Rumble Tumble (18 page)

29

We made our way to the big tin hangar. We had parked our car and Bill’s truck in there. Irvin finally caught up with us. He had a key to the shed and he unlocked it. When he pulled the bolt back, Leonard put Tillie down, gave me the Winchester, helped Irvin open the huge doors. Leonard picked Tillie up again, and we went inside.

When we were just in the door, the lights came on.

The shed was full of very large men in very nice suits that had dust on them. One of the very large men was Wilber. He was the only one that didn’t have on a nice suit. He had on a cheap suit. He was still wearing his neck brace. He looked like a whiplashed Kodiak bear that had just finished shopping a Sears sale.

One of the men wore a charcoal gray suit with a dark gray shirt and gray and blue tie with red highlights on it. His hair was combed down tight and he had the faintest touch of whiskery shadow. He was smoking a cigar, sitting on an old stool that came with the shed. He had a handkerchief draped over the stool and his ass was on that.

It was Big Jim, and his expression was somewhere between amused and amazed. He had his legs crossed just right so as not to ruin the crease. His shoes appeared to be brand-new. He was looking past us, out the open doors at the blazing plane.

All the big men, except Jim, had big guns. They closed in behind us and pointed their big guns and took the Winchester from me. I didn’t try to fight. That would have been useless. Red, bleeding slightly from the head wound Leonard had given him, smiled, limped over, and stood by one of the big men. He looked as happy as an erect dick.

We were searched then. The man who searched Brett spent too much time at it. Leonard had been forced to place Tillie on the ground, and the same man went over and pulled up her shirt and looked at her for a moment.

I said, “They call them women.”

The big man grinned at me and held the big automatic he was carrying against his leg and tapped it there, as if trying to decide if shooting me would be more fun than beating me to death.

Big Jim got off the stool, walked past us, stood at the open door and watched the plane burn. He said, “We heard it, but I hate to say we missed it. Anyone get killed?”

“One,” I said.

“Ah,” Big Jim said, “I’d say that’s pretty good odds. One out of all of you. ’Course, you look like hell, and surviving that isn’t going to do you any good.”

“Red told you we’d be here, didn’t he?” I said.

“That’s right,” Big Jim said. “He called us from someplace in Mexico. Some cantina, wasn’t it, Red?”

“Yes, sir,” Red said, still a happy erection.

Big Jim went back to his stool. He sat down on it and puffed his cigar. He pulled the cigar from his mouth and pointed the red end in Leonard’s and my direction. “You know, it took some balls, you guys to come into my whorehouse like that, shoot Moose in the foot, take my midget. Real balls. I respect that. Really. But, it pisses me off too. Red here, he says he wasn’t part of it, but you know, I got to wonder.”

Red suddenly looked considerably less erect. “I was kidnapped, Big Jim. Really.”

Big Jim looked at Wilber. Wilber didn’t move a muscle, didn’t flick an eyelash. Big Jim pursed his lips and turned his attention back to Red. “Wilber thinks maybe you were in with them.”

“What!” Red said. “No way. No way, Big Jim.”

“That’s Mr. Big Jim to your little red ass,” Big Jim said.

“He wasn’t in on anything,” Herman said.

“Herman,” Big Jim said. “Good to see you. Been a long fuckin’ time. I think the Bandito Supremes should have blown your brains out a long time ago. I think maybe they’re not as tough as they say. Don’t know how much longer I’m going to associate with them. Red here called to tell me he was down in Mexico. He didn’t expect you folks to return. But just in case, he wanted to tell me all about you so he could weasel his way back up my ass. I see you folks got Tillie back. My presumption is you found The Farm, and they were all ripped to the tits. Am I correct?”

“Correct,” Herman said.

“That’s no way to run a business. Personally, I don’t allow my men to indulge like that. These Bandito Supremes, they been trading on their reps too long.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Red said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Red,” Big Jim said. “Way I see it, I got a whole nest of rotten eggs here. I got the stoned whore who wanted out of my business, then didn’t finish her punishment at The Farm. I got the guys came into my whorehouse and shot the foot off Moose. Moose!”

