Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 15 - The Mona Lisa Murders (17 page)

Latasha scrambled after us.

Shouts came from above, followed by the sound of feet stumbling over rocks.

Clutching each other, we slammed against the trunk of a small oak. With a grimace, Bulbous Nose jammed a hand in my throat and threw a fist at my head. I jerked to one side, and his knuckles bounced off the rugged bark of the oak.

He cursed and drew back for another punch.

He stiffened, groaned, and fell forward, smothering me but still moving.

I pushed him off to see Latasha standing there with a small boulder clutched in both hands.

I leaped to my feet. ‘Run.’ She darted through the trees like a jackrabbit. I started after her, but a hand struck my ankle, slamming one foot behind the other and sending me sprawling to the ground.

Before I could push to my feet, a knee slammed into my back and a hand jammed my face in the ground. ‘That’s far enough, buddy. Far enough.’

Behind him, another voice shouted. ‘The girl! Get the girl.’

Rough hands jerked me to my feet and shoved me up the slope. ‘And don’t try nothing funny.’

From behind came the sounds of bodies tearing through underbrush. I muttered a heartfelt prayer.

A sudden scream cut through the sounds of pursuit followed by a stream of curses. I hesitated. Rough hands shoved me forward. ‘Keep moving,’ one snarled.

I could hear the crashing of the chase through the woods. I grinned to myself. Run hard, run hard, I said to myself, hoping I could somehow will her all of my strength.

I must’ve worn out my welcome for they shoved me through the back door instead of the front door and down a dimly lit hall. A behemoth stood in front of a set of double doors.

One of the goons holding me said. ‘Tell Mister Moretti we have Boudreaux.’

I jerked around and gaped at him. Moretti! Where was Sebastian?

Antone Moretti was sitting in a leather chair. At his side stood a cold-eyed thug. Sebastian and Franco along with another body lay in puddles of blood on the floor beside the desk.

‘You’re a resourceful man, Mister Boudreaux,’ Antone said in a soft voice. ‘Too resourceful for your own good.’

A knock sounded at the door. Silently the one named Skid opened it, then turned to the diminutive Italian.

‘The guests are arriving, Mister Moretti.’

The mobster nodded. ‘Take them to the den. I’ll be right there. Clean this place up.’

Skid dipped his head in deference to his boss and passed word to the goon outside.

Hoping to make him rethink his position, I spoke up. ‘You must like to live dangerously, Antone.’

‘Oh.’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘How is that?’

‘Joe Vasco. You crossed him. He won’t like it.’

Skid gave the smaller man a smug grin. Behind me, one of the goons chuckled.

‘For your information, Mister Boudreaux. Vermin like Vasco and Nemo are the least of my concerns. If you’re trying to scare me, you’re sadly mistaken. I’ll take care of him just as I have anyone who gets in my way.’

Beside him, Skid smiled.

‘You could be mistaken.’

‘I could be, but I’m not.’

Another knock interrupted us.

Skid took the information at the door. With a hint of disgust on his face, he turned to Moretti. ‘The girl got away.’

I grinned. ‘That’s one you didn’t take care of, Antone.’

I hoped to anger him, just for the satisfaction, but I failed. Unperturbed, he gave me a beneficent smile that was anything but benevolent. ‘It’s just a matter of time, Mister Boudreaux. Just a matter of time.’

He nodded to Skid who addressed the thugs holding me. ‘Take him to the barn.’

‘Before you do, Antone. Tell me. Why all this just for some woman’s cremated remains?’

He and Skid both laughed.

Without taking his eyes from mine, he said. ‘Bring me the box.’

Without a word, Skid crossed the room, opened a highboy against the wall, then returned with the box. The bands had been cut. He set it on the coffee table in front of the slender man.

‘See for yourself, Mister Boudreaux,’ he said, lifting the top.

My eyes bugged out.

Now, I’ve never seen cremated remains, but even I’m not naïve enough to think such remains look like a large rock.’

I frowned. What the blazes was going on. ‘A rock? All this for a stinking rock?’

Moretti roared. ‘You ignorant redneck. You’re looking at the world’s largest uncut diamond. Larger even than the Cullinan diamond from the Premiere Mine in South Africa. There is nothing like it in this world. It is beyond price.’

