They waited down the street from Sophia Farino's condo through the early-morning hours and were almost ready to bag it when Kurtz finally emerged and began strolling the opposite way. There were so few vehicles on the street that Malcolm had to let Kurtz disappear from sight and then drive in long loops to get ahead of him, always parked with other grimy vans and vehicles, always a good two blocks away. It was dark. Only the expensive military night scopes and goggles allowed Cutter and Malcolm to keep tabs on Kurtz.
For a while they thought they had run him to ground when Kurtz had clambered up under the expressway overpass, but just as Malcolm and Cutter were getting ready to go after him, Kurtz climbed down the embankment and was on the move again. For some reason, the fool had ditched his jacket. Cutter wanted to stop under the overpass and check on that, but Malcolm was too busy driving down toward the river and finding a place to park before Kurtz wandered into sight again. It was getting light. Surveillance would be impossible in half an hour or so: Kurtz would notice the same scabrous green van if it kept reappearing, even a couple of blocks away.
But luck was with them. From where they had parked in an old railroad salvage-yard, Malcolm watched through the night-vision scope, and Cutter lifted the huge binoculars as Kurtz went through his slice in the wire and let himself into the old icehouse building.
They waited another hour. Kurtz did not come out.
"I think we found his hidey-hole," said Malcolm. He rubbed his beard and lifted the Tek-9 onto his lap. Cutter grunted and clicked open his knife. "I don't know, C, my man," said Malcolm. "Big place in there. Probably dark. He know it, we don't."
The two sat in silence for another few minutes. Suddenly Malcolm grinned broadly. "You know what we need for this job, C?"
Cutter looked at him, his pale eyes empty.
"That's right," said Malcolm. "We gonna need extreme white trash, stupid enough not to know about the Death Mosque bounty, but still be willin' to go in there to kill Mr. Kurtz for next to nothing."
Cutter nodded.
"Correct," agreed Malcolm. "We know where Mr. Kurtz live. All we need to do now is bring in the Alabama Beagle Boys." Malcolm laughed heartily.
Cutter breathed through his mouth and turned to look at the old icehouse through the rain.
CHAPTER 19
"Nice of you to drop by and notice," said Arlene, hanging her coat on a spike driven into the wall. "Of course it's from the house. Alan slept through many an NFL game on it. I had Will and Bobby help me haul it down here. What is this on my desk?"
"A video monitor," said Kurtz.
"A TV?"
"Go ahead, turn it on."
Arlene flicked it on and looked at the picture for a minute. It was fuzzy and in black and white and cycled through four scenes: counter, stacks, booms, and hallway. "That's it? I get to watch the perverts in the porn shop upstairs?"
"That's it," agreed Kurtz. "The owners revamped the closed-circuit surveillance system upstairs, and I got Jimmy to run a line down here and sell us one of the old monitors."
"Sell it to us?" Arlene tapped the mouse to bring her computer screen to life. "How much did it cost?"
"Fifty bucks, wiring thrown in free. I told him I'd pay when I got the money this month or next or whenever."
"Just so I can watch the dirty old men buying their dirty old magazines and videos."
"You're welcome," said Kurtz. He swung himself off the sprung couch and walked over to his own desk at the rear of the long room. His desk was empty, except for some files and memos left there by Arlene.
"Do you really think we need the video security?" she asked. "Both doors stay locked and we're not exactly advertising that we're here."
Kurtz shrugged. "The outer door's pretty well jimmy-proof," he said. "But the door from
the porn shop is just a door. And I seem to have a few people hunting for me." He poured coffee for both of them, even though Arlene had just come in from her lunch break, carried the mugs over, and sat on the edge of her desk. He gave her Pruno's description of Malcolm Kibunte, Cutter, and Doo-Rag, then remembered Sammy Levine's brother Manny and described him as well.
"You made an enemy out of Danny DeVito?" said Arlene.
"Sounds like it," said Kurtz. "Anyway, if you see anyone on the monitor who looks like any of these four guys upstairs, you leave by one of the other doors."
"Those descriptions apply to about half of the losers who patronize the shop upstairs," said Arlene.
"All right," said Kurtz. "Amend it toif you see anyone trying to bust through the front door up there, you head out the back. If any of them look like one of the guys I described, move even faster."
Arlene nodded. "Any other gifts for me?"
Kurtz pulled the Kimber Custom.45 ACP from the holster at the small of his back. He set it on her desk. "Couldn't afford a Doberman," he said.
Arlene shook her head and reached under her desk, pulling out a hammerless, short-barreled.32 Magnum Ruger revolver.
"Hey," said Kurtz, "an old friend!"