F. Paul Wilson - Hardbingers

"Okay," Cal said. "You're holding all the cards now. What do you want? If it's the girl, forget it. We gave you our guns, but you don't get the girl without killing us. All of us."

"Is that so? Mighty brave. But Ah'm right curious about yer plans for that sweet young thang there."

"Fuck off," Miller said, obviously forcing the words through clenched teeth.

Cal's first instinct had been to say the same, but he'd feared it might set something off. He bunched his shoulders, tensing for the gunshot.

But none came.

"Now that's right dispolite, Mister Miller," the guy said. "One more remark like that and Ah'll have to put a permanent stop to yer mouth. And then I'll move on to yer little friend here and see how anxious he is to have his teeth bucked out more than they already is. Damn, boy, that's some set of chompers you got there. Ah bet you could eat corn on the cob through a picket fence."

Cal had to smile despite the situation. He'd never heard it put that way, but the guy was dead on the mark.

"So Ah'm asking y'all one more time: What was yer plans for the girl?"

Hell, might as well tell him.

"Get her back to her family."

"Really now. Well, that's right white o' you. And how was you plannin' to do this fine thing?"

"Leave her on a park bench, call nine-one-one, and keep watch till the cops showed."

"Fine idea! Let's do 'er!"

The response caught Cal off guard. If this guy wanted the same thing they wanted, why was he doing this?

Obviously he hadn't known their plan. Cal found that faintly reassuring: At least he didn't know everything.

But he seemed cool with the plan. Which meant he was looking out for the girl. And that put them on the same side.

So weird. His training had prepared him for dealing with an enemy who had the drop on him. But a non-enemy…?

"Where we a-goin'?" the guy said.

"We ride around and check the parks until we find a bench where we can do a discreet drop off."

"All right then, y'all stay straight ahead here on Worth. We'll check out Columbus Park when we come to 'er."

This guy—definitely a New Yorker.

They cruised Worth, passing the Javits Federal Building on the right, and came to a park on the left. Looked deserted. A wrought-iron fence ringed the perimeter. Benches had been placed outside the fence in alcoves along the sidewalk.

"Turn onto Mulberry," the guy said. "And go slow."

Cal complied.

As they approached one of the bench alcoves the guy said, "Okay, stop. Them benches look like good 'uns. We'll put 'er there. Driver man, you'll do the honors."

Cal pulled into the curb and hurried to the passenger side. One quick look around to make sure no one was nearby, then he bundled the girl in his arms and hurried her over to the bench. He stretched her out and pulled the sheet down to expose her face. If she stayed out here like this too long she'd freeze to death. But if Emergency Services did their job, she'd be in the back of an ambulance long before.

It occurred to Cal then that he could simply take off and leave the ersatz Southerner with Miller and Zeklos. Then what would he do?

He shook off the idea. Yenigeri didn't run out on each other. No one, alive or dead, was ever left behind.

He hopped back into the front seat and got the car moving.

"Make the call," the guy said. "Then let's find us a place where we can sit and watch."

Cal found a spot near the corner of White and Baxter that gave them a clear view of the bench. A minute after they'd settled in he saw a figure strolling by. The man stopped at the bench, bent for a closer look. Cal watched him fumble his cell out of a pocket and start hitting buttons. That done, he took off his overcoat and draped it over the girl.

This city had a bad rap for being rude and uncaring. Yeah, it had its share of creeps, but it also housed millions of good Samaritans.

5

An ambulance finally arrived and they all watched until it loaded the girl and roared away.

Now what? Cal thought.

The guy must have read his mind.

"Okay. We got 'er done. Now let's move this party up to Canal Street."

"What for?"

"That's where you're a-droppin' me off."

Dropping him off… Cal liked the sound of that.

They reached Canal, bustling despite the cold.

"This here looks good. Pull over and pop the tailgate."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then I step over some twitchin' bodies and go out a side door. Yer call."

Cal pulled over and popped the tailgate.

"I'll drop this bag o' guns off in a trash can about a block upstream. You can pick 'em up there."

As the guy turned to go, Miller swung an arm back and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket—just a few fingers' worth. In a blur of motion the guy had the muzzle of the Glock between Miller's eyes.

"Miller, no!"

"That's right, Miller. Y'all've played real nice up till now. Let's not go ruin it."

Cal tried to see his face but could make out only a few features in the darkness back there. His hand snaked toward the courtesy-light button, but he pulled it back. Not a good idea to startle the guy while he had a gun to Miller's head.

"Not ruining anything," Miller said softly. "Just want to know where I can get in touch with you, so we can, you know, grab a beer, get acquainted."

"You can't."

"Who are you?" Cal said. Not that he expected an answer.

"No one."

"Who're you working for?"

"Me."

And then the guy was out of the car and walking away with his shopping bag.

"After that son of a bitch!" Miller said.

Cal's sentiments exactly. But backing up on Canal was out of the question. So was a U-turn. Had to be on foot.

He jumped out of the car and hurried along the sidewalk, angling this way and that through the pedestrians. Miller started out behind but soon took the lead. Cal could tell by the bunch of his huge shoulders that he was in a barely contained rage, ready to grab and toss aside anyone who got in his way. People must have sensed that because they veered out of his path.

They collected stares, and why not. Three guys in black suits and hats and dark glasses barreling along the sidewalk.

"Hey!" said Zeklos from the rear. "I have found them!"

Cal turned and saw him by a trash can holding a Gristedes shopping bag. He reached Zeklos first and had the bag tucked under his arm by the time Miller arrived.

"Gimme mine," Miller said.

Cal shook his head. "Not here."

Miller's face reddened. "I want—"

Cal nodded toward the subway entrance on the corner.

"He's gone. We'll never catch him now."

Miller surprised him by smiling—a real smile lasting more than a nanosecond. "That's what you think. And that's what he thinks. But you're both wrong."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"You know those RF transponders we were gonna use to trace the creeps?"

"Yeah. So—?" And then he understood. "You stuck one on him?"

"Damn straight. When I grabbed his coat."

Cal had to smile. "Miller, sometimes you really surprise me."

"Not as surprised as this asshole when we show up at his front door."

Zeklos was rubbing his mouth.

"My teeth are not so bad as he say, yes?"

6

What a weird night.

Jack sat alone at his table in Julio's. After training up from Chinatown he'd stopped in to do some thinking over a brew or two. Halfway through his first and still hadn't found any answers.

For a while there he hadn't been sure he'd ever make it back, not with how Rico had almost blown it. He'd seen Jack climb into the rear of the Suburban and decided it was time to collect his money.

But the suits had been too intent on getting the girl into the car to pay any attention. Just another sidewalk crazy.