Ratko got out. “Watch the girl, Joey. I’m going to look around. There might be something else we need in this dump. Too bad the old man had to go and die on us before we could blackmail him more. He was such an easy squeeze.”
Ratko walked over and talked to Jake. Joey and I sat in the car. The men disappeared from sight. We waited, my nerves fraying into gossamer strands. Jake wouldn’t be able to help me, not surrounded by three men with guns. It was now or never. Joey might think I was a bimbo, too. I didn’t see a gun, though he must have had something concealed.
I leaned forward and said, “Joey, do you happen to have a cigarette? I used up all of mine.”
“Sure, babe. I was just going to light up myself.”
He drew a half filled pack of Marlboro’s from his jacket and shook out a few. I selected one. I hadn’t smoked in years, but the idea of a cigarette right now was appealing.
Joey lit my cigarette with his lighter then lit his own.
“Nothing like a good smoke, eh?” he said. “You’re a nice looking broad. That your husband?”
“No.” I was playing it cool but I noticed my fingers were trembling so bad the cigarette was twitching. I put the cigarette down so Joey couldn’t see.
“You ever free for dinner?” he said.
I shrugged. “Maybe.” I couldn’t believe he was hitting on me, but this might lead to escape.
“I know some good restaurants around town. I do pretty good driving for Ratko. I could show you a good time.”
Joey must have been all of five feet high with a pencil thin mustache that looked like it would draw blood if you kissed him. He sported a black and white check jacket that I had last seen the likes of in a 1950s movie. In any other circumstance I would have laughed at his cheekiness, but this wasn’t the time. I played along. “It doesn’t look like I’m going to have too many more good times, if things don’t go like Ratko wants.”
Joey shrugged. “He’s pretty pissed about the rifles. Them vodka swillers are unpredictable. I don’t much like working for them but they pay good. If Ratko ever finds that guy Cody, he’ll be mincemeat. Say, do you like mincemeat pie? My mother always made it at Christmas. One of my favorites.”
In my mind I saw Joey grinding up Cody arm by arm and a fat Italian woman rolling pie dough. I developed a coughing fit.
“What’s the matter? You don’t like Marlboros?”
I beat my chest. “I must have inhaled down the wrong pipe. You mind if we get out? It’s a little stuffy in here.”
Joey looked around. “I guess it’d be okay. Here, let me get the door for you.”
The guy had manners. Maybe I should switch allegiances. Where could Jake have gone with those men? I hoped they hadn’t killed him. If they killed Jake, a thought I was reluctant to entertain, there wasn’t much hope for me.
Joey opened my door and held out his hand to help me down. I didn’t see any sign of a gun. Trusting soul. I calculated that I probably outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. Instead of daintily stepping down, I launched myself and caught him off guard. Over we went in a scuffle.
“What the hell, what the hell,” he kept shouting. We rolled around on the ground, me trying to whack him with my purse, he trying to shield his face. Surprise had been to my advantage. He seemed more interested in trying to defend himself than in trying to subdue me. I kept trying to whack his bony head. Finally, my purse connected hard with his head, and I jumped up and ran. I wasn’t sure where to go but the trees beyond the shed looked like a good bet. Unfortunately, I had on high heel boots. I kept tripping on stones and pinecones and whatever else resides on a pine forest floor.
I didn’t hear footsteps, and I didn’t look back. My only thought was cover. I came to a clearing and saw a quaint gazebo on the bank of a small pond on the Lodge extended estate. I ran for it. The gazebo was open around the top but the bottom half was enclosed, and I collapsed behind the wooden wall.
I had a sharp pain in my side from running and could barely get my breath. The cigarette hadn’t helped. I clawed my way up to look back the way I had come. I could see the garage through the trees but nothing else. Where was Jake? Where had he gone? I didn’t see any houses. I had no idea where to go. I was afraid I’d run into someone I didn’t want to see.
Damn that Jake. Damn that Hudson. Damn Cody. At least Opal got away. I hoped. I slid back down and sat against the wall. How did Jake know where those rifles were? How was it that Hudson had concealed them without Cody knowing? Were they going to kill Jake after they had gotten the rifles? Had they already knifed or shot him? Maybe they hadn’t finished off the job, and he was hurt.
The suspense was killing me so I decided I’d sneak back to see what was happening. Maybe the furniture truck had arrived. I sat up and brushed off my clothes. They were dirty, and my feet hurt. But it could be worse. I could be dead. At least, I hadn’t been tortured.
I made a wide cautious circle toward the back of the garage and outbuildings. If I planted myself behind the old shed, maybe I’d see them hauling out the rifles. Jake seemed awfully comfortable with Ratko’s men. Maybe he was in on the heist. Maybe he was getting a cut. Maybe he bought and sold on the black market for extra income. I’d read that anything was for sale in the global arms bazaar, that you could even buy an F-16 if you wanted.
I crouched in a laurel thicket behind the shed. The furniture truck had arrived. Joey was leaning against the hood of the Escalade, and Ratko was yelling at him. Two men who must have come with the truck and the two men who had gotten from the car with Jake were carrying long, narrow boxes from the shed.
I shook my head. It was so easy. The hiding place was so easy. Jake must have figured it out in the investigating he had done without me. Of course, he had never bothered to share that information.
I heard a crunch and froze. I was afraid to look and tried to wiggle further into the laurel thicket. I stretched my neck to see what had made the noise. Off to my left were four men in black windbreakers with ATF in huge white letters across the back, crouching under the pines. I guess they wanted to make sure they didn’t shoot each other. They eased closer to the rifle shed. One was snapping photos with a fast action camera. They’d have Ratko dead to rights. They could walk right into the clearing, say ‘Stick ‘em up’ and they’d have them red handed.
But then all hell broke loose.
Chapter 18
A fireball exploded in front of the furniture truck. Pops and flashes flew between the ATF guys and the men in the clearing. I flattened out on the ground. The ATF guys ran in the other direction. The gunshots continued. I was in a live action Hollywood movie.
As fast as the firefight started, it stopped. I stayed down. Gunfire started up closer to the house then quit. I struggled up, inched closer to the shed and peeked in the window. Someone was lying over a stack of rifle boxes. I couldn’t tell through the dirty window who it was. Another man was down beside the truck. The front of the furniture truck was black. In a half crouch I sneaked into the shed. I had to see if it was Jake even though I didn’t know if the dirty rat was on my side or theirs. A man in a furniture mover uniform lay on his stomach face turned away from me, his head bloody.
My stomach turned upside down, and I thought for a moment I’d lose breakfast. After a moment or two, I garnered my courage, what was left of it, and said, “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
He didn’t respond. What did they do on those television police shows when they found a body? Check for pulse. Tentatively, I placed my fingers on his neck. He was warm, and I thought I could feel a pulse.
I heard shouting and eased out of the shed. Only because I had seen it in the movies, I made a zig-zag run to the first garage. One of the bay doors was opened. I didn’t remember it being open when we came in.