Part 17 (1/2)

”Oh Jesus,” said Monica. ”You sick creep, you ... ”

”Yes,” interrupted Anna, still looking Snake right in the eyes. ”Yes. Let her go, and you can suck them.”

Snake pretended to think about it, this offer from this desperate, bare-breasted woman in front of him. This was as good as it got.

”Nah,” he said, giving Jenny's hair another tug, pulling her sobbing face toward his crotch. ”I think this girlie's t.i.tties might be even nicer.”

”NO!” screamed Anna, her eyes burning into Snake's now. She fought for calm. ”If you hurt her,” she said, ”I swear to G.o.d I'll kill you.”

”Sure you will,” said Snake. ”You can kill me with those big t.i.tties a yours.” He licked the air with his tongue. Then he pulled the sobbing Jenny to her feet and turned to Walter.

”Muscle boy,” he said, ”who got the keys to the police car?”

Walter, insane with the frustration of being unable to strangle this sc.u.mbag, clenched his jaw and glared at Snake, trying to kill him with rage.

Snake pointed the gun right at Walter's face and said, slowly, 'Tell me right now who got the keys.”

Walter breathed in and out twice through his nose. Finally, through his teeth, s.p.a.cing the words out, he said, ”They're in the car, sc.u.mbag.”

On hearing ”sc.u.mbag,” Snake pulled the trigger. He intended to shoot Walter-he'd been aiming right at him-but when he pulled the trigger, he jerked the gun, and the bullet went through the wall several inches from Walter's head. Snake was surprised: He had figured himself for a natural marksman, after the effortless way he'd taken out Jerry Springer. But he felt better when he saw the big man cringing, obviously terrified. Snake decided to act as though it had been a warning shot.

”Next one's in your ugly face, sc.u.mbag,” he said. He pointed the gun at Puggy, who had been squatting on the floor, totally still, hoping to be forgotten.

”Pick up the suitcase,” he said.

Sighing, Puggy stood and picked up the suitcase.

Snake grabbed Jenny by the arm, and said to Eddie, ”L^t's go. We gotta plane to catch.”

Eddie thought, what plane? But he didn't dare ask. He really didn't want to go with the new, bats.h.i.+t Snake. On the other hand, he figured he couldn't stay there with the cops, either. So he reluctantly followed Snake, who was pulling Jenny, and herding Puggy, toward the foyer.

Snake had considered simply shooting everybody in the living room, but he was concerned-you had to plan ahead, in this line of work-about using up bullets he might need in the Bahamas to establish kingpins.h.i.+p. Also he had heard somewhere that you could get in extra trouble if you killed a cop. The way he figured it, the prisoners were no threat: The men were handcuffed, and the women and kid were tied up. Snake had a big wad of cash money and a suitcase that-he was absolutely sure, now-contained a large amount of valuable drugs. He had three guns. He had a scared, fine-looking young thing to enjoy later on, when he had some tune. He was on top of the world, is what he was. And to think: Just that morning, he'd basically been a lowlife.

As Snake opened the front door, Anna called after him, her voice now raw and desperate. ”Please,” she said. ”Oh G.o.d, please don't take her.”

”Hey, don't worry, momma,” Snake called back. ”I'll show her a good time.”

He closed the door, and for a second or two, the only sound in the house was Anna's anguished wail.

”Did you hear a shot?” asked Leonard.

”Sounded like a pistol,” said Henry. ”In the house.”

They were standing under Puggy's tree. Henry was catching his breath; he had spent the last ten minutes struggling his way up to Puggy's platform-where he found his rifle, still loaded, wrapped in a sheet of plastic-and then painstakingly climbing back down.

”You think our boy got whacked?” said Leonard. ”The Panty Hose Gang beat us to the punch?”

”Could be,” said Henry, moving toward the house. ”Or, could be somebody whacked them.”

”Or,” said Leonard, following, ”maybe somebody finally shot the dog.”

Snake told Puggy to put the suitcase in the trunk of the police cruiser. He made Puggy climb in with it, then he slammed the lid. He put Jenny in the backseat and got in with her.

”You drive,” he told Eddie.

”I ain't never drove no police car,” said Eddie. In fact, it had been fifteen years since he had driven any car, and that one had been stolen, and he ended up driving it into a ca.n.a.l.

”It's just a f.u.c.kin' car,” said Snake, who was also very rusty in the automotive department, which was why he had made Eddie the driver. ”Drive it.”

”Where to?” said Eddie.

”Airport,” said Snake.

”Which way is that?” said Eddie.

”I bet this little girlie knows,” said Snake, putting his hand on the back of Jenny's neck and squeezing hard. ”Don'tcha, little girlie?”

Jenny, whimpering from the pain, nodded.

Snake gave her neck another hard squeeze.

”She's a good little girlie,” he said.

”You said Garbanzo, right?” said the taxi driver.

”Yes,” said Eliot. ”Garbanzo. It's the next right.”

The driver slowed down to process that information.

”This next right here?” he asked.

”Yes, turn right here,” said Eliot, gripping the seat to keep from screaming.

The driver came to a complete stop at the intersection and peered up at the street sign, studying it as though it were a new constellation in the night sky. Finally, he said: ”Garbanzo.”