"I don't like the way you're runnin' everything. I think we can make this thing go better'n you, seein' that we're professionals," Billy interjected, a forced skepticism in his voice. He didn't mind all the brain work being allotted to others, but he reacted violently to the fact that he was being forced to follow the methods of people he did not know and did not trust. A flicker of jealous concern raced through his mind when he realized that his position as gang leader was being usurped by this outsider. "We got the experience and the know-how in making a hit, anyway."
"And that is precisely why we have hired you. However, on other levels there are things you cannot do. You have no idea of the larger concerns that govern the operation," the man responded contemptuously and rose up stiffly in his chair. "The other aspects of this project should not concern you or your men."
"There ain't no other concerns right now but that we get our money. Look here, Mr. Big Businessman, you show us the stash of cash, right now, or there won't be no big operation," Billy spat out angrily, suddenly fed up with the stranger's slickness. He leapt to his feet, "Let's see the green stuff!"
The man sat motionless at the head of the table and gazed coolly across the floor past Billy to the rain splattered warehouse window. He seemed to catch everything in his calm gaze in that instant, passing his eyes from the dog sitting tensely at Billy's side to the convict at the table, and slowly flicking them past the two women.
"It's all here for you to look at," the man said and opened his briefcase, withdrawing a stack of one-hundred dollar bills. "One half now. You get the rest, my friend, after the killing."
"How do we know you won't cross us?" Pop suddenly demanded from the far end of the table.
"You don't know, do you?" the man said without raising his voice.
On command from Billy the dog jumped to its feet and moved like a shot towards the man. The man did not lose his composure, he merely said in a normal tone of voice, "Down, Rex!" The huge animal snarled in rebellion, but the stranger continued to stare directly at it. "Down," he repeated. The dog looked questioningly up at his master.
"I just wanted to give you an idea that we ain't foolin' with ya," Billy said nervously, then added, "Down, Rex." His fists were clenched as he glared at the table.
"I have no doubts about that," the would-be victim answered, smiling sarcastically. "But this is all very childish. Sit down so we can finish making our preparations."
Suddenly Billy looked cowed. All his attempts to intimidate the older man and to retain his own precarious power had failed, and he seemed almost defeated standing with his command all but gone and his pride smashed. It was obvious to Ellen that he was unable to understand the intricacies of the assassination plot, and that he was no more than a hired gunman… and not a very bright one at that. He and the rest of them were expendable items and had a limited usefulness, but none of them knew this.
Almost as if sensing his untenable position, the gang leader sat down. He stared, almost unseeingly, at the well-dressed man. All of his criminal instincts told him something was wrong, but there was nothing he could do about it; with a snap of his fingers the man with the briefcase could have him and the others back in prison where they would probably remain for most of their lives, living in a kind of twilight world of unfulfilled dreams and vain promises… if they weren't hit by the underworld within the walls as a lesson to others. His own men were probably more distrustful of him now than they had ever been, and this is what made things all the more painful. He couldn't stand being knocked down in front of the others as though he were just a piece of dirt. Irrationally, he thought about pulling his gun and killing the man opposite him, but one look at his own trembling hands told him he'd never pull it off.
The rain drove in long sweeps across the parking lot outside the warehouse and beat against the windows of the ramshackle building in a mounting fury that seemed to match the violence of the discussion going on inside. Ellen felt the impact of the two forces merge inside her and her very body shuddered while the argument between the opposing figures of authority continued to build in intensity. She felt her heart go out to Billy and the other prisoners as she became more and more aware that they were no match against the real professional seated at the head of the table. Even the German Shepherd lying by the gang leader's side had been prevented from attacking the man, as though the animal itself were no match against the superior will of the stranger. Ellen likened the prison escapees to a bunch of children who had lost their way in a woods and had reverted back to their primal nature, searching and stumbling down blind paths that only made them more utterly lost while their base animal selves took over.
And now, despite the fact that they had raped her and run their coarse hands over and over her body as though she were nothing more than a slut off the streets, she felt pity mixed with fear for them: did they know what tragedy awaited them, or had they been reduced to mere sub-humans by their years of confinement… and unable to recognize that the superior cunning of the man with the briefcase was to be their own destruction?
"The money looks OK," Billy said grudgingly and counted the bills, laying them down on the table in front of the man. "When do we get the rest?"
"That, of course, comes after the killing," the man said coldly and looked down at the dog lying next to Billy.
"The boat's gonna be waiting? Ya know we'll be hot for about five years," the gang leader asked, looking at Cash and Pop almost as if he were seeking their support against this man.
"Your driver will have this map," the man said and drew out a folded chart from his briefcase. "This will show him the route marked to the private pier down the coast about ten miles. A boat will be waiting along with the balance of your payment. In a few days you'll be safe in Mexico."
"Mexico! Whooopeeee!" Vito suddenly shouted with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, clapping his hands gleefully. "Goddamn, I can't wait to get my hands on some of them senoritas!"
The stranger looked harshly across at the little convict, an expression of contempt on his face for a moment. "It is not necessarily going to be that easy. Once you get to the boat you should be relatively safe, but there still are some risks, even though we are taking all precautions at the stadium."
"What happens if them demonstrators don't raise a ruckus?" Billy asked.
"It will be impossible for them not to do so. We have our own plants in the crowd who will stir them up. I think we can assume that a few of the protectors will be injured by the police."
"That's no sweat off my back," Billy muttered. "Just as long as we get our dough and get out quick."
"You must remember to follow the agreed-upon plan. The higher ups in the organization know what they're doing. We're the only protection you have, and the protection will work only if you follow instructions."
Billy looked around the table at Cash, Pop, and Vito. They did not look back at him but kept their eyes lowered to the map on the table. There was no doubt which way they would go if he put the choice to them.
"Okay, fella, let's hear the rest of it," he said after a few minutes.
There were no other objections after Billy had had his say, and Ellen sat in stunned and helpless silence as the whole horrible plot was outlined before her eyes that would assassinate an important public figure and leave several bystanders dead or injured and would free the crime syndicate that was engineering the plot to operate without restraint.
The long day went on and on… interminably. Tempers grew short, and more than once, a snarling Billy was forced to back down. Time and time again, the men went over the plan, each one learning his part in the operation until it was committed to memory. It was late afternoon before the man folded his maps and packed them away in his briefcase. Billy had followed the complicated plan throughout the day while occasionally one or two of the others had to be nudged awake because of the humid, stupefying heat. Periodically, as the afternoon wore on, Ellen felt Pop's and Cash's eyes returning to view her half-naked young body in obvious remembrance of what they had done to her the night before. Sylvia slept – unmindful of the conversation going on around her. But the snake-like eyes of Vito didn't sleep; they followed Ellen's every movement and they plainly said what he would like to do to her later that night. The others had gotten theirs and with Sylvia on hand to complicate things it looked like he might have the opportunity to take advantage of her when the others became distracted with the final steps of the assassination plot, and he was left alone with the girl.