Powder Burn - Carl Hiaasen [93]
He slipped through the curtains and padded silently up to McRae, who was still facing the door. With his right hand, Meadows seized the back of the lawyer’s moist neck and shoved him forward. The fat man’s legs cracked against the desk, and he spilled face down, whimpering in confusion.
Meadows was rooted behind him, mashing McRae’s face into the wood. The architect’s left hand swiftly swept the pistol onto the carpet, then found the glass apple.
“What the fuck is going on?” McRae spluttered, wrenching his head to try to see his assailant.
But Meadows held on desperately. Clumsily he brought the glass apple crashing into the side of the lawyer’s head. It was not a particularly forceful blow, and Meadows knew it. He was not left-handed.
McRae’s hand grabbed at his arm, and frantically Meadows smashed McRae again. This time the paperweight exploded on impact. Meadows lost his grip, and McRae rolled off the desk and fell on the carpet, moaning. His eyes were closed, and his scalp was bleeding.
Miraculously Meadows’s hand was not cut. He walked to the door and locked it.
McRae lay gurgling like a baby. With no small effort Meadows rolled him onto his belly. He tied a handkerchief around the lawyer’s head as a blindfold.
Meadows hastily examined the injuries and decided McRae would live. His hair was gooey with blood, but all the lacerations seemed superficial. His breathing was deep, loud and almost regular.
Meadows dressed as fast as he could, his hands quaking so badly that he could hardly button his shirt. He checked McRae one more time. The battered lawyer seemed to be snoring. Meadows found the light switch and darkened the study before closing the door behind him.
He passed Jill in the living room and squeezed her waist. She was hitting on the car salesman again.
Moe was passed out under a glass coffee table. Meadows shook him by the shoulder, but it was no use. He looked around for Manny and found him on the sofa with Alonzo.
“I’m gonna take off,” he said.
“I’m about ready myself,” Manny said. “All the coke is gone, anyway. I’ll walk down with you.”
“That’s OK; you go ahead and talk with Alonzo,” Meadows said.
Alonzo got up. “We’re finished anyway,” he said. “Chris, it was nice meeting you.”
“Same here.”
“I’ll get Moe,” Manny said.
“OK, see you downstairs,” Meadows said, heading for the door.
The building was designed with an elevator at the end of each hall. As loaded as they were, Manny and Moe surely would choose the one closest to McRae’s condo. Meadows reasoned that if he could get there first and grab the elevator alone, it would give him a three- or four-minute lead time to find the cocaine and stash it. He would have a bigger margin if Manny wound up carrying Moe.
The elevator was on the tenth floor when Meadows pushed the button. He listened nervously for the sound of the door at McRae’s apartment. When the elevator came, he strode in and mashed the Close button repeatedly.
When the door opened downstairs, Meadows dashed through the lobby into the parking lot. Stealthily he circled the building to the waterfront. He scanned the face of the co-op until he found the seventeenth-floor lights of McRae’s condo. He searched the balcony for shadows and saw nothing. The den was still dark.
Meadows trotted to the ixora hedge and began to search, concentrating on an imaginary zone directly beneath McRae’s balcony. He worked by the faint yellow light of the distant skyline. It was enough.
The bag of cocaine lay unbroken in a tangle of roots and leaves. Meadows retrieved it, checking it for leaks. Carrying it close to his body, belt level, he walked with deliberate nonchalance toward the parking lot.
One glance upstairs, and his pace quickened. The lights in Rennie McRae’s study came on.
Meadows turned the corner of the building and sprinted for his car.
Chapter 23
OCTAVIO NELSON WRAPPED a pillow around his head like a helmet.
“Octavio, wake up, llamos,” his wife implored.
“Ten minutes,” Nelson grunted.
“Now. Your brother’s on the phone. I think you better talk to