The junk was burning like a piece of scrap paper. Bits of flaming sailcloth drifted out over Sharky’s head and hissed into the lake. He tried the keys and finally found one that fit and cranked up the launch, jamming the throttle forward and twisting the wheel away from the blazing junk. The launch roared out into the lake, tearing the pier to pieces as it went.
Sharky did not look back. He flipped on the night lights and headed off into the darkness.
28
The high energy from the fight and the cold wind biting at him kept him alert. He found the main body of the lake and drove maniacally down its winding byways, keeping in the center of the lake to avoid debris along the shoreline. It was almost an hour before he saw the green light blinking on the end of the marina dock.
He pulled alongside and got out, tying the front of the launch down. It was easy to find Fat Boy’s car, at that time of the year there were only half a dozen cars in the lot. He cranked it up and sat huddled in the front seat. A wave of dizziness shook him. Hell, he thought, I’ve come this far, don’t let me pass out now. It passed and he flipped on the heater switch, slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The car screamed out of the lot.
He drove the seventy miles back to Atlanta in less than an hour.
All the lights in the house seemed to be on. Livingston had the front door open and was standing just inside it, his gun out, before Sharky got out of the car.
“Hold it right there,” he yelled.
“It’s me—Sharky.”
“Sharky! Goddammit to hell, where you been? Where’s The Nosh? What—”
Sharky reeled into the light from the doorway and Livingston swallowed the rest of the sentence.
“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?”
“You’re not gonna believe me when I tell you. Is she all right?”
“Sure she’s all r—”
Sharky stormed past him and into the house. Domino was coming out of the bedroom, her eyes puffy from lack of sleep.
“Oh, thank God,” she said and then her face registered the shock as she saw his burned-out eyes blazing with pain and fury, his cheeks mottled with a two-day growth of beard, his shoulder ravaged and bleeding, the torn edge of a bloody rag hanging from his fist.
He stood in front of her, his body shaking from hypertension, fatigue, and anger.
Livingston kicked the door shut and put away his gun.
“What the hell happened, Shark?” he asked.
“The Nosh is dead,” Sharky said. “They got him the same way they got Tiffany. Sawed-off shotgun …”
“I gotta call Friscoe right now. They been lookin’ for you two all night.”
“Don’t call anybody yet.”
“Where have you been?” Domino said. Tears were building up in her eyes.
“Where have I been? I’ll tell you where I’ve been, lady. My best friend was ambushed. I been beat up, kidnaped, hauled out to a goddamn Chinese junk in the middle of the lake, had my finger chopped off by three wildass Chinamen. I’ve killed four people, blown up a boat, stolen a car. Shit, I’ve had a great night! And you know why? Because they want you, that’s why.”
His eyes danced crazily in his head.
“We’ve got to get you to a hospital,” she said.
“A hospital. Shit, I don’t need a hospital. I need answers. Who do you know has a Chinese junk? Who do you know has Oriental assassins doing his dirty work? Who do you know digs Chinese orgies? Your pal, Confucius, that’s who. You lied to me. Told me the bastard went to Europe. Why? Don’t you see it? He’s the one behind it all, the one who’s trying to kill you!”
He ripped the bloody bandage off his hand and held it out in front of her, the burned stump of his finger a foot from her eyes.
“Look at it. That’s what they did to me.”
She moaned and turned her face to the wall. He grabbed her by the shoulder and whirled her around. “Look at it. Don’t turn your face away from me. That’s what your life cost. That and a little guy who never hurt anybody in his life and ended up on a stinking tenement floor with his face blown off. And Tiffany, what about her?”
“Please stop,” she cried.
“Me stop? These are the bastards you’re protecting.”
“Slow down, Shark,” Livingston said, moving closer to him.
He turned to his partner and said, “The crazy thing is, we had it figured right, Arch. We were right on it. Scardi, the rip-off in Italy, Scardi’s connection here. We had it by the ass.” Then he turned back to Domino. “And we would’ve tied it up if you hadn’t lied to me.”
“No …”
“Bullshit. You told me that creep went to Europe, that he couldn’t have had anything to do with it. If you had given me his name, leveled with me, The Nosh would be alive now. We could have taken the son of a bitch last night. But I trusted you. You told me … I believed you. Should have known better. Should have … Goddammit, are you so much in love with him that you’re willing to—”
His fury exploded and he lashed out at her with the back of his good hand, slashing her across the face with such force that it knocked her back against the wall. Livingston grabbed his arm.
“C’mon, pal, you’re acting like a jealous lover, for Christ’s sake.”
Sharky leaned against him. His hand was throbbing and he had a splitting headache. Was that it, was he jealous? He shook his head violently.
“No, nothing like that, nothing like that. Too many lies. Nobody’s what they seem. All lies!”
“Shark, I gotta get you down. You need—”
“I need Scardi. And the motherless son of a bitch that brought Scardi in. I want them and if we can’t take them legally, I’m gonna rip that cocksucker’s heart out with my bare hands. I need to get even!”
