As we cruised by, two of Agarias's men in those distinctive dark suits came out of the store, carrying brown paper bags. The second Antony saw them, he hit the gas, and we were gone before they could look up.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Were they getting lunch maybe?"
"They gotta eat," I said. "I doubt Agarias is cooking for them."
"You've got a smile on your face," he said to me.
Only when he said it did I realize it myself. I nodded. "I've got it," I said. "When we get back to the house, call Sal. Tell him they need to come tonight."
"Okay," he said.
"Tell him we need guns, and if he can, to scare me up a stick of dynamite."
THE FEROCITY OF MY PIGEONS
I sent Antony south to pick up Isabel and Morgan. There was no way, once Sal and the others showed up, that we could all fit in the cottage in Babylon, and I needed everyone assembled to go over my plan. It was a chance I'd have to take. I hoped Agarias would be too confident and think he had us stymied to the point where he didn't have to bother tailing us. Otherwise, once everyone was gathered at Schell's, if he sent a raiding party with Merlin and the goons, we'd be finished. Before the big man left, I'd told him to keep Morgan down in the backseat.
"Tell her to wear a long dress and a sweater with long sleeves. Have her put her hair up and wrap a kerchief around it. Dark glasses if you can find some."
I sat and waited for Sal to show up with the reinforcements from the city. In that time, I tried to polish my strategy, tie up the loose ends. There was a good chance someone was going to die when the exchange eventually went down, and that made me queasy. It would be machine guns versus the likes of myself and Hal Izzle. The deck was most assuredly stacked against us.
Morgan, Isabel, and Antony arrived only minutes before the two cars carrying Sal's recruits. Marge the Ton Templeton was the first to push back the rug and enter. Following her, and giving her a shove in the rear end to squeeze her through the opening, was Hal. Then came Captain Pierce, dressed in his parade uniform, carrying his case of throwing knives and sporting a cane. Sal was the last of the first group, wearing his cape and top hat, holding a wand in his left hand and a stick of dynamite in his right.
A few seconds passed and the next carload filed in-Miss Belinda, toting a huge crate of pigeons, Peewee Dunnit, carrying another crate of pigeons, and bringing up the rear, scuttling along on his knuckles, Jack Bunting, the spider boy. Peewee informed Antony and me that Vonda had to work and couldn't make it. "Shit, somebody's gotta work," said Sal as he passed by.
I caught Antony in the hallway, coming out of Schell's room with four bottles of champagne.
"Do you think that's a good idea?" I asked.
"Are you kidding? It's a great idea. We got to keep the morale of our forces up."
"I don't want them to get too drunk," I said.
"No," he whispered. "You want them to get drunk, so when we get to the part about the machine guns, they won't have second thoughts."
I acquiesced with a sinking feeling. For the next hour, everyone milled around and drank and talked and smoked cigarettes. I introduced Isabel and Morgan to each of the volunteers.
Miss Belinda told me she needed to find someplace to let the pigeons out, so I showed her to the Bugatorium. She nodded and called down the hall for Peewee and Antony to bring the crates. I closed the door behind me, and Miss Belinda said, "Okay, let 'em loose."
Antony and Peewee lifted the sliding planks at the ends of the wooden cages, and the birds rushed forth in a torrent of flapping wings and falling feathers. Once they settled down and found perches, a pandemonium of cooing filled the air and set the room to vibrating.
Miss Belinda took a small satchel from within the folds of her gown. Dipping into it, her hand came forth filled with golden meal, and she began spreading it on the floor like a farmer sowing seeds. The pigeons fluttered down to feed, strutting and bobbing their heads. As we left the Bugatorium, careful as to where we stepped, Antony muttered, "And I used to worry about butterfly shit."
The four bottles of champagne didn't last long, and once they were done and some of the guests were inquiring if there was more, I called for all to gather in the living room. Isabel and Hal brought chairs in from the kitchen so that everyone could have a seat. Marge took up half the couch but at least held Jack Bunting on her lap. When everyone was settled in, I took up a position near the front window, facing them. Antony stood just to the left of me, hands behind his back in his chauffeur attitude of attention.
The first thing I did was thank everyone for coming and then didn't waste any time but got right down to business.
"Okay," I said, "was anybody able to bring a gun?"
"I brought my Colt," said Captain Pierce. He held his gun up in the air to show it.
"Look at that thing," said Hal. "It's rustier than Sal's act."
"Does it even fire anymore?" asked Peewee.
"Haven't shot it since…," said the Captain, trying to remember.
"Okay," I said. "Anybody else?"
"I got my derringer," said Peewee.
"No need for personal confessions at a time like this," said Miss Belinda, and the crowd broke up. As soon as the mirth died down, Marge farted, a sound like she was sitting on a string of firecrackers. "I got a Gatling gun," she said. More laughter, and Jack Bunting faked passing out.
I had no choice but to wait. When things had quieted down, I asked Sal for the stick of dynamite. He stood and rather ceremoniously handed it over to me. "My wife's cousin is a foreman on one of the blasting teams working on the subway tunnels. He snitched this stick but said it's only a half of a real stick from an old batch and is probably pretty unstable to boot."
"Just what I wanted to hear," said Hal.
"A light touch is probably a good idea," said Sal retaking his seat.
I gingerly placed the dynamite down on the windowsill behind me. "So that's it on the weapons then," I said.
"I've got my knives, of course," said Pierce.
"And I've got a straight razor out in the car," said Jack.
"Don't discount the ferocity of my pigeons should I command them to attack," said Miss Belinda.
"Excellent," I said and then launched into my somewhat prepared speech about the dangers we'd be facing. I didn't get very far before Hal interrupted me.
"Diego, look, I told them all this stuff already. Save the gas. This loathsome fuck has Tommy, wants to take this fine young woman's blood"-he pointed to Morgan-"would have the likes of us either sterilized or erased, and worst of all considers himself a patriot. We understand, bullets, mayhem, whatever. We're determined to whack this guy and get Schell back. Case closed. Why get maudlin?"
There was a huge round of applause, and I wasn't sure whether it was for the fact that he'd cut short my oration or had done such a fine job himself. I noticed even Isabel and Antony were clapping, so I hoped it was the latter.
"Okay, Okay," I said. "Before I get to the particulars, I was wondering if you had anything to add, Antony?"
Antony looked at me and nodded. He stepped forward and addressed the crowd. "Besides the guns, one thing I wanted to warn you all about is when we're in the middle of this, if you happen to see a huge white guy charging at you, drop whatever you're doing and run your ass off."
"Shit," said Captain Pierce, "I've been practicing that my whole life."
"This guy's the whitest guy you ever saw," said Antony, "and he's got a head like a fucked-up Thanksgiving gourd with teeth. He could break your neck with his bare hands."