The man Leonard had shot limped from the back. His expensive pant leg was cut back and he was wearing a cast on his foot with metal braces.

“See Moose there,” Big Jim said. “He’s got to wear that … what is it, Moose? Six weeks?”

Moose nodded.

“That’s a bad thing to do,” Big Jim said. “You guys coming in there like that, causing a ruckus, shooting Moose. He had to rip up some good pants. What, two suits, Moose?”

“Two suits,” Moose said.

“Antics like that do not encourage business. That wasn’t enough, you go down and get my whore from associates of mine who I was letting use her. I don’t like that. And you take my dwarf.”

“Midget, sir,” Red said.

Big Jim glanced at Red, turned back to us. “You took my dwarf. I don’t like that. He may not be worth much, he may even be a traitor—”

“No sir, Big Jim,” Red said. “No, sir.”

Big Jim turned and looked at Red again, said, “Red, I hear your mouth without asking you to say anything, I’ll have you killed. Maybe I’ll stuff you, put you in my office for a hat rack. Got me?”

“Yes, sir,” Red said.

“Now, where was I? Oh yeah, you come and get my gnome. You maybe convinced him to help you out. Could have been working with you all along. I don’t like that. Can’t let shit like that go. And look what you done? You’ve implicated others. I got to kill this other guy now. Who are you, anyway?”

“Irvin. I flew the plane. I’m just someone they hired.”

“Too bad, Irvin. The whore, she goes back to work. The woman here, maybe she and me could work something out. I think she could pull some change.”

“Not likely,” Brett said.

“All right,” Big Jim said, “then you get popped too. And Herman, I got to kill you, man. You know how it is? Once you start letting people get away with shit, well, it goes wild. Red here, and Wilber. I forgave them. Let them come back, and it’s been nothing but dog shit and piss water ever since. In Wilber’s case, that’s okay. He’s a moron. Right, Wilber?”

Wilber’s face jumped slightly, but he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, a moron. But the leprechaun here, he knew what he was doing and he talked the moron into it. I shouldn’t have let the little shit come back, you know. Like midgets are bad luck anyway, and now, I don’t know. Maybe Red had something to do with all this, maybe not. Maybe he’s just trying to snake back in ’cause things didn’t go the way he wanted. Like with the Tulsa whorehouse. I think wiping him out, that’s a way for me to correct an old mistake I should have fixed some time ago. Sometimes I’m too big-hearted, you know?”

I glanced at Red. He was trembling inside his ruined cowboy suit. It was the first time I believe I had actually seen him afraid.

“Well,” Leonard said. “You gonna do it, or just talk us to death?”

“Ooooh,” Big Jim said. “Feisty. You been watching too much TV, my man. You been seeing too many talky niggers. Where I come from a nigger is still a nigger.”

“Where you come from, fuckin’ your dog and your mother are legal,” Leonard said. “Or having your dog fuck your mother. It’s all the same, ain’t it?”

“Boy,” said Big Jim, “you really want to die, don’t you?”

“Beats having you bore me to death,” Leonard said.

“Like I was sayin’,” Big Jim said, “you and this fella here, you got balls. But, unfortunately for you, they aren’t bulletproof.”

“I didn’t do anything but fly them,” Irvin said. “They paid me and I did it. I didn’t know what they were going to do.”

“Shut up,” Big Jim said. “You think it matters? This shed, it’s going to look like the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, I get through here. I got more bullets here than all of you got brain cells. What I got here? Eight guys? Lots of guns. All you dipshits got are your asses.”

“Excuse me, Big Jim,” said one of the men, “but that fire, it might draw someone.”

Big Jim nodded. “We’re far out, Hector. But you’re right. Might as well get this over with. I believe Wilber would like the opportunity to kill … what’s your name?” Big Jim pointed to me.

