Squall (7 page)

Sanj ejected the CD and pointed through the windscreen at a blush of artificial light beyond the crest of a long hill. “That should be the gas station up there,” he said. “Just past it is where we turn.”

Sumit said, “Good. My heated arse is killing me.”

The GL crested the hill and the brothers saw the gas station fifty meters ahead on the left. There was a convenience store annexed to the station and, tucked further back off the highway, a neon-lit bar.  The parking area fronting the bar was packed with pickup trucks, SUVs and a dozen or so long-haul rigs idling in a tidy row. A few patrons stood smoking by the entrance. There were a couple of cars angle-parked in front of the convenience store and a black Dodge Ram sitting at the pump island closest to the highway.

Sumit said, “Is that Ed’s truck?” and Sanj said, “Pull in.”

Signaling as he slowed, Sumit turned into the farthest entryway, the GL gliding past the rear end of the Ram now, thirty feet away on their left. Through tinted glass the men saw Ronnie in profile over there, shoving the gas nozzle back into its cradle.

Sanj said, “Park around the side. If baby brother’s with her, it could get messy.”

As Sumit rolled to a stop in the shadow of the building’s flank, Sanj turned in his seat to watch Ronnie lock the Ram with the remote, then march toward the convenience store with her bag slung over her shoulder, unzipping her jacket as she went.

Sumit killed the engine and pocketed the keys. “Think she made us?”

Sanj shook his head. “Didn’t bat an eye.” He gave Sumit the spare key to the Ram. “See where I’m going with this?”

Sumit smiled and got out of the Mercedes, striding across the lot now, turning up the collar of his dark Armani overcoat to hide his face.

Sanj got out to watch him go, keeping the GL between himself and the glass-walled convenience store. He watched his brother walk around the back of the Ram, the vehicle concealing him from view for a moment, then saw him climb into the back seat and hunker down out of sight.

All they had to do now was wait.

––––––––

While the kid at the counter stared at her tits, Ronnie slipped a container of breath mints into her bag, then a Kit Kat bar. It still irked her that Dale had pussied out on her, but on the bright side she was half a fucking millionaire now, and mutts like Dale were a dime a dozen. It occurred to her again that if she took the time to cut and sell the shit herself she’d be a millionaire, but the truth was she didn’t have the skills or the connections to get it done without risking another prison stint; she’d already done a stretch in Kingston for solicitation and had vowed never to wind up on the inside again. Better to move the product in quantity and be done with it. Ziggy could make it happen in a heartbeat; all she had to do was get to him. Crossing the border in Ed’s Ram could be tricky—given Ed’s past, chances were good the Feds had a line on the vehicle—but she could trade out the Ram for something else before crossing. She’d have to dress herself down a little, but if she drew the right asshole at the border, she’d be on her way to sunny Palm Beach and Ziggy’s loving arms.

The kid fetched her a deck of smokes and Ronnie settled her bill in cash. She tipped the kid a wink on her way out and watched the little hard-on turn beet red. She tucked the smokes into her bag, fished out the keys and unlocked the Ram with the remote on her way across the lot, holding her coat shut against the wind.

Back in the Ram, she got a smoke out of the new deck and lit it with her Bic, almost dropping it when a familiar voice said, “Smoking in Ed’s truck, I should tell him.” She wheeled around to see Sumit pop up in the back seat like a slick brown jack-in-the-box, a stupid-ass grin on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Sumit,” she said, “you scared the shit out me.” She crushed her cigarette in the ashtray and slid her hand back into her bag, finding the pearl grip of her Colt .380...but before she could draw it Sanj appeared at her side window, tapping on the glass with the muzzle of a silenced semi-auto.

Ronnie powered open the window. These two fuckers showing up here could only mean one thing: Ed was going to do his own brother. That or wind up on Copeland’s chopping block himself. She had little doubt that Ed had figured out who was behind the take-down with the Asians; but he’d given the responsibility to Dale, and she’d spent enough time around men like these to know about that whole bullshit code they pretended to live by. Honor among thieves. The punishment had to fall to Dale. Still, there was no way Ed was going to let her walk, and she knew that if she was going to survive this night she’d have to come up with something clever—and fast.

