“That’s it, then,” DeLuca said, already beginning to think what he could do with this. “That isn’t too bad. Got him out there on some pretext. Can you stay awake now, do you think?”
“My God, after this do you think I could sleep?”
“Drink lots of coffee. They may want to get in touch right away. Let’s definitely figure a kidnapping. It won’t be anything long-drawn-out, a matter of days. In and out fast is the idea. I’m going out there now and see what I can pick up. If you get anything more, call my answering service.”
He didn’t want her to notify anybody else until he found out what was what. “Keep the line open for incoming calls. I’ll keep you up to date, trust me. Molly, I’ll tell you this. You’re one brave woman.”
Greco and Nick had never worked together before. Nick was an old face from the neighborhood, and they had no trouble getting along. They enjoyed the same things and kept the same hours. They were being paid for their time, and the client wouldn’t like it if he was ready to go and one of them couldn’t be reached. So they did everything in pairs, in no hurry for the wait to come to an end. This was the vacation capital of America, they were staying in the Doral at the client’s expense, and Greco had the names of a couple of ho’s. Theoretically they were supposed to stay razor-sharp at all times, but tonight when the girls finished work they dropped in with a bit of cocaine.
“No-o,” Greco said. “In case we get called out, you know, Nick?”
But they laughed him out of it.
Nick was something of a goof-off, and he kept the girls laughing. He was six-three, with a long skinny neck and an Adam’s apple that ran up and down. This was his first time out of New York, except to the Catskills. The Doral wowed him. Greco liked that. He was two years older. He had been to Miami twice, once with an older woman, once with a man.
DeLuca called from the lobby. Nick was nearest the phone, but he was busy just then, and Greco answered. He knew at once, from the abruptness, that they were about to start earning their money.
“Be right there.” He hung up. “Nick, this is for us.”
Nick claimed he would only take another minute, but Greco made him get up in spite of complaints from the girls. He took one backward step and sat down on the floor.
“Talk about dizzy.”
“You’ve got about one minute to stop being dizzy,” Greco told him sternly. “We’re going to be driving a car.”
“Oh, put me in a car and point me, I’ll be O.K.”
But before he could get in a car, he had to get off the floor and into the bathroom, where Greco let him stand under a stinging cold shower for a minute or two. Greco himself was weaving ever so slightly. If he relaxed his concentration for an instant, everything ran together like a punctured egg. He wasn’t afraid of action. The momentum would keep him going. But if he had to sit waiting for somebody, it would be hell staying awake.
Nick wandered out of the bathroom still wet. The girls thought he was trying to entertain them by the way he kept getting his arms in the wrong sleeves and doing up the buttons in the wrong order. As soon as he was more or less dressed, Greco took the small airlines bag to the bathroom.
“Nick, got something for you.”
Nick was trying, Greco would say that for him. He stuck the gun in his waistband under his loose Mexican shirt. As he went back to the bedroom, the gun popped out and dropped to the carpet.
The girls became serious all at once. One of them said, “Uh-oh.” The other, named Linda, bounced out of bed and ran to Greco. “I want to come. I never saw one. I won’t get in the way. I’ll just be, you know, part of the wallpaper.”
“Don’t be dumb.”
“I mean it. I can get dressed in a hurry. Let me! I’ll drive.”
“We’ve already got one driver,” Nick said, “so shut up before I clout you.”
“Nick-y.”
She kept begging them as they tried to finish, and Nick had to give her a backhand, which sent her tumbling. The gun popped out again.
“We’ll be back,” Greco told the girls. “Stay wet.”
Nick walked to the elevator with the help of one wall. “I’ll tell you this, I’ve felt better.”
“You’ll be O.K.,” Greco assured him.
In the elevator, Nick straightened to his full height and gave him a good smile. But the elevator went down much too fast and put Nick out on the garage level with everything sagging. He wanted to drive to prove it was possible, but Greco refused to commit suicide. He made the turns carefully. With a gun in his pocket, he was stopping for red lights, although there was little cross traffic. DeLuca was parked on Collins near Fortieth. He got out of his own car and into theirs. He was wearing dark glasses, which Greco considered an affectation at this time of night. He was totally sober. Good God, was he sober! Nick kept staring straight ahead, rocking against the seat belt. He might have been sleeping. A little sleep would do him good, as long as he had the common sense not to snore.
DeLuca’s directions took them across a long causeway into Miami proper. A little later, they drew up in front of a bowling alley in a cheap neighborhood.
“The guy’s name is Soupy Simpson,” DeLuca said. “He’s going to give you some information. A couple of names, and where you can find them. Tell him Homestead. Tell him construction shit, tools and like that. Who’s been taking? You may have to slap it out of him. That’s all right, too. Nick, are you listening?”
“He just dropped off for a minute,” Greco said, giving his friend a hard push. “Wake up, stupid.”
Downey explained it again on the way to the trailer park.
“I don’t know this particular place, but I know the way they’re set up. There’ll be a transient section for campers and vans. You can come in your own trailer or rent one of theirs. I have a good reason to be out here asking questions. I’m an eager cop, chasing a lead before it cools out. So I’m going in with everything up front and show them the badge.”
Werner’s shoulder was bandaged. He was babying that arm, not saying much. Pam had surprised Downey by instantly agreeing that they had no choice. They had to check it out. They had committed some crimes to get this far. They had changed their whole personalities. Then somebody else, who had made no investment at all, had walked off with the prize. Total amateurs, a couple of petty thieves. Without a payloader to play with, they couldn’t be dangerous. She only had one question. If these thieves really had Canada, would they take him to a trailer park where vehicles were parked elbow to elbow and everybody must know each other?
Downey had made up his mind that that was just where they’d take him. They had nothing prepared. And this was a going arrangement, so Canada could be handled as one more piece of stolen property, more valuable than most. He would be tied up and gagged, with his head in a sack. The lack of privacy was all to the good. It was a huge place. Vehicles came and went. Rents were paid in advance so transients could leave before daybreak. Motors would start, lights would come on. No one would notice or remember.
They passed through Leisure City, following signs. The park was an eighth of a mile from the highway. Huge, it certainly was. This was the picking season, and one section had been reserved for migrants. The semipermanent trailers were set on blocks, with a parking space between them for a single car. It was impressive, if only as an efficient use of every inch of available space.
The office was closed. Downey hammered on the door. When a cross old man came out to see what he wanted, Downey showed his Miami badge and was allowed a look at the register.
Then they penetrated the encampment, found the cross street they wanted, and looked for the number. A trailer was there, but not the pickup that went with it.
“I guess they haven’t got back yet,” Downey said. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad. If they didn’t bring him, we’ll hang them up by their feet and shake it out of them.”