Page 20 of Smoked


  Impossible fuck-up piled on top of impossible fuck up.? Now they didn't even have Lola.? They still had Pamela, and at least that was something.? But Cruz had had a hunch, and so had called Dugan at the Best Western.? Good enough, he had gotten him there.? Even better, Dugan seemed to have no idea that Lola had escaped.

  Not only were the two guys who attacked Moss not Dugan, they had nothing to do with Dugan.? Which made things very strange.

  Cruz didn't even bother to call it in to New York.?

  It was so far gone now it seemed better not to talk about it.

  Moss had taken an entire handful of Advil he had fished out of somewhere.? With any luck, those wallops he had taken had put him right to sleep.? Cruz didn't relish the idea of Moss awake, thinking and moving around just ten blocks away.???

  "Mmmmmm," Pamela said from the floor.? "Mmmmm."

  Cruz looked at her.? She rolled her eyes.? "Mmmmmmmm."

  Cruz sighed and climbed off the bed.? He was bone tired.? He couldn't believe how tired he was.? It was an effort just to stand up.

  "Pamela, I'm too tired to tell you what I'm going to do if you scream."?

  He pulled the shirt down just a bit from her mouth.

  "Do you mind if I get in the other bed?? I can't see the TV from down here."

  "The TV?"

  She smiled.? It was a nice, bright smile.? Strange in these circumstances.? She had damn near perfect teeth.? White like in the toothpaste commercials.? Someone had paid for that smile when she was a child.? Sure, Cruz thought.? Middle-class America.? They all have those teeth.

  "I like this show," she said.

  Cruz glanced at the flickering box.? As killers went, now he knew he was all washed up, that he was even considering this.? In the old days, Pamela would be lying in a swamp somewhere.? He thought back to half-dead Moss, incredulous, uncomprehending, all kinds of long words, that Cruz was bringing this girl back to his hotel room.? After the beating he had taken, Moss had apparently decided that the time had come to get rid of Pamela.

  And Cruz could see it in his eyes as he climbed out of the car: Moss had decided that Cruz was weak.?

  Yeah, his career was over.? Any more kills he had left in him were in self-defense.? Or maybe to get his hands on that money and get away.

  "Sure," he said.? "You can watch it."? He looked into her eyes.? "Just don't give me any problems, okay?"

  He set about moving Pamela up to the bed.

  ?

  * * *?

  ?

  Moss paced the floor of his room.

  The TV was on, some bullshit Hollywood stars talking their bullshit.?

  He had gone down the hall and gotten some ice out of the machine.? Then he had wrapped the ice in a motel towel.? He held the cold, wet towel to his head as he paced.? The pain had subsided somewhat with all the Advil he had taken, but not enough to erase the anger that was bubbling over.? Not nearly enough.? Nobody had ever cold-cocked him like that.? Ever.? In his life.? He had gutted that one bastard, and that was good.? But he hadn't gotten the other guy.

  He yearned, no he ached, to see that fat fuck again.?

  Now Cruz, who had lectured him about not fucking with the hostages, was down there at that fancy hotel with the skinny chick.? Moss had noticed.? Oh yeah, he had noticed.? The skinny one looked good.? Under that whole schoolteacher front she put on, she looked good.? She wasn't Lola, hell no, but few chicks were.? But she looked good.

  And Cruz had her over there.? Cruz, who had left him behind at the cabins without explaining himself.? Cruz, who had been gone when the shit went down.? Cruz, who was in no pain, and who was probably going to dip his wick tonight.

  Moss had been pushed too far.?

  Moss was ready to kill.

  Man, if Big Vito ever decided Cruz's number was up, Moss hoped they picked him to do the job.? With pleasure.?

  He imagined a scenario.? In it, he waited until the morning, Cruz and the chick came to pick him up, then he just walked up and popped the chick right in front of Cruz.? No warning, no mention of it, no debate, just?

  BANG.

  Yeah.? Moss liked that.?

  "Collateral damage, son," he might say, and keep a round ready for Cruz in case he got uppity.

  ?

