Whistler's Angel (60 page)

“These are okay for Adam. Too much kick for a woman. But I hear you’re like me. You prefer to work close.”

“Carla,” said Whistler, “I’ll say it again…”

“Who taught you how to throw? I hear you’re real good.”

“She knows how to throw a baseball, Carla. That’s all.”

Again, she ignored him. She gestured toward the fuel truck. “My weapon’s in the truck. Come back and I’ll show you. A helical feed is sort of a pod. The advantage…”

Oh, for Pete’s sake, thought Whistler. “Carla, stop it,” he said.

“Stop what? And say please to your elders.”

“Please stop with the guns and please answer my question.”

She replied, “I did. I said I know where they are.”

“Where they are exactly? This minute? How could you?”

“A little bird told me.”

He said, “Carla, cut the games.”

At this, she winked at Claudia. “Is he always this rude?”

“Carla, I’d appreciate an answer myself.”

She said, “Both of you, relax. They’re not going anywhere. They’re having a problem with their cars. We’ve got time.”

She turned back to Claudia and she gave her a wink. She said, “You see? Birds talk to me, too. Except my bird was only Felix Aubrey’s co-pilot. Is it true that you can talk to the other kind? Gotta see that. My boyfriend, Viktor, met the white light once himself, but you made out better than he did.”

The bird thing, thought Whistler. His father must have told Bannerman. So much for his trying to squelch it. And he now understood how Carla’s eye became swollen and how she’d lost one of her shoes. Aubrey’s co-pilot. She’d waylaid him somehow. Whistler moved a few steps away to let these two have their one-sided chat. Let them kill a few more minutes getting acquainted until Billy or John Waldo can get up here.

It struck Whistler that he’d heard Carla speak, in two minutes, more words than he’d ever heard her utter all told. And she’d smiled. He had rarely seen a smile on Carla’s face. And he had certainly never seen any sign that she grasped the concept of a good first impression. This must be a new Carla, reinvented for Claudia. She was trying to get Claudia to like her.

Claudia’s mind, however, wasn’t on making friends. She asked Carla, “Have you actually seen them?”

“I saw the three who you two are hunting. They were in an old heap
of a Pontiac?”

“That’s them.”

“Well, right now their car’s even more of a heap because they tried to get it into two-car garage without making room for it first. It’s still sitting ass-out with its exhaust pipe ripped off and it’s jammed against a van that was already in there.”

Whistler asked, “A white Dodge with Ohio plates?”

She nodded. “That’s the one. How did you know?”

“A little bird told me. Carla, where is this house?”

She gestured with her thumb. “Twenty-two Lagoon Road. Blue house, black shutters, can’t miss it with those cars. Are you ready to go back there and take them?”

“What about Aubrey? Did you see Felix Aubrey?”

She said, “No, but he’s around. They came in a black Lincoln. They don’t know it yet, but I totaled the Lincoln. They’re running real low on transportation.” As she said this, she gestured toward the fuel truck’s front bumper. Whistler saw that the bumper was twisted and gauged. It was streaked with smears of black paint.

Claudia had stepped out of the Taurus. She asked Carla, “Did you see a woman with them?”

“In the Pontiac? What woman?”

“Her name is Leslie. She’s a friend. They dragged her into their car. The big one, Lockwood, hit her with his gun.”

Carla said to Whistler, “Lockwood’s way overdue.” She said to Claudia, “All I saw were the heads of three men, but if he hit her she would have been down on the floor.”

“You didn’t see them pull her out when they got to that garage?”

“I had to stay back. I didn’t see them unload. Their car was already hung up when I drove past.” She said to Whistler, “So this Leslie’s in the house?”

“They had no time to dump her. She must be.”

Carla seemed annoyed. Whistler thought he knew why. She would have preferred to go back there and blast anything that moves. Now she’d have to pick her shots. Avoid hitting Leslie. It would be harder for her to get chummy with Claudia if she were to blow Leslie’s head off.

She said, “Claudia, get your sweeper. You’re riding with me.”

Whistler said, “Not a chance. We wait here.”

“Wait for what?” asked Carla. “Her friend is in trouble. We take care of our friends, am I right?”

Carla, as she said this, reached in for the shotgun. She checked its action as she walked to the fuel truck. She said to Whistler, “You can have the Ingram.” She said to Claudia, “He’ll come with us. Hop in.”

Whistler reached to take Claudia’s arm. He said, “You’re not going anywhere with Carla. You’re staying.”

