Apaches - Lorenzo Carcaterra [111]
• • •
DEAD-EYE SAW THE shadow behind him lift a hand holding a gun. He rolled over on the hardwood floor and came up on his knees, surprised to see that it was a woman standing there, one of the mules from the other room. He had his gun aimed at her chest but didn’t fire. Instead, he watched Rev. Jim come up behind her, grab her around the neck, and pull the gun out of her hand.
Dead-Eye turned and whirled back to the three men behind him, getting to them before they had a chance to pull out their stash guns.
“Everything cool?” he said to Rev. Jim.
“Like ice,” Rev. Jim answered, shoving the mule into the room. “But what do we do with the Three Stooges?”
“Have the mule help you find some rope,” Dead-Eye said. “We’ll tie and gag the whole bunch and go out through the roof exit.”
“Boomer’s already on the street,” Rev. Jim said. “Mrs. Columbo’s the only one still in.”
“She’ll be out soon,” Dead-Eye said. “And so will we.”
“Which means I’m the only one who got screwed,” Rev. Jim said.
“How you figure that?” Dead-Eye asked.
“I cleaned all their windows,” Rev. Jim said. “And never got to see a nickel.”
“People always take advantage of the handicapped,” Dead-Eye said. “Get used to it.”
• • •
BOOMER AND MRS. Columbo walked with their arms linked toward the car parked at the corner.
“We can’t leave that prick in there with that baby for too long,” Mrs. Columbo said, hatred in her voice.
“Pins put in a call downtown while you were still up there showing off your legs,” Boomer said. “Edward’s going to be taken down in about half an hour.”
“You should have an undercover team on sight until the others show,” Mrs. Columbo said.
“The two guys in suits across the street,” Boomer said. “They’ll make sure nobody runs in or out.”
“Good work,” she said.
“I try,” Boomer said.
“I’m on their list,” Mrs. Columbo said. “I leave for Maine tomorrow night. A woman’s supposed to meet me at the airport.”
“We’ll have somebody meet her first,” Boomer said.
“I told you my plan would work, Boomer,” Mrs. Columbo said, beaming. “Admit it. You wouldn’t have thought of this. You probably would have just gone in there and shot up the place.”
“I’m limited in what I can do,” Boomer said, reaching for his car keys. “And I don’t think Eddie would have been as interested in my legs.”
• • •
LUCIA STOOD IN the center of the airport hangar, her back to the black Learjet. She was surrounded by eleven armed men. They were all young and brazen and were led by a tall man with a shaved head that gleamed under the glare of the hangar lights.
His name was Wilber Graves.
A thin, long-haired assistant in jeans, black polo shirt, and black pumps handed each of the men manila packets filled with background information on the Apaches—photos, home addresses, dates of birth. The men took the folders and kept their eyes focused on Lucia, dressed seductively in a black knit halter top, thigh-high skirt, and open-toed black pumps.
“There are seven names in the folder,” she said, her eyes moving from face to face with mannered ease. “They are to be handled.”
“How soon?” Wilber asked, standing behind Lucia, his voice a deep baritone.
“As soon as you find out what they know about us.” She answered without turning to look at him.
“Are you suspending operations until we finish the job?” Wilber asked.
“No,” Lucia said. “All cargo still moves.”
“Don’t let these people worry you,” Wilber said in a voice filled with confidence.
“I don’t let anything worry me,” Lucia said, stepping closer to Wilber, watching as his blue eyes scanned the length of her body. “I let other people worry. People like you, Wilber.”
“I won’t disappoint you,” he said.
“That’s good to know,” Lucia said.
Lucia walked away, her thin heels clicking against the thick cement floor. Wilber and his team watched her go, waiting for the Learjet to be fueled and take them toward their date with the Apaches.
16
MRS. COLUMBO SMILED over at her husband, Joe, as she piled an armful of clothes into a tan overnight