  * * *

  ?

  The show was over.?

  Cruz lay back, staring at the ceiling.? His gun - fully loaded, round chambered - lay on the bed right at his fingertips.?

  He yearned for a smoke.?

  It was possible, Cruz realized, that Moss was lurking outside right now, hoping to kill him in the dead of night rather than broad daylight.

  "Why do you keep your gun on the bed with you?"

  Pamela.? Lying on her side, hands cuffed together and through the bed frame, watching him with those big deer eyes.? He hadn't bothered to put the gag back in her mouth.? It was uncomfortable and she wasn't going to scream anyway.? For a while there, it had looked like she was going to fall asleep.

  She looked pretty.? He imagined that she spent a lot of her time living in Lola's shadow.? It was one thing to be a quiet, pretty girl.? It was another to be a sexy knockout.?

  "What?"

  "Your gun."? She gestured with her head.? "You have it there by your hand.? Are you afraid somebody's going to break in and kill you while you're sleeping?"

  "Am I afraid?"?

  She nodded with seeming eagerness.?

  What an odd way to put it.? But of course.? Pamela came from that world where people were afraid all the time.? Cruz only skimmed the surface of that world from time to time, dipping in and trying not to get noticed - occasionally scaring the herd into a blind panic.? In Cruz's world, nobody was afraid.? Of anything.???

  Try to explain that to her.??

  "No, I'm not afraid."

  "Then why do you have it?"

  Cruz smiled.? "In case somebody breaks in and tries to kill me while I'm sleeping."

  She smiled with him.? "Is there much chance of that happening?"

  He shrugged.? "Tonight?? I'd say about one chance in two."

  "That big guy?" she said.? "Moss.? You're afraid he might try to kill you."? It wasn't a question.

  "I'm not afraid."

  "Okay, not afraid.? You never get afraid, right?? Now that you mention it, I read that fact somewhere, that violent criminals, uh, people like you, action-oriented people, don't feel emotions like fear.? At least, not in the same way.? You don't register pain the same way as normal, uh, most people, either.? You're wired differently."

  Cruz listened to her analysis without comment.

  She lapsed into a moment of silence.

  "But you do think he wants to kill you."

  "Kill me, or kill you," Cruz said.

  Her eyes widened at that, but she kept her mouth closed.? "Do you mind if he kills me?" she said at last.?

  He looked at her now.? She was probing him, and it was a strange position to be in.? Strange because this woman should have been dead hours ago.? Strange because he never talked about himself - he never let anyone get close enough to ask him anything.? On those occasions that he did talk about himself - like at the occasional AA meetings he attended when the urge got too bad - he invented some other person with a different life and talked about that person.? But this questioning was strange most of all because he found he was kind of enjoying it.? He had lived a long time on a dangerous edge, and he realized now that there was a wealth of stories to tell.

  What would he say to her, this? what?

  "I'm tired of killing," he said.?

  "Have you, have you?" he could almost hear her gulp before she spoke again.? "Have you done it a lot?"

  He turned to look at her across the three-foot gap between the two beds.? Their eyes met, and he stared deeply into hers.? He showed her what was there, not to scare her, not get his way, but for once, just to show somebody.? Within seconds, three seconds maybe, she looked away.? After a time, she brought her eyes back to his.? But then she
looked away again.?

  "Yeah," she said, staring at the bed in front of her bound hands.? "I guess you have."?

  The pause between them spun out into eternity.

  "You work for the Mafia, am I right?"

  Cruz smiled again.? "Pamela, you watch too much TV.? I work for businessmen."

  She seemed to chew on that for a little while.

  "Pamela, what did you say you do for a living?? You're a ?"

  "I'm a librarian at the public library in Portland."

  "What kind of job is that?"

  She looked puzzled.? "What kind?"

  "Yeah, like is it a good job?? Would people want a job like that?"

  She seemed to think it over.? After a time, she came to some sort of conclusion.? "It's an excellent job.? I love books, I like people, and I do a good job.? I'm highly skilled and qualified.? I went to graduate school to get a degree in Library Science."