She considered pulling the .380 anyway, do Sanj first, shoot him in the face, then double-tap Sumit through the back of her seat; but Sanj had his piece aimed at her throat now, the gun resting casually on the window sill, Sanj smiling at her like they were just hanging out. She’d let Sumit fuck her a few times back in her club days, before she hooked up with Dale, but she’d never been with Sanj.

Seeing her angle now, Ronnie returned Sanj’s smile, using her left hand to tug her tank top down to show some more cleavage, keeping her right hand, still in her bag, firmly on the Colt. She said, “I’m glad I ran into you boys. I was just bringing Ed his shit back.” Turning now to look at Sumit in the back seat. “It’s behind the seat back there, honey. The cash, too.” She watched him turn his back on her to retrieve the stuff, saying, “Fucking Dale went psycho on those Asians. Who knew he had it in him, right? Either way, I’m done with the creep. Threw his cheesy little diamond in his face.” Looking at Sanj again, showing him the ring finger of her left hand. “See?” Saying to Sanj as she pulled the .380, “Man like you’s more my speed. All that brown sugar—”

Then Sanj had her by the wrist, twisting hard as he pulled her hand up with the .380 in it, taking it from her as Ronnie said, “Easy, big fella, I was just going to hand it to you. As an act of good faith.”

Grinning at Sumit, Sanj said, “Good faith,” and pocketed the Colt. He traced the silencer over the swells of Ronnie’s breasts, the frosty steel making her shiver, saying, “You know what, though, bro? I like her. Tits
and
balls.”

Then Ronnie saw Sanj signal Sumit with his eyes, twitching his gaze toward the convenience store, and Sumit got out of the vehicle. Ronnie turned her head to watch him jog to the Mercedes and stick the dope and the cash in the back seat, wondering how she’d missed it, a fucking Mercedes crossover out here in Hicksville, then felt Sanj’s cold fingers on her chin, turning her to face him.

She said, “I was gonna give Ed his stuff back, Sanj. Honest. See if he could maybe put me back to work in one of the clubs—”

Sanj put a finger to her lips then flared his coat open to holster his gun. “I said I liked you, Ronnie, and I meant it. Unfortunately, our boss is not of a like mind.” He said, “Some friendly advice? Move. Preferably to another continent.”

Wary, Ronnie said, “I can go?”

“Correctly answer this skill testing question, and yes, you can go. Where’s the fuckhead?”

Ronnie said, “I left him at the cottage,” and glanced at the convenience store, Sumit shifting from aisle to aisle in there now, looking for Dale.

“Lover’s spat?”

Looking at Sanj again, Ronnie said, “He’s a dipshit.”

“Is the dipshit armed?”

“That’s two skill testing questions.”

“Don’t push it, sweetheart.”

And there it was, welling up in her now, that annoying weakness for sad little boys like Dale. She lied, saying, “No, he’s not armed,” and was afraid Sanj had seen it.

But he said,” All right,” and opened her door. “Now give me the keys and get the fuck out of the vehicle.”

“Shit, Sanj, are you kidding me? How am I supposed to get home? It’s the middle of winter in the middle of no place.”

Sanj stuck his hand out for the keys. “Not my problem. Now hand ’em over and move your ass before I change my mind.”

Ronnie could see what was coming now, knew that Sanj was playing her and as soon as she set foot on the ground he’d put a bullet in her head and roll her body into the ditch or maybe dump her into the back seat and get rid of her later.

If she could just get to the guns she’d stashed under the passenger seat...

She let her bag slide off her knees into the opposite footwell, knowing how risky it was but seeing no other option—then a big Chevy pickup rolled up to the pump island next to the Ram and Ronnie grabbed her bag by the strap and slid out the door to stand on the running board in front of Sanj, leaning over the roof to say to the redneck getting out of the pickup, “Hey, cowboy, wanna buy a lady a drink?” and saw a second redneck getting out on the passenger side, coming around the hood now to get a closer look at her.

Sanj put his hand inside his coat and Ronnie dropped the keys into the slush at his feet, hopping down to scoot past him and put the redneck between herself and Sanj.

The redneck said, “Who’s the raghead?”

Ronnie said, “Carwash guy,” and took the creep’s arm, hustling him toward the bar. Watching it happen, the first redneck said, “Hey, man, the lady was talking to me,” and Ronnie said, “Don’t worry, boys, there’s plenty to go around.”

