Then he watched Abruzzi. The mobster had fired up a cigarette and was blowing smoke out his window. Davis came up to the window and identified himself as a police officer, then ordered Abruzzi to step out of the car while keeping his hands visible. Stepping back, Davis made the okay sign to Gerry.
Gerry hit the headlights and flooded the Audi in light.
Abruzzi didnt get out. Instead, he stuck his head through the open window and started talking. He was playing dumb, and Gerry guessed this was where hed gotten the nickname the Clown. Davis again ordered him out of the car.
Abruzzi kept up the idiot routine, and Gerry found himself thinking how Abruzzi had approached them with the instructions. It had allowed him to see what he was up against, and Gerry sensed Abruzzi was going to put up a fight. Gerry flashed the cars brights, and Davis glanced in his direction.
What? Davis said loudly.
Signal 30, Gerry called out.
A Signal 30 was used by the Atlantic City police dispatchers when there was trouble and they needed to round up officers.
I wont say it again, Davis said to Abruzzi. Out of the car.
All right already, Abruzzi said.
Quickly drawing a gun from a hiding place in his door, Abruzzi fired it at Davis, a sharp bang! ripping the night air. Davis instinctively went backward, the bullet from Abruzzis gun taking out the headlight of a car parked across the street. Twisting his ankle, Davis fell to the pavement, and lay on his side with a dazed look in his eyes.
Throw your gun away, Abruzzi said.
Youre under arrest.
Like hell I am. Throw it away or Ill clip you.
Davis reluctantly tossed his Glock across the macadam.
Youre real smart for a spade, Abruzzi said sarcastically.
Gerry sensed that Abruzzi was going to shoot Davis in cold blood, then drive away.
Abruzzi had sized them up. Davis was the threat, and Gerry wasnt.
Gerry twisted the key in the ignition and heard the Mustangs engine roar. Abruzzi jerked his head and stared just as Gerry threw the Mustang into drive.
Big mistake, Gerry thought.
Gerry hit the rear of the Audi doing forty-five mph, throwing it into the street. The impact, making a horrible crunching sound, buckled the Mustangs hood, and a mushroom cloud of black smoke hung ominously above the vehicle. Getting out, Gerry went to where Davis lay, saw a dark pool of blood swelling around the detective, and gagged.
Jesus Christ, youre shot, Gerry said.
I dont feel shot. Davis touched his back, then brought his hand to his face. It was covered with red, and he grimaced.
Go make sure Abruzzis disarmed, he said.
But youre bleeding, Eddie.
Just do as I say, Davis said.
Gerry ran over to the Audi. It no longer looked like a fancy forty-thousand-dollar sports car. The drivers seat was empty, the windshield disintegrated. Twenty feet up the street Abruzzi lay on the pavement with his head twisted at an unnatural angle. Hed killed a mobster. A mobster. Gerry staggered backward.
Gerry! Davis yelled at the top of his lungs.
What?
Dont pass out on me, man.
Hes dead.
Stop looking at him.
Gerry turned his gaze from the dead man and filled his lungs with air.
Was there a police scanner inside the car? Davis asked.
Gerry took a deep breath, tried to collect his wits, then went to the Audi, looked inside the crumpled car. An upside-down police scanner sat on the passenger seat, the multicolored lights on its control panel flashing wildly. Frantic voices came out of its speaker. The guys partners inside the casino had heard the collision.
Gerry went back to where Davis lay on the pavement.
Scanners there, he said.
Get on my cell phone, and call Joey inside the casino, Davis said. Tell him to grab the guys partners. Joeys number is in the phones menu.
The pool of blood around Daviss body was expanding. The detectives voice sounded perfectly normal, but Gerry knew that people could get shot and never feel it. He ran back to the Mustang and pulled the cars radio off the dashboard while praying it still worked. There was a crackle of static and a dispatcher came on.
Officer down, Gerry said. I have an officer down.
11
Valentine was sound asleep when the phone rang the next morning. He fumbled with the receiver, a word resembling hello spilling out of his mouth.
You up? Bill Higgins asked.
I was writing my memoirs, Valentine mumbled.
I heard what happened last night. Are you okay?
My necks a little sore, but Ill live.
I need to talk to you.
Im all ears.
Face to face, Bill said. Not over the phone.
Before going to sleep, Valentine had shut the rooms curtains and turned the air-conditioning down to its coldest setting. Snuggled beneath the blankets was the place to be, and his body was fighting to go back to sleep.
How about lunch?
How about right now? Bill snapped.
Valentine opened his eyes and stared at the imaginary face of Bill hovering on the ceiling. One of his best friends, Bill was also director of the Nevada Gaming Control Board, and the most powerful law enforcement officer in the state of Nevada. Bill didnt have to ask nicely if he didnt want to.