Lewis took up his position not fifteen feet away from the four guards.
Tomeo, Mickey, and Apache kept going toward the lodge.
Normally they would have taken out the four guards and moved on, but Lewis was not going to put a single team member at unnecessary risk. He wanted a lightning strike whereby all of the exterior guards were neutralized at once. He didn't want any of the guards to have an opportunity to resist-or for a shout or a gunshot to alert anyone inside the lodge. The body armoring all but removed that risk for Tomeo and Apache, but his and Mickey's lighter suits offered superior maneuverability with full protection of only their torsos. Even if the inserts were missed, the latest version of Kevlar would take multiple rounds in the same spot without failure.
According to Russo, there could be as many as fourteen guards there, all of them aware that they were not to fire at anyone without Russo's orders. Russo thought the cutouts were going to erase only Sam and Sean.
Despite what Lewis had told Russo, Fifteen's orders had been clear. “Erase everybody there and leave no witnesses.” As Lewis had put it to his people, “If they didn't come here with us, they're staying after us.”
Figuring his team was in position up the road, Lewis raised his MP5 SD and fired at the men standing like cows in the curve of a nameless dirt road.
102
Sam Manelli stood at the foot of the bed staring at the bathroom door. If the aging gangster had ever smiled, there was no evidence in the famous mask, which seemed to have been carved from a lifetime of suspicion and displeasure. The water stopped running.
The old man sat on the edge of the bed, his knees facing the closet. The bathroom door opened and Sean Devlin climbed up onto the bed and sat cross-legged, facing Manelli. Stunned, Winter watched Sam lean over and kiss her gently on the cheek.
Winter stepped out of the closet, aiming the SIG at Sam Manelli, his finger on the trigger, already knowing that the first bullet would strike his square head in the center.
Manelli reacted by standing up to face Winter.
When Sean saw Winter, she slid quickly off the mattress and stood between Winter and Sam for a split second before Sam shoved her behind him.
“Go ahead an' do me,” Sam growled. “Just leave her alone!”
“Winter, no!” Sean cried out. “Don't.”
“What the hell is this, Sean?” Winter demanded. He couldn't accept what he was seeing before him.
“It's okay, Winter. Sam, he's the deputy that saved my life on that island.”
“Okay? This old reptile's been trying to kill you,” Winter told Sean. “He sent the people who killed Martinez and Greg! His people just tried to kill Hank and me.” Winter's hand was trembling from anger, shock. “I'm not dead, you old bastard, your three in the boathouse are.”
Manelli's blue eyes were suddenly curious. “When was you in my boathouse?”
“Russo told your clowns to drown us.” Winter kept the SIG aimed at Sam's head, wanting to squeeze the trigger.
“I don't believe that,” Sam growled. “Why would he do a thing like that and not tell me? When?”
“Fifteen minutes ago. A creep named Spiro and two guys grabbed us. Russo came to the boathouse and said for them to drown us in your crab cage. One of them shot my partner.”
“Is Hank all right?” Sean asked, genuinely concerned.
“Will be soon as the assault team gets here.” Winter took the handcuffs from his jacket pocket and tossed them onto the bed. “Put those on him, Sean.”
“That's not necessary,” Sean said.
“You're a crazy man,” Sam barked. “How does Johnny know you? What reason would he have to kill you?”
“Shut up, Manelli. Cuff him, Sean, or I swear to God, I'll drop this psychopath right here.”
“Winter, he didn't know they tried to kill me on Rook or in Richmond. It was a mistake.”
“Who the hell else would want you dead? He got Hoffman to send those men after Dylan, didn't he?”
“You can't prove that,” Sam protested.
“He didn't send them after me.”
“So it's all right because they only killed everybody else?”
“I didn't mean it that way. Of course it isn't okay.”
“For Christ's sake, Sean! Why the hell would you believe him?”
“Winter, Sam's my father.” Winter saw a framed picture on the bedside table. In it a smiling child of ten or eleven held a shotgun in one hand and a dead duck in the other.
Winter let that sink in as he studied her eyes. His confusion melted away, leaving him feeling every scrape and bruise on his body.. and completely out of patience.
“Then cuff Daddy or I will kill him,” he said with a certainty that he knew left no room for doubt.
103
Winter found Johnny Russo standing in front of the wet bar with his back to the archway, holding his cell phone up to his ear. The L-shaped bar, on Winter's left was eight feet long, four deep, and its closed end faced the archway wall. The front was made of stacked cypress beams, identical to those used in the archway, and topped with a two-inch-thick slab of granite.
To Winter's right was a wide gun cabinet filled with shotguns. In front of him, living room furniture faced the stone fireplace, which was centered in a wall of glass.
“Spiro, you bonehead prick. Turn on your damned phone,” Russo muttered.
“He can't get a signal in hell,” Winter said.
Russo spun around to the sight of Winter, standing in the archway aiming two guns at him.
Winter was primed with anger. Russo was responsible for what had happened to Hank and him in the boat shed. He wouldn't hesitate to make this strutting silver-haired prick doornail dead.
“Just a minute!” Russo put his phone on the bar, keeping his hand there.
“Step away from the bar,” Winter commanded. He already knew that Russo wasn't armed. Sam had told Winter that Johnny's. 357 was behind the bar, where he'd set it down when he came in earlier that afternoon.
Slowly Russo smiled. “You're no deputy marshal. Why didn't you just say you was with Lewis? Sam and Sean are in that first bedroom, and you can clip 'em easy-Sam's not packing.”
Who is Lewis? What others? Winter couldn't imagine who he was talking about. He didn't get a chance to ask.
“You're dead!” Sam's voice boomed from the hallway behind Winter.
Johnny Russo's face seemed to sag as Sam Manelli passed Winter and stepped into the room. The fact that his wrists were handcuffed in front of him didn't seem to make Russo feel any safer.
Sean stood at Winter's right side.
“Stop right there, Manelli!” Winter ordered.
“You ain't getting away with this,” Manelli growled at Russo. “You been trying to get Sean clipped! You just told this bird to kill us. I don't know how you got Herman to double-cross me and try to kill my kid, but I am gonna find out. You better talk quick or I'm gonna kill you.”
“It was Herman's idea. He set it all up for the three million.” Russo's face was pale and sweat glistened on his forehead.
“And you knew about it? Why was he going to kill Sean?”
“Sam… you… you were gonna leave her everything legit and I wouldn't have any way to hide my street money. It was just business.” Russo stepped back, hands outstretched in supplication. “We're talking millions of dollars. You'd have done the same thing.”
