A Buffalo police officer came into the dining area carrying his tray of hot dogs. The cop was uniformed, overweight, armed and alone, probably on his way home from a day shift He looked tired and depressed.
Saved , thought Kurtz with only a little irony.
The cop set his food on a table and went into the rest room. Kurtz waited thirty seconds and then pulled on his gloves and followed.
The officer was at the only urinal and did not turn around as Kurtz entered. Kurtz passed him as if heading for the stall, pulled the homemade blackjack out of his pocket and sapped the cop hard over the head. The officer groaned but went down on both knees. Kurtz sapped him again.
Bending over the cop, he took the long-barreled.38 service revolver, the handcuffs, and the heavy baton from his belt He removed the cop's hand radio and smashed it underfoot. Then he tugged off the cop's jacket.
The rear window was high up on the wall in the stall, was reinforced with metal mesh and was not designed to be opened. Holding the cop's jacket up to deflect the glass and muffle the sound, Kurtz smashed the glass and pulled the metal grid out of its rusted hinges. Stepping up on the toilet, he squeezed through the small window and dropped into the snow outside, getting to his feet behind the Dumpster.
East side first . Sliding the cop's revolver in his belt, Kurtz went around the back of the restaurant and peered out into the east parking lot. The Stooge called Curly was pacing back and forth behind the few parked cars, flapping his arms to stay warm. He was carrying a Colt.45 semiauto in one hand. Kurtz waited for Curly to make his turn and men walked silently out behind the short man and clubbed him over the head with the lead-weighted baton. He cuffed Curly with his hands behind his back, left him lying in the snow and walked around the front of the restaurant.
Moe looked up, recognized Kurtz, and started fumbling a weapon out from under his thick goosedown jacket even as he began to run. Kurtz caught up to him and clubbed him down into the snow. He kicked the pistol out of Moe's hand and looked through the glass doors of Ted's Hot Dogs. None of the workers at the empty service counter had noticed anything and the avenue was free of traffic at the moment.
Throwing Moe over his shoulder and pulling the.38 from his belt the baton dangling from his wrist by its leather strap, Kurtz walked around to the west side of the building.
Larry must have sensed something. He was standing by Kurtz's Volvo and peering anxiously through the windows. He had a Mac-10 in his hands. According to other people Kurtz had known inside, Larry had always sung the praises of serious firepower.
With Moe still on his shoulder, Kurtz raised the.38 and shot Larry three timesbody mass, head, and body mass again. The third Stooge went down quickly, the Mac-10 skittering away on ice and ending up under a parked SUV. The shots had been somewhat muffled by the falling snow. No one came to the door or window to check.
Still carrying Moe and dragging Larry's body, Kurtz tossed both men into the back seat of his Volvo, started the car, and drove around to the east side of the parking lot. Curly was moaning and beginning to come to, flopping around listlessly with his hands cuffed behind his back. No one had seen him.
Kurtz stopped the car, got out, lifted Curly, and tossed the moaning Stooge into the back seat with his dead and unconscious pals. He closed Curly's door, went around and unlatched the door behind the driver's position, got in, and drove away down Sheridan to the Youngman Expressway.
The Expressway was slick and icy, but Kurtz got the Volvo up to sixty-five miles per hour before glancing
around. Larry's body was slumped up against the cracked-open door, Moe was still unconscious and leaning against Curly, and Curly was playing possum.
Kurtz cocked the service revolver with an audible click. "Open your eyes or I'll shoot you now," he said softly.
Curly's eyes flew open. He opened his mouth to say something.
"Shut up." Kurtz nodded toward Larry. "Kick him out."
The pale ex-con's face paled even further. "JesusfuckingChrist. I can't just"
"Kick him out," said Kurtz, glancing back at the road and then turning around to aim the.38 at Curly's face.
His wrists handcuffed behind him, Curly shoved Moe aside with his shoulder, lifted his legs, and kicked Larry out the door. He had to kick twice to get him out. Cold air whirled inside the car. Possibly because of the storm, traffic on the Youngman was light.
"Who hired you to kill me?" asked Kurtz. "Be careful you don't get many chances at the right answer."
"Jesus Christ," moaned Curly. "No one hired us. I don't even fucking know who you are. I don't even"
"Wrong answer," said Kurtz. He nodded at Moe and then at the open door. Icy pavement was roaring by.
"Jesus Christ, I can't he's still alive listen to me, please"
The Volvo tried to slide a bit as they came around a curve on the ice. Keeping one eye on the rearview mirror, Kurtz corrected the slide, turned back, and aimed the pistol at Curly's crotch. "Now," he said.