“Hap,” I said. “Hap Collins.”

“He didn’t like the way you treated him in a hotel room,” Big Jim said. “That right, moron? A hotel room, wasn’t it?”

Wilber said, “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, I bet he didn’t,” I said, “ ’cause I whipped his ass. And I kicked it at the whorehouse too.”

“There you are,” Big Jim said. “Wilber didn’t like that. Go ahead and shoot him, Wilber.”

“I could have taken you, you hadn’t had a gun on me,” Wilber said, and he pointed his automatic at me.

“You and about ten like you,” I said.

Big Jim said, “Whoa! You really think you could take him, Mr. Hap?”

I nodded.

“What about you, Wilber,” Big Jim said. “What do you think?”

“I could take him,” Wilber said.

“You really want to fight him, don’t you, Wilber?” Big Jim said.

“Yeah, I’ll fight him,” Wilber said. “Right now.”

“I guess you would,” Leonard said. “Hap’s hurt. He wasn’t hurt, he’d wipe your honky motherfucker’s shit on the wall.”

Big Jim looked about at his entourage. He grinned. They grinned. Red couldn’t decide if he ought to shit or go blind.

Big Jim settled his gaze on Leonard, said, “You want to take Wilber instead?”

“Yeah,” Leonard said. “I’ve just traveled from here to Mexico, fought it out with a bunch of would-be bad-asses, eaten badly, slept badly, crashed in a plane on my way back, so I ought to be tuckered just enough to make it a little more of a contest for fat boy here.”

Wilber steamed.

Big Jim chuckled. “Hey, you’re on.”

“What for?” Leonard said. “Just to get shot afterward? What’s the point?”

“You win, I let you go,” Big Jim said.

Leonard shook his head. “You a man of your word, Big Jim?”

“You trying to gamble with me?” Big Jim said.

“You let me and this walking stack of dog shit fight,” Leonard said, “and I win, you got to let me and my man go here. You got to let the woman and the whore go too. Toss in Irvin here ’cause he’s stupid. Herman too. The midget, I don’t give a shit.”

“I give you your life,” Big Jim said.

“Not good enough,” Leonard said.

Big Jim shook his head. “I’m going to hate myself in the morning. Okay. I give you Hap, the pilot, the woman, and the whore. Take Herman too. Red, I got plans for.”

Red studied Big Jim’s face, hoping to see some sign that the plans were positive, but the expression he hoped to see just wasn’t there.

“What I say,” Big Jim said, “is this. You two fight. One can’t stand up when it’s over is the loser. My man loses, I let everyone but the troll go.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Red,” Herman said.

Big Jim turned to look at Herman. “Have it your way.” Then back to us. “You lose, colored fella, I got to shoot you all. But I’ll make it quick. Promise. I got to tell you, gambling, it’s my vice. You got me by the short hairs on that. My wife tells me I’ll bet on anything and that I’m too good-hearted. She’s right.”

Leonard said, “Let me speak to my people.”

“Snap it up,” Big Jim said. “This plane fire, it could cause problems. Another minute, this offer’s no good.”

Leonard eased over to us, unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it on the ground. He and Brett helped me to stand. Leonard said, “I don’t know he’ll keep his word or not. It’s all we got, though.”

“You’re bushed,” I said.

“It’s not like we got a choice,” Leonard said. “Right now you couldn’t whip a three-year-old in a straitjacket.”

“Come on,” Big Jim said. “Enough whispering. Do it.”

30

They closed the back door and two suits stood there as guards. The others spread out in a circle around us and Big Jim moved his stool back a few paces. Red slid up against the wall, trying to blend his molecules with it so that he might pass through.

Wilber took off his cheap jacket and tossed it over the side of Bill’s pickup bed. He unbuttoned his shirt at the neck and rolled up his sleeves. Wilber gestured at me, said to Leonard, “It’s not gonna be as much fun hittin’ you as him.”

“I’ll try to make you laugh,” Leonard said.

