Gutshot Straight with Bonus Excerpt (24 page)

“Get her and let’s go,” the Whale told Jasper.

“Not so fast,” a new voice said, and Gina felt such a rush of relief she almost really did, this time, pee her pants.

S
hake stepped into the room, the Glock drawn. He was still breathing hard—from the sprint across the plaza, through the building, back through the building till he found the stairs, up the stairs, down a hallway, finally here—but tried not to show it.

Ziegler was to his immediate left. To Ziegler’s left, a redheaded guy Shake didn’t recognize was seated on the couch. Continuing clockwise, Moby with a gun stood by the balcony, Jasper with a gun against the wall, Gina to Shake’s right.

“Who the fuck is
this
?” Moby said. He moved his gun from Gina to Shake. Jasper kept his gun on Gina. Shake put his gun on Jasper.

“Hey, Jasper,” Shake said.

“Shake.”

“How’s the nose?”

“Hurts.”

Shake glanced at Gina. “You didn’t want dessert?”

“Boy,” she said, “am I glad to see you.”

“Maybe I should have gone with ‘Think again’?”

She considered. ‘ “Not so fast’ was okay.”

“I’ll come up with something really good in about an hour. That’s what always happens.”

“I know,” she agreed. “What took you so long?”

Dick Moby put the pieces together and turned to Jasper. “This the dickhead ripped me off at the motel?”

“This the one,” Jasper said. “The one fucked everything up.”

The way Jasper said that, quiet and hard—Shake got the sense that there was more to the “everything” in Jasper’s mind now than Shake just slamming him in the head with a phone book or nailing him in the nose with a hotel-room door.

Shake glanced at Gina again. “What took me so long?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t figure it out,” she said. “I’ll be gravely disappointed.”

“I was your backup plan.”

“That makes it sound so . . . I don’t know.”

“Calculating and cold-blooded?”

“See what I mean?”

Shake had worked out the details on the ferry making the return trip to the mainland. Gina hadn’t wanted to lose him back on Isla Taboga, she’d just wanted to
delay
him. That had been Marvin’s dual function—to slow Shake down
and
at the same time tell him where Gina was headed. That way if the exchange with Ziegler went down without a hitch, Gina would be gone—with all the money—before Shake showed up. In the event there
was
a hitch . . . well, then—here he was to bail her out.

“It was a pretty good plan,” Shake told her, “except for the part where you weren’t at the statue like you were supposed to be.”

“Doughboy wanted to go somewhere more private.”

“What did I tell you about that?”

She grimaced. “I know, I know.”

When Shake arrived at the de Lesseps statue, he guessed that’s what had happened; he also guessed that Ziegler—the arrogant, impatient prick—wouldn’t have wanted to go far before he got his mitts on the fore-skins. Shake had searched the windows of every building on the square, without really knowing what he was looking for until he saw the window aglow with candlelight.

Ziegler had inched over to the coffee table. He reached for the padded envelope.

“If no one minds,” he said, “I’ll just grab these and mosey off while you folks—”

Shake, Moby, and Jasper all swung their guns to Ziegler, who froze.

“Looks like everyone minds, Doughboy,” Shake said.

Shake swung his gun back to Jasper. Jasper swung his gun back to Gina. Moby swung his gun back to Shake.

“You think you’re gonna live through this,” Moby told Shake, “you’re even more of a half-wit than I thought you were.”

Shake decided to ignore this. He’d made some questionable decisions, he had to admit, over the past week.

“So, gentlemen,” he said, “I’m sure you’ve noticed that the walls are made of stone. How we gonna resolve this situation without an undue withering hail of ricocheting bullets that’s more than likely to take us all out?”

Jasper, despite whatever new ax he had to grind with Shake, seemed to be wondering the same thing.

The Whale, on the other hand, stared at Gina with pure malice.

“Think your little girlfriend,” he hissed at her, “that Hidalgo bitch, think she’ll recognize you tonight when you show up in hell? When you don’t have no skin?”

It was the first time, Shake realized, he’d ever seen Gina’s mind stop working. Her face just went blank. For an instant he thought it was because of the no-skin threat, but then he realized she was trembling with fury, not fear.

“You killed Lucy?” Gina asked Moby. She looked like she was about to spring across the room at Moby and claw his throat out.

“Gina,” Shake said. If she heard him, though, she didn’t show it.

“She was a bleeder,” Moby told Gina. “But I already knew that.”

