The Last Don - Mario Puzo [219]
“I know you set that guy Skannet up,” Losey said. “And I’ll get you for it sooner or later.”
“It will have to be sooner,” Lia said. “There’s no later. Yes, you are right and now you can die happy.”
Losey still could not believe that anyone would dare to murder a police officer in cold blood. Sure, drug dealers would exchange bullets, and sure, some crazy nigger would blow you away because you showed a badge, as would fleeing bank robbers, but no mob guy would have the balls to execute a police officer. It would be too much heat.
He reached out to shove Lia away, to achieve a dominance over the situation. But suddenly there was a shocking line of fire slashing through his stomach and his legs trembled. He started to crumble to his knees. Something thick slapped against his head and his ear was on fire and he could not hear. He sank to his knees and the rug felt like an enormous cushion. He looked up. Standing over him was Lia Vazzi, and in his hands was a thin silk rope.
Lia Vazzi had spent two whole days sewing together the two body bags he would have to use. They were of dark brown canvas with a drawstring at the head. Each bag could contain a large body. There was no possible leakage of blood from the bag, and once you drew the string, you could sling it over your shoulder like an army duffel bag. Losey had not noticed the two bags lying on the sofa. Now the men stuffed his body into one, and Lia drew the string tight. He left the bag leaning upright against the sofa. He gave orders to the men that they were to surround the Villa but were not to appear until he summoned them explicitly. They knew what they were to do after that.
Cross and Dante strolled from the compound gates toward Dante’s Villa. The night air was oppressive with the cauldron of heat spewed from the day’s desert sun. They were both perspiring. Dante noted that Cross was dressed in slacks, open shirt, and buttoned jacket, that he could be armed . . .
The seven Villas, their green flags waving slightly, made a magnificent sight under the desert moon. They looked like edifices from another century with their balconies, their frilled green awnings over the windows, their huge white doors decorated with gold. Dante held Cross by the arm. “Look at that,” he said. “Isn’t it beautiful? I hear you’re fucking that great-looking broad in the movie. Congratulations. When you get tired of her let me know.”
“Sure,” Cross said amiably. “She sort of likes you and your hat.”
Dante took off his hat and said eagerly, “Everybody likes my hats. Did she really say she likes me?”
“She’s enchanted by you,” Cross said dryly.
“Enchanted,” Dante said musingly. “That’s really classy.” He wondered for a moment if Losey had been able to get Athena into their Villa for a drink. That would be the icing on the cake. He was tickled that he had distracted Cross, he had noticed the slight irritation in his cousin’s voice.
They were at the door of the Villa. There seemed to be no security guards around. Dante pressed the bell, waited, and then rang again. When there was no answer, he took out his key and opened the door. They entered Losey’s suite.
Dante was thinking, Maybe Losey was in the sack with Athena. Which was a hell of a way to run an operation, but he would have done the same thing.
Dante led Cross into the living room and was astonished to see the walls and furniture covered with clear plastic sheets. Leaning against the sofa was a huge brown duffel bag standing upright. On the sofa was an empty duffel bag of the same kind. All under plastic. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is this?” Dante said.
He turned to face Cross. Cross was holding a very small gun in his hand. “To keep the blood off the furniture,” Cross said. “I have to tell you, I never thought your hats were cute and I never believed that a mugger killed my father.”
Dante was thinking, Where the hell is Losey? He called out to him, meanwhile thinking that such a small-caliber