“Look,” I said. “I don’t want to hurt you, your lord, or anybody. I just want to get the girl and go. But I will shoot you if you don’t help me. You Old People keep telling me you don’t give a damn what you do to humans, and, the day I’m having, I’m ready to turn that around.”
He tensed up, and I could tell he was about to rush me. It was an idiot move, and never mind that I’d made it myself when it was Lorenzo holding the gun. I like to think that at least I didn’t telegraph it.
We were far enough apart that I could have shot him easily. I jumped out of his way and tripped him instead. As he toppled forward, I lashed the barrel of the Model 439 against the back of his head. He finished falling on his face, and then he didn’t move anymore.
I dragged him out of the middle of the alley and over behind some trashcans. Then I checked the mag in the Glock. It was full, which gave me fourteen rounds, nine in this gun and five left in the Smith and Wesson. Yippee. With all that firepower, what was there to worry about?
Well, lack of intel, for a start. I still had no idea what I was walking into. But I did know which approach to the store the soprano had been watching. If nobody else was covering it, maybe I could get up close without being spotted. I tucked the guns away and headed forward.
Rhonda operated out of a ratty little crafts store on the ground floor of an old redbrick building. The mouth of the alley was thirty feet away on the other side of Seventh Avenue. Just close enough for me to make out the samples of needlepoint, beading, macrame, jewelry, and other hobby projects behind the dirty windows.
A small parking lot separated the place from the bank next door, and gave me access to the side of the building. Where there was a fire escape. I stared up at the ladder, threw the Thunderbird at it, and willed it to drop.
It didn’t. Even though the damn thing was
But then I saw an answer. Hoping it was safe to leave my body for just a couple seconds, I flew up out of the top of my skull onto the second-story platform and willed some solidity into my ghostly hands, like I’d needed to do to drive the T-bird. I jerked the lever, and the ladder fell with a rattle. I dropped and beat it back to my body. It was all pretty slick, except that the flesh-and-blood part of me had already started to lose its balance. I had to stagger and windmill my arms to keep from falling.
I climbed up onto the lowest platform and hauled the ladder back up after me. There was a fire-exit door, but it was locked. I risked another little hop out of my body to get on the other side of it and push it open. Then I just had to jump back in time to catch it before it swung shut again.
That got me into a hallway with a linoleum floor and fluorescent lighting, like you’d find in most any aging office building. Judging from the little white plastic signs sticking out from the wall beside their doors, a few of the offices had tenants. Most didn’t.
I had a hunch Rhonda owned the whole building. And if Vic was being kept here-a big if, but I had to start someplace-it might make more sense to stash her in an empty office than anywhere down in the crafts store, where there’d be customers coming and going.
I prowled along listening at the doors with no signs. Then I cracked them open and peeked in at the sad- looking empty spaces on the other side, all dull pastel paint, and industrial carpeting with dents to show where furniture used to be.
Eventually I came to one that wasn’t quite as empty as the others. A guy in a blue shirt sat in a metal folding chair by a window, where he could watch Seventh Avenue. Even from behind, he didn’t look quite right. Maybe it was the shape of his shoulders.
I was lucky he hadn’t spotted me crossing the street. Maybe he’d been looking elsewhere. Or maybe the marijuana shirt had thrown him off, since I hadn’t been wearing it back at the hotel.
Whatever. I pulled the Smith and Wesson out of the back of my jeans, tiptoed over to the guy, and said, “Don’t move.”
His head snapped around. Then he screamed. The sound was loud and shrill enough to make me flinch, and had a warbling beat to it, like a siren. He tried to jump up and reach into his pocket.
This made two times in a row that my gun hadn’t gotten any respect at all. Maybe the sopranos just never backed down for anything. Or maybe they were under a spell that made them love their boss more than their own lives. Which was another reason to think their boss was Leticia.
I stepped in and whipped the Model 439 across the screamer’s face, then banged him over the head with it. He fell back into the folding chair, which overturned underneath him. I watched him for another second, and he didn’t move.
But if his buddies had heard him howl-and there wasn’t much doubt about that-they were probably coming, and I wanted to be gone before they showed up. I hurried back out into the hallway.
When I turned the next corner, it was just in time to see Raul and Pablo Martinez dragging Vic through the door to the service stairs. Her face was bruised, with a black eye, and full of fear.
I yelled,” Stop!” and aimed the pistol. As usual, nobody cared. Pablo raised a new damn tire iron and charged me. It blocked my shot at his brother, who dragged Vic out of sight.
So I shot Pablo instead.
I didn’t like doing it. I came back from Afghanistan knowing I didn’t want to shoot people anymore, not even ones as mean and stupid as him. And I was pretty sure he was only rushing the gun because Leticia had turned him into one of her love monkeys. But I didn’t feel like giving him the chance to rearrange my head, either.
The bullet hit him in the belly like I wanted. He pitched forward. The tire iron tumbled from his hand and clanked on the floor. He tried to lift himself up, but couldn’t do it. Then the rage and determination drained out of his face, and pain and fear rushed in.
“It wasn’t a kill shot,” I said. “Keep pressure on it, and you’ll be all right till somebody comes to help you.” I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I hoped so.
I edged around him, headed on toward the stairs, and wondered if somebody was waiting to shoot at me from below. Then the phone in my pocket rang. I pulled it out and flipped it open.
“You’re still with us,” Leticia said. She sounded happy about it, and even now, that sexy purr made me catch my breath.
“So far,” I said.
“You can have your friend back,” Leticia said. “This doesn’t have to be unpleasant.”
“That’s interesting. Because it kind of looks like you set up the whole thing specifically to kill me.”
“That was Gimble’s contribution.”
“And he’s not here now?”
“No. Poor thing. He’s so big and conspicuous that it’s a lot of trouble for him to go among the humans.”
“So what’s your offer?” I glanced around to make sure nobody was sneaking up behind me.
“Surrender, and no one else gets hurt. My people will simply hold you and Victoria until midnight, then set you free.”
“Sounds familiar,” I said.
“What?”
“It sounds like bullshit, too.”
“I’ve got nothing against you, Billy. I just want to win. But I want it badly enough to hurt Victoria to get it. Should I hold the phone where you can hear her scream?”
“Should I come in shooting with all my magic cranked up to eleven?”
“I don’t think that would work out well for you.”
“You didn’t think I’d come out of the flashbacks with my mind in one piece, either. You didn’t think I could get inside this building without you knowing it. You don’t know what I can do.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m afraid of you.”
“Look at it this way. There are normal people here. Some of them must have heard your sentry scream. Some of them probably heard me fire a shot, too. Somebody probably called 911. If not, I can make sure somebody does.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice sweet talking the police.”
“I’ll bet. But do you want to try handling them and a standoff with me at the same time?” I glanced over my shoulder again. The hall behind me was still clear. Pablo had taken my advice, rolled onto his back, and planted his
