Urban Renewal (22 page)

“Terrorists, they hit anywhere. Maybe within a certain city or whatever. But who ever heard of terrorists who only work certain blocks?”

“What’s your point?” Cross replied to Tiger.

“You’re going to just roam around Chicago and blast people? I don’t think so.”

“We could find plenty of legit targets a few streets over.”

“Some people
need
killing,” Ace said.

“But we won’t have to go that far,” Cross said. “We just have to make a few dents on either side.”

“So we
are
going to wear sheets?”

“No. Just hoods. Like this,” Cross said, pulling out a crude drawing of a man in a white shirt, worn long and outside his pants. The man was wearing a black hood, with a white quasi-astrological sign on the forehead.

“That looks like Sweetie!” Princess was excited, but whether pleased or enraged was hard to tell.

“Sweetie is a purebred Akita,” Tracker said quietly. “But not from Japan. Only American Akitas have a black head on a white body.”

“I don’t care where he’s from,” Princess said, his voice close to breaking. “The black portion is called a ‘mask,’ ”

Tracker continued. “So it is as though your dog was sending us a message … a technique we had not considered.”

“Yeah!” Princess exclaimed, the trace of sadness instantly erased, replaced by his back-to-normal voice of childlike enthusiasm.

If Cross was bothered by the implication that he got his plan from a dog, it didn’t show on his face.

“
I DON
’
T
like this much, boss,” Buddha complained.

“What now?”

“We got the best car for this kind of work there ever was. But now we’re all wedged into this … stupid thing.”

“It’s an Escalade, brother. Plenty of room.”

“It’s a
stolen
damn Escalade. So no way the owner isn’t going to report it stolen. Even with the switched plates …”

“It’s not stolen until he
says
it is. And he’ll never know. We just borrowed it from the Valet Parking lot. Tiger’s going to make sure the owner doesn’t leave the club before two in the morning.”

“Yeah,
there’s
a good choice. She’s likely to make sure the sap doesn’t leave the club at all.”

“Buddha,” Cross said, his voice only lightly tinged with impatience, “we can’t use the Shark Car. It’s too valuable
to risk. This way, we have all kinds of options if the wheels come off.”

“What? Just pile out and make a run for it?”

“It’s less than half a dozen blocks, brother. You can run that far. And who’s going to chase us?”

“I still say—”

“One more block,” Tracker warned, taking up his position by the rear passenger window.

Buddha downshifted, stomped the gas pedal to the floor, then slipped the shift lever into neutral as he removed his foot from the gas and killed the headlights. Despite his protests, he had prepared the drive-by car for its mission: tires pumped up to fifty PSI to decrease rolling resistance, with a quick coat of dull matte “dust” sprayed over the wheels, and the brake lights disconnected.

The claret Escalade coasted soundlessly into the next block. It was virtually invisible—all the streetlights had long since been disabled by the moronic random gunfire of the mini-gang that believed this was a way of showing face. An absolute requirement for all genuine gangstahs such as themselves.

“My side,” Cross whispered. “Three on the steps of the yellow house, white jackets—”

“Acquired,” Tracker responded.

The Escalade rolled on past, leaving one less gangstah on the steps—the one who had immediately dived inside the house when he saw the two on his right drop.

Buddha was already back on the throttle.

“
SO WHAT
did we get out of all that, boss?”

“We’re not dealing with hard-core bangers here. Sure,
they’re willing to shoot, but they’re not fighters—it’s not like we just invaded the projects.”

“Still …”

“All we want is to push the buffer zone back a few blocks. Shouldn’t take a whole lot more of this to persuade whoever’s left.”

“So you want me to just circle around and—”

“Yeah, why not? It’s not like
that
side is gonna warn the other side. The car’s already set for work, and we have to get it back before too much longer. So let’s get it done.”

“
PRINCESS WANTED
to come,” Rhino squeaked from the back seat.

“It’s not time for him yet.”

