Стивен Хантер - G-Man

“Now what?” J.P. finally asked.

Les slid out of his craziness slightly.

“Just keep going. Straight on, into Chicago.”

“Les—”

“Just do it,” screamed Les, who didn’t feel up to explaining.

More silence, and finally Les said, “Okay, okay, we have to get to Chicago, we know where. We have to be there when Phil D’Abruzzio gets back from downtown in his limo with his bodyguards. Okay, we know it’s him, he ratted us to the feds, we’re going to light him and his boys up like a Christmas tree, and then we’re done. Next stop, Reno. Next stop, peace and quiet. Next stop, retirement. This one last thing.”

More silence.

“Les,” J.P. finally said, “let’s think this through.”

“Nothing to think through,” said Les.

“Les, listen to J.P., will you please. As a favor to me.”

Les sighed.

“Okay, we know who to hit. But we also know the Division is on us. Nobody’s behind us, but you can bet they called ahead and they’re sending guys out from Chicago. Meanwhile, they’re on our tails, running hard, especially the guy who shoots so good. Nothing’s going to stop him short of a full Tommy mag. So we can be jumped at any time. Now, what about I take a hard right, head us west, and we’ll bunk tonight in Iowa? Right now, we’ve got a free run to make a getaway, nobody’s on us. Nobody’s behind us, nobody’s intercepted us. Okay, we do some soft time in Iowa, then, a week or so down the line, we come on back, do the D’Abruzzio thing, we pick up Helen, pick up the kids, and it’s on to Reno. So much less risk, so much fairer to Helen.”

“He’s got a point,” said Helen. “We don’t have to finish this thing today. We’re being chased we—”

“No,” said Les. “If they think about it, maybe they figure it out. The Division has connections with D’Abruzzio, maybe they alert him of the possibility. Maybe D’Abruzzio goes underground, or moves, or beefs up his security, and we did all this for nothing. He will be most vulnerable tonight. We have to do him tonight.”

“Les,” said Helen, “it’s—”

“Helen, please, this is how it has to be. This guy did us all, all us road bandits, Johnny, Homer, dumbbell Pretty Boy, and now me, I’m the last. It can’t stand. There’s got to be payment on those accounts. We owe it. Now, Helen — you too, J.P., if you want — I’ll drop you off at a motel and go on alone. With the Monitor and a Thompson, I can do it. Then I come back tonight and pick you up and off we go. If I don’t make it, Helen, I love you so, but J.P.’s a good man and he’ll take care of you, and I’ll die knowing you’re in good hands and that makes me happy. But this has to be done — don’t you get it? — it has to be done!”

They were silent. Who could speak out against such conviction?

“Okay,” said Les. “J.P., pull over. Let me drive now. You saved our bacon once, let me pilot us to the hit. You get some shut-eye so you can drive through the night.”

After the longest twenty-two minutes in history, Charles’s Pontiac straight-8 came up the road. Metcalf and MacRae, good men, if young, saw right away from his tension on the porch that something had happened.

“Sheriff, what’s going on?” Metcalf asked, getting out.

“He was here. Nelson, a little while ago, drove up big as life.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“He took off like a shot.”

“What’s he doing here so early?”

“I have no idea. Okay, you guys, out of the car, get the heavy weapons loaded, and come along as soon as possible in the Division vehicle. I’m going after them now.”

“Charles, you’ll never—”

“I ain’t sitting here. I also have to stop and call Sam. I have the plate number and the car make. Mark this: shiny black 1934 Ford V-8, Illinois 639578. I’m going after it now, you come along with the automatic stuff.”

“You don’t know where he’s going!”

“I’d guess back into Chicago. If not, then we lost him. But I have to assume it’s Chicago. I’ll tell Sam to send people the other direction, out Northwest Highway, with the car description. If he’s going to Chicago, we may still nab him.”

“He can’t be that stupid.”

“He can. Now, get out and start loading.”

They dashed into the house to unlimber the BARs and Thompsons, plus the ammunition that still had to be loaded into spare magazines. Meanwhile, Charles jumped behind the wheel of the Pontiac, turned the key, backed up, oriented down the dirt road, and accelerated out of the lodge property. It wasn’t five minutes before he was in Lake Geneva, and he pulled into a filling station, had the attendant fuel him up while he ran to a phone booth.

He looked at his watch; it was 2:30.

He got the operator.

“Law enforcement emergency, Justice Department, Chicago, Randolph 6226.”

In a few seconds, Elaine Donovan answered.

“Elaine, this is Swagger. Get me Sam — fast.”

Another second.

“Charles?”

“We had him. He just showed up and saw me and took off.”

“Oh, Christ,” said Sam.

“Sam, he’s in a 1934 shiny black Ford V-8, with two or three others, the license plate is Illinois 639578. He may be heading straight down Northwest Highway to Chicago.”

“I don’t have anyone. Lord, Charles, I’ve got the boys all over the place and no way of reaching them.”

“Well, if anyone—”

“No, Ed’s here, that’s right. Okay, we’ll load up and head out Northwest.”

“Sam, be careful. This guy’s crazy. He wants to go all the way. If you get him in your sights”—the thought of Sam in a gunfight with Baby Face Nelson filled Charles with horror—“fire. Don’t mess around with arrest orders or anything like that. He’s too dangerous. Put him down like a rabid dog and go home to your kids. Let Ed work the Thompson, he’s real good with it. Ed can take him, Sam. Please, don’t you try.”

“I hear you, Charles.”

THE OUACHITAS

ARKANSAS

The present

“We know what happened on that last day,” said the one that talked, Braxton, according to the ID.

“And goobers can fly,” said Nick. “They can even carry passengers.”

“You don’t want to hear? Fine, we’ll do our time. We got some pals too, and it won’t be so hard on us as you think — ha-ha. And the sniper there, he’s got to spend the rest of his life wondering, What did them boys know? How’d they know it? And since we been living in his iPhone for six weeks, we know he’s as serious about this as anything on earth, except the welfare of his kids. Sniper, you want to just wonder? You’d pay that price to put two only sort of bad bad guys away for a few years?”

Swagger said, “Keep talking.”

“Look at him, Rawley,” said Braxton. “He’s all curiosityed up. He’s got to know.”

He laughed.

“You know, Rawley,” he said, “I think we should have just come in with Plan B in the first place. So much easier. Saves us all this stomping around in the woods. I wouldn’t have had to put on no diapers, though I have grown fond of the Depends lifestyle.” He laughed again, and even Rawley, who resembled an Olmec stone head settling into its second thousand years under the vines, cracked a smile.

“We’ll hear the pitch,” said Bob.

“You only get pitch. You don’t get no info. The pitch is enough.”

“We’ll see,” said Bob.

“Here’s the bargain. We tell you what happened. I prove to you it’s legit and can be backed up at any time. I also tell you where you went wrong and where Rawley went right. You are a hundred percent pleased with the info, and you believe it. You snip these cuffs, present us with the Monitor, and wave bye-bye. We’re over the hill in ten minutes. Oh, we get our guns back.”