Tricky Business (30 page)

Celia and Luba watched her sprint past. When they had disappeared astern, Luba turned to Celia.

“Vistes eso?”
she said.
Did you see that?

Celia nodded.
“Tremendo cuerpo,”
she said.
Nice body.

“IS THERE A DOCTOR HERE?” WALLY SHOUTED. “IS ANYBODY HERE A DOCTOR?” He looked frantically around the second-deck casino. A few gamblers glanced up from their slot machines or gaming tables; some even took the time to shake their heads at him. The rest continued to concentrate on losing money. If somebody was sick, that wasn't their problem.

Wally was about to shout again when he saw Johnny trotting toward him, pulling, by the hand, a fifty-ish woman. Ted trotted behind them.

“She's a nurse,” said Johnny.

“Ma'am, can you help us?” said Wally.

“I'll try,” she said.

“Great,” said Wally. “Show her where the captain is, OK?”

“OK,” said Johnny, heading toward the stairwell, nurse in tow.

“Go with him, Ted,” said Wally. “I'm gonna go see if Fay needs help.”

“You're gonna
what
?” said Ted. “Are you fucking
crazy
?”

“Ted,” said Wally. “She's down there
alone.
”

“You heard her,” said Ted. “That's her job.”

“I know,” said Wally. “But what if she needs help?”

“How're you gonna help her, Wally?” said Ted. “You think she's gonna need a guitar solo?”

“Ted, listen,” said Wally. “This is like on nine-eleven, on that one plane, the one they were gonna crash into the White House, where those passengers, regular people, they didn't let it happen. They stood up to the hijackers, Ted. They showed some
balls.
They said, hey,
fuck you,
hijackers, you're not gonna get away with this.”

Ted stared at him. “Wally,” he said. “All those people died.”

Wally was quiet for a moment. “I gotta go,” he said.

 

THE CASHIER'S CAGE WAS AT THE FAR AFT END of the second deck. It was staffed by three people: two cashiers, named Judi and Jennifer, who handled the cash transactions, selling rolls of quarters, turning loose quarters back into cash, and so forth; and a guard named Karl, who wore a revolver on his hip and sat on a chair behind them, watching a small battery-operated TV. All three had been recruited and trained by Manny Arquero, and they answered only to him. If Manny told them to do something—and there had been some highly unusual transactions aboard the
Extravaganza
—they did it, and they did not ask questions.

One of the things Manny had been most emphatic about was what to do in case of an emergency. The procedure was simple: The instant that any of the cashier's-cage personnel had even the slightest reason to think that something suspicious was happening, he or she was to hit one of the two panic buttons, one under the counter and one on the back wall. This would cause a motorized steel shutter to roll down quickly and seal off the cage.

The shutter had a small bulletproof Plexiglas window. If the cashiers saw Manny Arquero in that window, and he made an “OK” sign, they were to push the button that rolled up the shutter. If they didn't see Manny, or if they saw Manny, but he made some other gesture—even a thumbs-up—they were to leave the shutter down. They were not to open the shutter for anybody but Manny. He was very explicit on that point.

So this is what happened:

Karl had his TV tuned to the news. He had just told Judi and Jennifer how, apparently, from what he understood, a TV news truck had rammed head-on into an ambulance carrying some TV news people who got hurt when
another
TV news truck crashed, and it looked like everybody involved was dead, and the male and female co-anchors were now on camera holding each other and bawling like babies.

Jennifer had just gotten up to see this for herself, when Mara came running up to the counter, looking frantic.

“There's been a shooting!” she shouted. “The captain was shot. Hurry!”

“What?” said Judi and Jennifer, simultaneously.

“The captain,” said Mara. “He was shot. And some men at the back. The conch shot them.”

“The conch did?” said Judi, but at this point, the steel shutter was already descending, Jennifer and Karl having simultaneously pressed panic buttons.

“Wait!” said Mara. “You need to . . .”

BANG.
The cashier's cage was sealed.

“Oh my God,” said Mara.

THE THING WAS, KAZ WAS NOT AS STUPID AS Tark thought he was. Kaz was smart enough to consider the possibility that Tark would try to screw his partners. The original deal was that Tark would get half the money, since it was his plan and his boat; Kaz, Holman, and Rebar would get the other half, which was a sixth apiece. But it was a sixth of a huge pie. Plenty for everybody, especially Tark, who'd have more money than he could ever spend. But Kaz understood that Tark was capable of trying to take the whole pie, crazy as that was. Because, as Kaz had come to understand, Tark was one crazy motherfucker.

This was why, for safety's sake, Kaz had made a slight alteration to Tark's plan. The plan called for him and Holman to return to the stern with their guns hidden in their gym bags, so they wouldn't attract attention going through the ship. But Kaz had decided, just in case, that before he and Holman emerged at the stern, they'd stop and get their guns back out, just in case.

Kaz had also worked it out so that Holman would be the first man through the door to the stern platform. Holman was not as smart as Kaz.

