“Cops?” he asked.
“Junkies,” Pet answered. “Dirty fucking junkies. They going to
“I hit him. That was all I could see—I didn’t want to stay around. Would that belt’ve worked?”
“Blow a six-foot hole in concrete.”
“What’s the range for the transmitter?”
“About a mile and a half ... maybe two miles.”
“Is that alley a dead-end?”
“Yeah. And I can block it ... but don’t hit them here, for Chrissakes.”
“Put the belt in the airline bag and give it to me. Okay, now block the alley—don’t let any of them run.”
Pet swung the Caddy smoothly across the alley’s mouth and Wesley was out of the car with the silenced Beretta pointed at all three men before they could move.
“Freeze! Put your hands where I can see them.”
“What is this, man? We’re not—”
“Shut up. You want to make five hundred bucks?”
The smallest one stepped forward, almost into the gun. “Yeah, man. Yeah, we want to make the money. What we have to do?”
“Deliver this package for me. Just take it out on the Slip and walk through the jungle to the corner of Henry and Clinton. There’ll be a man waiting for it there—he’s
“You must think you’re dealing with real fucking chumps, man! You’ll pay us
Wesley took five hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and held them out in his left hand, extending them toward the smallest one who grabbed hold. Wesley didn’t let go. “Take them and tear them in half. Neatly. Then give me back half.”
“What the fuck for, man?”
“That way we’re both covered, right? You come back and by then my man has called and says he got the stuff ... you cop the other half of the bills. I’ll pay you, alright—half of the fucking bills won’t do
“Okay, man, but...”
“But nothing ... and either all three of you go or it’s no deal.”
“Why all three?”
“What if some fucking hijacker rips you off on the way over? You’ll be safer with all three and
“You
“You think so, just open it up, sucker ... but get the fuck away from me first.”
With Wesley still holding the gun on him, the smallest one reached for the bills and carefully ripped them in half, handing half to Wesley. He looked up from his work and saw the glint of metal from the Caddy.
“Your partner got the drop on us too, huh?”
Wesley didn’t answer. The smallest one took the airline bag, pocketed the torn bills, and the three junkies walked out of the alley. The Caddy backed up just enough to let them by. They turned toward the Slip. Wesley got in the Caddy and Pet pulled away. Using the night glasses, Wesley could pick out the three walking dead men as they moved toward Clinton Street.
Pet looked at his watch. “It takes a man about twelve to fifteen minutes to walk a city mile. Those dope fiends ain’t no athletes— should take them about twenty to get to Henry Street.”
Wesley said nothing—he was still watching the couriers to make sure they wouldn’t split up and force him to go after whoever wasn’t near the bag. Pet wheeled the big car toward the garage. They were inside in seconds and Pet climbed into the newly painted cab. “Still got about five minutes to go—I’m going out driving to make sure that stuff works.”
“I’ll be your passenger—I want to see if it works, too.”
The cab was coming up Clinton toward Henry when Pet said, “Seven minutes—that’s enough,” and pressed the radio’s control button.
Explosion rocked the night. The cab raced toward Henry Street, but by the time they arrived all they got to see were a few dismembered cars and a lamppost lying in the street. There was glass everywhere, reflecting all sorts of once-human colors. Pet turned the cab around quickly and went the wrong way up Clinton to East Broadway and then raced uptown for a couple of minutes. He was back to normal late-night NYC cabbie speed by the time they crossed Grand Street.
“The miserable hypes must’ve wanted that money bad—they was
“I guess it worked.”
“They’ll need blotting paper to find them,” Pet said. “Make sure you set fire to your half of the bills.”
