Vengeance is Mine (22 page)
Authors: Reavis Z Wortham
In the gathering dusk, three frustrated hit men sweltered while cicadas sang from the nearby trees.
Michael stuck his elbow out the car window and angled his head to find the source of the backup. He slapped the steering wheel and inched through the congestion. “I hate this hick state. This is October. It's supposed to be cool and I'm sweating like a pig.”
In the backseat, Nicky met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Whatsamatta? We got traffic like this in Kansas City.”
“But it ain't out in the sticks. We get stuck in
city
traffic, sometimes we can go around it on the side streets. Here, you gotta follow this one stinkin' road through the boonies, and look where it led us.” Michael glanced out the window at a pasture. “Cows. Cows and trees.”
“So turn around.”
A steady stream of cars finally rolled in their direction. The southbound backup disappeared into the distance toward Oklahoma. There were no gaps as far as Michael could see. “And go where? The map shows we're only ten miles away.”
Johnny Machine checked over his shoulder. “Back up and let's try anyway.”
Headlights fill the interior. Michael tilted the rearview mirror to get the light out of his eyes. “There's a car right on our bumper.”
“I'll get out and tell them to move.” The Machine yanked the handle on the front passenger door. “Guy oughta have more sense than to bright ya like that.”
“Careful, in this hick state. All these people are armed.” Nicky chuckled. “For all you know, it could be Agrioli back there and he'll shoot you in the face when you open the door.”
“Don't matter.” Michael twirled a finger in the air. “By the time we go halfway around the world to find that house, we'll be lost. This is the best way, and it'll clear up soon. Relax.”
“So howdoya' know where we're goin'?”
Michael shrugged. “Simple. I used the phone book and called every number in the county that belonged to a constable. There's a list of 'em in the Government Section. They all know who's coming in and out of their towns. When I called the one for Center Springs, some kid answered, and when I asked if he knew Tony Agrioli, the kid said sure, that he'd moved into a house behind the country store.”
“Where were
we
?”
“You were all asleep. Your snoring was so loud, I had to use the pay phone hanging outside the motel office. I went through an ass-load of dimes before I got the right place.”
Nicky chuckled. “Wouldn't-a been able to do that in Kansas City. Nobody woulda talked to ya.”
Michael shook a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket. “That's for sure. Looks like everybody trusts everybody out here.”
“It makes our job easier.” Seeing Michael's cigarettes, Nicky unconsciously shook out one of this own.
The Machine pushed in the dashboard lighter until it clicked. “So, these other guys outta Dallas. What's the deal with them?”
“I talked to them a long time on the phone, and they're all right. We do the job, they're insurance. We go in, badda boom, badda bing, and we're outta here and on the way for a week in Vegas.”
The lighter popped out and the Machine lit his, passed it to Michael, and offered it over the backseat. Nicky shook his head. “Uh uh. Three on a match. That's bad luck.”
The Machine looked disgusted. “This is a lighter, dummy. Don't be superstitious. Light the damn thing.”
Nicky flicked his Zippo open. “It don't hurt to be careful. There ain't no need to take chances.”
The Machine snickered. “So these other guys. You think they're stuck in this traffic jam with us?”
Michael killed the engine. “How do I know? I don't know 'em from Adam. They'll be there when we need 'em. Relax.”
Smoke drifted to the rag ceiling overhead, crawled to the open windows, and escaped.
They waited.
Tony finally figured out what to do with Griffin.
He was going to shoot him.
It should have been simple. He dialed the phone. An energetic female voice answered. “Sheriff's office.”
“I need to speak to Sheriff Griffin.”
“He's busy. Can I take a message?”
“No. I need to speak to him. Tell him it's important.”
“Just a minute.” She came back on the line a minute later. “Who's calling?”
“A business associate from Vegas.”
“Hold please.” A click told him she was transferring the call. It took so long for Griffin to answer, that Tony almost hung up and called back.
“Sheriff Griffin here. Who is this?”
“Agrioli.”
He could hear the caution in the man's voice. “What do you want?”
“I've thought about your offer. I'll take you up on it. I'll take care of the Parkers and Washington, but you have to pay me in cash. I need it tonight.”
“I thought we'd already agreed on that.”
Tony frowned at the comment. “Huh?”
“Never mind. Fine.”
