nodded, started down the hall.
Manny handed me a small flashlight. “I have one too. Put it in your slicker. You’re going to need it.”
I looked down the long hall and saw Leonard and the others standing in front of the door to the back lot, waiting.
Leonard gave us a thumbs-up.
I nodded at him.
“All right,” Manny said, “let’s play the game and hope the prize isn’t a bullet in our heads.”
33
I was all right until we went through the door into the receptionist’s room, and then the fear hit me. My legs trembled and my mouth felt dry and tasted of copper. Me and Leonard had been in plenty of tight spots, but we were braver when we were together. At least I was. Leonard probably did okay either way.
I think what was scaring me more than my own possible demise was that my brother Leonard might be killed. It had been close a few times, for both of us, but if something happened to him, no matter how much I loved Brett and my daughter, Chance, I had to wonder if I could make it. It would be worse than losing an arm. Family breathes for each other, and close family breathes as one.
I took a deep breath and propped the door we had come through open so we could make a fast retreat into the station. We put the long guns just to the outside of the reception room, leaning them against the wall. We took off the slickers, not wanting Keith to see them and think we were ready to hit the great outdoors, and dropped them on the floor next to the wall.
The lights were adjustable in the office, so Manny turned them down a bit so we wouldn’t look like moths against a lightbulb. I found a chair like Keith asked for, went out of the reception room into the wide foyer, and put the chair there, about four feet from the plasti-glass.
“Comes through that door,” she said, “nothing says he won’t come through shooting. He may not come through at all, but some of his goons might, and not to talk.”
“Keith will show up, all right.”
“Because you trust his word?”
“Because of what I already said. I trust his ego. He believes anyone can be cajoled into anything, bought out, intimidated, what have you. I’m counting on that.”
“Yeah, you do keep saying that.”
“And I keep believing it.”
Manny nodded at me, turned on the walkie Leonard had given her. “You out there?”
Static, then a voice. “I’m at the door. Unlock it.”
“You come through in a rush or there’s a pack of you, we’ll be gone before you can get to the reception glass.”
“My bodyguard will come in first. No long weapons, but she’ll be armed, a three-eighty in her holster. She’s ready to go if it comes to that.”
“So are we,” Manny said. She clipped the walkie to her belt, reached under the desk, and flipped the door-lock switch. We stood with our hands near our pistols.
There was a moment of hesitation, and then the door opened slowly. The bodyguard came in. She was short and stout and moved like a cat. She pushed a rain hood off her head. Her dark hair was tied back. She had hard features beaded with water and a look on her face that almost made me think she had laser vision.
She stepped to the side and Keith came in. He wore a black rain slicker but no hood. The slicker was made like a cowboy duster and fell low to his ankles. He had on a cowboy hat with a transparent blue plastic cover over it. He was tall and looked Native American. He was probably sixty, but a good, solid sixty. He had on black cowboy boots, the toes of which were all I could see beneath the slicker. He took off the hat and flicked it a little, sending rainwater into the foyer. He gave the hat to the woman and she accepted it without taking her eyes off us. She held the hat in one hand, the gun in the other.
Keith unzipped the slicker and took his time slipping out of it. He handed that to the bodyguard as well. He took his hat back and put it on. Under the slicker, he had on a pair of black jeans and a light black jacket. It was unzipped, and a black shirt was visible. It had silver snap pockets and silver snaps where buttons would be. He looked as comfortable as a pimp in a whorehouse.
He walked over and sat in the chair. The woman stayed next to the door, just in case Keith wanted her to hold his hat again.
Manny hit the switch under the counter, and the door lock snicked. The bodyguard touched the butt of her .380.
“Is that wise?” Keith said. He had a nice voice, like a radio announcer’s.
“Just keeping things honest,” Manny said. “Tell her to take her hand off the gun.”
Keith looked back at the woman, nodded. The woman put the gun away.
The chair he was sitting in was a tall chair, so he was looking directly at us. He crossed his legs, then reached out and pulled his pants leg down slightly. Manny took a seat in the receptionist chair, and I stood at her side, one hand near my gun, the other on the back of her chair.
“This really can be easy,” Keith said.
“Can it?” Manny said.
“It certainly can. It’s a simple thing you need to do, and you do that, then both of you walk away.”
“I think I know what that simple thing is, and I’m not going to do it,” Manny said.
“Look, I respect honor. I do. But the truth is, this isn’t a comic book, this isn’t the sort of thing where everything is black or white. The world has a lot of gray.”
“I agree,” Manny said, “but some things aren’t that gray. And there’s that whole law-and-order issue. I’m a cop.”
“So was Alton, but, like you, he had bills to pay. He wasn’t a bad guy, just knew how to do business. Is that so bad, taking care of your family?”
“Depends on how you pay those bills,” Manny said. “And you know what? He paid a big bill tonight.”
“Unfortunate,” Keith said, spreading his hands. “Things don’t always work out. But what I can assure you is this: You don’t do as I like, it won’t work out for you, and Hap here…I assume that’s who you are. Alton described you. Said you were like a once nice-looking guy who had gone through a wringer and then been heated up in a microwave.”
“Now I’m glad I shot him,” I said.
I was talking to Keith, but I watched the woman in the back, making sure Keith’s conversation wasn’t just misdirection. That plasti-glass could take a solid hit, but still, I watched her. My take was, she made a move, I was going to shoot through the speaker hole and blow a canyon in Keith’s chest. He was lined up good for that.
“Just so you know, you’re thinking about shooting me through that little hole, you would have to be quick.”
The son of a bitch read my mind.
“And then I got a vest on. Good one. Better than the ones you two are wearing, I assure you. And that locked door? Once shots are fired, my crew will come inside. Door being locked won’t matter. It’ll be as easy as throwing rocks through cotton candy. And that plastic in front of you, it’s tough, but we got weapons that will make it seem like nothing.”
“You don’t have a vest on your head,” I said.
“You’d have to be a really good shot, restrictions of that hole and all. And if you hit that little metal framing, who knows where a bullet could go?”
The Elephant of Surprise Page 10