Part 27 (1/2)
Within seconds, Debargio and Espinosa's voices traversed through the house and toward the front entry. By now, Murphy should be getting an earful as well as plenty of video.
”Zack. They're waiting for someone. Haven't mentioned a name yet.”
”Copy that.” Zack focused on the heavy footsteps and muted conversation overhead as he calmed his heart rate, trying real hard not to look at the bodies only feet away. But zombies still had eyes, and these were staring right at him. An icy chill slithered up his back and neck. He shook it off and focused on the living, breathing guys upstairs who could kill him.
”Whoever they're waiting for, they don't know why he's late.” Murphy relayed another sc.r.a.p of conversation.
”What are the chances of two bad intels during one op?” Zack asked.
”You mean us being sent to Espinosa's hideout when he's here?” Roy asked.
”Yeah, and Interpol going to Maryland when Debargio's not there.” Zack surveyed the scene displayed before him. The bas.e.m.e.nt was giving him the creeps in a big way. ”Why didn't Peters know that?”
”At least now we know Lord is not Huang,” Roy said quietly. ”Not if he's been dead for a few days.”
”He couldn't have ordered the hit on Alex either,” David joined in.
”Movement your way, Zack.” Murphy's report stopped the chitchat. ”Looks like-”
The furnace kicked on, the hum of it blocking the overhead noise, and suddenly, Zack lost all communication.
”Murphy? David?” He tapped his earpiece for a reconnection. ”Roy? You guys out there?”
Nothing. He'd lost everyone. The question he'd put to his senior agents worried him now. Why were two task forces sent on wild goose chases when the real action was going down at Lord's mansion? Only Lord was no longer running the showif he ever was. Two bad intels on the same operation? No way. Something smelled bad, and it wasn't just the zombies in the room.
His sniper sense shuddered up his back. Zack pulled an extra magazine out of the ammo bag on his hip and stuck it in his jacket pocket. Impending trouble had a way of broadcasting its arrival like a tornado. Something evil was coming. He could feel it. Time to be prepared.
The bas.e.m.e.nt door opened. Fluorescent lights flashed to life overhead. Heavy footsteps thumped down the stairs. Two pairs. Zack leaned deeper into the shadows of boxes, crates, and paint cans. Two sets of milky zombie eyeb.a.l.l.s seemed to follow him.
”Might as well get the mess outta here while we're waiting.” Espinosa's booming voice filled the concrete crypt.
Zack spared a quick look. Even dressed in his expensive three-piece business suit and fine winter trench coat, the burly gangster looked the part of a bouncer from one of Debargio's seedy nightclubs. Nuggets of gold glittered on fingers as thick as pork sausages. His ma.s.sive hands looked too big to be functional, but Zack knew the reputation of the monster who wielded them. Espinosa liked to use his hands. Nothing satisfied him more than the brutal beatings he'd personally administered on his way up the corporate mobster ladder. His ham-sized hands were always his first weapons of choice. And they were lethal.
Debargio was as big and square as Espinosa, but he didn't like to get dirty like Vinnie did. He considered himself the brains of the business and a gentleman. Smart enough to keep one step ahead of the law, he'd built a kingdom based on drug trafficking, extortion, and murder. Word on the street was Debargio wasn't afraid of anyone, and opposition had better believe him or they disappeared. Zack watched as the two thugs angled Senator Lord's wife out from beneath the stairs. Vinnie kicked a plastic container the size of a small footlocker out from behind the bodies. With a few grunts and groans, they manhandled Carma Sue until she was folded in half and somersaulted head first into the container. It was tight, but with a few snapped bones and well placed punches, Carma Sue was redesigned to fit.
Espinosa pressed the lid into place while Debargio watched. Without a word, they maneuvered a nearby hand truck with its gruesome cargo back up the stairs. Zack needed to spit or throw up. Handling corpses was something he'd never gotten used to. The sight of Carma Sue reduced to a rectangle turned his stomach. Heat flooded his throat, bringing the sensation of claustrophobia with it.
I have got to get the h.e.l.l out of here.
TWENTY-NINE.