Shake braced himself. In about one second, Gina would pounce at Moby and Shake would discover firsthand just how many shots from a Glock you could get off before being chewed in half yourself. He glanced at Jasper and saw that Jasper was thinking along the same unhappy lines. But short of divine intervention, there was nothing now they could do to stop the inevitable, no way to stop Gina from—

“Lucy ain’t dead,” Jasper said.

Moby and Gina looked at him.

“What?” Moby said. So did Gina. So did Shake.

Jasper shrugged. He’d said it. What else was there to add?

“You told me that longhair did her,” Moby said. “
He
told me. The one used to work the door, then bitched out afterward.”

“That was the plan,” Jasper said. “I didn’t like it.”

“She’s alive?” Gina said. “She’s safe?”

“Who the holy motherfuck,” Moby sputtered at Jasper, “ever asked you did you like a plan or not?”

“She’s safe,” Jasper told Gina. He looked at Shake in a deeply unfriendly way. “She’s gone.”

“Lucy Hidalgo?” said the guy on the couch. He had a bandage on his forehead and looked vaguely familiar, but Shake couldn’t place the face.

“You know her?” Gina asked, surprised.

“Excuse me,” Shake said. “Who is this guy?”

“It’s the Cocksman,” Gina said. “Remember? He prefers to be called Ted, though. He saw me in the plaza and followed me in here to thank me for lifting his wallet.”

“To thank you?” Shake said.

“Shoot the bitch,” Moby told Jasper. Meaning Gina.

“Say what?” Jasper said.

“Whatever happens,” the Whale said, “I want that fucking cunt dead.”

“I shoot her,” Jasper said, “he’s gonna shoot me.” Meaning Shake.

“Then I’ll shoot him,” the Whale said. “That so fucking hard to figure out?”

Shake gave Jasper a few seconds to get the oars in the water, then stepped in to help with the rowing.

“Jasper,” he said, “I hope I don’t have to point out to you the fundamental flaw in that scenario.”

“Fine,” Moby said, “we’ll both shoot him.” He swung his gun from Gina to Shake.

Shake swung his gun from Jasper to the Whale. “Jasper,” he said, “let’s talk this out. Let’s—”

“Be still and let me think,” Jasper said to Shake. “Wasn’t for you, wouldn’t be none of this happened in the first place.”

“I’d do it again,” Shake said. He looked at Jasper. Jasper looked back at him. Jasper’s expression didn’t soften, exactly, but at least he didn’t pull the trigger and blow Shake out of his socks. That was a start.

Jasper looked at the guy on the couch. “What you mean? You know Lucy?”

“I think I know her,” the guy, Ted, said. “I mean, I know
a
Lucy Hidalgo. I just met her last night. At dinner? She’s my girlfriend’s sister. I mean, she’s not really my girlfriend, Mariana’s not—that came out completely wrong and presumptuous. But you know how sometimes when you meet someone, and you spend all day with them, and then the next day, and there’s this connection that just—”

Ted stopped. He’d realized that Jasper, in his surprised excitement, had swung his gun at him. Jasper realized, too, and swung his gun back to Shake. Shake swung his gun from Moby to Jasper.

“She’s here?” Jasper said. “You know where she is?”

“Of course,” Ted said. “She’s living with my . . . with her sister for a few weeks.”

“What are the odds,” Shake asked Gina quietly, “it’s the same Lucy Hidalgo?”

Gina shook her head. “I have no idea. My brain’s about to explode as it is.”

“She just quit her job,” Ted said. “She was a bookkeeper. She’s taking some time off to get her life straightened out.”

“Bookkeeper?” Jasper said. He frowned.

Damn
, thought Shake. Then, taking a stab, “Hey, Ted, does your girlfriend’s sister Lucy
look
like a bookkeeper?”

Ted glanced down at his shoes, embarrassed. “I don’t know. I mean, you know, what does a bookkeeper look like, really?”

“Does this bookkeeper,” Gina said, “have a bod that belongs in the museum of all-time incredible bods?”

“That’s not really for me to say,” Ted mumbled. “I didn’t notice.”

“Jasper,” Shake said, “I think you may have a bingo.”

“Huh,” Jasper said, his round, sleepy-eyed face wide with the wonder of it all.

“Jasper,” Moby snarled. “Get your shit together and let’s end this.”

Shake decided to give it another, cautious try. “You don’t want any part of this situation,” he said, “do you, Jasper?”

“No,” Jasper said.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dick Moby swung his gun from Shake to Jasper.

Shake swung his gun from Jasper to the Whale. The Whale quickly swung his gun back to Shake. Jasper still had his gun on Shake. Ziegler and the Cocksman were both sitting on the couch, trying to make themselves as small as humanly possible. Gina, Shake could tell, was considering the advisability of a break for the door.

