Underbelly (18 page)

She bared teeth at him.

Magrady continued. “Nakano had already cooked this up. Though why he would come to the both of you to steal the head … oh,” he paused. “You were bangin' the boss.”

Sally Chambers jerked the gun upward at Magrady but Nakano gently placed a hand on her arm. The SubbaKhan executive said tersely, “What will it take to satisfy you, Mr. Magrady?”

“Twenty, no twenty-five thousand for all the bullshit y'all put me through.”

“Everybody's got their hand out,” Sally Chambers sneered.

“So fill it,” he said.

“And if we don't?”

“You gonna do me like you did Savoirfaire, Sally?”

Her brother gripped his wheels, tightly. “Get off that, Em.”

Magrady continued. “She did him, didn't she? She took care of that clown. I know like a fat man loves Ding Dongs, Savoirfaire had a thing for your baby sis, huh? He'd invite her over to his crib to talk things over, licking his lips like the puffed up fool he was.”

Nakano and Sally Chambers exchanged indecipherable looks.

The sister charged forward, the gun on Magrady. “Stop talking like I'm not here, asshole.”

He put up his hands and took a few steps away from her. “Okay, all right, my bad, Annie Oakley. Don't shoot.”

Nakano began, “Look, let's reason this out.”

Magrady pretended to stumble walking backward, falling to the floor sideways on his hip. As he did he stuck a hand in his jacket pocket and blew out a hole with his service automatic. If he was a better shot, he would have been clever and took out the light switch like he'd seen in this '50s crime movie with Charles McGraw. But he knew his limitations and instead aimed above Sally Chambers' head, getting her to duck. He scrambled on his stomach and knees and came up in a crouch behind Floyd Chambers' chair.

“Please, please, this isn't necessary,” Nakano pleaded. “Sally, honey, we can resolve this.”

“How, Wake,” she yelled. “Money?”

“Yes,” he said testily. “Isn't that always the answer for what ails us?”

“But he knows, Wake,” she insisted.

“Shut up, Sally,” her brother said. He looked over his shoulder. “We can work this out, right, Em?” Sweat dripped off his strained face.

“Tell her to drop the heater,” Magrady demanded.

“Fuck that,” she snorted. “Get out from behind my brother.”

Magrady had a tight grip on Floyd Chambers' upper shoulder, his gun peaking from around the seated man. “What about that dough, Wakefield?”

“Yes, come on, let's all get a grip.” He stood away from the desk, his hands out like a man signaling to halt an oncoming vehicle. “This is bigger than just matters of greed.”

“Oh, I'm greedy now,” Sally Chambers blurted. “Sorry I don't have the wonderful magic grand vision you have … hon. Guess you can take the girl out of the ghetto and all that.”

“Look, baby, this is so much more than that. You know what this means to me.”

“And what about me?” she demanded.

“Y'all got issues.” Magrady shot upright and raising his foot, propelled Floyd Chambers into his sister. She fired her gun at him but the Vietnam vet went flat and shot her in the thick of her thigh. She howled and bent over to grab her leg as her brother took the gun from her hand.

“That's enough, Sal.”

Nakano had the head cradled like a football under his arm and was already through another doorway. Magrady chased after him, briefly taking in brother and sister holding on to each other as he ran after the escaping man and the head of the lost Aztec, Talmock.

Wakefield Nakano was already through a metal door at the end of the hallway, opposite from where from where Magrady had entered. He ran after the CEO, sorry that he didn't work out more and lamenting his advancing years. But damn that. Old ass notwithstanding, he was going to catch this clown and shake some answers out of him.

Magrady leaned his shoulder to the door and popped the crash bar. He stepped into a dimly lit narrow stairwell where he could hear Nakano's footsteps descending. Having the advantage of empty hands, Magrady grabbed the railing on either side of the stairs and was able to jump over several steps at a time by hoisting himself aloft and sliding down. Still, when he reached the bottom, Nakano had made it out the exit.

