The men with the shotguns backed off as Farrow moved past them. He stopped in front of us and stood with his legs apart, firmly planted. For a second I thought he was going to put his fists on his hips and shout, “Hi yo, I’m Peter Pan!” Though he may have looked like an elf, his eyes had an insane gleam. I didn’t doubt that he was capable of all sorts of mayhem. He was no Peter Pan. After looking us over, he spat on the ground, barely missing my foot.
“So you’re the two brats who have been givin’ me headaches,” he snarled.”Ishould plug you right here.”
“Max Rose wouldn’t like that,” I said, trying to pull that bluff again.
It was the wrong move. Saying “Max Rose” in front of this guy was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. His eyes lost focus, then rolled back slightly into his head. It was totally creepy. His gang didn’t like it any more than I did. They all took a step back, as if expecting him to blow up or something.
A moment later his eyes snapped back into focus. But in my opinion he had just gone another notch higher on the crazy meter.
“You think I care what that rat thinks?” he snarled. “Max Rose is garbage!” He turned to his men. As if on cue, they all chimed in with: “Yeah! Garbage! Rat! Yeah!” Farrow held up his hand and his men instantly shut up. I think they had done this before. It looked rehearsed. Farrow then turned to us and got in close.
“You say he’s got a message for me?”
I glanced to Spader, which wasn’t hard seeing as we were only about six inches apart. He nodded, giving me encouragement. I had to choose my words carefully. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and set this evil munchkin off. Trouble was, how could I possibly deliver the message I had to deliver without sending him off the deep end?
This plan was now officially stupid. But we were in it now so we had to keep going.
“Yes,” I said calmly. “He wants you to know that he’s not mad you tried to bump him off. He’s willing to forget it ever happened.”
“Well,” Farrow said with a smile. “Ain’t that gentlemanly of him.”
So far so good. “But,” I added.
“But?” Farrow echoed.
“Yes, there’s a but. He’d like you to back off. That’s it. He’s just asking, very politely, I might add, if you would kindly back off.” I hoped I hadn’t softened it so much that I sounded like an idiot.
“Oh? Is that all?” asked Farrow. “And what, may I ask, will happen if Idon’tback off?”
We had come to the hard part.
“Well,” I went on, clearing my throat. “He said, and I quote, that if you don’t mind your own business, he’ll come down here and put a hurt on you like you’ve never seen before.”
I winced. That was it. That was the threat. All that was left now was to see how Farrow would react.
At first he didn’t. He just kept looking at me like he was trying to understand what I had said. Then, after a few seconds, Winn Farrow started to laugh. I swear, he burst out laughing. All of his men started to laugh with him, but that didn’t mean anything. They only did what Farrow did.
“He’s going to come down here and put a hurt on me?” he laughed out. “Who is he kidding? That rat has already hurt me worse than if he put a bullet in my skull.” His laughter was slowing down. It was being replaced by anger. “He’s the reason I’m in this dump in the first place! We were partners. We ran this town. But he got too full of himself and turned on me. Now he’s up there in his castle eating steak and drinking champagne while I’m down here scrambling for crumbs. He’s gonna put the hurt on me? He can’t hurt me any more if he tried.”
He then walked right up to me and stuck his nose in my face. I could smell his sour breath. The guy had been drinking. I guarantee it wasn’t expensive whiskey with a shot of Three Stooges fizzy water.
“But I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he seethed. “I’m gonna get him back where it hurts the most.” He turned away from me and made a motion to one of his goons standing at the door.
Spader and I exchanged looks again. What didthatmean?
The goon walked up to Farrow and handed him something. Farrow then spun back to us with a big smile. He held what looked like a rocket on a stick. No kidding, a rocket. It was red and about a foot long. One end had a pointed nose, the other had fins. Sticking out from between the fins was a wire that had to be a fuse.
Farrow waved the rocket thing under our noses. “I ain’t gonna hit him,” he said playfully. “I ain’t gonna hit any of them saps who work for him neither. You know what I’m going to do? I’m gonna put the mighty Max Rose out of business with this little beauty.”
“What is it?” Spader asked.
Farrow pretended to play with the rocket, making it fly up and down like a kid with a toy airplane.
“Oh, just a little toy I got from some friends over in Chinatown. I think this one’U do just fine, but I’m not sure yet. I’d like you boys to help me decide.”
“Decide what?” I asked. “What are you gonna do with it?”
“It’s very simple,” he answered, sounding as if he were talking to a child. “We’re going to play a little game. It’s called, How many sparklies will it take to light up old Maxie Rose? One? Two? Or maybe even three? That’s what we’re going to see.”
I was beginning to think Winn Farrow was a nutburger.
He turned to his goons and made a motion. Quickly the guy who had tied us up came forward with another length of rope. He tied one end around our wrists and threw the other up and around a meat hook over our heads. This was bad. We were going to be strung up like sides of beef.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I said, trying to think fast. “Why don’t we go back to Max and tell him he’s the one who’s got to back off. Yeah, that’s it! I’ll tell him you’ve got a nasty trick up your sleeve and if he doesn’t let you back in the gang, you’ll use it.”
“Yeah,” added Spader. “You could be living up in the penthouse yourself!”
Farrow looked at us with dead eyes. All the creepy, happy game stuff was over. “All I want,” he seethed, “is to see that scum suffer like I did. I want him to crawl down here and beg me to takehimin. That’s what I want. That’s what I’m gonna get.” With a nod, the thug yanked on the rope. First our arms were pulled over our heads, then we were hoisted up into the air with our feet dangling several feet over the floor. Farrow walked over to us and held out the rocket.
“Now, let’s see how many of these I’m going to need, okay?” He then turned and hurried out on those short little legs. It wasn’t funny anymore.
“What are you going to do?” I yelled with a shaky voice.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise!” he called back over his shoulder.
Yeah, nutburger. He left through the door, followed by the two guards and the goons with the shotguns. Spader and I were left alone, hanging from the meat hook.
“Now what?” Spader asked.
“We gotta get loose,” I said while struggling to get my hands free.
We went to work on the ropes, but it was painful. Our weight made the rough rope dig into our wrists.
Spader glanced toward the door and said, “Hey, what are they doing out there?”
I turned to look and I think my heart stopped. I now understood what kind of game Farrow was planning. The group of gangsters were gathered together about halfway back, in the large slaughterhouse room where we first had entered. The black stick that was attached to Farrow’s rocket was now nailed into a wooden crate. The crate was on its side and the rocket was aimed through the door…
At us.
“What is that thing?” Spader asked.
I didn’t tell him. He was going to find out soon enough.
“Work faster!” I ordered. “We gotta get outta here!” I worked on the ropes, but had to glance back to the other room. Farrow took a cigar from his jacket and plugged it into his mouth. He pulled out a match and struck it against the crate. He then took his sweet time about lighting his cigar.
This was torture. I looked at the ropes to see we were working them loose, but it was going to be too late.
Farrow finished lighting his cigar, then touched the still flaming match to the fuse on the back of the red rocket. Instantly the fuse sparked to life like a Fourth of July sparkler. In seconds the rocket would ignite.
“Pendragon? What is that?” Spader demanded to know. “What’s going to happen?” Fear had crept into his voice.
