Part 7 (1/2)

The little grin was still there. ”Man, I hope n.o.body's telling stories on me, giving me a bad name.”

”They didn't say it was you. I'm saying it.”

”Why would I do a thing like that?”

”So I'll lose my crop.”

”I think you must be a little mixed up,” Kopas said. ”Don't know where your head's at. Here you are standing in deep s.h.i.+t and you're worried about a little d.i.n.ky melon crop.”

”You've been talking to somebody,” Majestyk said.

”Who's that?” Kopas said, giving him the grin.

”I can fix it you'd have a hard time smiling again.”

Kopas tensed and the grin vanished. ”Listen, I'm not kidding. You even make a fist, man, you're back in jail.”

”Are you working for him?”

”Who's that?”

”He get you to drop the complaint?”

”I think I'm tired of talking to you,” Kopas said. He moved to the car door and opened it, then looked back at Majestyk.

”I'll tell you one thing though. Somebody's going to set your a.s.s on fire. And I'm going to be there to see it.”

The Olds started off as Kopas got in and slammed the door.

Majestyk caught a glimpse of the driver's profile-looking at Kopas, saying something-and for a moment he thought he knew the man or had seen him before. But the car was moving away and it was too late to get another look at him and be sure. Big shoulders, curly hair. Maybe he was one of the guys who had been with Kopas a week ago, the day it began. Or a different one. The car was different.

What difference did it make? He had enough people to think about without bringing in new ones. Faces to remember. Frank Renda's. Telling him he was going to kill him. Now Kopas and Renda. The man had already started to make his move. He didn't waste time. He found Kopas and hired him. That was plain enough. Now they were beginning to play a game with him. Let him know they were coming. Give him something to keep him awake nights. He thought of telling the deputy in the State Highway Department truck. Get him after them, quick, before they turned off the highway somewhere. Maybe they would lead him to Renda.

But Renda didn't have any reason to hide. He was free.

And what does the cop do, arrest them? For what?

No, whatever's going to happen is going to happen, Majestyk thought. So go home and pick your melons.

8.

”I'M NOT s.h.i.+TTIN' YOU,” Kopas said. ”I was thinking of dropping the complaint anyway, so I could take care of the son of a b.i.t.c.h myself.” Kopas said. ”I was thinking of dropping the complaint anyway, so I could take care of the son of a b.i.t.c.h myself.”

Eugene Lundy wasn't listening to him. He was staring straight ahead, over the hood of the Olds 98, at the vacant land of dust-green mesquite and sun glare and bugs rising with the airstream and exploding in yellow bursts against the winds.h.i.+eld. Like somebody was spitting them there.

”Load up the pump gun and wait for him,” Kopas said. ”Or stick it in his window some night. See him sittin' on the toilet. Bam Bam. Scatter the motherf.u.c.ker all over the room.”

Lundy was counting the bug stains, more than a dozen of the yellow ones: some kind of bug flying along having a nice time and the next thing sucked into the wind, coming up fast over the hood and wiped out, the bug not knowing what in the name of Christ happened to him. Maybe they had been b.u.t.terflies. Seeing the bugs suddenly, there wasn't time to tell what they were.

”I got to p.i.s.s,” Kopas said.

Lundy looked at the speedometer and up again. He was holding between seventy and seventy-five down the country road that rose and dropped through the desert, seeing no other cars, no people, not even signs.

”Man, I'm in pain,” Kopas said. ”All you got to do is stop the car.”

”We're almost there,” Lundy said. ”I'm not going to stop twice.”

”How long you think it's going to take me, an hour? All I want to do is take a p.i.s.s.”

”Hold it,” Lundy said.

Maybe they were all different kinds of bugs, but all bugs were yellow inside. Like all people were red inside. Maybe. Lundy had never thought about it before. His gaze held on the stained winds.h.i.+eld as he waited for a bug to come up over the hood.

He felt so good his eyes were watering, and kept going like he was never going to stop. Jesus, what a relief. Son of a b.i.t.c.h Lundy made him hold it twenty minutes, refusing to stop the car. He'd finally pleaded with him. Christ, just slow down, he'd p.i.s.s out the window, but the son of a b.i.t.c.h wouldn't even do that. A very cold son of a b.i.t.c.h who didn't say much, sitting on two pieces under his seat, a Colt .45 automatic and a big f.u.c.king Colt .44 mag. He had asked the guy if he had been in on the bus job and the guy had looked at him and said, ”The bus job. Is that what you call it?” And that was all he'd said.

Bobby Kopas zipped up his fly and walked around to the front of the Olds where Lundy was standing, squinting up at the sky.

”Hurry up and wait,” Kopas said. ”I never seen a plane come in on time in my life. Not even the airlines, not once I ever went out to the airport. Everybody sitting around waiting. Go in the c.o.c.ktail lounge you're smashed by the time the f.u.c.king plane arrives. You ever seen a plane come in on time?”

Staring at the sky and the flat strip of desert beyond the road, Lundy said, ”Why don't you shut your mouth for a while?”

Christ, you couldn't even talk to the guy. Kopas moved around with his hands in his pockets, kicking a few stones, looking around for some shade, which there wasn't a bit of anywhere, squinting in the hot glare, squinting even with his wraparound sungla.s.ses on. The gla.s.ses made him sweat and he had to keep wiping his eyes. Lundy stood there not moving, like the heat didn't bother him at all. Big, heavy son of a b.i.t.c.h who should've been lathered with sweat by now, like a horse.

They heard the plane before they saw it, the faraway droning sound, then a dot in the sky coming in low, the sun flas.h.i.+ng on its winds.h.i.+eld. The Cessna pa.s.sed over them at about a hundred feet. As it banked, descending, coming around in a wide circle, Lundy finally spoke. He said, ”Wait here,” and walked out into the desert.

Kopas was excited now. He wanted to appear cool and make a good impression. He put his hands on his hipbones and c.o.c.ked one leg, pointing the toe of the boot out a little. Like a gunfighter. So the guy was big time. He'd act cool, savvy, show the guy he wasn't all that impressed.

He watched the plane come to a stop about a hundred yards away. Lundy, going out to meet it, was holding up his arm, waving at the plane. Big jerk.

Renda came out first and then the girl-white slacks and a bright green blouse. Even at this distance she looked good. Blond, nice slim figure. Now they were coming this way and Lundy was talking to them, gesturing, probably telling Renda how the murder charge against him had been dropped. Renda wouldn't have known about it, though the pilot might have told him. As the plane started its engine to take off, the prop wash blew sand at them and they hunched their shoulders and turned away from the stinging blast of air. Lundy was talking again. Renda stopped and they all stopped. Renda was saying something.

Then Lundy was talking again. As they came up to the road Kopas heard Lundy say, ”You could have rode up here barea.s.s on a white horse, n.o.body would've stopped you.”

”What about the bus thing?” the girl asked him.

She was something. Maybe the best-looking girl Bobby Kopas had ever seen.

”There's nothing they can stick you with,” Lundy said. ”The bus, nothing. They tried to, naturally. There're three cops involved and they don't like that one bit. But what're they going to stick you with? You didn't shoot the cops. You didn't take the bus. The guy did, Majestyk. But they don't even jam him for that. You see what I'm getting at?”

Kopas had never heard Lundy talk so much.

The good-looking girl said, ”G.o.d, nothing like a little dumb luck.”

”Luck, bulls.h.i.+t,” Renda said. ”Timing. Make it happen. And never run till you see you're being chased.”

”With a fast lawyer available at all times,” the girl said. She didn't seem to be afraid of him.