DeLaroza nodded.
‘I was, uh, I didn’t want to worry you,’ DeLaroza said.
‘Oh, you didn’t, hunh? Gonna let me sit around, wait till the building falls in one me?’
‘It is both of us.’
‘I did the bit. Just like in Hong Kong that time. It was me!’ Burns bellowed. ‘I’m the one they’ll come squat on. You may go down the toilet there, Victor, but I get the gas pipe.’
‘Well,’ DeLaroza said and let the sentence hang.
‘We got a saying in the rackets. The rope only has one noose. You know what I mean, Victor? I only got one neck. How many times you think they can stretch it? How come you wait so long to gimme this piece of news?’
‘I just found out.’
‘When?’
‘At noon.’
‘Jesus. I don’t believe you. I don’t fuckin’ believe you. Here we got this broad can hang us both higher than the church steeple, you’re still gettin’ a little. You just finished tellin’ me you don’t know how to handle this here with Hotchins, you’re dippin’ the wienie. Jesus Christ!’
‘It was not like that. I talked to her. Told her to step out of Hotchins’s life. She is a threat to his future.’
‘Well, I’ll bet she lapped that up with a fork all right.’
‘No, you are right. She did not lap it up with a fork.’
‘What do ya need, a picture book? They’ll get ya every time. Ask Adam. Ask John the Baptist. Ask Samson, Ask ‘em all, man. She’s got a meal ticket. He goes to Washington, she goes along for the ride. Besides, that ain’t the question here. You know what the question here is, Victor. Can she put it on us? Can she finger me for chilling Corrigon? And if the answer is maybe, that means the answer is yes.’
DeLaroza said nothing. He wanted desperately to light his cigar. Outside, the first deep rumble of thunder rolled across the sky.
‘Listen to that. It’s gonna rain like a son of a bitch,’ Burns said. He fell quiet. The juices were beginning to run. He felt the first nibble of excitement, the first surge of lust. His palms tingled. He licked his lips.
DeLaroza went up the steps and opened the hatch door leading to the cabin, watching the storm clouds race angrily across the sky. He lit the cigar, letting the hard, cold wind carry the smoke out across the lake.
‘You know where she lives?’ Burns asked.
‘Yes. In fact, I, uh, I am going there tonight.’
Burns shook his head. ‘Unreal,’ he said.
‘It is something special. A goodbye. I have known this woman for a long time,’ he said. Then, after a pause: ‘Too long, maybe.’
Burns smiled but there was no mirth in the grin. Then he said, ‘Not too long. So long. Get what I mean?’
DeLaroza turned and looked back at him. ‘What do you mean?’ he said.
‘What do you mean, what do I mean? You know what I mean. Don’t act dumb, because I know you ain’t dumb.’
A sudden flash of lightning jarred DeLaroza. A second later it cracked like a whip snapping in the trees nearby. Burns seemed to draw strength from it. His eyes lost their coldness and began to beam with exhilaration.
‘You’re gonna be right there,’ Burns said. ‘So you can case out the Situation for me. You’re in the catbird seat there, Victor, because we ain’t got a lot of time. Now do you know what I mean?’
DeLaroza did not answer. His lower lip began to tremble. He was thinking about tonight, about making love to her.
Burns was totally calm, the killing machine, lubricating itself with visceral oil.
‘You did good, Victor,’ he said.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Sure you do. You didn’t come out here to feed me all that bullshit about my passport, that crap. You came out here to put the edge on the knife. Right?’
DeLaroza fell quiet again. He stared down at the cigar. ‘I ain’t pissed about it, Victor. In fact, I gotta hand it to you. In your own sweet way you’re just like me. You’d kill your own mother for a two-pont safety. You worked it out nice. It’s one and one makes two, just that simple. You’re here because the chippie has to take a hit and I’m the one’s gotta do the job. Ain’t that right, Victor?’
DeLaroza stared at the floor. Finally he nodded very slowly.
‘Lemme hear you say it there, partner.’
DeLaroza continued to stare at the floor.
‘Lemme hear you say it,’ Burns said flatly. ‘Say it out loud.’
DeLaroza remained quiet.
‘Say it.’
DeLaroza started to speak. His lips moved, but the words died in his mouth. He coughed, trying to clear his throat.
‘Say it!’
The voice was hoarse and seemed far away. ‘Kill her,’ DeLaroza said.
Burns grinned. ‘See how easy it is when you try.’
Chapter Nine
The ant was as big as an elephant. It crawled across the ceiling and Sharky watched it, wondering what it was doing on the roof of a twelve-storey building and why it even wanted to be there at all.
Sit and wait. Boredom. The curse of the stakeout.
At least Livingston had provided him with what Arch called his stakeout kit — an army cot, blanket, hot plate, and several packets of instant soup and coffee. It helped. They had also left a car on the street below near the exit of the apartment parking deck in case he had to tail her.
But he had nothing to read. After all the stakeouts Sharky should have remembered something to read. And he would be there until Papa relieved him at eight A.M.
He lay on the cot with the blanket under his head and the earphones on and watched the ant scurry across the ceiling and start down the wall. The recorder for Domino’s living room whirred quietly on the floor near the cot. The radio was on. Led Zeppelin boomed in his ears.
She was moving around, singing to herself, the recorders for the bedroom and massage room cutting on and off as she went from one to the other. She was in the master bedroom when she made the phone call.
‘Hello, is Mister Moundt there, please? . . , Hi, it’s
Domino. . . Fine, and you?.. . Oh, you do? Wonderful. I
was afraid it wouldn’t get in. . . . Thank you, that’s so sweet.
It’s for tonight. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.
Wonderful, I’ll be by in a few minutes. Bye.’
Good. He could pick up a paperback or some magazines. He pulled on his suede pullover, smoothed back his hair, and walked down to the ninth floor, making sure the elevator he took did not stop at ten. He did not want to end up in the same elevator with her. He walked through the cold drizzle to the stakeout car, a blue Chevy, got in and waited. A few minutes later the gate swung open and the blue Mercedes pulled out.
He followed her down Peachtree Street, staying several car lengths behind her. When she turned into the lot at Moundt’s he drove past, u-turned, and ambled back, giving her time to enter the store.
Moundt’s was a gourmet supermarket, possibly the best in the city, it had two entrances, the main door on Peachtree Street and another through the side that led past a snack bar. He got a cup of coffee, stood in the doorway, watching her as he sipped it. She was in the rear of the store, talking to Moundt, a tall, grey-haired, amiable man who seemed to know her well. He gave her two cans which she put in her shopping cart.
Supposing she makes you? Sharky thought. Remembers you from the elevator?
He went to the fruit department, got some white seedless grapes and half a dozen hard apples, then cruised the store, staying two or three rows away and well behind her. He reached the paperback rack and, keeping his back to her, looked for a book. He selected a thick novel by Irwin Shaw, then turned cautiously, and looked back over his shoulder.