Then she was in the parking area, fifty feet and a tight row of vehicles between her and Sanj, the sick fuck bending over now to pick up the keys. At the entrance to the bar she stopped to watch Sanj park the Ram on the far side of the convenience store and lock it with the remote, then get into the Mercedes and drive it to the front of the store to pick up Sumit. She watched him slide over to the passenger side as Sumit came out of the store to get behind the wheel.

The redneck asked her what she was drinking and Ronnie ignored him long enough to see the Mercedes accelerate up the road leading in to the cottage. Then she said, “Whatever you’re buyin’, big fella,” and followed him into the bar.

* * *

Sumit said, “You let her go?”

“Cagey bitch gave me the slip.”

Smiling, Sumit said, “Be a shame to put a hole in that, anyway. Get her hot, the girl tastes like apricots.” He said, “What do we tell Ed?”

“We never saw her.”

“How much further?”

Sanj switched on the dome light to check the map and said, “About an hour.”

Sumit said, “Fucking shit detail,” and turned the CD player back on, resuming the Indian music.

“Enough of that shit,” Sanj said. “Find me some rock and roll before I die.”

––––––––

Dale came out of his nod to the urgent sound of his name—“Dale?
Dale!
—and once again had to muddle through a narcotic haze to bring fully to mind the jackpot he’d got himself into. Cozy in the thermal bag down in the tub, he said, “What’s up?”

“I thought I heard something on the roof of the plane. Can you see anything?”

Dale said, “Gimme a sec,” and poked his head through the gap in the debris. He looked up at the plane and at first could see nothing. He was about to say as much when he heard something shift up there, far enough around the curve of the fuselage that he couldn’t see what it was. A soft padding sound...

Then he was staring into the bright amber eyes of a cougar, the cat edging forward to peer down at him over the flank of the plane.

Dale said, “There’s a fucking cougar right behind you,” and got Trang’s gun off the dinner tray.

Tom said, “Are you serious?”

“As a train wreck.”

“How’s it look?”

“Hungry.”

No, I mean how does it
look
? Curious? Angry? Afraid?”

Dale said, “Hungry,” and aimed the gun at the big cat’s head. “I’m gonna shoot him.”

“Jesus, no,” Tom said. “Don’t even
look
at him. If you shoot and miss, we’re dead.”

“Yeah, and if I shoot and don’t miss, he’s fucking dead.”

“Are you a good shot?”

Dale looked at his trembling hand. “Never shot a gun in my life.” He said, “Oh, shit, he’s coming right at you,” and aimed again at the sleek wildcat, the animal shifting its body into full view now.

Dale pulled the trigger and nothing happened. Not even a click. He looked at the gun, then up at the cougar as it leaned over to sniff the edge of the broken window in Tom’s door, then stuck its head inside.

* * *

Tom looked up into the animal’s vivid face, less than a foot from his own now. Dale had been right: it looked hungry, winter lean and slavering.

Tom leaned away from it as much as he could, which wasn’t very far, and now the big cat snarled, baring a set of savage yellow incisors as long as Tom’s pinkie and twice as thick, the vapor of it’s breath reeking of rot and death.

Taking its time, the cat bit experimentally into the shoulder of Tom’s coat, catching only the fabric. It tugged and Tom said, “Son of a—”

* * *

Dale found the safety and flipped it off, aimed the gun at the cougar again and squeezed the trigger.

Click!

What the fuck?

The cat had its head all the way in the window now and Dale thought of the hundreds of action movies he’d seen. He thought,
Rack the fucking slide
and dragged himself down into the tub again, using his free hand to chamber a round. Then he was back up through the hole, watching the cougar brace it’s feet to pull at something up there. He heard Tom say, “Son of a—”aimed and pulled the trigger with his eyes closed, the gun kicking in his hand as he discharged five or six rounds, the sharp reports popping his ears. When he opened his eyes the cougar was gone. Like magic.

Tom said, “Did you get him?” and stuck his finger through a bullet hole in the door of the plane. “’Cause you damned near got me.”

Dale said, “Holy fuck he’s gone. Did you see that bastard?”

“
See
him. I’ve got his
teeth
marks in my coat.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy, what a day.”

“You got that right,” Tom said. “What next?”

And both men were caught in that crazed laughter again.

––––––––

Sanj pointed through the windscreen at a reflective green road sign. “Cottage Road,” he said. “Turn right up here.”