Close on him, Magrady found himself back outside in the cold and fog. Security lights snapped on as his body triggered their sensors but little of their illumination pierced the soup. Momentarily disoriented, he crept forward, straining to hear and locate himself. He was glad there weren't alarms whooping or security guards around to interfere. Nakano must have seen to that. For this was his mission to complete. Magrady didn't give a shit about headlines or glory or getting his face on the nightly news. It just felt so goddamn good he'd stuck with this from start to finish—even if that meant him winding up face down or doing a jolt in the joint. He'd seen it through and he couldn't say that about much else in several years.

Stalking forward in the muck, his shoes sounded dully on the asphalt. Feeling to his left his hand came upon the moist metal skin of the arena. Logic told him they must have come out
somewhere near Nakano's Mercedes. Or at least that's where he'd have to be heading. Magrady concentrated to call up the layout of the stadium's perimeter in his head. He debated yelling for El Cid. That's when something disturbed the space in front of him causing him to instinctively rear back.

Magrady swung his fist but only went through air, the form having evaporated. Whatever Nakano had swung at him he was pretty sure it wasn't the plastic case with Talmock's head in it. He wouldn't mess up his prize. He also had the impression the exec hadn't done all this just to have the artifact for some sort of secret collection. But this wasn't the time to be distracted. He turned to his right, expecting Nakano to come at him on the flank. That's what he'd do. The form reappeared before him.

Magrady lashed out with his foot chest high and earned a grunt from his adversary. But he retreated again into the pall. How the fuck was this chump pinpointing him, Magrady wondered. Was that goddamn head responsible? Maybe it really did have magic properties and was talking to him. Shit.

Magrady smiled grimly at that notion as he crouched and holding his arms out, swept the area in front of him as he darted this way and that. He collided with Nakano who whapped the vet on his forearm with an object.

“Fuck,” he hollered. Nakano had hit him with a polo mallet. Figures. He must have had it in his car. Gritting his teeth from the pain, Magrady ducked below away the mallet aimed at his head, having heard it whistle toward him. Nakano could have driven away but decided to stay and fight it out. He wanted to punish him for interfering. Where was the peace and calmness in that?

The blunt mallet arched out of the fog again and banged Magrady on his bicep as he turned his body trying unsuccessfully to avoid the blow. Ignoring the throbbing in his arm, he lunged and almost got his arms around the executive. But the other man was elusive and jammed a knee into the underside of Magrady's jaw. Down on all fours, he rolled and the mallet struck him on the back of his shoulder blades.

“Defiler,” Nakano said as Magrady latched on to his ankle and yanked, causing the younger man to stumble backward but not go over.

Magrady got to his feet. Each circled the other, no more than five feet apart. Plenty of room for that polo-lovin' prick to hit him again he assessed unemotionally. “The fuck you talking about, Nakano? What's this ugly-ass mummy head mean to you?”

“Don't pretend with me, Magrady. I see what this is. That's why you haven't used your gun. I might have hidden the head and if I'm dead, you might not find it in time.”

“Glad you've seen through me.” He hesitated threatening to shoot a man with Nakano's considerable resources. But whatever it was about Talmock's head, it had him in thrall. He held the plastic mallet tight in his hand at an angle from his body, ready to strike. “Why'd you want the head back so badly, man?”

“The same reason you want it. You know its promise. Why else would somebody like you keep at this? Why you mustn't stop me,” Nakano asserted.

“Wakefield,” Sally Chambers yelled through the fog.

Magrady couldn't pinpoint her. “I've got people here too, Nakano,” he told the other man, implying the authorities were on their way. Of course the last damn thing either he or El Cid would do was call the law. But Floyd's sister might have talked her big bro into giving her back her piece and that made him nervous.

Suddenly Nakano was in front of him and was swinging the mallet at his rib cage. Magrady tucked in his arm and took the hit on his elbow, earning an audible crack of bone. But he put what he had into a punch with his left hand, and tagged the SubbaKhan chief flush on the face. His right arm was tingling with numbness but Magrady pressed on. He threw his body into Nakano's, knocking him over. Standing over him, he reached across and pulled his gun free from his jacket pocket.

“Let go of the mallet or I let one loose in your kneecap.”