 

. . . ROAR VROOM WHAM
“FUCK!” “FASTER!”
ROAR VROOM WHAM
“FUCK!” “FASTER!”
ROAR VROOM WHAM
“FUCK!” “FASTER!”
ROAR VROOM WHAM
“FUCK!” “FASTER!”
ROAR VROOM WHAM . . .

 

UP ON THE BRIDGE, ARNIE HAD GOTTEN DOWN ON his knees—this took him almost thirty seconds—and was peering into the very pale face of Eddie Smith, whose eyes were now closed. Phil hovered behind Arnie.

“Is he conscious?” said Phil. “She said keep him conscious.”

“What am I, Florence Nightingale?” said Arnie. “CAPTAIN? CAN YOU HEAR ME? CAPTAIN?”

Eddie opened his eyes, focused on Arnie's face, three inches away.

“It hurts,” he said.

“He says it hurts,” said Phil.

“I HEARD HIM,” said Arnie. “I'm the one down here. We need something for the wound. Get me something.”

“Like a bandage?” said Phil.

“No, like a pastrami sandwich, you idiot. Of
course
like a bandage!”

“I got a handkerchief,” said Phil.

“Let me take a look at it,” said Arnie.

Phil pulled a handkerchief out of his pants pocket, unfolded it, and displayed it for Arnie.

“You blow your nose in that tonight?” said Arnie.

Phil thought about it.

“Twice,” he said.

“It'll have to do,” said Arnie, grabbing it.

HOLMAN APPROACHED THE DOORWAY TO THE platform, TEC-9 in hand. Kaz was right behind him. Holman could see most of the platform now, and it troubled him somewhat that neither Rebar nor Tark was visible. He stopped at the doorway, looked back at Kaz, then stuck his head out.

“Come ON, man,” said Tark, his voice causing Holman to jerk his head to the left, where Tark was standing, his back against the ship, his gun at his side.

Holman hesitated, not liking this.

“Come ON,” repeated Tark. “Let's get the fuck
outta
here. Where's Kaz?”

“Where's Rebar?” said Holman.

“In the Zodiac,” said Tark, pointing to the left.

Holman hesitated, then slipped his finger inside the trigger guard, then took a step forward, which was what he needed in order to see over the platform to where the inflatable was tied. It took him only a half second to see that Rebar wasn't in the inflatable, and to start his turn toward Tark. But that was a quarter-second too long. Tark's three shots caught him—
pop
belly
pop
chest
pop
chest—before he could squeeze his trigger, and in another second Holman had joined the growing population of dead thugs on the stern platform.

Tark didn't watch the body fall. His eyes were riveted on the doorway. Ten seconds passed, twenty. Nothing.

“OK,” Tark shouted. “WE CAN SPLIT IT, FIFTY-FIFTY.”

Nothing.

Tark
knew
Kaz was in there. “I DID YOU A FAVOR, GETTING RID OF THEM,” he shouted. “DON' T TELL ME YOU NEVER THOUGHT OF IT.”

Inside the doorway, Kaz almost smiled. He
had
thought of it. Half of the pie. But he'd seen enough of Tark to know there was no chance of a deal.

“OK,” he shouted. “YOU GOT A DEAL.”

“OK,” shouted Tark. He moved quietly to his left, to the body of Manny Arquero. He took the AK-47 out of Manny's stiffening hands and moved back to the side of the doorway. He shouted, “I'M GONNA PUT MY GUN DOWN WHERE YOU CAN SEE IT, OK?”

Tark put his TEC-9 on the platform and shoved it with his foot. It slid in front of the doorway.

“OK,” he shouted. “NOW COME ON AND LET'S GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE.”

Thirty seconds passed.

“WE CAN'T STAY HERE ALL NIGHT, MAN,” said Tark.

Twenty seconds passed.

OK, Tark decided, Kaz was smarter than the other two. He glanced over at the Zodiac. Four steps and a jump, he'd be in it. If he was quiet, Kaz wouldn't know he'd left the doorway until he had the boat untied and drifting away. Then he'd make some noise, bring Kaz out. Kaz would
have
to come out, because he'd know Tark was getting away with all the money. But Tark would have the advantage then, because he knew where Kaz would be, and Kaz would have to find him, in the dark. He'd shoot Kaz, start the Zodiac outboard, come back and untie his boat, sink it. It could still work.

And it probably would have worked, exactly as Tark had figured it, except that when he shoved off from the wall, he slipped on the wet platform. And though he caught himself before he went down, the barrel of his gun thumped loudly against the platform. Tark was up again and running in an instant, but Kaz, who had anticipated that Tark would make a run for the Zodiac—What else could he do?—heard the thump, and was out of the doorway in an instant. It was an easy shot, close range, Tark with his back to him and no way to fire back. Kaz, not wanting to shoot the inflatable, took the time to bring his TEC-9 up and aim carefully.

Which is what he was doing when Jock, still naked, still moving fast, came barreling out of the doorway, directly into Kaz, who lurched violently sideways, off the edge of the platform and into the Atlantic Ocean.