Part 4 (1/2)

It took something out of him. Majestyk had to sit down on the other bunk and rest, get his breath.

There was silence until Renda said, ”All right. What do you call this game?”

Majestyk looked over at him. ”You'll find out.”

”Tomorrow night,” Renda said quietly, ”we could be in L.A. Stay at a place I know, get some broads in, booze, anything you want to eat or drink, get some new clothes. A couple of days later we're in Mexico. Get a boat, some more broads. I mean like you never seen before. Cruise around, anything you want, it's on the house. You ever have it like that? Anything you want?”

”I been to L.A.,” Majestyk said. ”I been to Mexico and I been laid.”

”Okay, what do you want?”

”I want to get a melon crop in. That's what I want to do.” Renda gave him a puzzled look and he added, ”I grow melons.”

”Hire your work done.”

”I hope to. But I got to be there.”

”I'll tell you something,” Renda said, taking his time. ”I've killed seven men with a gun, one with a crowbar, and another guy I threw off a roof. Five stories. Some people I didn't kill but I had it done. Like I can have it done for you, even if I get put away and they let you off. Any way you look at it, you're dead. Unless we go out of here together. Or, we make a deal.”

”What kind of deal?”

”Put a price on it. You take the cuffs off, I walk away. What's it cost?” Renda watched him closely. ”If you think it's going to be hot out there, all right, you'll have dough, you can go anywhere you want.” He paused. ”Or if you feel like taking a chance, turn yourself in, you can tell them I got away. Serve some time, come out, the dough's waiting. How much?” He paused again. ”You don't know what your price is, do you? Afraid you might be low. All right, I'll tell you what it is. Twenty-five.”

”Twenty-five what?”

”Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

It was Majestyk's turn to pause. ”How would we work it? I mean how would I get the money?”

”You call a Phoenix number,” Renda said. ”Say you got a message for Wiley. You say where you want the money delivered and where I can be picked up. It's all you have to do.”

Majestyk seemed to be thinking about it. He said, ”Twenty-five thousand, huh?”

”Tax free.”

”Could you go any higher than that?”

Renda grinned. ”Getting greedy now. Like what's another five or ten.”

”I just wondered.”

”Twenty-five,” Renda said. ”That's your price. A nice round number. Buy yourself a tractor, a new pair of overalls. Put the rest away for your retirement.” He waited a moment. ”Well, what do you think?”

”You say I call somebody named Wiley,” Majestyk said. ”What's the number?”

5.

THE PAPAGO TRADING POST was a highway novelty store in the desert, about three miles below and east of the hunting cabin. Big red-painted signs on and around the place advertised AUTHENTIC INDIAN SOUVENIRS ... ARROWHEADS ... MOCCASINS ... HOMEMADE CANDY AND ICE COLD BEER. There was a Coca-Cola sign, an Olympia sign, and a Coors sign. was a highway novelty store in the desert, about three miles below and east of the hunting cabin. Big red-painted signs on and around the place advertised AUTHENTIC INDIAN SOUVENIRS ... ARROWHEADS ... MOCCASINS ... HOMEMADE CANDY AND ICE COLD BEER. There was a Coca-Cola sign, an Olympia sign, and a Coors sign.

Majestyk came down from the cabin about nine in the morning and approached the store from about three hundred yards up the highway, reading the signs and listening for the sounds of oncoming cars. n.o.body pa.s.sed him. He reached the store and went inside.

Beyond the counters displaying the trinkets and souvenirs, the Indian dolls and blankets, and sayings carved on varnished pieces of wood-like, ”There's only one thing money can't buy. Poverty”-he saw the owner of the place sitting at a counter that was marble and looked like a soda fountain. The man was about sixty, frail-looking with yellowish gray hair. He was having a beer, drinking it from the can.

Approaching him Majestyk said, ”I got a flat tire a couple of miles back. No spare.”

”That's a shame,” the owner said.

”I wonder if I could use your phone. Call a friend of mine.”

”Where's he live?”

”Down at Edna.”

”That's two bits call Edna.”

Majestyk watched him raise the wet-glistening beer can to his mouth.

”I don't have a spare. The truth is, I don't have any money on me.”

”Have to trust you then, won't I?”

Majestyk smiled at him. ”You trust me for a can of that too?”

When he got his Coors, a sixteen-ounce can, he took it over to the wall phone with him, looked up a number in the Edna directory, and dialed it. He kept his back to the man at the counter. When a voice came on he said, quietly, ”I believe you have a Lieutenant McAllen there? ... Let me speak to him, please.”

He waited, looking over at the counter where the owner of the place was watching him, then turned his back to the man and hunched over the phone again.

”This is Vincent Majestyk. You remember we met a few days ago?” He paused, interrupted, then said, ”No, I'm downtown in a hotel. Where do you think I am? Listen, why don't you let me talk for a minute, all right?” But he was interrupted again. ”Listen to me, will you? I got Frank Renda ... I said I got him.... You want to listen or you want me to hang up? ... Okay, I got Renda and you got an a.s.sault charge against me. Drop it, tear it up, kick it under the rug, and I'll give you Frank Renda.”

With the loud sounds coming from the receiver he held the phone away from him, covered the speaker with his hand, and looked over at the owner of the place.

”He's sore cause I took him away from his breakfast.” He turned and put the phone to his ear again, waiting to break in.

”Yeah, well nothing's free in this world,” Majestyk said finally. ”You want him, that's the deal.... No, I'll deliver him. You come here you're liable to say you found us. But I bring him in it's me doing it and n.o.body else.... Yeah. Yeah, well it's nice doing business with you too.”

He hung up, took a sip of beer, but didn't move away from the phone. ”Put another call on there, okay?” he said to the store owner. ”Phoenix. And maybe a couple more beers, to go.”

He finished dialing, waited, and as he turned to the wall said, ”I got a message for somebody named Wiley. You understand? All right, get a pencil and piece of paper and write down what I tell you.”

It was a little after twelve, the sun directly above them, when the sports car appeared on the county road. They had been waiting since eleven-thirty, partway up the slope that was covered with stands of pinyon pine. In that time this was the first car they had seen.

”That's it,” Renda said. He started to rise, awkwardly, still handcuffed.

Majestyk motioned to him. ”Keep down.” He watched the sports car, a white Jaguar XK, go by raising a trail of dust on the gravel road, finally reaching a point where it pa.s.sed from sight beyond the trees.

”That's the car car,” Renda said.

Majestyk continued to watch the road, saying nothing until the car appeared again, coming slowly from the other direction.