had Louisiana plates. We’re down here to try and find her.”
Greene grunted. “Damn, I had no idea. What did the police say?”
“Not much,” Jones answered. “They’re doing everything they can in Pittsburgh, but until we receive a ransom demand or find some conclusive evidence about the gang, they aren’t willing to contact the FBI or any other law enforcement agency.”
“So, you two are here to snoop around? What are you planning to do to get her back?”
With determination in his eyes, Payne rejoined the conversation. “Whatever it takes.”
CHAPTER 16
BECAUSE
of his size, Greene claimed the shotgun seat of the cramped Mustang, forcing Jones to sit in the back. Normally Jones would’ve bitched and moaned about losing his front-seat status, but since Greene would’ve needed the flexibility of a Russian gymnast to contort his 275-pound frame into the backseat, Jones didn’t mutter a single complaint.
After getting into the car, Greene spoke first. “I was able to purchase the artillery that you guys wanted, but it cost me a pretty penny. If you want, we can pick it up now.”
Payne agreed, and Greene directed him to the nearby parking garage where his black Cadillac Escalade was parked. The SUV was equipped with a gas-guzzling 400-plus-horsepower engine, limousine-tinted windows, and enough speakers and subwoofers to register a 3.5 on the Richter scale. “This here is my pride and joy,” Greene exclaimed. “It was the last extravagant gift I bought myself before my injury. Ain’t she sweet?”
“She’s a nice ride, and it certainly looks like you take care of her.”
Greene nodded as he opened his hatch. “My daddy always used to say, if you take care of your car, your car will take care of you.”
Jones slid up next to the ex-linebacker and glanced inside the spacious cargo hold. “My God, your trunk’s bigger than the seat you’re making me ride around in.”
Payne rolled his eyes at Jones’s remark. “What did you get for us, big man?”
“You said you needed some reliable handguns, so I picked you up a couple of Glocks. I didn’t know which model you’d prefer, so I got a 19 and a 27. The 19 uses standard nine-millimeter ammo, which many people like. Personally, I prefer the 27. In fact, it’s the kind I carry for protection. It’s chambered in forty-caliber Smith amp; Wesson, which I think is ballistically better than the nine-millimeter.”
Payne smiled his approval as he picked up the charcoal gray Glock 27 from Greene’s cargo hold. The ridged polymer handle fit snugly into his experienced hand, and as he held it up to the overhead lights, he stared at the gun with the wide-eyed fascination of a kid with a new toy. “You made a nice choice. No external safeties to worry about. It’s light, dependable. Perfect.”
“I guess that means I’m stuck with the 19, huh?” Jones didn’t have a problem with the weapon, but after riding in the cramped backseat, he was in the mood to complain about something. “Did you get us anything else?”
Greene leaned into the trunk and pulled out a large maroon suitcase. As he fiddled with the case’s combination lock, he spoke. “You told me that money wasn’t an object and that you needed a couple of weapons with some serious firepower, right? Well, I hope this is what you had in mind.” Greene opened the case, revealing a Heckler amp; Koch MP5 K submachine gun and a Steyr AUG assault rifle.
Jones reacted quickly, grabbing the MP5 K before Payne could get his hands on it. “My, my, my! What do we have here? German-made, three-round burst capability, nine hundred rounds a minute. A nice piece of hardware.”
“That’s not all,” Greene declared. “I picked up the optional silencer as well.”
“Great!” Payne said. “That means he can kill a librarian without disturbing any readers.”
“Not that I’d
kill a librarian,” Jones assured him.
“They’re special people.”
Greene ignored their banter, focusing on Payne instead. “Jon, this Steyr AUG is one of the best assault rifles on the market. It has an interchangeable barrel, so you can use it accurately from a distance like a sniper or up close like a banger. And the cartridges-five-point-five-six by forty-five millimeters-can be bought in department stores, for God’s sake! It’s very versatile.”
Payne picked up the rifle and attached the scope with the skill of a soldier. Once it was in place, he held the eyepiece to his face and put a fire alarm across the garage in his sight. He held the weapon steady, sucked in a deep breath, then paused. “Bang!” he mouthed before dropping the AUG to his side. “You’re right. This is a fine choice, and all the weapons appear to be in pretty good shape. What did the purchase run you?”
Greene pulled a handwritten invoice out of his pocket and gave it to Payne.
Payne glanced at the sheet and smiled. “What kind of a street dealer writes out receipts? Does he have a return policy if we’re not completely satisfied?”
“Actually, I wrote the stuff down so I wouldn’t forget. I’m not that strong with numbers.”
“Me, either,” Payne admitted. “That’s why I try to avoid them at work.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you do for a living?”
“I’m the CEO of a multinational conglomeration. We specialize in everything from new technologies to clothes to food products.”
Greene laughed in a disbelieving tone. “Okay, whatever. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. Besides, I’m too hungry to worry about it. Why don’t we get out of here?”
Jones agreed. “Sounds good to me. Should we take one car or two?”
“Why don’t we take two?” Payne said. “There’s a good chance that we’re going to be putting ourselves in danger before the end of the night, and I’m not comfortable asking Levon to help us any more than he already has. It’s one thing to ask him for guns and a place to stay, but it’s entirely different to put his life in danger for two guys he barely knows.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Jones seconded. “Things could get a little bit nasty if we meet up with the wrong people.”
“Come on, D.J., let’s put our stuff in the back of the Mustang, then we can follow Levon to dinner.” Jones nodded, then walked toward the car with a handful of weapons.
“Hold up a fuckin’ minute!” Greene roared. “I can’t believe you had an entire conversation about me and didn’t bother to ask my opinion. What kind of Yankee bullshit is that?”
“Yankee bullshit?” Payne muttered. “I don’t remember talking about baseball.”
“I don’t think you did. He must’ve misheard you. The acoustics down here aren’t that great.”
“Enough already! Would you guys please shut up before I’m forced to use a Glock on your ass? Damn!” Greene shook his head in disgust as he walked toward Payne and Jones. “Listen, I realize that I don’t know you guys very well, but I’ll be honest with you: This shit intrigues me. When I was still playing ball, I used to live for the adrenaline rush that I got on game day. The crowd calling my name, the speakers blasting my Bob Marley theme song, the feel of a quarterback sack. Man, those were the days.”
Greene’s eyes glazed slightly as he thought back to his All-Pro seasons with the Bills.
“Unfortunately, that shit has changed. Since Barker blew out my fucking knee, I haven’t been able to get too excited about anything. I’ve done my best to rehab and run and lift, but the truth is, my career is probably done.”
“So, what are you saying?” Payne asked.
“For the first time in almost three years, I can feel the adrenaline pumping again. When you called and told me that you wanted me to round up some weapons, I nearly got a hard-on. Then, when you told me the reason for your visit, I got even more excited-an excitement I haven’t felt in a long time. Anyway, I guess this is what I’m saying: If you don’t mind, I’d like to come along for the ride. I’d like to help you find your girlfriend.”
Payne turned to Jones and grinned. He’d been hoping Greene would offer his services. “I don’t know, man. I just don’t know. D.J., what do you think?”
“Well, a New Orleans native with street connections might come in handy, and his nickname is the Buffalo