Tony sensed relief in the answer. “I'll meet you west of Center Springs. I saw a dirt road beside a barn that's about to fall down. There are pine trees around it, the only ones I've seen around here. Drive on past, and I'll be waiting under a copse of trees around the bend.”
“What's a copse?”
Frustrated, Agrioli rubbed his throbbing forehead. “A grove.”
“You mean a bunch of trees. Okay, I know that barn. It's past Reid's Store.”
“Yeah. I'll be waiting. Half an hour, and don't forget the money. I get paid up front, and then I disappear. I suggest you do the same.”
“See you there.”
Tony hung up and settled back in the overstuffed chair in Griffin's living room. Sweltering in the stifling room, Tony placed his .22 on the round end table beside him. When Griffin came home to get the money, one shot would solve all his problems.
The plan fell apart when Tony was still waiting as sundown approached. He wondered if Griffin had money stashed somewhere else and went directly to the meeting place. Frustrated that he hadn't considered such a possibility, he picked up the .22, slipped out the back door, and walked the two blocks to his car parked on the street. Minutes later, he steered toward Center Springs and home. He could always shoot Griffin first thing in the morning while the neighbors were at church, or having a quiet Sunday breakfast.
Halfway to Center Springs, he was caught in a massive traffic jam. What should have been peaceful twilight on northbound Highway 271was destroyed by a catastrophic wreck. Grinding his teeth in frustration, and not paying much attention, Tony crept almost too close to the car ahead.
There was almost no room between their bumpers when he jerked to a stop. His headlights illuminated three men in the sedan who appeared agitated at the brightness. Tony slapped the knob with his palm and they winked out. The brake lights in front blinked, and then went dark as the driver killed the engine a few moments later.
The smell of cigarette smoke wafted back from the car's open windows. A toonie sounded like a good idea. Tony snapped his Zippo alight and lit his own, enjoying both smells of lighter fluid and smoke. He killed his engine and leaned back to enjoy the smoke.
He hoped Sam had something good forâ¦supper. He smiled. He was getting the hang of this country lingo. Despite his frustration at being stuck on the highway, he was pleasantly surprised to find that his forehead wasn't throbbing.
“That's what life in the country does for you,” he said aloud, barely paying attention to the thunderheads crowding the dark horizon.
In the fading light, people up and down the traffic jam finally gave up and killed their engines. Little clusters of men left their cars and gathered to exchange information or speculation. All four doors of a late model Plymouth opened to discharge seven men in suits who stretched their legs.
“We shoulda took two cars.”
“It's a short trip.”
“It
was
a short trip.”
They stood off to the side, away from the activity surrounding the accident.
“That backseat is crowded. Somebody change with me.”
“Shut up.”
“Turn off the headlights.”
One of the men waved behind them. “Half of the cars stretching over this damn hill have their lights on.”
“I wish that guy would kill his lights. We're lit up out here.”
The headlights of the sedan behind them winked out. Seconds later, the car behind that one also went dark. But before it did, the man complaining of being cramped waved an arm. “Those guys have plenty of room. I oughta go take that car away from 'em, or make 'em follow you. Then I can ride with
them
.”
“You idiot. What do you think, they'll just let you in? These country people are tough.”
“There's only three of them in there.”
“Well, take it one more step. Go on back to the next car and get
it
. I saw only see one guy in there when he lit his cigarette. That'll be easy for you, tough guy.”
Ray Marco finally had enough. “You guys shut up. We have a job to do, and then we're back to Dallas. It ain't much farther.”
“If I live through this aggravation.”
Marco thought of what Best and Michael had told him when they discussed the hit. “Just focus. This guy we're after is tough.”
“How tough can he be against seven of us?”
Marco wondered about that himself. After all, he was only one guy.
Miss Rachel had control of herself faster than I would have if someone had beaten
me
. She was sitting on the porch step, holding her side. Her lips were puffy, one eye was almost swelled shut, and a cut over the other eyebrow still seeped blood.
Pepper had the baby in her lap. He'd finally quit crying and didn't seem to be hurt none. The other kids were huddled up like a bunch of puppies. We were all shaking like them little Mexican Chihuahua dogs.
Miss Rachel wiped her eyes with a wet rag and put it on the back of her neck. “The rest of y'all all right?” She rubbed on the kids nearest her and settled back when she was satisfied no one else was hurt. “Y'all did good, scaring them off, but you mighta got hurt.”
“Not if I'da got here in time with this.” Bubba was keeping watch with the double-bit ax over his shoulder away at the corner of the house. “Who were them people, Mama?”