“I know. But …”

“You know the plan, brother. First, we take out a couple on each side. Whoever’s easiest. Okay, that’s done. Half done, anyway. Next, we let them get a look at the black hoods. And if that doesn’t do it,
then
we use Princess.”

“Use?”

“What’s your problem?”

“I just … I guess I just don’t like the way that sounds.”

“That is how Cross speaks,” Tracker said. “He is only saying that each of us possesses skills which should be put to their best and highest use.”

“As a decoy?”

“No. You are being unreasonable, Rhino. Would you be the best among us to scale a building?”

“I … Yeah, okay, I get it. But sometimes I just feel like
we’ve all been used enough. No matter how good we might be at one thing or another.”

“You want to—what—retire?” Cross spoke from the front seat.

“Well, we
could
, right?”

“I’m not an accountant.”

“And you’re not married to So Long,” Buddha said, half under his breath.

“We signed on for this one,” Cross continued. “So we have to finish it. After that, if you and Princess want to—”

“I wasn’t saying anything like that, Cross,” Rhino interrupted, his voice more a rumble than his characteristic squeak. “You and me and Ace, we made a pact. Have I ever not kept it? And, anyway, this job got a whole lot better than just money when Ace said he wanted one of the houses for himself.”

“I know,” Cross said, almost gently. “But I’ve got my obligations, just like you. We
share
those, right? And one of them is to keep Princess alive.”

“What does that have to do with—?”

“That maniac would probably want to jump out of the car,” Buddha cut in. “And even if he didn’t, that cannon of a pistol he carries around would empty a graveyard. Couple of dead bangers taken out with nine-mil slugs, who’s gonna investigate much past that? Occupational hazard. That’s if it even gets reported. But a .600 Nitro Express? They’d hear
that
all the way downtown.”

“Princess could—”

“Back to ‘silent approach,’ ” Buddha said, purposely mocking the fact that the police would never go into gangland without lights blazing and sirens wailing, making sure
everyone had plenty of time to stop their shooting and start running.

The Escalade entered the block in the same mask-mode it had used to slide into the territory of the other gang.

“Four on the far-left corner,” Rhino said, peering through night-vision glasses.

“Try counting them now,” Buddha said seconds later, putting his silenced, night-sighted pistol back on the seat as he wheeled the big Cadillac around the corner.

Neither of the two corner boys still alive saw the car depart—they were lying prone, facedown, just like the dead youths next to them.

“
ABOUT TIME,
”
Tiger snarled at Cross. “If Princess wasn’t such a sweet boy, I would have had to do … I don’t know
what
… to keep him from going out.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. And next time, I get to—”

“If not, the time after. The job is to scare them off, not
kill
them off.”

“Off is off.”

“No. No, it’s not. We start filling up the streets with bodies, the cops are going to have to do something, even if it’s only to get in our way. We have a plan; we’re staying with it.”

“
You
have a plan.”

“Right. I have a plan. You want to work with this crew, my plan’s the
only
plan. You want to go your own way, that’s your choice.
Always
your choice.”

Tiger glanced from Tracker’s flat eyes to Buddha’s uninterested ones. Finally, she shrugged her shoulders. But even that move didn’t change a single man’s facial expression.

Maybe I’m losing my touch
, Tiger thought, laughing inside herself as she contemplated such an impossibility.

“
NOT A
sound from my side,” Ace said.

“Nothing in the news, either,” Rhino added.

“News? Means what, bro? Newspapers, radio, TV …?”

“All of that,” Rhino explained, tapping his laptop. The custom-made job was scaled to the monster, weighing in at a svelte fifteen kilos. “Newspapers are disappearing. Even the ones that still publish, they all have online editions, too … which is probably what
started
them disappearing. Radio stations broadcast over the Net, and you can watch every TV channel there, too.”

“Maybe they bury their dead?” Cross wondered aloud.

“Can’t say for the Latinos, but a
name
crew would do that for sure. Only not like you mean.”