“He’s twice Leonard’s size,” Brett whispered to me.

“If Leonard isn’t too tired, it’ll be all right,” I said.

Wilber had his legs spread wide and his fist clenched. I could tell then he didn’t know shit about technique. Probably never had to use any. When you’re that big and strong you can get away with lack of technique.

Leonard didn’t adopt any stance or posture. He just sort of eased toward Wilber. Wilber suddenly kicked out with his right leg, a stiff, but hard and fast kick. Leonard scooped it up with his left arm and lifted and pushed backward. Wilber flopped to the dirt floor, rolled and came up. Leonard slid into a loose stance, bobbed a little like a boxer.

Wilber grinned at him. This was all great fun. He eased in and threw a wild right. Had it hit Leonard, it would probably have knocked his head somewhere just south of Mexico City.

But Leonard went under the punch, stuck a right in Wilber’s ribs, whipped a left to the kidney. Wilber took it well, came around with a backhand swipe that brushed the top of Leonard’s head. Leonard hit Wilber with a right uppercut, but Wilber hit Leonard with a left, a chopping blow just over the ear. It sent Leonard to the ground. Wilber kicked him then. Hit him in the face, full blast. Leonard rolled with it as much as possible, but it was a good shot and a spray of blood went wide in the dull lights of the hangar.

Leonard lay on his back, his face bleeding. Wilber planted kick after kick in Leonard’s side. Finally Leonard rolled into a kick, got hold of Wilber’s leg, and pushed him down. They rolled on the concrete for a moment, then Leonard stuck a finger in Wilber’s eye, got loose, got up.

Wilber had a hand over his eye. “You sonofabitch,” he said.

He came at Leonard with a wild football kick. Leonard scooped the kick up, twisted, rolled Wilber on his stomach. Leonard stepped over Wilber’s leg while he held it, pushed his chest against it and went down. There was a cracking sound like you might hear from a china vase just dropped from an aircraft. It was Wilber’s knee going out. Wilber screamed, and Leonard, still locking the leg, bent forward and slipped his arm around Wilber’s neck, around the brace, slid his hand into the crook of his other arm and locked that behind Wilber’s head.

Wilber was strong and the neck brace kept Leonard from cutting into Wilber’s throat with a forearm. Wilber got his hands under him, pushed up enough to roll on his back. But it didn’t matter. Leonard lost the leg lock somehow and the ruined leg thrashed out to Wilber’s side as Leonard rolled on his back and hooked his heels inside Wilber’s thighs and kept choking.

Wilber thrashed and clawed at Leonard’s arms so hard he drew blood, but Leonard didn’t let go. He just lay on his back with his head pressed tight against the base of Wilber’s head, and he kept squeezing. You could see the muscles in his forearms and biceps swell. Leonard moved his foot once, just enough to pop Wilber in the testicles, enough to weaken him. But by that time he didn’t really need it. Wilber wasn’t clawing anymore. His eyes were sticking way out of his skull and his tongue was skating over his lips. A thin trickle of blood was running out of one nostril and there was a bead of it on his bottom lip.

Leonard flexed even more. The brace was past working for Wilber. Leonard had put so much pressure into it, the brace was beginning to bend, making an indentation for Leonard’s forearm.

Leonard turned his head slowly and looked at Big Jim on his stool. Big Jim studied the situation for a moment, made a cutting motion with his hand.

Leonard let go of Wilber, rolled out from under him. Wilber lay on the ground heaving, trying to get his breath back.

Leonard stood up and looked at Big Jim.

Big Jim looked around the room, at us, at his men. He put his cold cigar back in his mouth and pawed around in his suit for his lighter. He lit the cigar and puffed.

“How much money you got?” he asked Leonard.

“What?” Leonard said.

“How much money you got, all of you?” Big Jim said.

Leonard and I had some change, Brett had a few dollars, and Irvin had what was left of the money we had given him. Most of it he had pissed out on the ground after it had turned to beer and then pesos at the cantina.