Miss Rachel shook her head. “I don't know, but we need to get gone for now. I sure wish there was a telephone closer than five miles away. Bubba, you run down the road to Mr. Thurman's house and ask if he'll come pick us up.”
Daisy looked startled. “Where we going?”
“To Mr. Thurman's, I reckon. We'll be safe there.”
Bubba shook his head. “Mama, he's old as dirt, and I doubt we'll all fit in that little ol' shack of his.”
“We ain't stayin' there. He's the only one around here with a truck.”
Pepper unconsciously bounced the little Bass in her lap. He was over his scare and drooled down his bare chest while he chewed on a spoon. “We can go to my house.”
I spoke up. “Uncle James went fishing up on Muddy Boggy with Mr. Scott, remember. He won't be back until tomorrow. I didn't think Aunt Ida Belle would be much help if more bad folks came around.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I don't know what this is all about, but we need to go to Grandpa's house.” To me, that little farmhouse was the safest place in the world. “He'll know what to do.”
Bubba stood still as a statue, watching the road. Jere dug in the sand with her toes. “Won't Mr. John be back in a minute?”
Miss Rachel shook her head. “We don't never know when to expect him. Top's right, we can get word to him from Mr. Ned's house.”
“Mama, Mr. Ned's white.”
Her eyes looked sad. “He is, Jere, but John speaks well of him and Miss Becky both. At least we can wait outside in the yard until John shows up.”
Pepper looked horrified. “Y'all don't have to wait outside. Coloreds been in Miss Becky's house before.” Her jaw snapped shut with a pop when she realized how that sounded.
Miss Rachel reached out a hand and patted Pepper's knee. “I know what you mean, hon. Bubba, hand me that ax and run on down to Mr. Thurman's like I said.”
“I might need to stay here with it.”
“Give it here and do what I done tol' you.”
He leaned the handle against Miss Rachel's thigh and took off at a jog down the road.
I couldn't stand it any longer. “Miss Rachel, I'm sorry.”
She frowned and squinted at me with one eye. “What for, hon?”
“I believe I broke all them eggs in my bucket when I saw that man grab you.”
She started laughing, but I couldn't figure out why.
The norther rolled overhead like a wave when Mr. Thurman turned his old truck into our drive. It was full dark and I was glad, because I'd already noticed that both of Mr. Thurman's headlights were broke.
Miss Becky knew something was bad wrong the minute she saw me and Pepper riding in the back with the other kids. She came boiling out of the house with Norma Faye and Miss Sam right behind, carrying on like we all had bloody noses.
Hootie forgot he was feeling bad and set up a racket. Miss Becky hollered at him to shut up and he quieted down when we climbed over the sides and dropped to the ground.
Miss Rachel opened her door, but she couldn't get right out. She'd stiffened up from the beating and I could tell she was hurting. The others stayed put like they were waiting for an invitation, and I reckon they were.
“Lands, honey!” Miss Becky didn't ask what was wrong, probably because Miss Rachel's swole face told a pretty good story. She reached for Miss Rachel's arm.
“My babies.”
“I have them.” Miss Sam squeezed in to lift baby Bass out of her lap. He was almost asleep and laid his head on her shoulder. She held her hand out to Floryence, the least girl. “Come on, honey.”
Miss Becky held onto Miss Rachel as she slid out of the seat. Norma Faye slipped an arm around her from the other side and they slowly walked into the house, leaving the rest of us outside.
Mr. Thurman stayed behind the wheel and we milled around the truck until Miss Sam came rushing back out the door. “Children! Everyone inside. Now.”
The terror in her voice was enough to run the rest of the kids inside like a herd of calves.
Mr. Thurman sighed and spoke through his open window. “I believe I might oughta stay outside.”
“Miss Becky asked that you come in.” Miss Sam watched him with her soft eyes.
Nothing more than wrinkled skin and bones, the old black man wore overalls that were mostly patches, and his faded blue work shirt wasn't much more than threads. He didn't have much to do with bathing, neither.
“I'll set on the porch, if that's all right.”
“All right.” Miss Sam waited until he climbed the porch and settled gratefully onto a wooden straight chair. We were all still in shock, but I had to grin when she latched the screen. That little hook and eye wouldn't stop a mad five-year-old.
But the guns that appeared on the other side of the screen were enough to start a small army.
And all four of those women looked like they could use them.
