‘Well, you wanna take him first or visit my friend Zipper?’ Livingston had struck out on the first two bookies. He was obviously losing faith in his hunch. Sharky decided he deserved to run his string out first.
‘Let’s do your guy first. Mine’ll be around till they turn the streetlights off.’
‘You got it.’
He turned the red light on and went down Peachtree Street to Spring and then into the middle of the city with his foot on the floor. Sharky casually hooked up his safety belt as they screamed in and out of traffic past the Omni complex, a cluster of tall buildings that included a hotel and a sports arena. Livingston turned into the city Viaduct and went down to Hunter Street where he turned again. Six blocks later he pulled up to the kerb. A block ahead of them was a low, squat building joined like a Siamese twin to a three-storey indoor parking garage. A sign flashed on and off over the building, announcing that it was the Lucky Strike Bowling Alley.
‘We’ll hoof it from here,’ Livingston said. They got Out of the car and locked it. The street was filled with festive black men in fur coats and Borsalino hats with laughing ladies on their arms. Sharky and Livingston walked towards the bowling alley.
‘Let’s do this my way, okay?’ Livingston said. ‘1 grew up here. It’s my turf. I know every crack in the sidewalk.’
‘Whatever you say.’
‘Here’s the set-up. A long mall with the bowling alley at the end. Twelve alleys all together. When you go in, there’s a lunch counter on your right and a concession stand on your left. The mother-fucker running the concession stand owns the place, but you’d never know it. He’s uglier than a cross-eyed kangaroo and twice as mean. What I need is for you to get his attention long enough for me to come in behind him and freeze him. He’s got buttons under the counter. If he gets nervous, he’ll blow the whole play on us. Go down in there, okay? Walk along the alleys until you’re right in front of the fuckin’ concession stand, then walk straight back to it and lose some time there. Buy a candy bar, anything. If he gets nervous, put him on ice. Stick that 9 mm of yours right up his nose, otherwise he won’t think you’re serious. When I make my play, gimme some room and do exactly as I say, okay?’
‘1 got it.’
‘Good. Let’s give it a try and see what happens.’
Sharky went down the mall and stopped behind the chairs of the middle alley. A tall teenage black gave him a dirty look, then went back to his game. Sharky moved slowly along the alleys, aware of the concession stand to his left but not looking directly at it. When he was in front of the stand, he turned and strolled straight back to it.
The man behind the counter was the size of a warehouse with arms like two sides of beef. Thick lips were wrapped around the short end of a cigar which had gone out hours before. An earring glittered in one ear. He wore a tweed cap pulled down over his forehead and a black tee-shirt with a black-power fist emblazoned in the middle of it.
He eyed Sharky as though he were a cockroach walking across the counter.
‘Alley’s full,’ he said as Sharky leaned on the countertop. ‘Got any Good ‘N’ Plenty?’ Sharky said. Behind the man with the earring, Livingston entered a side door and moved quietly towards the concession stand.
The black man leaned on the opposite side of the glass countertop. His eyes were not as bored as he wanted them to seem. One arm dropped to his side, dangling near a drawer under the candy shelf.
‘Nope. Try the drugstore for that fancy shit.’
Livingston reached the other side of the counter. ‘Easy, Cherry,’ he said. The owner’s face went blank, then be smiled, a gold tooth twinkling in the front of his mouth.
‘Yes, suh,’ he said without turning around. ‘How they hangin’, Sergeant?’
‘Hangin’ full, babe. What’s happenin’?’
‘Not a thing, not a thing. Just hangin’ around, right?’
‘Right. That’s my friend Sharky. Say hello.’
Cherry kept on smiling. ‘Hello, brother,’ he said.
Livingston walked to the side of the counter and lifted a hinged section of the countertop and stepped inside. He ran a nimble hand down one side of Cherry’s body and up the other, extracting a stubby .25 calibre pistol.
‘I got a permit for that, Sergeant.’
‘I’m sure you do.’ Livingston opened the drawer and ran his hand along the top of the space. He smiled. Cherry smiled.
‘Now how we gonna do this, Cherry?’ Livingston said. ‘You gonna keep that drawer closed and stay over there while I go upstairs, or am I gonna take this whole fuckin’ counter apart?’
‘Don’t do that, Sergeant.’
‘Then it’s cool, dig?’
‘Gotcha,’ Cherry said and moved away from the drawer with his hands resting on top of the counter.
‘Just stay right there. Sharky and I are gonna go over there by the Coke machine and have a chat.’
They went to the Coke machine and Livingston dropped in two quarters. He gave one of the soft drinks to Sharky.
‘See the door over there, about halfway down the first alley?’
Sharky looked over at the door. A red exit sign glowed over it.
‘Okay.’
‘I’m goin’ through that door. You stay here and make sure Cherry don’t break the rules. If he gets fancy, bust
