Part 24 (1/2)

305.

Mary said, ”What are you, Moran, my trainer or my lover?” She felt wonderful and wanted to say corny things about being free at last and tell him something that would bring amazement and he'd say ”I don't believe it” in that way he said it. But that could wait.

De Boya sat half-turned in the front seat holding his briefcase on his lap. He would look back through the mist the Rolls raised in its wake and see Jiggs Scully's car holding the pace, less than a hundred meters behind. They were on the freeway northbound, pa.s.sing the Fort Lauderdale airport off to the right, a jumbo jet descending out of the gray ma.s.s almost directly in front of them.

Corky said to the rearview mirror, ”I can put my foot into it and leave him.”

”No, we bring him along,” de Boya said. ”He knows something.” They spoke in Spanish.

”You're sure of it?”

”We'll find out. He wanted to take me to Boca Raton. He tells me a very safe place. I'm supposed to say yes, of course, and put myself in his care.”

”He has little respect.”

”That's the least of it.” De Boya watched the green freeway sign gradually appear. ”Eighty-four, that's it, to the New River Ca.n.a.l Road.”

Corky followed the exit ramp, his eyes on the mirror. ”He's coming.”

”I hope so,” de Boya said.

They drove west for several minutes past fenced land that was desolate and seemed remote, resembling an African plain. There were no houses in sight until they got off on a dirt road turning to muddy pools, pa.s.sed through a stand of pine and tangled brush to arrive in the yard of a cement-block ranch painted white, flaking, lifeless in its dismal setting. De Boya had bought the house furnished, as is, surrounded by ninety acres of scrub; the house would serve as a jump-off if needed, close to the Lauderdale airport; the property could always be developed someday, turned into a retirement village.

”He's coming,” Corky said, steering toward the garage that was part of the house.

De Boya looked back to see the red and white Cadillac creeping into the yard. The car stopped and Jiggs got out to stand looking around, hands on his hips. The rain didn't seem to bother him.

”Stay with me,” de Boya said.

He got out of the Rolls with his briefcase and approached Jiggs who was moving to the back of his car now, looking at his keys as though to open the trunk, then glancing at de Boya.

”This is it, huh? General, I got to tell you you'd be a lot more comfortable this place in Boca. Be 307.

longs to Jimmy Cap. Got a sauna, everything.” He was bending over the trunk now.

”What do you have in there?” de Boya asked.

Jiggs straightened. ”I got a forty-four Mag and I got a twelve-gauge pump gun, a Browning. I got flares and a five-gallon can of gas. What else you need?”

De Boya motioned to him. ”Let's go inside.”

”I thought you'd want some protection.”

”Get it later,” de Boya said.

As they started for the house Jiggs said, ”You want me to help with your bags?”

”No, we'll get those later, too.”

Jiggs said, ”I was gonna say, General, I don't think you needed to pack those grips. Bomb squad'll take the day-we shouldn't be gone more'n one night. We can call 'em now you got a phone, see what they found.”

”Yes, we'll do that,” de Boya said.

”I wondered, the cops say who called 'em?”

”They don't know,” de Boya said. ”What I don't understand is what Moran was doing there. What was it he said? That you want to take take me?” me?”

Corky moved ahead of them to unlock the door.

”That's what it sounded like,” Jiggs said. ”Only thing I can figure out, he was trying to confuse you, General, get your head turned around so he could run off with your wife. You want me to I'll go pay him a visit.”

”That would be all right with Jimmy Cap?”

”Jimmy said help you out anyway I can.”

”But I learn he's out of town, uh? Has been gone for a week or so.”

Corky held the aluminum screen door for both of them, de Boya first, Jiggs saying, ”General, I hope you're not doubting my word,” his tone offering a strong measure of injured pride as he gave the place a quick look: a living room that had the flavor of a hunting cabin, knotty pine walls, maple furniture, a poker table, Indian blankets. Jiggs pulled his s.h.i.+rttail out to wipe off his gla.s.ses. ”I'll give you a number you can reach Jimmy Cap or they'll tell you exactly where he is. You don't mind, I'd like you to talk to him and get this straightened out.” Very serious about it.

”Yes, I would too,” de Boya said. ”Let me have the number.” He handed Corky his briefcase.

Jiggs put his gla.s.ses back on. His hands went to his b.r.e.a.s.t.s in the loose seersucker jacket and gave them a pat, then touched his right hip. ”Yeah, I got it. In my wallet. General, let me go the can and take a leak first, I can almost taste it.” He moved off toward the hall where he saw the bathroom door open, green tile inside.

De Boya watched until the door closed, then extended a hand toward Corky and snapped his fingers, twice.

Corky was opening the briefcase on the poker 309.

table. He brought out a Walther P.38 automatic and handed it to de Boya. Now he took off his suit coat. From a shoulder holster snug beneath his left arm Corky drew a revolver, a Colt .38 with a stubby snout, and followed de Boya to the hallway. There was a bedroom at each end, doors open to empty rooms, neat twin beds with chenille spreads. The bathroom stood in between, its door closed.

They waited to hear the toilet flush, raised their pistols and began firing point-blank into the center of the door, the reports earsplitting in the confined area. Then silence. Corky turned the k.n.o.b carefully, opened the door a crack, stepped back and used the sole of his foot to bang the door completely open.

Jiggs came out of the shower stall arms extended, holding a blue-steel automatic in both hands, ignoring Corky to level it straight at de Boya's face. He saw those ice-water eyes wide open for the first time.

”Something I learned a long time ago, General, never take your joint out with guys you don't trust. Specially you hot-blooded fellas like a lot of noise, shoot the place up. Come in here. Come on,” Jiggs said, stepping back on broken gla.s.s and bits of porcelain to let them come in past him. ”Drop the guns in the toilet ...That's the way. You too, Corko. What's this a truss?” He snapped the elastic strap of Corky's shoulder holster. ”You got a hernia? That's it, in the toilet. Now I want you to take your clothes off. That's what you do, right, General? Strip 'em down bare-a.s.s.”

As he began to undress de Boya said, ”I pay for my life, uh? How much I have to pay you?”

”Gonna make it easy,” Jiggs said, edging past them to sit down on the toilet. ”Only take your suitcases. Corky, gimme the car keys. I'll get 'em after.”

”I begin to think it's what you want,” de Boya said, ”but I don't see how you know about it.” He paused unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt, occupied with his thoughts. ”Unless it was my wife?”

”You told me yourself,” Jiggs said, ”talking to Jimmy Cap, that day out at Calder. All the rest of the bulls.h.i.+t is just bulls.h.i.+t, way to get you here.” He said to Corky, ”What're you looking at? Come on, get your clothes off.” He raised the automatic in Corky's face. ”Can't figure out what this is, can you? Looks like your standard nine-millimeter Smith Parabellum except for that hickey sticking out.” Jiggs dug into his side coat pocket, brought out a five-inch gunmetal tube and screwed it onto the threaded stub, the ”hickey” that extended from the muzzle of the automatic. ”Factory-modified. They call it a Hush-Puppy. Come on, General, take it off. Take it all off-like the broad says with the shaving cream. You too, Corko, drop the Jockeys, 311.

but keep an eye on the general there he don't try and cop your joint . . . Shoes, everything.”

He seemed proud of his gun and showed them the profile with the silencer attached.