Nakano stared up at him with disgust but did as ordered.

Behind him Magrady sensed a presence and from the look on Nakano's face, he could tell it wasn't Sally Chambers. He said, “Glad you made it, El. Better keep sharp, there's a pissed off sister limping around with a bullet I put in her and a gat she knows how to use. Floyd's here too.”

“On it,” he said and allowed the fog to envelope him as he faded away to look for the sister.

“What happened between the time Talmock's head was dug up and you turning it over to the university and now?” Magrady asked Nakano who stood up. “Why all this to get it back? And what promise are you talking about?”

The executive smiled like a man with the winning hand. “So you really don't know.”

Magrady resisted the impulse to slap him silly with the barrel of the gun. “That all you got to say?”

Nakano chuckled mirthlessly, “It would seem.” He adopted a shrewd look. “I should probably call my lawyer.”

“Fuck that,” Magrady said and advanced, giving in to impulse. “You don't get to hide behind your $600-an-hour shysters, Nakano. I'm going to get the goddamn truth out of you.” Magrady jabbed the gun in Nakano's stomach like Boo Boo had done him.

“Told you play time was over,” Magrady growled at Nakano's surprised face.

Before the assault escalated, Floyd Chambers rushed out of the fog in his wheelchair and collided with Magrady. He tumbled into Chambers' lap and the wheelchair fell over on its side. Nakano ran away as Chambers used his overdeveloped arms to grapple with his the vet.

“Come on, Floyd, cut this shit out.”

“Can't let you ef up my payday, man.”

Magrady felt bad but clubbed him on the top of his head with the butt of the .45, dazing him and allowing the vet to scramble loose. The Mercedes' engine turned over and its headlights reflected on the ever-present grey, coming in their direction. Magrady turned and dragged Chambers out of the way as the car careened through the thick mist, the passenger side missing them by inches. Magrady's back to the wall, the car scraped against the side of the stadium ahead of them. Nakano looked back but Magrady had raised his gun. Nakano roared away. Magrady was glad. He knew damn well Nakano's lawyers would have put him away for the rest of his sorry-ass natural life if he'd have put a slug in the CEO.

El Cid appeared before him, smiling.

LAPD C
APTAIN
L
OREN
S
TOVER
shook a finger at Magrady. “I don't believe a goddamn thing you have to say.”

“Like I give a fuck.”

“Gentlemen,” attorney Gordon Walters said in a soothing tone, “let's try to keep the rancor at a minimum, shall we?”

Hands on his hips, Stover stalked around the interrogation room inside the Nickel Squad's headquarters in the former Greyhound Bus station. “You don't have any evidence supporting this bullshit claim of yours that Sally Chambers did in said unfortunate.”

Sitting side by side at a metal table with a handcuff rail, Walters put a hand on Magrady's arm to stop him from reacting and spoke. “Investigating this is not our job, Captain. The fact remains that there are witnesses placing Chambers and his sister at the gallery, coupled with my client's assertion that they stole the mummified head and delivered same to the now missing Wakefield Nakano.”

“Who Dolemite here might have knocked off like he did Savoirfaire,” Stover added.

“As you would say, there is no evidence supporting that claim,” Walters countered. “There is evidence, as Mr. Magrady has said, Nakano came at him and Floyd Chambers with his vehicle. I have the results of the paint scrapings taken from Bixby Stadium and they match the factory batch of paint used on the model of the Mercedes registered to Mr. Nakano.”

“That could have been from anything. He backed up and accidentally hit the side of the building.”

“Find him and ask him, Captain.” Walters looked at Magrady who stared at Stover. “But so far the district attorney has not charged my client nor do I believe in light of these new facts that he has unearthed, will he do so.”

“Isn't that lovely?” Stover mumbled, glaring at an ochre-colored wall.

“We're done for now, Captain.” Walters and Magrady rose.

At the door Magrady said, “Hey, Stover.”

“What, numbnuts?”

Genially he asked, “You ever suck a dick sweeter than mine?”

It took Walters and two uniforms to separate Magrady and Stover.