find enough to hold them.”
“We’ll need just cause to search them, I can’t get a warrant on some ex-con’s word.”
“If you and your crew happened to be rolling by and heard gunfire, you would have to respond, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then that will be your signal.”
“Be careful.” He said without meaning it.
“What the hell, if they kill me, you’ll really have something to take them down for.” I said and clicked off. What I didn’t tell him was I had taped our conversation with the small digital recorder that I had picked up that morning. Trust no one and you can’t get burned. Out of the closet I took a dress I bought for my latex girlfriend. Gregor gave me an odd look.
“I’m not wearing that.”
“No Gregor, you are not. Now let’s roll.” In a back alley I popped the trunk, Gregor gave me one of his rare smiles when he saw the sex doll. The detail work on her body was frighteningly real. From her perfect pink nipples down to her heart shaped pubic hair she was a necrophiliac’s dream date. It took both of us to dress her, she wasn’t light. Bending her knees we sat her in the front seat and belted her in. It was scary how lifelike she looked at a quick glance. Placing the wig and glasses on her head I started to feel a little queasy. I had turned a fuck doll into a faux Cass, who was, at least for me a faux Kelly. It was truly three degrees of screwed up.
Gregor shook his head sadly when I rolled into the bad section of the Mission District and bought $20 worth of crack from a pre-teen working the corner. But he had the good grace not to ask any questions. That was one of his better qualities, he took it as it came and trusted himself to be strong enough to dig out of any hole I dug for him.
A three-quarter moon hung over the bay as we drove down toward the Cow Palace. It was a huge tin structure used for concerts, county fairs and now deadly trades. We arrived with thirty minutes to spare. I snapped the lock on the parking lot gate with a pair of bolt cutters. Pulling to the far end of the lot I parked under a light. I left Gregor in the Crown Vic and walked out about a hundred yards and stood waiting. My nerves were jangling, I had picked the wrong night to quit drinking. Patting my pocket I felt the reassuring weight of my.45, cocked, locked and ready. Someone was going down tonight. With any luck it wouldn’t be me.
Two beams moved slowly through the gate shooting shafts into the dust. A black Lincoln appeared behind the headlights, it rolled to a stop, blinding me. I heard a door open and sweater boy moved in front of the lights, in his outline a pistol was clearly held in his hand. “Where’s the bitch?” he said pointing the pistol at me. I raised my left hand, keeping the right close to my pocket. Inside the Crown Vic Gregor flashed a light on the girl.
“Now turn off the lights before we attract attention, and let’s get down to business.” I said.
“You don’t give the orders anymore got it?”
“Got it. You, my friend, are the big swinging dick here. So what do you want to do?” I said with a disarming smile.
“That’s right, damn it. Larry, kill the fucking lights, you want the cops coming or what?” The driver killed the lights and I could see he was alone in the car. “Ok tough guy, now you bring me the girl.”
“I will, because you asked me to. But um, first, just to keep things straight, I should see the cash. Not that I don’t trust you. You are in charge here.”
“See that’s nice, you’re respectful, if you were like that from the start this whole thing would have gone a lot easier.”
“Trust me I see the error of my ways.”
“Good. Larry, you lazy fuck, get the bag.” The driver got out and moved to the trunk.
“Not for nothing, but, did you guys do the girl in LA?” I tossed it off like I was asking if he thought it might rain.
“That bitch was fine. A real screamer.” The blood in my veins started to boil. My head pounded. Every cell in my body screamed. This smarmy mother fucker had to die. My hand snaked towards my pocket.
“Whoa! Dumb fucking move ace!” Sweater boy snapped the hammer back on his pistol. From ten feet he couldn’t miss my head. My hand moved into my pocket. “Pull out your hand, slow!” he yelled.
The beef in a running suit dropped the black gym bag he was holding and reached for his shoulder holster.
My.45 was almost clear of my pocket when I heard the report of a high-powered rifle. The passenger window of the Crown Vic popped and the sex doll’s head exploded. Dropping to the ground the sniper’s second shot whizzed over me. Sweater Boy swung his barrel down. The.45 rocked in my hand, flame flashed and his ankle shattered into a bloody mess. He went down howling, his pistol slid across the gravel. I rolled to the left as a third rifle bullet puffed the ground beside me.
The son of a bitch had a night scope.
Gregor fired up the Crown Vic and had her rolling towards me. He fired wild shots out the window. Skidding to a stop he blocked the snipers view of me. The metal pinged as a slug tore through the car door.
Sirens wailed and two unmarked cars burst through the gate, their cherry tops spinning red into the night. The beefy goon had his arm under Sweater Boy and was trying to get him into the Lincoln. Kneeling against the Vic’s front fender I took aim. My first hardball ripped a hole in the back of his cardigan and ruined his spine. Beef dropped his pal and leapt for the car. I popped him in the knee and watched him go down. Running towards them I hoped the cops had scared off the sniper.
I kicked the piece out of Beef’s hand and tossed the crack vials into their car. A gurgled breath came from the crumpled Sweater Boy. He looked up at me, his eyes pleading, his mouth unable to form words. I stomped my boot down on his head. I could feel his skull crack.
“Boss!” Gregor yelled. The cops were almost on us.
The second stomp ended the punk’s breathing. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would have been.
Grabbing the gym bag, I was barely into the Vic when Gregor hit it hard and we spun out the opposite direction from the cops. We were doing seventy-five when we hit the chain link fence. Bouncing over a planter the Vic skidded onto the city streets and didn’t slow down until we saw the glittering city by the bay rising up out of the mist.
CHAPTER 16
In a filling station, Gregor held up the flap on his coat. A sniper bullet meant for me had passed through the car, through his coat and punched a hole in the door. “Bastards. Somebody’s buying me a new coat,” Gregor said.
“You want a new coat? I’ll buy you a new coat.”
“You didn’t put the hole in it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Then you don’t have to buy me one, but somebody does.”
“Yeah, I see your point.” I left him in the car to worry about his wardrobe while I went to the phone booth. First I dialed the number my hacker buddy had gotten for Sabatini. It rang three times before a thick headed bruiser answered, I asked him to put Leo on.
“Pal, you got the wrong number, no Leo’s here.”
“Tell him it’s McGuire. Tell him I ain’t dead.” Twenty seconds later I heard Leo pick up.
“Mr. McGuire, I’m glad to hear your voice.”
“But not surprised, are you?”
“No, I was told you had been lucky.”
“I whacked your skinny friend. Cops have the fat one.”
“I heard that as well. But you didn’t call me to recount old times, did you?”
“No, the girl’s dead, I got my cash. I just need to know no one is coming after me for the punk.”
“No one will be coming after you.”
