«You want me to go with you?»
«I’m not sure it’s acceptable, you full-blown, very exciting lady, you.»
«Eeyoo!» squealed the secretary, attacking her martini.
Binky the banker got up from the table and walked rapidly to O’Toole’s pay telephone by the entrance. He inserted a coin and dialed; his call was instantly answered. «Uncle Bricky?»
«Who else?» replied the owner of New England’s largest lending institution.
«It’s your nephew, Binky.»
«Trust you earned your keep, young fella. You’re not good for much else.»
«Uncle Bricky. I was really good!»
«I’m not interested in your sexual exploits, Binky. What have you learned?»
«It’s a ski lodge in Hooksett. That’s across the border in New Hampshire.»
Binky the banker never returned to the table, and the understanding O’Toole put the inebriated secretary into a taxi, paying the fare to her residence, and waving goodbye to the confused face in the window with a single word. «Lowlifes,» he said to himself.
«This is Bricky, old boy. It’s a ski lodge in Hooksett, New Hampshire, roughly thirty miles north of the border on Route Ninety-three. I’m told there are only a couple of such places in the area, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to find. There’ll be two automobiles with the following license plate numbers.» The ashen-faced New England banker gave the numbers and accepted the accolade accorded him by the Secretary of State.
«Well done, Bricky, it’s like old times, isn’t it, old chum?»
«I hope so, old boy, because if you mess this up, don’t you dare show up for our reunion!»
«Don’t you worry, old sport. They’re called the Filthy Four and they’re positively animals! They’re flying into Logan Airport within the hour… Do you think Smythie might reconsider mooring my yacht at his club?»
«I suspect that will depend on the results of your efforts, don’t you think?»
«I have every faith in our foursome, old chum. They’re really a despicable quartet. No mercy given, none taken, as it were. You honestly wouldn’t care to get within a mile of them!»
«Good show, old boy. Keep me posted.»
It was past midnight on the outskirts of Hooksett, New Hampshire, when a black van without headlights coasted silently down the country road and came to a stop in front of the graveled entrance to the former ski lodge. Inside, the driver, the blue outlines of an erupting volcano tattooed on his forehead and seen clearly in the summer moonlight, turned to his three associates in the rear of the vehicle. «Hoods,» he said simply as the three reached into black knapsacks and pulled out black stocking masks, which they promptly squeezed down over their heads. The driver-leader did the same in the front seat, all four adjusting the dark nylon fabric so their eyes peered menacingly out of the lined cut-out holes. «Maximum weapons,» added the tattooed unit superior officer, his lips forming a grim smile beneath the cloth. «I want dead, all dead! I want to see horror, I want to see pain; I want to see blood and grotesque faces, all those good things we were trained to do so well!»
«Like always, Major!» whispered a hulk of a man, his hands, as the others, robotically plunging into his knapsack and retrieving a MAC-10 automatic weapon along with five magazines of ammunition each containing eighty rounds, a total of sixteen hundred rapidly spewed-out bullets.
«Subordinate firepower!» continued the major, glancing around and satisfied that his second command had already been obeyed. Again, hands surged into knapsacks, and looped grenades were affixed to combat belts. «Radios!» came the final order, and it was instantly executed. Miniaturized walkie-talkies were retrieved and shoved into pockets. «Let’s go! North, South, East, and West, according to your numbers, have you got it?»
A unison of affirmatives followed as the four Maximum Incorrigibles slipped out of the van, lay on their stomachs, and then crawled off in their individual directions. Death was their mission and death was their salvation in all things. Death before dishonor!
«Do chu see what I see, amigo?» asked Desi-Two of Desi-One, both standing beneath a full maple tree and studying the descending landscape in the erratic moonlight. «Ees crazy, no?»
«You shouldn’t be so hard on dem, as the gringos say,» replied Desi the First. «They never had to watch the chickens or the goats at night from bad neighbors.»
«I know dat, but why they so stupid? Black cabezas moving up the hill with the moon like big cucarachas ees plain dumb—like also the gringos say.»
«As the Heneral says, we could teach dem better but not right now. Right now, we godda do what he wants us to do… An’ also, it’s been a dificultoso day for all our nice new friends, so we don’ want to wake dem up. Dey need their sleep, no?»
«Dey ain’t got no chickens or no goats, but only right now bad neighbors, is dat what you mean?»
«Dat’s right. We do dis ourselves, h’okay?»
«Ees easy. I take the two over dere, chu get the two on the other side.»
«H’okay,» said Desi the First as both men crouched in the shadows. «But chu remember, amigo, don’ hurt nobody too bad. The heneral says we godda be civilized to prisoners of war.»
«Hey, man, we h’ain’t no animals! Like the heneral also says, we go bide with the Genevil intentions. Maybe dese bad neighbors had lousy times when dey were liddle kids, like Heneral Mac said we did. Dey probably need lotsa kindness and help.»
«Hey, man,» admonished D-One, whispering, «don’ let all those priests you like make you t’ink you’re a saint! Chu give all dat kindness when dese black-headed cucarachas are laid out in de kitchen sink, h’okay?»
«Hey, man, my favorite padre used to tell me when I went into Old San Juan, ‘An eye for an eye, niño, but make sure you kick first—right in the testículos.’»
«Truly a man of God, amigo. Le’s go!»
«Major Vulcan speaking,» said the black-hooded figure quietly into his radio as he crawled up the southernmost route leading to the former ski lodge. «Come in by the numbers.»
«Two East reporting, Major. No activity, hostile or otherwise.»
«Number Three?»
«Three North, sir. A light’s on in what appears to be a bedroom on the second floor. Can I blow it out?»
«Not yet, soldier, but when I tell you, take out everyone inside. Probably goddamned perverts watching as they exchange bodily fluids. They’re all perverts, savage perverts. Keep your weapon and your grenades at the ready.»
«Yes, sir! I want to blow ’em away first! Can I do that, Major?»
«Good attitude, soldier, but only when I give the word. Keep closing in.»
«What about me, sir?» interrupted Two East. «Three North’s a fucking idiot! Remember when the guards found him chewing the fence with his teeth?… I should have the first kill!»
«And you’ll be mine!» broke in Three North. «Don’t forget, Major, Two East took all those strawberries that were meant for you at last Thursday’s mess!»
«You’ve got a point, Number Three. I really wanted those strawberries.»