He had turned back to Domino, glaring at her. Here was a Sharky she had never seen before. Gone was the roguish smile, the rough charm. In its place was a raw power that frightened her. Stripped of any elegance, finesse, cleverness, or caution.
He leaned against the wall, his knees shaking, turning to mud, his body wracked with chills, his mind teetering on the edge of insanity and bent on destruction, his strength coming from an almost carnal need for vengeance. The room began to swim around him.
He looked back at Domino.
“Who did you tell?”
“W-w-what?”
“Who did you tell? You told somebody about me. That’s how they knew. They were after me, goddammit. Don’t you get it? They suckered me by setting up my best friend. They told him it was all right if I came with him. Not Arch, not Papa, or Friscoe. Me.”
He jabbed his wounded hand at her. “You blew the whistle on me. You gave somebody my name.”
He was shaking almost uncontrollably and he began to sweat again.
“They were gonna cut them off. Those crazy goddamn monkeys were gonna cut all my fingers off, one at a time, until I told them where you were. Can you believe that, hunh? Cut off all my fingers. Now what’s his name?”
“Please,” she said. She was crying hard. “Please, let us help you.”
“Only one way to help me. Gimme the name. Just say it.”
His fingers pressed into her arm.
“DeLaroza,” she whispered. “Victor DeLaroza.” It was all happening too fast. Could Donald also be part of it? Of course—he had to be. It was Donald she had given Sharky’s name to, not DeLaroza. And yet, could there be an explanation? She needed time, time to reason it out.
Sharky began to sag, like a drunk losing control. It was almost an anticlimax, hearing it. “Shit,” he said inanely. “Wouldn’t you know it? I never even heard of the motherfucker.” He looked at Livingston. “You gotta promise me, Arch, promise me you won’t go after them without me. Tell Friscoe, tell him nobody’s stealin’ my melons this time.”
“Sure, Shark, just take it easy.”
“Promise me, damn it.”
“I promise.”
“Don’t let him flush it at roll call. Make him hold
off, okay?”
“Right.”
“All I need … see, I need … couple hours sleep….”
He took a step toward Livingston and his legs went. He sagged into the black man’s arms.
“Shit, where’s everybody going?” he said and passed out.
_____________________
When Sharky awoke the first time, Twigs was sitting by the bed with his black bag open, taking his blood pressure. Sharky looked around the room and it was filled with fog. Vaguely, faces appeared and disappeared through the mist.
“What the hell you doin’ here, Twigs?” Sharky said. “Am I dead?”
“Not quite. But I can’t remember anybody recently who tried any harder.”
“I’m okay. Just, uh … just …”
“Tired?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Sure, just a little tired. In a state of shock. Blood pressure reads like a basketball score. Nothing at all.”
He took a hypodermic needle out of the bag.
“Whatcha gonna do?” Sharky said fuzzily.
“Antibiotics. Also got to get a little snooze juice in you.”
“Doandothat … gottastay … wake …”
“You got someplace to go at five in the morning?”
“Nawbdystealm’melons …”
“Sure.”
“Arsh …”
“Right here, buddy.”
“Doand … nuthin … outme….”
“Right.”
“Is he going to be all right?” Domino said.
“He’s got the constitution of a horse. Didn’t lose as much blood as I thought. Just keep him warm so he doesn’t go into shock. If he makes it until noon he’ll live forever.”
“I’ll keep him warm,” she said.
He felt the needle enter his arm, felt the warmth from its fluid flooding his body. The room did a little dance for him and he faded out again.
_____________________
He was dreaming. A crazy dream without form. Faces floated in and out of focus. The Nosh. The fat man on the junk. And Domino, like a face looking at him through smoke. He was on fire. And then suddenly he felt cold and began to shiver.
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” she said, and he opened his eyes. There was only one light in the room, a lamp in the corner. He had a hard time separating light and shadow. Another chill passed over him.
“Easy,” she said. She was talking softly and he felt her hands moving over his body.
“Cold,” he said.
“It’s alcohol,” she said. “I’m trying to break your fever.”
His lips felt scorched and his throat was like dust. He could hardly swallow.
She put her hand under his head and lifted him halfway up and held a glass of cold water against his lips. He gulped at it.
“Not too much,” she said. She reached over to the night table, to a bowl of ice cubes, and wrapped one in a washcloth, holding it against his lips.
“Just suck on it,” she said, and lowered his head back to the pillow.
She poured more alcohol in her hands and spread it on his chest, moving her hands easily and lightly over his hot skin.
He closed his eyes. The fire was going out. He could feel it leaving his body.
“Hey,” he said, without opening his eyes.
“Hey,” she said back.
“Sorry.”
“For what? Saving my life?”
“Slapping you. Dumb move.”
“Please, it’s all right.”
“No. I think….”
The words drifted off, as though he had fallen asleep.
She touched his cheek, then his forehead. He seemed cooler. She started to move away but his fingers closed on her wrist.
