After she left, Tommy "Two Times" Rina slipped out of the closet and moved up the corridor to where the two deputies were looking at something in the Star tabloid. Tommy pulled out his silenced 9mm SIG-Sauer P-226 and held it in his right hand. In his left, he had his 9mm silver and black Israeli Desert War Eagle. They were his two favorite handguns. The Germans and the Jews made the best guns. It was an irony that completely escaped him.
"Evening, gents. Is Liz Taylor getting a new husband?" he said flatly.
Both cops spun, going for their weapons, but they froze when they saw Tommy holding the two silenced 9mm cannons. If they moved, they were a micro-second from death.
"The fuck…?" Tony Corollo said, astounded that Tommy had somehow gotten up there, behind them.
'The fuck?" Tommy mimicked. "Was that the fucking question, you worthless fuckface?" he said deadpan.
The deputies looked at him and knew they had no chance to get to their shoulder holsters.
"I want you two cheeseburgers to get up and move over to the elevator and stand there with your hands on the door. You, with the brown hair, push the button. Get the box up here."
"What're you gonna do?" Deputy Corollo asked hesitantly.
"Gonna throw you two shitheads a party. Gonna be fun…"
When the elevator arrived, Tommy told Deputy Manning to reach in and push fifteen, which was the floor directly above, then told him to let the elevator go on up. Bobby Manning did as he was told, and once it was gone, Tommy waved his guns at them. "Okay. Now pry them doors open again; let's get us a look in there." They hesitated, so he re-cocked the SIG-Sauer for emphasis, and the two frightened officers pushed their fingers in and pried the elevator doors open. They both looked down the yawning dark throat of the elevator shaft.
"Officer Krupke, whatta ya see down there?" Tommy grinned.
"Nothing," Tony Corollo said, wondering if he could dive out and catch the cable, slide down it, and get out of the way before Tommy pulled the trigger.
"Nothing? Look again, get way out there…" Tony and Bobby craned their necks but didn't lean out. "What you're looking at down there is the landing zone, fellas. That there's ground zero. Now I want you two bricks to hit right smack in the middle of the shaft. We got cash prizes for that lucky winner." Tommy was really beginning to enjoy himself. "This is "The Jersey Solution,'" he said. "I get the lady, and you two hemorrhoids get the shaft."
Without hesitation he fired twice, once from each gun. Both silenced automatics made faint hissing sounds like a man spitting out a fruit seed. The first bullet blew Bobby Manning out into the darkness. He hit the opposite wall, slamming against the structure, throwing a spray of arterial blood into the air and all over the brick-walled shaft. Then he fell silently down, palms and shoe soles trailing like streamers as he plunged into the dark abyss. Tony Corollo was simultaneously hit in the mid-back. He flew out into the dark shaft but managed to grab and catch the metal cable. Blood gushed from a huge exit wound in his stomach. He weakly pulled his service revolver and, hanging on by one hand, dripping blood like icehouse beef, he tried to aim at Tommy, but his grip slipped and he had to drop the gun to grab the cable with his other hand. As he hung there, they locked gazes. At the bottom of the shaft, Bobby Manning hit. The sound was faint, like a snowball hitting a brick wall. "Nice try," Tommy finally said to the Deputy, whose intestines were now snaking out of him, blood and stomach acid raining down on his dead partner. Then Tommy fired his silenced Desert War Eagle again, this time hitting the Deputy in the mouth. Tony Corollo's head snapped back and he was blown back off the cable. Little pieces of his teeth recoiled forward and rained ivory chips on the purple and red hallway carpet. Then he too was gone, cartwheeling freely down the shaft.
On the ground floor, Texaco Phillips heard both of them splat in the oil and shale goop that was in the bottom of the shaft. He gathered up his suitcase of brushes, sponges, bleaches, and hand vacuums, then pushed the elevator button. In seconds he was riding up to join Tommy.
She was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet, pinning the hem on her new tan dress, when Tommy walked in on her. "Who are you?" Carol said, looking up in alarm. "What're you doing here?"
"Taking care of my brother and having a pretty damn good time to boot," Tommy said. And then he finished the job, right there in the overUt tile bathroom, exploding little pieces of her into the bathtub, covering the tub wall with a fine spray of brain tissue and cerebrospinal fluid.
Demo pulled the van away from the building, screeching the tires.
"Don't burn rubber. Just go slow," Tommy said from the back seat. Demo slowed down. "Go to this address." Tommy handed a slip of paper to the Rastafarian.
"We still be chillin', right, mon?"
"You ask a lot of questions. You're gonna be one dead fucking rent-a-nigger, you keep it up," Tommy growled.
Texaco saw Demo's shoulders tighten. But the Rasta didn't do anything; he just drove slowly, heading across town toward the address Tommy had given him.
They arrived at a locked junkyard in Hoboken. Once they parked, Tommy took out a key. Texaco opened the gate and they pulled in. Tommy looked at Demo and smiled. "That pissed you off when I called you a rent-a-nigger, didn't it?"
The Rasta turned in his seat and looked into Tommy's eyes. He saw craziness and changed his response." We be hat up, brotha. De work be done. Ain't no need ta be disrespectin'," he finally said.
"Fuck there ain't. You come here, you sit in my van, you drip fuckin' chicken grease all over the seats, you make a fuckin' mess. You're nothin' but a ganja-smokin', voodoo-dancing, low-bone motherfucker who oughta be buried up to his scrawny neck in pig shit and hosed down with donkey piss."
The Rastafarian looked at Tommy like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Now you're probably so pissed I can't fuckin' turn my back on you, right?" Demo said nothing. "So now you gone and give me a big fuckin' problem. Y'see what I'm saying? Now I gotta either watch my back constantly or buy you a fuckin' suit right now."
And with that criminal logic he fired the SIG-Sauer right through the back of the seat. The Jamaican was thrown into the dash. Blood shot up onto the windshield and stained the headliner over his head. Tommy looked at Demo with interest. "Maybe you can help me with something." he said to the dying Jamaican. "That was the Kraut cannon… okay, now here's the Jew gun." He fired two more rounds through the upholstery from the Desert War Eagle. The body danced on the seat as the bullets slammed into Demo Williams, killing him. "You tell me, Demo, 'cause I'll be damned if I can tell. Which one you think got more stopping power?"
Tommy picked up his brass and got out. He looked at Texaco, who was standing, shivering in the cold night. "Fuckin' guy was a Dixie cup, just like I told ya."
Texaco still didn't get it.
"Disposable," Tommy added.
Texaco Phillips nodded; his nerves were badly jangled. There was no doubt in his mind that Tommy Rina was insane.
Chapter Two.
THE FLORIDA MIDDAY SUN COOKED THE HALF ACRE OF used cars at Bob's Auto Ranch in Coral Gables. Shimmering heat waves danced along the tops of Beamers and Bent Eights, parked in shiny rows, dressed in cheap new fifty-dollar paint jobs. They begged customers shamelessly with BUY ME and TAKE ME HOME signs propped under the windshield wipers. Faded red and blue plastic triangular flags hung listlessly from guy wires in the stagnant heat like dead balloons after a birthday party. It had been a slow morning… mostly tire-kickers and be-backs.
Because he was sure Joe Rina was still trying to kill him, Beano Bates had dyed his hair blond and had added a mustache, which he needed to lighten constantly. He still wasn't completely recovered from the beating with a nine-iron that had happened six months ago. Remarkably, the brutal assault had not diminished his good looks. If anything, he appeared slightly more rugged. But Beano had been forced to hide, and not only from the Rina brothers… Last week, he had made his second surprise appearance on America's Most Wanted.