Part 91 (2/2)

We boogied across the roof and down the dark fire escape. Nelson tossed me the rifle and hopped into his Camaro, tore off out of the alley without a word.

We climbed in the Jeep, and I could hear distant sirens ring up Congress from the piers down the other end of the waterfront.

I spun out of the alley and banged a right on Congress, crossed over the harbor and into the city proper. I took a hard right at the yellow light on Atlantic Avenue, slowed as I cut into the left lane, and took the reverse curve, headed south. I felt my heart return to a normal rate as I reached the expressway.

I picked up the cell phone Bubba had given me as I descended the on ramp, pressed redial, then send.

Scott Pea.r.s.e's ”What?” sounded hoa.r.s.e, and in the background, I could hear sirens bleating into abrupt silence as they reached his building.

”Here's how I see it, Scott. First-this is a clone phone I'm using. Triangulate the signal all you want, it won't mean s.h.i.+t. Second-you finger me for redecorating your loft, I finger you for extortion of the Dawes. Clear so far?”

”I'm going to kill you.”

”Terrif. Just so you know, Scott, that was a warm-up. Care to know what we have in store for you tomorrow?”

”Do tell,” he said.

”Nah,” I said. ”You just wait and see. Okay?”

”You can't do this. Not to me. Not to me!” His voice rose over the hard knocking I could hear at his front door. ”You can't f.u.c.king do this to me!”

”I've already started, Scott. Know what time it is?”

”What?”

”It's look-over-your-shoulder time, Scottie. Have a nice night.”

The police were kicking in the door behind him when I hung up.

32.

The next morning, as Scott Pea.r.s.e loaded mail into a box on the corner of Marlboro and Clarendon, Bubba hopped in his truck and drove away with it.

Pea.r.s.e didn't even realize it until Bubba turned onto Clarendon, and by the time he dropped his bag and gave chase, Bubba was turning onto Commonwealth and stepping on the gas pedal.

Angie pulled her Honda up beside the mailbox and I left the pa.s.senger door open as I jumped out, grabbed the canvas mailbag off the sidewalk, and got back in the car.

Pea.r.s.e was still standing on the corner of Clarendon and Commonwealth, his back to us, as we drove away.

”By the end of this day,” Angie said as we turned onto Berklee and headed for Storrow Drive, ”what do you think he'll do?”

”I'm kinda hoping for something irrational.”

”Irrational can mean b.l.o.o.d.y.”

I turned in the seat and tossed the mailbag in back. ”This guy's proven, he has time to think, it ends up b.l.o.o.d.y anyway. I want to take thinking out of the equation. I want him to react.”

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