“I thought you were asleep again,” she said.
“No. What I think. I think maybe it was jealousy.”
“Sharky, you don’t—”
“You gotta understand about The Nosh. He shouldn’t have even been—”
She put her fingertips to his lips.
“Don’t please. Arch told me about him. I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.”
Tears flooded her eyes and she turned her face away from him. Her throat started to close up and she knew it would be difficult to say any more.
“Point is, gotta stop them, okay?”
“Oh, yes.” She leaned back toward him and the tears dribbled down her cheeks and fell on his chest. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. Then he reached up and brushed them away with his thumb.
“Don’t.”
“I want to tell you about it. You have a right to know. It was like”—she swallowed and wanted to stop crying but the tears kept coming—“it was like …”
He pulled her gently down until her cheek lay against his chest. The tears poured down over him.
“He was very good to me. For a long time. And I felt … I couldn’t believe he could … could …”
“All I wanted was the name. What happened … what was between you … none of my business.”
“But I want it to be.”
“Baby, I don’t care.”
“Oh, God,” she said. “I just want it to be over. I want it to be over with them. I don’t want to see Neil again. I—”
He rubbed her neck with a weak hand.
“Soon.”
And he fell asleep again.
_____________________
The room was dark. She had turned out the light. He reached over and felt her beside him and sighed.
“Do you need anything?” she said.
“Feeling better,” he said. “Just pooped. What time is it?”
He felt her hand cross his chest and she moved close to him. For the first time he realized they were both naked. He put his hand on top of hers.
“Don’t worry about the time.”
“You feel good. Soft. And warm.”
He felt her cold hand on his forehead.
“You’ve still got a little fever,” she said. “But it’s going down.”
“Yeah.”
She moved her hand on top of his and closed her fingers around it, squeezing it. Her head moved closer to him. He could feel her hair against the side of his face and he moved it closer to her.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” he said.
“Ummm.”
“I, uh …”
“Shhh.”
“No.”
“Go back to sleep.”
“I want to tell you. I, uh … before I flake out again. About The Nosh. It’s okay. Everything just got screwed up.”
“Please. Go to sleep.”
“Yeah. That time in the market, when I first talked to you, I, uh …”
He moved his head closer to her, and lying there in the dark, he began to drift again and a moment before he fell asleep he said, “I love you.”
_____________________
A light awakened him the next time. It was a thin shaft coming from the bathroom. He held up his wrist, but his watch was gone. Water was running. He stirred, reached out for Domino, but she was gone. Then he saw her, standing naked in the doorway of the bath, a washcloth in her hand.
“Your fever broke,” she said. “I’m just drying you off.”
She came to him, sat beside him, put the cold cloth on his forehead. She leaned over him, her breasts crushed against him. She kissed his throat, then his dry lips. Then she slipped into the bed beside him.
The shot was wearing off. Sharky forgot the pain in his hand, the fever, how tired he was. He put his arm around her and kissed her and she reached around and stroked his back and slid her hand down over his buttocks and drew him against her.
She smiled. “I think you’re recovering,” she said.
“If I’m not, this is as good a way to go as any.”
“Better,” she said.
She slid her leg up over his hip, moved her hand around her back and down between her legs and touched him, stroked him, held him against her, and be
gan moving slowly back and forth.
This time Sharky didn’t fall asleep.
_____________________
“What time is it?”
“Four thirty.”
“How long have I been laid out?”
“That’s a terrible way of putting it.”
“Yeah, right. How long have I been knocked out?”
“Almost twelve hours. How do you feel?”
“I think I may be able to get up.”
“You did okay a few minutes ago.”
“I mean on my feet.”
“Okay, want me to help?”
“I need a shower.”
“I gave you an alcohol bath for the fever. You smell like a baby.”
“Need a shave.”
“I shaved you.”
“Need some decent clothes.”
“Arch went by your place and brought some over.”
“I sure rate, don’t I?”
“Um hm.”
“How about Friscoe? Papa?”
“They’re waiting out there for you, in the living room.”
“Are we still in the ballgame?”
“Do you think Arch would break a promise to a sick friend?”
“Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.”
_____________________
They assembled in Hazel’s living room. All of them looked better. They had cleaned themselves up, had a little sleep, and recovered from the initial shock of The Nosh’s death.
Sharky was wearing his only suit, a tweed, with a fawn-colored shirt and a dark brown tie.
“How come you brought my Sunday suit?” he asked Livingston.
“You’re going to a party.”
“A party?”
“We got a plan,” Friscoe said.
“A plan?”
“You got a little catchin’ up to do there, Sharky,” Friscoe said. “First off, this DeLaroza ain’t your everyday garden variety squirrel, know what I mean? I mean, this guy’s big potatoes. He’s powerful. He’s got half the world by the ass. He’s untouchable. And he’s Siamese twins with Donald Hotchins.”
“The senator?”
“Who’s about to announce that he’s running for president,” Domino said.
“Jesus! What did we get into?”