"You want me to tell her that?"
Those dumb eyes in moonlight began to change, trying for a different look, creasing, getting a crafty gleam.
Nobles said, "I know who you are. You and all them other copsuckers, you're about to get the surprise of your life." That greasy tone sliding out and his mouth barely moving. "Now get offa me or I'm gonna have your ass up on charges."
See? Try to be reasonable what happens? He'd be talking about his rights next. Waving a Xeroxed copy of his Miranda sheet.
LaBrava cocked the Smith, for effect, for the sound of it, stuck the tip of the barrel into Nobles' mouth, hooking the front sight in behind his upper teeth and saw him gag as the gleam went out of his eyes.
He said, "Richard, are you trying to fuck with me?" Getting that flat, effortless cop sound. He believed in this moment he would have been a good one.
He said, "Richard, I got the gun. You don't have it, I do. But you threaten me. I don't understand that. What'd you think I was gonna do?" He drew the barrel out enough to lay it on Nobles' lower lip. "Tell me."
Nobles said, "You don't have no right--"
See? LaBrava shoved the barrel back into his mouth. It was that goddamn Miranda thing. They packed, swaggered, picked on and scared the shit out of civilians, then ran and got behind Miranda.
He said, "Richard," wanting to make it clear but no big deal. "If I got the gun, asshole, I got the right." The way a Metro cop would say it. The one doing paperwork sniffing whiteout wanting to get back on the street so bad. He knew something the Metro cop knew. He could sit on Nobles' belly and feel him breathing in and out beneath him, feel the man's life between his own thighs, and be detached and deal with the man on a mutual basis of understanding. It was a strange feeling, but natural; like discovering something about yourself you never knew before. He felt that he could kill Nobles; in this moment he could. Pull the trigger. But he didn't know what he would feel the moment after, with the sound fading and hearing the surf again. Something was happening to him. The cop in him coming out. After all that waiting. Nine years or more of official waiting, hanging back steely-eyed and looking smart. He had heard Buck Torres say one time to a witness, pleading for information, "I give you my word as a man." Not as a policeman, a man. He would never forget that. It was what it came down to here, in this situation. Man to man he said to Nobles, "Bullshit time's over. Are you dumb?"
He eased the barrel out and watched that all-American face, pale in moonlight, move from side to side.
"I can't hear you."
"No, I ain't dumb. Jesus."
"How do you know who I am?"
"I don't."
"You said, a minute ago, 'I know who you are.' "
Look at him thinking, trying to be careful. LaBrava moved the barrel along the curve of Nobles' chin. "They wire your mouth shut for a broken jaw. Talk while you can."
"You already broke my goddamn arm!"
"See what I mean?... How do you know who I am?"
"I heard, around."
"Where?"
"On the street. I heard you live at that ho-tel."
LaBrava drew the barrel down the bridge of his nose. Look at those eyes, trying to be sincere.
"I heard you was a secret agent of some kind with the gover'ment. Listen, I know some of those boys. Maybe're friends of yours. Up in Jacksonville."
"Who told you?"
"Nobody, I just heard. Was some guy, you know, in a bar."
"What's the surprise?"
"What?"
"You said, 'You're about to get the surprise of your life.' What's the surprise?"
"I was just, you know, talking. Jesus, my goddamn arm hurts something terrible."
"What's the surprise, Richard?"
"Nothing. I was talking is all."
See? It reached the point every time where you had to deliver or let the guy up. Tell him one time what you're going to do. Tell him twice, he knows you're full of shit. Once you started to lose it it was over. LaBrava leaned in closer, eye to eye, the gun barrel beneath Nobles' chin, raising it slightly.
"The surprise is how six hundred thousand dollars disappear. Look at me, Richard. The surprise--you see all the cops standing around scratching their head. You're undoing the baling wire, opening the garbage bag, taking out all that money. Look at me, Richard."
He did. Nobles met his eyes and said, "I ain't done nothing."
"What else do you see, Richard?"
"I ain't done nothing."
He was losing it.
"What movie did she show you?"
"What?"
"She said she showed you a movie."
He was getting it back. Maybe.
Nobles was thinking again. "She told you that?"
"What was the name of it?"
"I don't know, I forget."
"Who was in it?"
"You kidding me? Shit, I don't know."
"Where's your partner?"
"I don't know--I don't have no partner."
"The little Cuban."
"I met the booger one time, 'at's all."
"You came to meet him tonight."
"Shit, it was you. Goddamn, we're clever."
He felt tired knowing he was losing it. It was hard to keep it up unless you were honestly detached enough to go all the way and break the guy's jaw looking into his eyes. He could sit on the guy all night and threaten and never deliver and finally the guy would get tired of it. So who was full of shit?
He tried again, though, one more time. Said, "Richard, call it off."
Heard himself and knew it was over.
Nobles said, "Or what?"
See?
Nobles said, "I gotta go the hospital."
See?
"So get the fuck offa me."
Man, lost and gone forever. He would give anything to be able to bust the guy's jaw. He couldn't do it. So he reached out and hacked the gun barrel across that forearm--already broken--a gesture, for Uncle Miney if not his own peace of mind--and had to roll for his life as Nobles screamed and erupted beneath him, came up in a crouch holding his arm tight to his body, ran hunched into tree shadow a dozen yards away and must have felt protected. He took time to yell at LaBrava, back there on his knees, "You're crazy! You know it? You're fucking crazy!"
Chapter 22
BUCK TORRES THOUGHT he was crazy, too. He didn't say he was crazy, he said, "You broke the guy's arm?" and asked if he was crazy; it was the same thing. He came at 7:30 in the morning to say Nobles had left his hotel during the night and never returned.
Once LaBrava told him to check Sinai and Jackson Memorial Out-Patient and look for a guy walking around with his left arm in a cast, he had to tell it all. He wondered if Torres was going to comment. He was silent for so long after, staring at him in the kitchenette pouring coffee for them. Finally, that was when Torres said it.
"Are you crazy?"
"I don't think so."
"What's the matter with you?"
"Maybe I'm a little crazy. But maybe you have to be crazy to make something happen or make it hard for them," LaBrava said. "Look at it. A note comes asking for money. Jean goes to the bank, picks it up. Another note comes, it'll tell her to take the money to a certain place and she'll do it." LaBrava paused and said, "Is it that easy?"
"We're with her every step, Joe."
"They know you're gonna be with her."
"We have to wait and see." Torres sounded helpless. "What else can we do?"
"You ever had one like this or heard of one?"
"Only dope, dopers trying to score off each other. The Major called the Bureau and they never had one like this either. They said, what is this? Your suspect is practically wearing a sign."
"The Bureau's in it now?"
"Miami office. They're busy on some Castro spy stuff they didn't care to discuss, but they took the note for analysis. They give us their R.A. in West Palm, the resident agent, and some words of wisdom. 'Don't lose the woman or the money or it'll fuck up your day.' "