Zack listened to the hum of the furnace while it continued warming the home. Now that Debargio and Espinosa had left the side door open, all the warm air was being rapidly expelled into the great outdoors. Contact with Murphy was indefinitely delayed. It spoke volumes to Zack that these two gangsters were doing their own dirty work. Apparently, Debargio and Espinosa had disposed of their buddies a little too soon.
”Murphy? Anyone?” He tapped his earpiece again. Still nothing.
Several long minutes pa.s.sed before the gangsters returned. Debargio took a seat on the bottom steps and left Espinosa to wrestle Senator Lord's plastic-wrapped corpse all by himself. When Espinosa finally dragged the Senator clear of the steps, he let the body drop. Lord's once arrogant face impacted with a soggy crunch against the concrete floor.
Bile stroked the back of Zack's throat. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, not wanting to watch but knowing he had no choice. He needed to keep an eye on these two thugs, ”She was a heavy broad,” Debargio said. His winter coat must have been a hindrance to heavy lifting. Sweat glistened beneath his salt and pepper hairline as he leaned his elbows against the stairs, still not lifting a hand to a.s.sist his buddy.
”You ain't seen nothin' yet.” Espinosa dragged a larger plastic container across the floor to Lord's body. ”Well, what do ya know? This guy's too tall for the box.”
”Told you to get it done before they turned into party balloons,” Debargio wheezed, still watching Espinosa do the heavy lifting.
”Don't get why we gotta move 'em at all. h.e.l.l. Just burn the joint down. Let the cops find a couple roasted cadavers. What would it hurt?”
”Boss don't want no fire. He wants enough time to get outta town.”
”Would've been nice if he'd told us that to begin with. You always listen to him?”
Zack's ears perked up. Boss? What boss?
”Long as he keeps paying me I do. You shoulda dropped these two jokers in the river a couple days ago and sunk 'em, like I told ya. Then we wouldn't have to do it now.”
”Well, I been a little busy, ya know what I mean?”
By now, Lord's body lay across the container. There was no way a six-foot plus gentleman was going to fit in the box, not without a lot of remodeling. And the smell. Zack hadn't noticed it until these guys started forcing the zombies into tiny s.p.a.ces.
”Come on. Take a load off 'fore ya give yerself a stroke.” Debargio waved Espinosa to sit. ”By the time the Feds pull their heads outta their a.s.ses, we'll be gone.”
Zack cringed, hoping Vinnie had enough sense to refuse Dom's unbelievable offer. Really? Sit and chat in the stink of the place? Zack could barely stand to breathe.
”Okay, but not for long.” Espinosa sank onto the nearest crate. Unfortunately, it was right outside the closet where Zack stood. The crate creaked. Espinosa fanned his heavily jowled face with splayed fingers. ”Gotta get this guy outta here. He stinks.”
Ya think! Zack pinched his nose shut and breathed through his mouth.
”We're almost done. Then we can blow this town and head for someplace warmer, maybe a tropical island.” Debargio pulled a gold case out of his inner suit pocket and removed a single cigar. ”Would you like that?”
”Just don't wanna work with c.h.i.n.ks no more.” Espinosa scrubbed one of those boxing-glove sized hands over the crew-cut stubble of his head.
”What's a matter?” Debargio's brow spiked. ”You don't like money all of a sudden?”
”It ain't the money.” Espinosa stretched his hands in front of him and cracked his knuckles. ”It's all them little girls. Don't like the way they looks at me.”
”What? Scared? Don't everyone look scared when they look at you?” Debargio laughed a wheezing, wet kind of a laugh. ”Oh, that's rich. That's real d.a.m.ned rich.”
”Come to think of it, they do now ya mention it.”
Zack clenched his Ruger to his chest, disgusted beyond belief at the crude way these men discussed the children they'd sold like meat. Give me a reason, guys. I'll show you scared. h.e.l.l. I'll show you dead.
Debargio turned serious as cigar smoke billowed from between his thick, red lips. ”We don't have to worry 'bout no more c.h.i.n.ks, anyway. Stupid Richards sells a kid to a Fed. How dumb can a dumb guy get?”
”He won't last long, Dom. Don't worry 'bout it. I took care of ya. Got a friend inside the joint. 'Fore long you'll be reading about that crooked shyster in the obits.”