“Adam, I can’t. And you can’t either. Let’s go.”

Carla said, “Adam, you and I will hit the house. Claudia stays in the truck. She just covers. How’s that?”

“No one hits the house, damn it. Call Molly. Right now.”

“Waste of time, Adam. What for?”

“Because for one thing, this area is crawling with police. Molly’s right.
We should let them handle this.”

“What, a hostage situation? That’ll take them a week. Adam, we can do it. Sixty seconds in and out.”

Whistler pulled out his cell phone. “We wait.”

“Then okay, but not here. You want to call them? Go ahead. In the meantime, someone has to watch the house. Let’s get over there.”

Claudia said, “Adam, she right. We should be there.”

“He knows we should,” said Carla. “Hop in and let’s roll.”

Whistler muttered a curse. “We just cover. Agreed? And Claudia stays in the truck.”

“Agreed.”

“I’ll scout out the house. You stay with her. Agreed?”

“We’ll work out the details when we get there.”

While Carla had gone looking for Whistler’s beige Taurus, Arnold Kaplan was sitting in the green Pontiac thinking this is how people get heart attacks.
He could hardly believe what just happened.

In front of him, he was looking at daylight because half of the garage’s rear wall was now gone and that Jet Ski was in the back yard. And Lockwood just stands there. He’s staring at the hole and he’s cursing. Behind Kaplan, he was also looking at daylight because the car was part out and part in. He tried backing up. The car was stuck on the trailer. It was wedged against the van. Both cars were now visible from the street.

The only good news was that Crow was out cold. Lockwood had clipped him some good ones. The girl was crying a little; she was scared half to death. And she was still struggling, but she couldn’t get up because Crow had gone flaccid on top of her. He climbed out of the car and almost fell as he did so. He had tangled one foot in a blue plastic tarp that had probably covered the Jet Ski.

He said, “Vern…this tarp. Let’s hang up this tarp.”

Lockwood snarled, “Who taught you how to drive?”

You did, you schmuck. You screamed at me to get in here while I’m still busy fighting off Crow. But Kaplan didn’t say that. He said, “I’m very remorseful.
Now we need to hang up this fucking tarp.”

“Over where? Oh, the door? Yeah, we should. Good idea.”

“Look around where you’re standing. You see any tools? Look for a hammer and nails.”

He said, “The tools are mostly all over the lawn. No, wait. There’s a

staple gun. I’ll get it.”

Kaplan watched as Lockwood stepped out through the hole. He retrieved
the stapler and returned with it. Kaplan gathered the tarp. It seemed almost big enough. It could mostly cover the whole garage door. From the street it would look like repair work.

He said to Lockwood, “You hang it. I can’t reach high enough. Meanwhile, I’ll get these two inside.”

“You sure you can handle them?”

“Crow’s asleep. And fuck you.”

“Wait a minute,” said Lockwood. “Let’s see how asleep.”

A
t this, Lockwood squeezed between the Pontiac and the van. He opened
the right rear door about a foot, which was all the space the van gave it. He reached in with the stapler and found Crow’s ass. He snapped a staple in each of Crow’s cheeks.

Crow never moved. Lockwood said, “He’s still gone. Drag him out on your side. You got room?”

“I got room. I’ll take the girl inside first.”

“Drag him out. I can watch him while I hang.”

“You’ll bring him in?”

“I’ll bring him. Two minutes. Go ahead.”

Now and then, thought Kaplan, Lockwood does a good thing. That move with the stapler was one of them. Kaplan opened the rear left door of the Pontiac. He reached in and seized Crow by one arm. He started pulling.

He said, “Leslie? Push with me. Give me a hand.”

He heard her swallow. She stammered, “Wh…what?”

“The guy’s stuck. Help me here. You like him being on you?”

“He’s drooling on me. Get him off me.”

“So push.”

“Did you mean what you said about not hurting me?”

Kaplan leaned closer. He kept his voice low. “Take my word. Here’s the thing, though. You gotta behave. You gotta do exactly what I tell you.”

“Like…what?”

He reached for a towel that was clipped to Crow’s golf bag. A big one, orange, from the Bengals again. Kaplan yanked it free of its hook and he jammed
it between Crow’s mouth and her head.

He said, “I need you to cover your face with that towel. Then I’ll wrap it with some of Crow’s duct tape. Also I have to tape up your hands. After that, I’ll take you inside.”

“Why do you have to cover my face?”