"We're one man short," said Kurtz. He glanced at his watch. The road remained empty.
"Huh?" Carl frowned.
"One thing before going mano a mano ," said Kurtz. "How'd you find me?"
"Followed you when you left Mr. Farino's."
Christ, I'm slipping! thought Kurtz with the first alarm he had felt since identifying the hulking bodyguard in the sports car.
Carl took another step closer. "No one calls me a bitch," he said, extending the muscles in his powerful forearms and flexing his huge hands.
"Really?" said Kurtz. "I thought you'd be used to it."
Carl lunged.
Kurtz sidestepped him and sapped him over his left ear. Carl went face first onto the Buick bumper and then again onto the asphalt. Kurtz heard teeth snapping off on both impacts. Kurtz walked over and kicked him in the ass. Carl did not stir.
Kurtz went back to the Buick to switch off its lights, then did the same with the sports car, shutting off its engine, locking the doors, and tossing the keys into the woods. Grunting slightly, he dragged Carl around to the left rear of the Buick and kicked his legs into line just in front of the left rear wheel.
Then Kurtz got back in Arlene's car, made sure no one was coming, tuned the radio to an all-night blues station, and drove away, switching on the lights once he was on the highway, heading back to the Motel 6 to check out.
CHAPTER 8
"Incredible balls, you mean," said Don Farino.
"Whatever," said Miles.
There were three of them in the huge solarium, not counting the mynah bird who was carrying on his own raucous conversation in his cage amidst the riot of green plants. Farino was in his wheelchair, but as was his custom when in the wheelchair, he was dressed in a suit and tie. His twenty-eight-year-old daughter Sophia sat on the green, silk-upholstered settee under the palm fronds. Miles was pacing back and forth.
"Which part do you think took the nerve," asked Sophia, "crippling Carl or calling us last night to tell us about it?"
"Both," said Miles. He stopped pacing and crossed his arms. "But especially the call. Absolute arrogance."
"I heard the tape of the call," said Sophia. "He didn't sound arrogant. He sounded like someone phoning to let you know that your dry cleaning is ready for pickup."
Miles glanced at Farino's daughter but looked at her father when he spoke next. He hated dealing with the woman. Farino's oldest son, David, had been capable enough, but had wrapped his Dodge Viper around a telephone pole at 145 miles per hour. The second son, Little Skag, was hopeless. The Don's older daughter, Angelina, had run away to Europe years before. That left this girl.
"Either way, sir," Miles
said to the former don, "I think that we should call in the Dane."
"Really?" said Byron Farino. "You think it's that serious, Leonard?"
"Yes, sir. He crippled one of your people and then called to brag about it."
"Or perhaps he just called to save us the embarrassment of finding out about Carl's injuries in the newspaper," said Sophia. "This way we were able to get out to the accident scene first."
"Accident scene," repeated Miles, not hiding his derision.
Sophia shrugged. "Our people made it look like an accident. It saved us a lot of questions and legal expenses."
Miles shook his head. "Carl was a brave and loyal employee."
"Carl was an absolute idiot," said Sophia Farino. "All those steroids obviously burned out what little brain he had left."
Miles turned to say something sharp to the bitch and instantly thought better of it. He stood in silence, listening to the mynah bird berate an invisible opponent.
"Leonard," said Don Farino, "what was the first thing Carl said to our people when he regained consciousness this morning?"
"He couldn't say anything. His jaw is wired shut, and he'll need extensive oral surgery before"
"What did he write to Buddy and Frank, then?" asked Don Farino.
The attorney hesitated. "He wrote that five of Gonzaga's people followed him and jumped him," Miles said after a moment.
Don Farino nodded slowly. "And if we had believed Carl if Kurtz had not called last night if I had not called Thomas Gonzaga this morning, we could be at war, could we not, Leonard?"
Miles showed his hands and shrugged. "Carl was embarrassed. He was in painmedicatedand afraid we'd blame him."
"He followed this Kurtz and tried to settle his private scores on family time," said Sophia Farino. "Then he screwed that up. Why shouldn't we blame him?"
Miles only shook his head and gave Don Farino a look that said, Women can't understand these things .
Byron Farino shifted slightly in his wheelchair. It was obvious that he was in pain from the eight-year-old gunshot wound and the bullet still embedded near his spine. "Write a check for $5,000 for Carl's family," said the Don. "Is it just his mother?"
"Yes, sir," said Miles, not seeing any reason to mention that Carl lived with a twenty-year-old male model of Miles's acquaintance.
"Would you see to that, Leonard?" said Farino.
"Of course." Miles hesitated and then decided to be bold. "And the Dane?"