Simmons Dan - Hardcase стр 32.

Malcolm made a gesture with his hands. "Agreed, be easy to do," he said. "But sometimes the Buffalo police take notice when you gun down citizens on their streetsyou understand what I'm saying? Better let this white boy die and rot away in this old abandoned warehouse."

"Then why don't you go in after him yourselves?" said Warren.

Malcolm shrugged. "Doo-Rag and the others want to, but there always a chance that something might go wrongwe drop a weapon or somethingand then the federal 'thorities got an idea who borrowed their army toys."

Warren grinned, showing southern Alabama's Department of Corrections' lack of investment in dental care. "But if we leave prints behind or one of us left behind it don't bother you-all."

"Not so much," Malcolm agreed.

"When do you want this done?" Darren asked.

"Real soon would be fine," said Malcolm. "You choose the pieces you want with the toys to go with them, we take you to where this dude is sleeping. Thirty percent off, you each get a piece for the price of that one you wanted. Plus all the laser shit you want. Plus some other good stuff" Malcolm held up a heavy double-optic apparatus with nylon straps.

"What the shit is that?" said Darren.

"Shut up, Darren," said Warren. "What the shit is it?" he asked Malcolm.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Ain't you never seen one of those movies where the terrorists or Navy SEALS or such wear this night-vision shit?"

"Oh, yeah," said Darren. "They just look different when they're not on someone's head is all."

"Shut up, Darren," said Warren. "Night-vision goggles?" he said to Malcolm.

"Correct, my man," said Malcolm. "These take the tiniest little bit of lightnot even to notice, dark as a cave to the naked eyeballand let you see like it was high noon. These goggles here probably led to a shitload of Iraqis going to Allah early."

Douglas whistled.

"Shut up, Douglas," Andrew said automatically.

"You said do this real soon," said Warren. "How soon is real soon?"

Malcolm checked his watch. It was almost 1:00 a.m. "Now be good," he said.

"And we just get to walk away from this place with the guns?" Warren asked.

Malcolm nodded.

"And you gonna give us bullets?" Darren asked.

Warren glared at his brother, but said nothing.

"Yes, Darren, my man, bullets thrown in for free before you go into the warehouse. We got clips of.223s, 45s, subsonic 5.56 millimeters for the Bullpup, 22s, 9 millimeters for some of the carbines, banana clips, 12-gauge shells for the shotguns, even some.308 Match for the sniper shit."

Malcolm lifted some brightly

colored hand radios, gesturing like a salesman ready to close a deal. "And we even throw in these personal, multi-frequency portable radios with a two-mile range for free."

"Shit," said Darren. "Those are just kiddie toys."

Malcolm smiled and shrugged. "True, my man. But you understand why once we drop you offwith ammo clips and Kevlar vests as well as the gunswe don't want to wait around."

Warren screwed up his face, thinking about this. His silence suggested that he could find no fault in the logic.

"You can use the radios to talk to each other going in," said Malcolm. "Then call us when it all over."

Warren grunted. "How do we know when it's the right dude?"

Malcolm grinned. "Well, since this white boy the only person in the warehouse, just kill everybody in there, you probably be safe to assume," he said. "But this might help." He tossed Kurtz's mug shot onto the table covered with laser sights and night-vision goggles.

The Alabama Beagle Boys huddled around the table, staring down at the photograph, none of men touching it.

"Shall we do it?" said Malcolm, gesturing to the displays of weapons.

"We didn't bring cash," said Warren.

Malcolm smiled. "Your credit good with us. Besides, we know where your church is."

CHAPTER 25

Kurtz did not know who the stupid shits were, but he had rigged the front and rear doors of the warehouse with monofilament thread that ran up to his sixth-floor sleeping cubby, each thread ending in a soup can full of rocks, and his front-door can had rattled. Kurtz had been out of his sleeping bag in two seconds, had slipped into his shoes and leather gloves, had pulled his.45 and the short-barreled.38 from his duffel, and was out into the pitch-black hallway in ten seconds, crouching and waiting. The terrible noise of the freight elevator spoke for itself.

Kurtz had no night-vision goggles, but his eyes had long since adapted to the tiny bit of cloud-reflected city light filtering down through holes in the ceiling and down the elevator shaft itself. Moving carefully around heaps of junk and puddles of water, he moved quickly to the open elevator shaft.

Usually, he knew, elevator doors were designed not to open if the elevator was not stopped on that level, but the construction boys had ripped off the wide doors to the freight elevator for reasons known only to God and themselves, marking the elevator shaft with only a ribbon of orange plastic tape stretched across the dark opening. Kurtz crouched by the tape and waited. The elevator could be a diversion. They could be coming up the stairways . From where he crouched, Kurtz could see the opening to the north stairwell.