  "You went to graduate school?"?

  "Yeah, to get my masters degree."

  "You mean, you have to have a master's degree to be a librarian?? All those people running around in libraries went to graduate school?"

  Cruz didn't know why this idea impressed him.?

  "No, it's not like that.? The thing is, most people who work in libraries are actually clerks.? You can't really tell who the librarians are unless you're behind the scenes."

  "Librarians get paid more?"

  "That's right."

  "Do you think you help people?? In your job, I mean?"

  She didn't hesitate.? "I know I do."

  Cruz smiled.? "So why wouldn't I mind?" he said.? "If Moss killed you, why wouldn't I mind?? See, we don't really help people, Moss and me. ?I think maybe we don't.? But that's okay because the people we uh, hurt, they don't usually help people either.? But this, hurting people, who help people, that's not okay anymore.? It was never okay, but it's really not okay now."

  "Did something happen to make it not okay?" she said.

  Cruz had no answer for that one.?

  ?

  * * *??

  ?

  Lola hung up the telephone.

  "There's no one named James Dugan registered at the Best Western in South Portland, or at any of the hotels in town," she said.

  Hal looked up from where he was slumped on the living room sofa of his ramshackle home in Auburn.? After he had dumped the body, they had driven up here.? They had come here more because neither one of them could think of what else to do than for any other reason.? Hal had said this place would be safe, and that made sense to Lola.? No one knew he was involved.? And Lola figured that after all that had happened she didn't have much to fear anymore from Mr. Shaggy.? Further, there was no reason to believe Lola's apartment would be safe.?

  Hal's eyes were swollen from when he had wept.? He had a bottle of beer in his hand.? "He wouldn't register under his own name.? Not if he had the use of an alias."

  "It worries me to be here," Lola said.??

  Hal shook his head.? "I'm not going to hurt you.? I'm sorry that it ever happened."

  "That's not what worries me.? I'm worried because Smoke is out there with those killers, and I don't know where he is.? I'm worried because they still have Pamela.? I'm worried that something terrible is going to happen, and I'm all the way up here in Auburn, and I can't do anything about it."

  Hal sipped his beer.? "I wouldn't worry.? We'll go down there in the morning in time for the exchange.? That's all we can do."

  Lola paced into the living room and sat down in the chair across from Hal.?

  "What are you going to tell his wife?"

  "You mean if I live through tomorrow morning?"? He shrugged.? He poured the last of his beer down his throat.? That was the third bottle of beer he had polished off since they came into the house not fifteen minutes before.? His eyes watered.?

  "I'll tell her that I'm sorry."

  He stood on unsteady legs and walked off toward the kitchen, probably to get another beer.? The floorboards of the old house creaked under his weight.

  There was a photo album sitting on the coffee table.? Lola sat up in her chair and opened it.? Maybe in the back of her mind she thought the album would give her some insight into Hal's life.? Maybe in the back of her mind she thought nothing.?

  She was beyond tired.?

  In any case, she began to thumb idly through the book.?

  It was pornography, all of it.? Photos of Hal and Darren - mostly well-endowed Darren - with a variety of women and teenaged girls in different settings.? Some were fake beach and mountain scenes.? Mostly, the settings were sparsely furnished offices, very much like the one where Lola first met them.

  It took Lola more than a minute to realize that this was going to be the whole book: cheap, exploitative porno.? It was a portfolio of sorts, and Hal must have stopped to proudly look it over during happier times.? She closed the cover.?

  He was standing in the doorway with another beer.

  "You know?" she said.? "You've been a really bad man."

  She didn't say, "And now both you and your friend Darren are paying for it."? She hoped that much was understood.? By the look in his eyes, she believed it was.???

  ?

  * * *

  ?

  In Barry Fillmore's room, Smoke watched the sky brighten.

  It had been a long night, but he felt satisfied as he lay there.? It had taken him most of the night, but he had made the nitro, and he had successfully wired a door bomb that could blow in two different ways.? He could blow it with a call from the cell phone to the pager, or someone could blow it by opening the door from the outside.