Now, it all made sense, for all the good it would do me. ‘So that’s why you ran interference for her in Miami?’

‘Not interference. We were after the box, but Nemo’s men were there, and the police on the way. She drove away, but I found her in New Orleans. She had already secreted the box. She said she had given a key to a relative in case something happened to her, so I decided to play along with her.’

Despite my present predicament, I had to smile my cousin’s well chosen lies. What about the slug you caught?’

He chuckled. ‘Play acting, Boudreaux. They missed. I hid, and they chased you. It was a tough night, but my copter picked me up next morning.’

‘Why all this charade about cremated remains?’

‘Oh, that was no charade. Bianchi secreted the diamond in the remains.’

I was confused. ‘There were remains?’

‘Oh, my all means. Bianchi thought he was being clever when he hid the diamond in them. The fool. I knew what he was up to all along.’

I stared at the smaller man. I wanted to punch him in the face, smear that arrogant nose all over both cheeks, but that would probably get me shot in the next second. I had to wait. Latasha was out there somewhere. With luck, a lot of luck, she could help.

Skid muttered to me. ‘The barn.’

In the hall, Skid spoke to the two soldiers holding me. ‘Sparks, you heard the boss. You and Turk take this one to the barn.’

Turk spoke up. ‘Hey, just dump him in the pickup with them other two. Won’t have to worry about him.’

‘Not yet.’ Ice nodded to the closed door to the library. ‘We don’t want to alarm them dudes what’s in the den. Just a matter of time. We’ll have half-a-dozen more counting the girl to go with them. We’ll dump the whole load with the truck in a deep hole in the river.’

Chapter Thirty-One

Sparks and Turk locked me in the feed room. The only light came from two or three cracks in the wall.

As soon as I heard the lock click shut, I searched the room for a way out. I didn’t expect to find one, so I wasn’t disappointed when I didn’t.

At least, Latasha had made it out.

Me, I had only one choice. At the first opportunity, I had to make a break. I probably wouldn’t make it, but that was better than sitting here and eating a slug like a whipped cur.

I looked around the room. About twenty by twenty, its walls were lined with stacks of bagged feed. The bags were laid three deep and four high near the door, higher near the rear walls.

A crazy idea hit me although it was no crazier than thinking I could outrun a .38 slug, but when times are desperate, desperate men take desperate chances.

Sounds corny now, but at the time, it was just scary.

I got to work pulling out bags against the wall and laying them on the two stacks on either side of the door.

My idea was to pile them up to six or seven feet, climb behind them, and when the two bozos came to get me, topple the stacks on them, hopefully providing enough distraction to give me some running room.

I peered through the crack. Two more cars had joined the limos in the large circular drive. More soldiers? Anybody’s guess.

Muted words came from just beyond the door. I wasn’t surprised. Moretti was taking no chance I’d escape once again.

Over the past years, I’d been in some tight places. Tonight was right up there with the tightest.

Outside the door came the voices again, and the barn lights went out. I caught my breath. This was it. I climbed behind the stacks of feedbags, waiting for the door to open.

The voices grew excited, but the door never opened. After a few minutes, the lights flashed back on. Now what, I asked myself, my nerves on edge.

Then I heard the door start to open. I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath, placed my hands on the bags, and mumbled a hasty prayer.

The door creaked open. From where I stood behind the two stacks of bagged feed, I saw the shadow cast on the floor by the light. It remained motionless.

‘All right, Boudreaux. Come on out.’

A few seconds passed.

Sparks exclaimed. ‘Turk! He ain’t in here. He’s gone.’

‘Don’t be stupid. There ain’t no way out.’

A second shadow blended with the first, and the two moved into the room.

I shoved the stacks.

They toppled.

Turk cried. ‘Look out. The ba—.’

As the stacks fell on the two, I clambered over them and out the door in a rush, running into Skid who was just coming around the corner of the feed room.

We went down in a heap. I rolled to my feet and dashed for the open bay door, zigging and zagging. Just as I reached it, a gunshot boomed from behind, and a chunk of ground exploded at my feet.

Two figures emerged from the main house, cutting off any hope I might have had reaching the river. Under the silver-blue glow cast by the starry night, I cut north across the pastureland, aiming for the woodlots and rugged hills beyond.

