What next?
3
“Let me speak to the man.”
“What?” A pause. “Is this… ?”
Snake recognized Gold’s voice, but it sounded strange. Strained.
“Yeah. This is me. Here’s where I am.” Snake began to read off the hotel phone when Gold interrupted him.
“Wait, wait. Let me get a pen.”
What was this? Gold always had a gold Mont Blanc stuck in his shirt pocket. While Snake waited, he took a quick look around the hotel lobby.
The sudden movement brought on another spasm of vertigo. He clung to the phone to keep from rocking. Didn’t want anyone to think he was drunk. They’d boot him out.
The lobby steadied and he saw that no one was paying any attention to him. The combination of a bulky sweatshirt with the hood up, and the largest pair of sunglasses he could find, hid ninety percent of his bandages. Still he felt as if he were carrying a blinking neon sign: Look at me… Look at me…
“Okay,” Gold said. “Got it. Give it to me.” Snake read it off and was about to hang up when Gold spoke again.
“He’s, um, indisposed at the moment, so it might take a little longer for him to get back to you. Be patient.”
Snake had a sudden vision of Salinas on the crapper, his rolls of fat bulging over— He banished the thought. “Okay, fine. I’ll wait.”
“So, um, where’ve you been?” Small talk from Gold—the last thing he needed.
“Busy. What’s it to you?”
“Well, we’ve been paging you for days.”
“You have? Hmmph. Maybe I’d better get my beeper checked. Battery must be low. Haven’t heard a thing.”
“Yeah, you damn well better get it checked. The man has had some important things to discuss with you.”
“Really? I can hardly wait.” Snake depressed the plunger, but kept the phone to his unbandaged ear while he waited for the call back.
The man has had some important things to discuss with you. Snake didn’t like the sound of that. Could Salinas know about the fuckup at the house?
He leaned against the edge of the booth. He wished Salinas would hurry up and call back. And he wished they had seats for these phones. He was feeling weak and shaky, and his head—his goddamn head was killing him.
Come on, Fatso! Let’s get this over with!
And then the phone rang. Snake immediately released the plunger.
“Yeah.”
Salinas’s voice: “Miguel. So good to speak to you. I was worried about you.” Something in the tone sent a chill down Snake’s back. Too calm, too pleasant.
“Why would you be worried?”
“I was not able to find you. You were not answering your pages.”
“Like I told your butt boy, I’ll have to replace the battery.”
“Please do. Now tell me, how is the package faring?”
“The package is fine.”
“Everything is under control?” He knows something, dammit!
“Why do you ask?”
“Because of stories I have heard.” Uh-oh.
“Really?” Snake tried to keep his voice light while his stomach was filling with lead. “Like what?”
“Oh, that the doctor has spoken to the package on the phone and a woman has promised to return it to him…”
No!
“… and that a government laboratory discovered that a toe supposedly belonging to the package actually came from a little boy—an embalmed little boy.
Shit!
“Let’s see… what else? Oh, yes, that a dead man discovered in Falls Church is linked to the package, and that a hunt is on for a man known as ‘Snake’ and a man known as ‘Mac’—both possibly the same man—who was seriously wounded in that same house.”
Now Snake really needed a seat.
He was sweating and shaking—and not from fever. But even if he had one, he couldn’t allow himself to sit. He had to get out of here.
“Do not hang up, Miguel,” Salinas said, and now there was an edge to his voice. “We are not finished speaking. And if you look around, I am sure you will see a familiar face.” Snake turned—slowly this time—and stifled a gasp as he spotted Llosa standing half a dozen feet away, a smile on his pitted face, his right hand in his coat pocket.
Now he understood all the delays—Gold looking for a pen, Salinas “indisposed” so he couldn’t call back right away. Delaying tactics so they could trace the call and give Llosa time to find him.
What a goddamn sucker!
Snake swallowed. “I see him. What’s he doing here?”
“He was already out looking for you. Now he is going to escort you to a warehouse I lease. I am going to meet you there. And then we are going to have a very deep discussion, you and I. Mano à mano. I will want some answers.”
Snake glanced at Llosa again and saw that he wasn’t alone. Someone had joined him. Snake had never seen the new man before, but had little doubt from his coloring and dress that he was another Colombian.
“Don’t forget the tapes,” he told Salinas. “Remember the tapes.”
“I remember them. They are among the things we will discuss.” Snake knew what kind of discussions Salinas had in mind—probably with meat hooks and cattle prods. Salinas would want to know the locations of all the tapes, and Snake knew he’d give them up—every one of them— before the first jab of pain. The thought of adding torture to the pain he’d already endured for the past two days made him feel even weaker than he already was.
He had to think fast. Do something, anything, to keep from taking a ride with Llosa and his pal.
Something rattling around in the back of his head, something bad… talk of the tape had shaken it loose.
A tape… his missing jacket…
And then it hit him. Hit him hard, making him a little sick. He’d thought things were bad before. They’d suddenly got worse.
“The girl has one of the tapes,” he said.
Salinas was silent. “I do not think I believe you, Miguel.”
“I swear it’s true. She got the drop on me. She took my jacket while I was out. I had a copy of the tape in one of the pockets. She’s got it.”
“Then we will have to find her.”
“I’ll find her. I’ve known her for years. I know her better than anyone you’ve got. If anyone can find her, I can.”
Only marginally true. Everything he knew about Poppy-the-bitch-Mulliner was what he’d heard from Paulie, and that hadn’t been a hell of a lot. Next to nothing, in fact. But Salinas didn’t know that.
“No me jodas! Llosa will bring you in… where you will be safe. It is for your own protection.”
“Look, man,” Snake said, desperate now. He had to convince this greaseball. “I’ve got as big a stake as you in finding her. That tape was only supposed to be listened to if I was dead. I’m on it too! If that gets around, my ass is on the line with yours!”
Salinas let out a long stream of profanity in Spanish. Snake could catch only snippets, but he got the idea.
Finally Salinas ran out of steam and agreed to let Snake stay on the streets and search for Poppy. But he wanted Llosa to go with him. More arguing before Snake convinced him that not only would Llosa slow him down, but Salinas would be better served by having Llosa search separately.
“Very well. Search on your own. But no games when you find her. Finish it and let me know immediately.”
“I’ll send you her head.”
“You will find her in Atlantic City. She will be contacting the doctor about returning the package today. He is staying at Bally’s Park Place.” How does he know all this? Snake wondered, amazed as ever by Salinas’s connections.
“I’m on my way.” He eyed Llosa and his buddy, waiting expectantly. “But you’d better talk to your amigo here, so he knows his assignment’s been changed.”