"You've got to believe me, Sam."
"I believe, Doc- I believe. Come by and get it. I'll have it ready and nobody'll know."
"No. Can you bring it to the Minute Man Park off Route 2A? Bring it alone- to the park at eleven-fifteen. Walk in the park, which should be empty, until you see my red-and-white International Scout. It looks like a jeep. Nobody will be inside but the door will be unlocked. Put the sack inside on the back seat, close the front driver's door so it locks, then go back to the office. Okay?"
"I got it."
"Sain? Don't call anybody after we hang up. It'll go bad for us if you do."
"I won't. I'll do just like you say."
"How much is in the sack?" said DeLucca, who was listening in on the extension.
There was a slight pause, and Sam asked me if he should speak to the strange voice. I told him yes.
"Just about eighteen thousand seven hundred dollars in bills. Nothing larger than fifties."
"It all better be there. And remember what the man said: don't mention this to anyone. Go right back to your office and be cool until the doctor calls you. Got it?"
"I'm hip. Well, I'm startin' now."
In five minutes we were ready too. Vince was to stay behind with Mary while I drove DeLucca in the Audi, and Marty the baby-faced psycho was to drive the Scout. Apparently even DeLucca was anxious about leaving the punk alone with Mary. I don't think she even knew when we left. We went out to the cars. Something was wrong with Marty. I could tell by the way he walked.
We were waiting at Minute Man National Park at eleven. I was sitting at the wheel of the Audi, my left hand cuffed to the rim of the steering wheel, while DeLucca sat in the front passenger seat watching me and the Scout, which was parked way over on the other side of the big lot. There weren't many visitors at the park this early in the year. There were only two other cars and a couple riding ten-speed bikes, who'd stopped to look around and drink from their plastic water bottles. Marty, who'd driven the Scout, was leaning into a public phone alcove up near the park building. From this vantage point he could see everything. DeLucca had instructed him to phone Vince at the first sign of trouble so he could put a bullet into Mary.
My palms were sweaty and my heart was going like a jackhammer.
"Stay cool," purred DeLucca, drawing on a cigarette, "and nobody gets hurt. Keep telling yourself that all we want is the car, the cash, and a head start. You get us those and you're all set."
He grinned at me as his mouth dribbled smoke. On the seat, cradled in his right hand, was his little pocket auto pistol. The grin was wide but the eyes black and cold. I did not trust him even a little. And like an ice-cold serpent crawling up my spine, a thought that entered my mind dropped the bottom out of any slight hope and optimism I'd allowed myself to have.
The thought was simple, and devastatingly logical. DeLucca and his two sleazy sidekicks had absolutely nothing to lose at this point. With the police of the entire Eastern seaboard, the Mob, and practically everybody else after them for murder and betrayal, they faced certain capture and death if they remained in the area now that word of their presence in Boston was out. As DeLucca had said, they needed a head start. And the longer that head start was, the better their chances. With Mary and me alive there was a ceiling on that lead; with us dead there wasn't.
They might kill us in the house, hide our corpses in the attic or basement, and leave. They might kill us in the motel room, but that seemed unlikely. Today was Friday. If friends saw nobody home and the cars missing, they would assume we'd gone down to the cottage on the Cape for the weekend. Our two sons weren't due back from school for another three days.
They would have plenty of lead time that way. Plenty. Enough to drive the stolen cars with the cold plates clear across the country.
Maybe they wouldn't kill us right away. Perhaps they would begin the plan as DeLucca had outlined it to me. When he and I were far away in the Audi, he would have me pull off the road near some woods or scrub, do me in, and dump me in a green tangle. Then they'd kill Mary and leave her in the motel bed, naked and violated. When the local authorities found her, Brian would proceed with caution, sensing a possible scandal. Or would he? Would he "Hey! Snap out of it!" snarled DeLucca. I turned my attention back to the red-and-white vehicle sitting all alone at the far end of the huge lot. Was Sam going to show? Or was he bringing in help to get us off the hook? An hour ago I would have hoped more than anything he would do what they wanted. But not now. As soon as I realized how much more getaway time they'd have with us on ice, I was sure we were done for. I looked back at DeLucca. The lizard eyes glowed and darted in the wide, dark face.
"Look," he said, and pointed past me with his cigarette, which he held in his bandaged hand.
A red Buick Regal had pulled into the lot and stopped next to the Scout. A man in a gray jumpsuit was getting out. He carried a dark-green canvas bag. It was Sam. He approached the Scout without ever looking up or looking around. He opened the front door, leaned in, flipped the bag into the back seat, stood up, pushed down the door-lock plunger, closed the door, tested it to make sure it was locked, and got back into his car. I could see no sign of the big dog. My heart sank. He was following the instructions to the letter. I couldn't understand the jumpsuit, except that if he felt he was being watched, the jumpsuit would signify his occupation as a messenger. The Regal backed. up, swept around, and was gone.
As per the plan we all waited for ten minutes without moving a muscle. Nothing happened. No battle wagons filled with fuzz roared into the lot. No choppers descended. It was quiet; the plan was working.
DeLucca had me start the car while Marty sauntered down to the Scout. He unlocked the door and got in. We saw him reach back for the moneybag, and seconds later the headlights flashed once. That meant that there was really money in the bag, not paper. We cruised out of the lot with the Scout right behind us.
DeLucca had me go along at a pretty good clip, then turn off 2A onto a small dirt side road for about thirty yards and stop. He took the keys and left me cuffed to the wheel while he went back to see Marty. The kid's face looked funny.
They opened the bag and set it on the hood of the Scout. DeLucca examined the loot while he kept looking over his shoulder toward the highway. He pawed through the satchel, flipping through wads and stacks of bills. He seemed more than satisfied with the haul. If he were an ordinary guy, without a string of grisly murders and betrayals to account for, I might have reason to expect that this fortune I got for them would make him spare us. But more and more I realized he would not. He couldn't.
He now had his hands on enough money to live for months without risking his neck or even showing himself. So the lead time for his escape had become that much more important. They crept down to the highway and watched it for a while to see if there was a tail. There wasn't. DeLucca got back in, handed me the keys, and told me to drive home. As I swung the car around I was hoping we wouldn't get there. Instead of getting the gang off our back, the sack of money was rushing the final act. I should never have called Sam, but now it was too late.
We pulled up the drive and into the turnaround in back. Vince came out the back door and met us on the flagstone terrace. He was scared. He pointed down the slope at the orchard and woods beyond the low stone wall.
"There was shooting there ten minutes ago," he said to DeLucca. "I heard a gun, firing fast."
"Well?" DeLucca asked me. I shrugged.
"A lot of kids hunt rabbits down there with four-tens," I said. "It's illegal, but they do it."
"I don't hear nothing," DeLucca said. "Let's get inside."