"Stop ten feet behind it, put it in neutral, and set the brake," whispered Kurtz. "Do anything else and I kill you here."
Big Bore considered going for the knife then, but the circle of the muzzle pressed into the back of his head was more persuasive than his desperation.
Three men got out of the Lincoln and walked back to the Dodge wagon. Two of them aimed guns at Big Bore, ordered him to step out of the cab, frisked him, took his giant knife, and led him to the Lincoln, where they had him lie down in the trunk. The Town Car's trunk was very well insulated and Big Bore's sobs and entreaties were cut off as soon as the lid came down.
"I
understand this is supposed to happen tomorrow, way the hell down by Erie, at ten A.M. exactly," said Colin, Angelina Farino Ferrara's personal bodyguard.
"Yeah," said Kurtz. He held the huge, scoped Ruger up in his gloved hand. "You have any use for this?"
"Are you kidding?" said Colin. "That thing's almost as big as my dick. I like smaller weapons." He hoisted the little.32 he was holding.
Kurtz nodded and dropped the Ruger through the missing window into the driver's seat. He had no doubt that truck and gun would be gone by three A.M.
"Miz Ferrara said I should be getting an envelope," said Colin.
"Tell her I'll send the money to her this weekend," said Kurtz.
The bodyguard gave Kurtz a look but then shrugged. "Why ten A.M.?"
"What?" Kurtz's head was buzzing.
"Why ten A.M. exactly? For the Indian tomorrow."
"It's a sentimental thing," said Kurtz. He hopped down from the Power Wagon bed and began walking toward where his Pinto was parked in front of an abandoned drugstore with broken windows.
When he'd called Angelina on her private line after getting Daddy Brace's call, the female don had thought he was kidding.
"I'm not," Kurtz had said. "I'll still find this skag basher for you, and you keep your fifteen thousand dollars"
"Ten thousand for finding him," Angelina said. "I already gave you five as an advance."
"Whatever. I send the advance back and you keep the rest in exchange for this little favor now."
"Little favor ," repeated Angelina, her voice amused. "We do this little thing for you now in exchange for your promise to do this other thing for us someday?"
"Yeah," said Kurtz. After a minute's silence, he'd said, "You started this Big Bore thing last winter, lady. Look at this as a way to clean it up and save some money at the same time."
There was a brief additional silence on the line and then she'd said, "All right. When tonight? Where?"
Kurtz had told her.
"This isn't your style, Kurtz," she'd said then. "I always thought you took care of your own messes."
"Yeah," Kurtz had said tiredly. "I'm just a little busy right now."
"But no more favors like this," said Angelina Farino Ferrara.
Now Kurtz sat in his Pinto and watched the Lincoln Town Car drive away slowly. The huge Dodge Power Wagon was alone at the dark curb, its heavy brackets for a snowplow blade looking like mandibles, the rest of its hulk looking rusted and desolate and sort of sad so far out of its element here in the inner city.
Kurtz shook his head, wondered if he was getting soft, and drove back to the Harbor Inn to get some sleep. He and Arlene were going to go over the rest of the O'Toole computer stuff in the office at eight the next morning. He'd made another call on the way over to Blues Franklin and had an appointment set for ten A.M.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"I like the food here," said Kurtz. He glanced at his watch. It was just ten A.M.
They were in the small restaurant areaa long counter and a long, narrow dining area just across the aisle from the counterset amidst the sprawling, indoor Broadway Market. The market was a tradition in Buffalo, and like most traditions in America, it had seen better days. Once a thriving indoor fresh meat, fruit, flowers, and tchotchke covered market in the old Polish and German section of town, Broadway Market was now surrounded by a black ghetto and really came alive only during Easter time, when the many Polish families who'd fled to Cheektowaga and other suburbs came in to buy their Easter hams. Today, half the market space was empty and there was a halfhearted attempt at some Halloween exhibits and festivities, but only a few black mothers with their costumed kids wandered the aisles.
Kurtz and Rigby sat along the mostly empty counter at the aisle-side restaurant. For some promotional reason, all the waitresses behind the long counter were wearing flannel pajamas. One of them had a sort of sleeping bonnet on. They didn't look all that happy, and Kurtz couldn't blame them.
Kurtz and Rigby were drinking coffee. Kurtz also had ordered a donut, although he nibbled without enthusiasm. Little kids in drugstore Star Wars and Spiderman costumes would glance at him, then look again, and then cringe against their mothers' legs. Kurtz was still wearing the Ray Charles glasses, but evidently the raccoon bruises were turning orange today and creeping out farther from beneath the glasses. He was wearing a black baseball cap to cover most of the small bandage he'd left in place.