“Don’t do it,” he told her, “please.”

“It will just create more problems than it solves?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought you were a fucking professional,” Moby told Jasper. “Do your fucking job.”

“We’re two guys,” Shake told Jasper, “at a fork in the road. We’ve got a chance here to start over. Do it right the rest of the way.”

“Too late for that shit.” Jasper shook his head sadly.

“Me,” Shake said, “I’m gonna open up a restaurant. Nothing fancy. Just local ingredients and an attention to detail. You, you’re gonna give Lucy a call. Have a cup of coffee with her and see where it goes. Ted here can set it up.” He waited. “Ted?”

“Right!” the Cocksman said. “Yes.”

“Shoot the motherfucker!” Moby yelled at Jasper, furious.

“Never too late, Jasper,” Shake said. “It’s not a second chance unless you take it. Your choice.”

“Shoot him!” The Whale was practically screaming now. “Shoot him, you dumb fucking blue-gum shine or—”

Jasper turned and fired three shots so quickly that it sounded like one long shot. The Whale’s white shirt flared bright red, and he lurched backward. He thudded against the wall, knocking a candle off the shelf, then slid down the wall. He was so fat he didn’t really topple but more like melted over sideways.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jasper said.

The flame of the candle that had fallen to the stone floor still burned. Jasper stepped over and with the toe of his shoe extinguished it.

Then he swung his gun back to Shake. Shake kept his gun on Jasper.

“That simplifies the equation,” Shake said. He could taste the sharp tang of burned gunpowder in the air. “But we’re still in a pickle.”

“Can I say something here?” Gina asked.

“No,” said Shake and Jasper at the same time.

“Sheesh!”

Shake glanced at the suitcase next to the sofa. “How much?”

“Six million,” Gina said.

“Six million dollars?” Jasper said.

Shake nodded. “Half of it’s yours,” he told Jasper.

“Hey!” Gina said.

“Be quiet, please,” Shake told her.

“Let’s see it,” Jasper said.

Shake pointed at Gina, then the suitcase. “Show him, please.”

Gina frowned but crossed to the suitcase. She took advantage of her fresh proximity to Ziegler to give him the finger. Then she opened the suitcase.

Shake whistled when he saw all that cash.

“What do you say, Jasper?” Shake asked.

Jasper thought about it.

“I still don’t see why—”

“Gina,” Shake interrupted.

“I know.” She sighed. “
Please
.”

“All right,” Jasper said. “You can keep the—What are they?”

“Foreskins with great religious and historical significance,” Shake said.

“Hey!” Ziegler said.

“Shut up,” Gina told him.

“Foreskins?” Jasper said. “You don’t mean like—”

“I’m afraid I do,” Shake said. “Long story. On three?”

Jasper nodded.

“One . . .”

Jasper lowered his gun. “Shit,” he said. “I trust you.”

Shake lowered his gun, too. Took his first breath in about fifteen minutes.

“What a day,” he said.

“Freeze!” Ziegler said, his eyes wild. Shake saw that he’d pulled a small revolver out of his pocket. He grabbed Gina’s arm and yanked her close, pressed the revolver to her neck. “Back off or I’ll blow her—”

Gina kicked backward and nailed Ziegler between the legs. He squeaked and doubled over. The revolver clunked to the floor.

“You didn’t let him finish his colorful threat,” Shake said.

“Fucker,” Gina hissed at Ziegler.

Ziegler lunged. But not for the revolver. Not for Gina. For, instead, the padded envelope on the coffee table. The foreskins. But he’d overestimated, Shake saw, his capacity to locomote in the aftermath of a kick to the nuts. Ziegler squeaked and doubled over again. Gina picked up the revolver and pointed it at Ziegler’s head.

“Don’t do it,” Shake said.

She considered. “I’m gonna need at least two good reasons.”

“You’re not a killer, killer,” Shake said. “And you don’t want to be.”

“I could just shoot his dingle off, how about that for a compromise?” But after a second she tossed the revolver away.

Shake stuffed the Glock into his waistband. “Jasper,” he said, “you have something we can tie this fucker up with?”

Jasper thought for a second. Then he went to the balcony, found the draw cords for the curtains, yanked them free. He tossed them to Shake.

Shake lashed Ziegler’s hands together, his feet, his hands to his feet. With the remaining cord, Shake tied the whole package to a thick stone column, against which Ziegler could struggle to the end of time for all the good it would do him.