A guttural roar sounded from behind. I glanced around to see three ATV’s bouncing after me. My heart sank. I could never make the trees, but I had to try. I looked around again and spotted the pickup coming also.

One of the ATVs swung wide of me.

I gasped for breath, but kept running.

The ATV cut toward me.

My lungs burned.

The bellowing machine took aim at me, planning to run me down. I cut to one side, then the other, hoping to make him miss.

At the last second, he cut sharply away and laughed. It was Skid, toying with me. If I could have caught my breath, I would have called him every name in the book, but I needed every tiny gasp of air.

The other ATVs decided to join the game, racing at me, then zipping away. Behind us all, the F-150 hurtled toward us. At the last second, the pickup swerved into the ATV Turk was astride. The off-roader flipped.

I glanced at the driver in the pickup.

Latasha!

‘Jump in,’ she screamed, but it was too late. She’d already shot past.

I turned in another direction.

She was driving in circles, trying to run down the other ATVs, which were frantically trying to evade her. From the barn came the headlights of two more ATVs.

When the pickup shot past again, she shouted. ‘Next time.’

She circled.

A hand grabbed my shoulder.

I spun. Skid leered at me. ‘You ain’t going nowhere, buddy.’

I busted the leer all over his face, sending him stumbling backward. I turned and ran.

Off to my right, I saw Latasha angling across my path. As she drew near, she slowed, and I leaped over the side of the pickup into the bed. I landed on something firm, but flexible.

I looked down, staring into the frozen features of Hatchet Face, lying right next to Shawn.

Gagging, I pushed back, but I heard the report of a gunshot and the whang of the slug ricocheting off the pickup, I tried to crawl underneath the two dead guys.

Latasha shouted through the open window. The wind whipped her words away, but I made it out, ‘Hold on.’

I held on. Boy, did I hold on.

She jerked the pickup in a tight circle and shot across the pasture toward three sets of ATV headlights converging on us. The pickup shuddered as it bounced across the washboard pasture. She floorboarded the F-150. Engine screaming, the pickup leaped forward. We must’ve been a couple inches off the ground because we weren’t shuddering any longer.

I gaped through the rear window, seeing the ATV lights fast approaching. Looking over her shoulder, I glanced at the speedometer.

I swallowed hard. Eighty-five! No wonder the pickup wasn’t bouncing. We were flying. I clenched my teeth and grimaced. I grabbed the front of the bed, my eyes fixed on the headlights zooming toward us. I saw her fingers flexing on the wheel as she readied for the coming impact.

At the last second, the middle ATV swerved, slamming into the one at his side and sending both tumbling in a melee of arms and legs and knobby wheels.

Latasha pointed the pickup toward the road.

A grin popped on my face, then vanished when two sets of headlights flashed on at the main house. In a shriek of rubber we could hear a half-mile away, the two limos raced after us.

The white graveled road showed in our headlights. She hit the road without slowing, deftly guiding us out of a slight fishtail skid and straightened us out on the road.

Behind, the limo lights grew larger. 

I peered over the tailgate, then ducked behind it when I spotted flashes of orange. They were shooting at us.

Surprise, surprise!

Chapter Thirty-Two

I ventured a look through the rear window as we shot up a hill. Ahead were the limestone wings marking the entrance to the Steep Bluff Ranch. I racked my brain for an answer. Once we hit the highway, there would be no keeping the dogs off our heels. The much more powerful limos would eat us up.

We zoomed over the top of the hill.

Latasha slammed on her brakes. I bounced off the rear window.

Half-a-dozen cars lined the drive on either side. One blocked the road. Its headlights flashed on, lighting a small army of goons armed with AK 47s.

Latasha threw the truck in reverse, but the limo headlights popped up behind. She slammed on the brakes, bringing us to an abrupt halt. For a moment, she remained rigid, then slowly dropped her head to the steering wheel, resigned to what lay ahead.

To my surprise, the limo headlights behind us dipped as they backed up and spun around to beat a hasty retreat back to the main house.

Without hesitation, the soldiers on either side of the road hopped back in their cars and sped past us after the limousine. Two cars remained, their lights fixed on us.