Looking up, Parker saw the explanation. In from of him, maybe sixty yards away, a broad yellow brick building rose up in the middle of the dead plain like a squared-off dinosaur. Marching rows of windows reflected the afternoon sun, giving off a cold yellow light. On the right side of the building the temporary steel framework of a construction company’s external elevator rose up like the crane next to a missile bound for the moon.
Bulldozers had worked this dry miracle with the land. The constructors of that building over there had called in the bulldozers to strip down every inch of the properly they owned before anybody started to work putting up the foundation. Later, when the building was done, landscape architects would come in with fresh earth and seed and hothouse plants and turn this moonscape back into something vaguely like the forest it had been, but with less clutter and liveliness.
The building wasn’t finished, that was obvious, though there didn’t seem to be any workmen on or near it. Parker assumed they were all out on strike.
Whether the building, when it was finished, would be an apartment house or an office building Parker couldn’t tell and didn’t care. Whatever it was going to be, it implied a road or highway or street of some kind over on its far side. If the amateur could make it over to there, over to paved street and a populated neighborhood, he just might get away after all.
But he wasn’t going to make it.
He was halfway to the building, running splayfooted, arms making ragged pinwheels at his sides. He was obviously winded, running on terror now instead of strength or energy. Little puffs of dust rose up around his feet at every pounding step. He half staggered, nearly fell forward, but kept his balance and his momentum and ran on.
Parker half turned so his right side was to the building and the runner. He stretched his right arm out, shoulder high, large hand bunched around the Colt .38 automatic, arm and hand and automatic all pointing at the straining back of the runner.
He fired.
Dust puffed ahead of the runner and to his right.
The runner didn’t dodge, didn’t swerve. He kept running straight ahead, flat out, running along the straight taut string of terror.
Parker compensated, aiming now just a bit to the left, just a bit lower. His first finger squeezed and the automatic bucked just a trifle, and the runner thudded face forward into the ground. Dust billowed up around him and slowly settled down again. There was no wind; the dust settled on the body.
Now for Negli.
A bullet cut Parker’s right earlobe.
Two
There was silence.
Parker crouched next to a thick maple, peering through the underbrush, waiting for Negli to make a move. Behind him, five or six feet away, was the edge of the forest; beyond, the tan earth lay dull and flat, and farther away the yellow building gleamed in the pale sunlight.
It was cold in here now. He’d left his topcoat, and he was no longer moving, and he could feel the chill air seeping through his clothes.
Five minutes had gone by since Negli’s bullet had drawn blood on Parker’s ear. Parker had taken cover, had moved slowly and carefully away from where Negli could expect to find him, and now he was sitting here and waiting for Negli to make’ the first move.
It had to be Negli who would move first. He was a pro, the same as Parker, but right now he was running on emotion, and a man full of emotion can’t sit and wait as well as a man in control of himself. So Negli would eventually have to move, and when the time came, Parker would take whatever advantage of it he could.
But he wasn’t sure: yet whether he just wanted to kill Negli or not. If Arnie Feccio really was dead, then there were developments Parker didn’t know anything about. For his own good, he had to find out about them, find out how the situation now stood, and Negli was the only one handy to tell him.
The whole operation had soured completely, he knew that much. The job itself, at the stadium, had been sweet, one of the sweetest pieces of work he’d ever been a part of. For three days after the job, everything was still sweet. And then, because of that simple minded amateur, lying out there now on the dead ground, everything went to hell.
Shelly was dead. If Negli had the story straight, then Feccio was dead, too. Negli was going to be dead himself pretty soon. Three out of the seven, dead or soon to be.
Leaves rattled.
Parker was instantly alert. It had come from the left, and deeper into the woods away from the open ground. Negli had been more to the right earlier, when he’d taken that near-miss shot at Parker. So they’d spent the last five minutes circling each other, both of them moving to the right, shifting position in relation to the forest but not in relation to one another.
If he were to move out to the edge, out by the moonscape, and head down to his left, he might still flank Negli, still wind up on Negli’s back. With that advantage, he could pick and choose, he could maybe get close enough just to disarm the little man and hold him down while he asked some questions.
It was worth a try.
He moved to his left, as slow and careful and silent as a wolf.
‘Parker!’
He slopped. The call had come from the same spot; Negli hadn’t moved since then. Parker said nothing. He waited.
‘Parker, you did everything wrong.’
He waited.
‘You hear me? You stupid lummox, do you hear me?’
He waited.
Negli’s voice was getting shrill, his words were bumping into one another. He shouted, ‘Do you want to hear about it, you brainless bastard?’
This time, as Negli shouted Parker moved. Negli’s own roaring voice covered any small sounds Parker might make. He followed the line he’d already worked out, moving out to the edge of the forest and then down the line to get behind Negli. He moved when Negli spoke, and stopped when Negli was silent.
Negli shouted, ‘You lost the money, that was the first thing. You walk out of the apartment and leave the money in there with nobody to watch it and somebody comes and takes it away, you simple moron, takes it away!’
Parker stopped. He was at the edge now; he’d travelled about seven feet so far, during Negli’s speeches.
It was almost comic. Negli shouting about stupidity and killing himself with every shout.
‘And you went to the cop!’ Negli shouted, and Parker moved forward again. ‘You got that goddam list from that goddam cop, and what the hell did you think he’d do? You hear me, Parker? What did you think that cop would do?’
They both slopped.
‘He put law on the inside, Parker! There weren’t any cops watching for you on the outside, there were plain-clothesmen inside the goddam apartment!’
Parker frowned and crouched down to wait awhile. That was a cross-up. It didn’t make sense that way. Detective Dougherty had to figure he was part of the mob that made the haul at the stadium. He had to figure Parker would lead him to the rest of the mob. It only made sense for Dougherty to put men on watch outside the homes of those nine men on his list with orders not to grab Parker when he showed up but to follow him when he left.
That was the whole basis of it right there, that was why it seemed safe to let the others go around and ask their questions.
Why? Where had he figured wrong? Had Dougherty been too smart for him or too dumb for him?
Negli shouted again: ‘They put the grab on Arnie, you know that? I saw them bring him out. I tried to help him cop it, they gunned him down. You hear me, you rotten bastard ?’
Parker heard him. He’d gone down the line now, Negli’s voice was coming from farther back. He’d managed to cross Negli’s flank and get behind him. He turned, and on Negli’s next speech he started in through the underbrush again.
‘Parker! Arnie’s dead! Don’t you know what I’m talking about, you mindless piece of hate? Annie’s dead?