Part 72 (1/2)

”We'll have to use lights.”

”Okay, but be careful. We're heading out there anyway, just in case. I'm tired of sitting on my duster back here.”

”See ya,” said Lewis.

Stick trimmed his sails and slid quietly past the end of the dock. The two guards were leaning against the side of the yacht, talking.

Stick studied the layout. The marina was to his left, separated from the private dock by a concrete wharf and twenty feet of water. A walkway led from the dock up to the house.

A hundred meters maybe, no more, from dock to house. Plenty of trees for cover plus a terraced lawn that led down to the water.

Two big lights on a pole at the end of the dock. f.u.c.k it, no problem,.

The house itself was one-story. That was good. No high ground for them. He swept the house with his night scope, planning his attack. From left to right, he made the kitchen, with a sliding panel out to a terrace; the main room, big, with a cathedral ceiling; a bedroom with a large picture window overlooking the water, and a circular waterbed in the center of it; and a smaller room at the end of the house. At first he thought that room was dark; then he saw a sliver of light streaming through the drapes. That's where they had to be. And they were here. He knew that because Nance was here.

He counted heads.

Three in the kitchen, including Bronicata.

Five in the living room, including Moreno and Pravano.

Chevos, Nance, and Costello in the bedroom.

Eleven, just as he had figured. He still had the touch.

Behind him, out over the bay somewhere, he heard a chopper whop-whop-whopping. He ignored it. He tied down the tiller, stung the ammo bag over his shoulder, grabbed the 180 and M16, and clambered over the cabin to the front of his boat, stretched out on the deck, and got the submachine gun ready. The sailboat sliced through the water and sailed into the orb of light from the two big dock lights.

The door opened and Costello was standing there.

He looked like Yankee Doodle Dandy: white slacks, a blue blazer, a red silk scarf flouncing around his neck.

”Well, well,” I said, ”it's Captain America.”

By that time I was ready to take on the Russian army.

”You just never give up, do you, Kilmer?” he said, in that flat, no-nonsense lawyer's voice of his.

”Offhand, I'd say your little bubble has blown sky high,” I said.

”You talk big for a man who could be sixty seconds from his own funeral,” he said. ”Notice I said could be. I'm all that's standing between Nance and a bullet in your head.”

I ignored the threat. ”You're going across, Costello. First murder, now kidnapping. I've been wrong about you. I thought you were smarter than the rest of these wahoos. You just wear cuter clothes.”

Doe was hanging on to my hand like a drowning woman.

”Why don't you let her go?” I said. ”This is between us boys.”

”I didn't have anything to do with this,” he said. ”I've been out on the water for the past four hours. My cuffs are clean.”

”I can hardly wait to see the look on the jury's face when you run that one by them.”

He pulled a chair over and sat down in front of us.

”The monitor's turned off,” he said. ”So we can talk straight. First of all, Nance and you have had this hard-on for each other for a couple of years. I'm not responsible for his actions. And from the looks of him, you could be looking at a case of police brutality, anyway. ”

”And what's the lady here guilty of, holding my coat while I did it?”

”I'll admit that bringing you two out here was bad judgment on somebody's part, but we can work all this out.”

”Good, I'm glad you see it that way,” I said. ”If you'll just arrange for a ride back to town, we'll be leaving.”

”Not quite.”

”You're skating on no ice, Costello. You may not be guilty of kidnapping, but holding us against our will sure as h.e.l.l makes you an accessory.”

”I'm just trying to arrange a negotiation here,” he said, holding his hands out at his sides and smiling. ”So everybody comes out happy.”

”There's no way that can happen.”

”You're all bluff, Kilmer. Right now you couldn't lick a postage stamp in a court of law, and you know it.”

”I've got Donleavy cold for murder one,” I said. ”And I've got Seaborn and his bank against the wall. Before it's over, they'll both be singing like Pavarotti.”

”I never had anything to do with either one of them,” Costello said. ”I may have said h.e.l.lo once or twice.”

”Oh, I get it. It's Save Costello's a.s.s Week, that's what we're talking about here? Okay, here are my terms. You give us Nance for murder and kidnapping, Cohen and his books for violation of the RICO acts, Chevos for smuggling and accessory to murder, and you become a friendly witness for the Fed. I'll see if maybe we can get you off with five to ten.”

”Dream on,” he said with a laugh. It was his last.

The chopper was bearing in, coming closer.

Whah, whah, whah, whah . . .

Christ, he thought, just like the old days.

The guards didn't even hear the boat until it b.u.mped the dock. He was ready.

”What the h.e.l.l's that?” one of them said. They both turned toward the boat.

The laser's red pinpoint settled over the heart of the first one. He still had his shotgun over his shoulder.

Brrddtttt.

He went down like an elephant stopped on him. The other one started to scramble. He didn't have time to yell; he made a dash for the trees. Stick squirreled a burst into the sidewalk, twenty meters in front of him. A dozen rounds whined off the walk and tore through his legs. He went down on his face. The second burst finished him.

Stick jumped ash.o.r.e and ran toward the house. He blitzed the two big lights as he ran. The chopper was getting louder but Stick was committed. He didn't need any air for this one. This one was a piece of cake. Piece of f.u.c.kin' cake.

He dropped behind a tree, twenty yards from the door to the main room, swung the M-16 up, and checked the kitchen and the living room one more time. Bronicata was leaning over a large pot, sipping something from a spoon. The other two were standing next to him.

The five were still in the living room, gabbing. No women, thank G.o.d.