Straits of Fortune - Anthony Gagliano [77]
“So,” I said to Vivian, “let me guess again: You’ve got your own little stash of stolen research. Williams found out about that, too, but he hasn’t managed to locate it yet. Is that it? Tell me this: What were you planning to do with it? Your two partners are both dead. What good is that stash now?”
“I don’t know,” Vivian said. “All I know is I’m the one who brought the deal to Daddy, and I’m going to get my fair share. Besides, Matson introduced me to a lot of his friends. Maybe one of them can help me.” She edged closer to me on the seat, so that her thigh pushed up against my own. “Maybe you can help us, too.”
I let that one ride. But it gave me an idea. “Where’s the stash?” I asked.
The car got quiet again. I made a left turn, pulled into the rear of an all-night gas station with a well-lit minimart, and killed the headlights.
“Tell me where the disk is or I feed you both to Williams.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Vivian said. “I know you wouldn’t.”
“Not to you,” I told her. “But your brother back there is another story. I’m sure he’s got Williams’s name saved on his cell phone, and I’m also sure Williams will be very glad to see him again. What do you think?”
“Even if I tell you where it is, what are you going to do with it?” Vivian asked. “Go into business for yourself?”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll cut you both in. I’m not greedy. But neither of you is equipped to go up against Willy Boy alone. I am, and you know it. You need an enforcer. Come on. We’re wasting time, and I’m getting tired.”
“Can’t we stop someplace?” Vivian asked plaintively. “I haven’t slept since you went out to sink the boat. Just for a little while?”
“Not until you tell me where you hid your father’s stuff,” I said. “That’s the deal.”
“It’s back at the house,” she said.
“Where?” Nick asked.
“In my room.”
“Okay,” I said. “That’s enough. Let’s crash. In the morning we’ll head out to the mansion. All three of us, just like one big fucking family.”
Ten minutes later we walked into the overly lit but nearly empty lobby of the Holiday Inn in Hollywood Beach. I knew the clerk on the midnight shift. He was a big, soft-spoken man-child named Casio Davis, whose father had paid me five grand a few years back to help his son get ready for the marines. I had to refund the money, though. The work we did by day, young Casio undid by night at the drive-through window of a Popeyes fried-chicken place. There are a lot of miles in Miami, but not as many as there are calories in a couple buckets of extra-crispy. The father wanted me to keep the money, but I gave it back to him anyway.
Despite the fact that it was off-season, the hotel, which was under partial renovation, was full, but Casio managed to squeeze a pair of rooms out for us. No one spoke on the elevator. We emerged on the sixth floor and walked along a hallway still littered with building debris and smelling like fresh paint. The deal was we would have to be gone before the day crew showed up in the morning; otherwise Casio might be out of a job.
“I’m staying with you,” Vivian announced, slipping her arm through mine as though we were on our way to the prom. I didn’t say anything. I was too tired to think. The thought of a bed with or without Miss Patterson in it was more than enough for me. I just wanted to close my eyes and wake up in another life. Nick didn’t seem to enjoy the prospect of being alone very much, but there were limits to my concern about that. He went into his room, and I heard him put the latch on. He had good reason to be afraid. He’d seen Williams plowing through those hard boys back at Embers, and his dreams would be less than serene.
Our room was down the hall. The moment I saw the bed, I went for it as if it were the last bed on earth. I heard Vivian talking behind me, but her voice began to dissolve as I stretched out and closed my eyes. The glow from the lamp on the nightstand should have kept me awake, but I didn’t even have enough energy left to shut it off. Sleep reached up for me through the