– Hold out your arm.
She puts it out. I hold the open cuff.
– You have to do something for me.
She nods.
– When you get home. Leave me out. Whatever goes down, don't tell your folks or whoever that I found you.
– OK.
– That's a promise I'm asking for.
– OK.
– Don't break it.
– As if.
– Right.
I snap the cuff onto her wrist. She looks at it.
– Hot.
I leave.
Sela holds the front door open for me.
– How much longer do I get to keep her?
I point at the TV.
– Put the news on tomorrow. She'll go home after she sees it.
– Why?
– Because her parents are gonna be dead.
– You have anything to do with that?
I think about killing Marilee, and missing out on killing Horde.
– Not the way I would have liked to.
Sela tosses her head, throwing roped dreads back over her shoulder.
– There gonna be trouble?
– Not for you, she loves you.
She taps one of those ruby-tipped fingers against my chest.
– What about for you?
I walk out the door.
– Sister, she doesn't even know my name.
I stop by Nino's on the way home and get a pie. Large pepperoni, hold the garlic. Then I hit the grocery for a six and a few packs of Luckys. At home I lock myself in and make sure the alarm is on. Not that any of it will keep out Predo's boys if he sends them. Not that anything could keep out Daniel's Wraith. Not that I care much right now. I go downstairs.
I sit up in bed and watch CNN. I eat the whole pie and still I'm hungry so I raid the fridge upstairs and find some leftover Chinese and eat that. That fills my belly. The other hunger, the real hunger, is still there. But it's always gonna be there, and it can wait for another day. I watch more news and drink more beer. When I run out of beer I sit in the dark staring at the TV screen, and smoke.
The story breaks around six A.M. They show some stills of the crumpled, fire-blackened Jaguar sedan. It looks as horrific as Predo promised. They wiped out the car in the early A.M.s, on a lonely stretch of road just off the 27.
The anchor fills me in on how the highway was empty at that time of night and no houses were near enough to hear the crash or see the flames. By the time emergency vehicles arrived the fire had all but burned itself out. Fortunately, the license plate broke off the vehicle in the crash and was spared from the fire. The anchor tells me the car was owned by Dr. Dale Edward Horde and that it is believed that he and his wife were in the car, driving on a late whim to their Hamptons house.
By the time I wake, the Hordes' deaths have been confirmed. So has the fact that their daughter is missing. There's some hyper-ventilation after that. Some circling of carrion feeders as they sniff a too-good-to-be-true story. Then a report comes in that Amanda walked into a police station and told them she had run away a week ago and had just seen the news on TV. By the time the cameras are there to watch her leaving the police station, she is flanked by a double column of bodyguards and lawyers and the TV is already calling her the richest teenager in New York. I turn off the box and smoke.
The package arrives that evening. It's delivered by a private courier who doesn't ask me to sign for it. I take the box down to the basement room and slide the Styrofoam case out of its cardboard sheath. Inside are several refreezable cold packs surrounding ten pints of blood. A note on top.
For services rendered.
Payment in full.
D. Predo
I take out one of the pints and think about the dose Horde hit me with at the Cole, the one I thought Predo had him hit me with so they could steal my stash. Now that I know better, I figure Horde did that on his own. Maybe he was trying to kill me, maybe just get me out of the way for awhile while his boy and Predo's enforcer worked the neighborhood. Hell, maybe he just wanted to see how the Vyrus would handle it. I look at the pint and wonder what might be in it other than blood. Then I drink it. Then I drink two more. Then I stop being bothered by anything Predo might be planning, or Terry, or even Daniel. I stop worrying about whether Amanda will tell the cops about the guy who found her. I stop worrying altogether.
I don't have anything to worry about.
For now.
The easiest way for Predo to take care of me would have been to dose the blood. He didn't. He won't bother with anything else. He'll be too busy keeping an eye on the Horde situation, making sure no loose ends come unraveled in front of the press. That will be a full-time job for awhile and he won't want to clutter up his desk with any other projects. Once he empties his in-box, he'll move the teeth to the top of his priority chart. Getting those back or having them destroyed so they don't end up in Terry's hands will be front and center. Too bad for Predo that Terry already has them.
Terry got it right away. I told him what the teeth had inside, and that was all he needed. I didn't have to tell him the story or name any names. I didn't even have to mention Predo. Something like those teeth, Terry could only see one reason for those to be made, and only one Clan who could have had a hand in their making. But he'll hang onto them. For a very long time. He knows it's a one-shot deal. Figure he could try and use 'em lor blackmail, but what then? Predo would never do a deal that didn't involve getting the teeth back. And what could be good enough that you'd give up the biggest stick on the block For it?
No, the only way to use the teeth is to show them to the other Clans. Do that and it will mean all-out war, the kind of war that we couldn't keep underground. The kind that would finally rip the lid off the whole thing. The kind of war Terry says lie doesn't want. So he'll sit on them for a good long time. Until he's ready to go after whatever it is he really wants.
And I doubt I'll be around long enough to have to worry about that scene. Christ, I hope I'm not.
I heal. The scabs fall from my wounds and the white puckers of scar fade to smooth skin. My stomach fits itself back together and I am whole again. It takes six pints over a couple days to get me there, but I'm whole again. And ready to take care of my last loose ends.
I go out around midnight Sunday.
I make the stop at Niagara first. Billy's behind the bar.
– Joe, whaddaya know?
– Nothing worth the price.
– Good un. Drink?
– Yeah.
He hits me with a double bourbon.
I take a drink.
– Philip?
He jerks a thumb at the back room.
– Saw 'im weasel in past me while I was weeded back here.
– He ever get ya with the rest of what he owes?
– Naw.
Someone down the bar hollers at Billy's back. He flips the bird over his shoulder.
– Fuck ya, ya fucker! Shut up or I'll pound yer fuckin' head.
The guy at the end of the bar shuts up. I toss down the rest of my drink and Billy fills it again and knocks on the bar. I lift the glass to him.
– Thanks. I'll go get the rest of your money.
– Sure, Joe, but you don' gotta.
– Be a pleasure.
I walk to the back room, telling myself I'm gonna do this cool. Keep it easy. This is Billy's shift and I don't need to cause a scene. Then I see him. He's chatting to a girl. She's staring at the wall, trying to ignore him.
I try to keep it cool, but I don't.
I walk up behind him and kick his chair out from under his ass. He goes to the floor. The girl gives a little yelp. I grab the back of Philip's collar and drag him to the bathroom. I kick the door closed behind us, lift the toilet seat and shove him down on the can. His skinny ass slips all the way down into the water and his legs fly up off the floor. He tries to struggle out and I shove him in deeper.
– Want to see if I can fit you down the pipe, Phil?
– No.
– Then stay the fuck put.
– Sure, Joe. Whatever you say, Joe.