Jungle Of Steel And Stone

powder, tasted it. 'Jesus H. Christ,' he murmured. 'I can't believe you're throwing this shit around.'

'Good stuff?'

'Good?' Sloane wore a slightly dazed expression on his face. 'What's left in this bag is worth a fortune. I'd heard rumors that this guy was carrying around something big . . .'

'I assume you'd know how to get rid of it?' Veil asked wryly.

Sloane had begun to sweat. His eyes were teary from the smoke and he rubbed them. 'A little bit at a time, over the years,' he said in a dry, cracking voice. 'Maybe. It's suicide to cross the big guys on something like this.'

'So? Like you said, you can spend the rest of your life selling it off in small bits. It sounds to me like a great way to beat inflation. On the other hand, they tell me that money is power. With the money you could get from the sale of that heroin, you might grow pretty big yourself.'

The man could not take his eyes off the bag in his hand. 'If they caught me, they'd take me apart with a chain saw,' he said distantly.

'Getting big money means taking big risks, Sloane. You can always turn us in and collect a few thousand from your boss, can't you? You'll sleep better—but you'll also be making peanuts for the rest of your life while those 'big guys' jerk you around. Sooner or later small potatoes like you end up in jail, anyway. When you get canned for some penny-ante crime, you'll have plenty of opportunity to think about this opportunity you pissed away.'

Sloane finally looked up from the bag. His eyes were round and bright in the firelight. 'What am I supposed to do for this?'

'You've already earned what you're holding in your hand; you can walk out of here with it. Think of it as a down payment. There are two more bags like that one— bigger, because they're not torn. That bag's been dribbling for days.'

'Jesus.'

'Do as I ask and they're both yours.'

Sloane's eyes went back to the bag in his hand, then to the fine powder strewn on the ground around the glowing embers of the fire. 'What do you want me to do?' he asked hoarsely.

'What time do you get off?'

'I was supposed to be relieved an hour and a half ago.'

'Then somebody may be there when you get back, so you'd better come up with a good story. First, we need a car. Rent one, don't steal it. Leave the car parked at the curb, on this side of the street, at the place where I spoke to you—or as close as you can without being spotted. Bring the keys and the rental slip to me, here.'

Sloane glanced at Toby, who had been partially hidden in shadow. The fire suddenly flared, and the gunman could see the K'ung's bandaged head. Toby's good eye, glowing red and yellow in the firelight, stared balefully back at Sloane, who shuddered.

'Where are you going?' Sloane asked, still transfixed by Toby's unrelenting gaze.

'That's not your concern.'

Sloane hefted the bag in his hand. 'Dropping off a rented car doesn't seem like much to do for the fortune you're offering me,' he said carefully.

'I knew you were bright. There's more—and this is the exciting part. I don't want anyone to see the car, but I do want you to be seen. You find someone you know on watch, go up to him. Tell him you're all worked up and can't sleep. Say you want to hang around because you don't want to miss anything if it happens. Say whatever you please, but be sure you make it sound convincing.'

The man shook his head. 'That's going to be tough to pull off.'

'Ah, but think of all the money you're going to get for a single performance,' Veil said evenly. 'After you've set that business up, you bring me the keys and the rental slip. You wander off maybe a half mile up the cemetery, then you start yelling and shooting. You've seen us. You keep it up until you've got everyone running to you. That will give us time to get to the car.'

'What am I supposed to say when they see you're not there?'

'Use your imagination,' Veil said coldly. 'That's what you're getting paid for. Just tell them we ran up the cemetery.'

Sloane thought about it for a few moments, then nodded. His hands were shaking. 'I'll do it. How will I get the rest of the heroin?'

'I'll be carrying it with me when we leave. I'll leave the bags behind the wall at the precise place where you jumped over. When I'm certain you've done your job, I drop the bags. That's it. After we're gone, you can pick up the heroin anytime you like.'

'How do I know there are two other bags?' Sloane asked suspiciously.

Veil took two steps to his left, reached down into the darkness, held up the bags.

'How do I know you'll leave them like you say?'

'You don't, but that bag you're holding in your hand should buy us a little good faith. You were happy with the one; I didn't even have to tell you about the other two. We have no use for the heroin, so there's no reason why we shouldn't leave it—assuming you do your job. On the other hand, we have to trust you completely, and you might well decide that a bag in the hand is worth two behind the wall. Ours is the greater risk.'

'All right,' Sloane said sullenly.

'Remember this, Sloan: If you try crossing us, I'll make sure you never keep the bag you've got. You'll be killed. The point is that we have to trust each other if all of us are going to get what we want. It's a straight deal. You set it up so that we can get away, and you become an instant millionaire; try to screw us, and there's no way you can get away with it.'

'I said I'd do it.'

Veil glanced at his watch. 'I'll see you back here in a couple of hours.'

'I don't know if I can find a car-rental place open at this time of night.'

'If you can't, it will be the most expensive car you never rented.'

'You have to give me back my gun. I need it in case someone decides to check.'

Veil took out his own gun and covered Sloane while he handed over the other man's revolver. Sloane slipped it back into his shoulder holster.

'Where's Nagle keeping himself?'

'I don't know,' the gunman replied. 'I've talked to him a couple of times on the phone, but I haven't seen him. One of the other guys said he thought he saw him cruising around in a car, but he couldn't be sure. Hell, we're all working with no money up front.'

'Then you're lucky I found you, aren't you?'

'I'll be back as soon as I can.'

'Just keep thinking of those other two bags of heroin, Sloane.'

The gunman carefully placed the bag of heroin in the pocket of his jacket, then slipped out of the crypt. Reyna followed him, replacing the lock on the gate and again straightening out the grass as she retreated.

* * *

Veil heard Reyna's low whistle from the far end of the field of tombstones. It meant that Sloane was on his way back. Alone.

Veil was standing just inside a dense stand of fir trees, fifty yards west of the mausoleum. Toby, the Nal-toon wrapped in his arms, lay unconscious at Veil's feet.

Sloane came into view in the moonlight, walking quickly along the line of trees, heading toward the mausoleum. Reyna suddenly appeared from the shadows, stuck the gun Veil had given her into Sloane's ribs, then grabbed his arm and pulled him into the trees. A minute later they both emerged from the darkness of the fir stand.

'Here are the keys,' Sloane said nervously as he handed Veil a plastic key ring and a yellow rental slip. The night was cool, but the man's face glistened with sweat. 'It's a new white Pontiac, and it's parked at the curb right where you told me.'

'You look jumpy,' Veil said evenly. 'Relax. Remember that the show's only half over. You have to go up the cemetery and make a lot of noise.'