I said, “Bill’s body’s out there. He might have some money on him.”

“No,” Big Jim said. “We’ll leave him like he is.”

Moose clunked over on his braces and cast, took all our money, bundled it up in one hand, and carried it to Big Jim.

“I got to have something for my troubles,” Big Jim said. He counted out the money, frowned, put it in his coat pocket. “I don’t like to do a deal where I lose completely. I drove all the way down from Oklahoma for this, and now I’m just going to let you go. But this way I make a little money, and I got Red. Which is what I really wanted. And, I guess I got Herman. Herman, you still have your chance too. I give you that. Red stays. You go.”

Herman nodded. “I can’t go without Red. You still want to gamble, I’ll fight anyone for Red’s life.”

“Nope,” Big Jim said. “That didn’t work out so good. Once a night is enough. Someone go over there and get Wilber up. Get his coat. Put him in the car. We’ll stop in town, get him a soda.”

Two of Big Jim’s men picked up Wilber’s coat, got hold of Wilber. He screamed in agony when he was lifted. As they carried him along, his leg dragged behind like the tail of a dead animal. They opened the front door and helped him outside.

“This whole thing,” Big Jim said. “It’s soured my stomach. You know, I’m really a pretty nice guy. I like to give breaks. I’m forgiving. But sometimes, well, you got to know when to cut your losses.”

Big Jim reached inside his coat and took out an automatic, said, “Hey, dwarf!”

Red looked at him and Big Jim pulled the trigger. Red’s head slammed against the tin wall and the wall went scarlet and Red melted to the floor like butter running off the side of a griddle.

Herman bellowed, charged at Big Jim. Big Jim swiveled slightly on his stool and shot Herman in the head. Herman’s charge knocked Big Jim off the stool and Herman came down on top of him.

Two bodyguards leaped forward, grabbed Herman, yanked him off of Jim, rolled him on the ground and shot him several times.

Big Jim said, “He’s dead, you fools. He was dead when I shot him.”

Big Jim got his feet under him, put his automatic back inside his suit coat and began to brush himself off. One of the bodyguards came over and helped him. Big Jim let him. When he was brushed off he took the handkerchief off the stool and used it to wipe his shoes. He gave the handkerchief to one of his men, turned to us.

“I shouldn’t have made a deal like that with you guys,” he said. “It was stupid. I thought Wilber could take you, colored man. I thought he’d wipe the place up with you.”

“Maybe he had an off day,” Leonard said.

Big Jim grinned. “No. I don’t think so. All right, ya’ll get the whore, get your asses out of here. I don’t want to see you no more. I hear from you, I see your faces, whatever, all bets are off. Got me?”

We nodded.

Leonard put on his shirt without buttoning it, picked up Tillie and carried her and put her in the back seat of the car. With Brett’s assistance I went after them and leaned against the hood.

Irvin walked past us. He said, “I don’t want to never see any of you again. Ever.”

Outside, the two bodyguards were putting Wilber into the back of a black Cadillac. There was another black Cadillac parked under the tree next to Irvin’s truck.

Irvin got in his truck, started it up, and drove away.

Brett sat with Tillie’s head in her lap. I used the car to brace myself and got around to the passenger’s side. Leonard got behind the wheel. He said, “Shit, no keys.”

“There’s a spare in a magnetic box,” Brett said. “It’s stuck up under the dash there, to the left of the steering wheel.”

Leonard found it and we drove out of the hangar.

I turned to look back. Flames from the plane were licking up higher than the hangar. The big men in their nice suits were escorting Jim out to the Cadillac under the tree. He got in and they closed the door. A few of the men got in the same car. The others opened up the trunk of the Cadillac where Wilber waited, then went back inside the hangar.

As we eased away, I saw them come out of the hangar carrying something. The sun shone brightly on the red hair of that something. They dumped Red into the trunk and returned to the hangar.

“Drive very fast,” I said.