  He had caught himself whistling while he worked, as he often did when his mind was clear and he was happy.? By focusing on his work, he had found he could keep a lid on his boiling emotions.? He felt, right up front, like he had been ripped in half.? The pain of separation, forced separation, was almost too much to bear.? Although he had told her many times since that first instance over a year ago, he realized now, perhaps for the first time, that he loved Lola.? It took a circumstance like death or the threat of death to get Smoke to recognize or think about love.? That alone bothered him.

  But there was much more at play here.???

  Lola was in terrible danger, and so was Pamela.? And he had put them there through his negligence, through his sheer carelessness.? The anxiety he felt for their safety, the FEAR, was like a tumor growing on his brain.

  He had to save them if it was even possible anymore, and at whatever cost to himself.?

  Maybe there would still be that possibility.

  Soon, he would have to get up. He had to get outside and get in position.? He had to be ready to control the action.

  While shopping the night before, he had picked up a slim jim - a long, thin and flat piece of metal he could use to pop open the door to just about any car more than five years old.? There were plenty in the parking lot to choose from.? The least of his worries was the owner of the car finding him there.? When he stationed himself in the parking lot, he had no choice.? He couldn't use his own car, just in case they had forced Lola to tell them what it looked like.? Of course, she wouldn't want to tell them, but?

  In the end, they could make just about anybody talk.

  The thought of them making Lola talk sent a spasm of guilt and horror along his spine.? He had to shut out all thought if this was going to come out okay.? If he saw her, and she was hurt - bruised, beaten, raped, any of these were possible - he was going to have to shut that out, too.? He was going to have to function while wading through a mud bog of horror.? And he was going to have to take these guys out, both of them, so that Lola and Pamela might live.???

  He steeled himself for the effort.??

  There was a coffee maker in this room.? He stood, and limped his way over to the desk.? He was still in pain from the beating he had taken, and he had stiffened up during the night.? He felt like a very old man, and he imagined he must look like a scarecrow.?


  Maybe this would be his last day alive.?

  And you know?? The thought held no terror for him.

  ?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ?

  It was 7 a.m.

  "Hey kid, wanna make twenty bucks?" Cruz said.

  The kid was about eighteen, sitting on the curb outside Governor's restaurant, having a smoke.? He wore a stained kitchen smock.? He had long hair, and looked for all the world like one of those kids who would spend the best years of their lives sweating in the back rooms of restaurants.?

  Cruz didn't look directly at the kid.? He stood above him, smoking a cigarette himself.

  "What do I gotta do?" the kid said.

  Cruz nodded in the direction of the giant motel across the parking lot.? There were dozens of cars out there, glinting in the early morning sun.? Dugan was out there among those cars.? Maybe.? Or maybe he was still in his room.? Cruz could just make out the door from here.?

  "I got a friend staying in the hotel there, Room 108.? He's got a girl in there with him, and I want to play a little joke.? He put the Do Not Disturb sign on his door for the maid.? All you gotta do is run over there and take down the sign."???

  "That's it?"

  "That's it," Cruz said.? "The easiest twenty you ever made."

  The kid was back in three minutes.? He brought the door hanger with him.? Cruz slapped his palm with the money.

  "No sweat," the kid said.? "Have fun."?

  ?

  * * *

  ?

  Smoke slumped in the passenger seat of a Ford Crown Victoria.? It was an old person's car.? Blue on the outside, gray interior.? It was, to Smoke's mind, an absolute blubber boat.? He chose it because it was across the lot about fifty yards from Room 108, facing the door.? He also chose it because he figured if the person who owned it came out of their room, he could spot them approaching, get out of the car, and get away.? A young person's car might not afford such a luxury.??

  He watched and waited.? His eyes watered.? His vision became unfocused.? Wired on fear as he was, his eyes where trying to shut.? He blinked them rapidly, trying to keep them open.? He began to think thoughts and remember people from long ago.? The past was intruding on the present, his dreams were intruding on reality.?

 
Patrick Quinlan's Novels