THE FOURTH WATCH (60 page)

40

MADIGAN SAT IN THE
Explorer listening to the snow ticking on the
roof and hood. The storm was starting. The snow was light and dry,
like little crystals, seemingly insignificant. Big, wet flakes
usually meant a short burst. Couple of inches, sticky and sloppy
but over quickly. This stuff was usually trouble. It started in
slow, gathering strength, then turned sideways with the wind and
piled up.

Let's get the show on the road, Toad Boy,
Madigan thought, looking up at the lights in Walter DeMaris'
apartment.

He was parked at the curb on Anthony Street,
one street south of, and parallel to, Bell Pond Avenue. From his
vantage point he was looking across an open tract of land between
two multi-family buildings at Walter's car and, above it, his
apartment, where the lights were on in the gathering gloom. It was
4:40PM and almost dark. Both streets were dead-ends, so DeMaris
could only come out the one way. Madigan figured, when Walter
rolled, he could pull up to the end of Anthony and turn whichever
way Walter did and end up behind him. DeMaris wouldn't be looking
for an Explorer, if he was watching for a tail at all. Madigan
would cruise with him, wait for a good spot to pull him over and
rock and roll.

At five minutes past five the lights in the
apartment clicked off, and two minutes later DeMaris came out the
front door and down the stairs. He walked around to the driver side
of his heap, unlocked the door, leaned in, started the car and came
back out with an orange-bristled snow brush. He quickly swiped the
dusting of snow off the front and back windshields, the roof and
hood. He threw the brush back into the car, climbed in behind it
and backed out onto the street.

Madigan dropped the Explorer into
gear.

*****

SALVATORE MOLTINALDO SAID,
"What's left in the warehouse, Juan?"

"Not much."

"Seven keys, maybe a little over," Carlos told
them.

Sal pinched his lips together, looking down
into his whiskey glass, turning it on the table, thinking.
"Anything in route?"

The two men shook their heads
together.

"There's twenty-five keys in a container in
Seattle," Carlos said, "but nobody to get it through. Might come
through on its own, but I wouldn't count on it. Cops are all over
Loading Dock. Maybe we shouldn't have ... er ... tied up that loose
end ... so quick."

Sal waved his hand at them. "Nah, he was going
to get bagged. Too nervous, am I right,

Juan?"

The giant nodded. "He said he'd run before he
went into that meeting to get grilled."

"Right. Then where would we be. As soon as he
ran they'd know he was the guy, then we'd be in a race to get to
him before the cops did." Sal shrugged, "This way is
better."

"Whatever," Carlos said, "but here's the thing.
We got product 'till maybe the end of the week. And the New York
guy is supposed to kick in next week - and we got
nothing."

"Who was this guy out there?" Sal said more to
himself than to the others at the table. "I thought Genetassio said
that thing with the lawyer and the broad ended it."

"Must have been some internal Loading Dock
shit." They'd had this discussion before. "Yeah well that's what I
got that douche bag on the payroll for. We're not supposed to get
surprises like this." Sal held his glass up to their waitress who
was dropping drinks at the next table. She nodded. "I told him to
clean his house."

They sat in silence, listening to the barroom
clatter.

"I'll get us something out of LA., work
something out with them for the short run. I think we're going to
have to dump Loading Dock." Sal sucked at the dregs in his glass of
ice. Then he looked off in the direction the waitress had gone.
"Juan, start looking for a new ride through Seattle for
us."

"Alright."

Sal shook his head. "What a shame. Loading Dock
was a good one." They all thought nostalgic thoughts about the
pipeline that was going dry. "And you Carlos," Sal said, pointing a
finger at him across the table.

"Yeah?"

"Find a way to get our twenty-five keys out of
that container."

*****

"HOW IS THIS MY F AULT?"
Ronald Sullivan wanted to know. "You told me when
she was gonna be where. I went, I did the car, she went over the
hill. What I'm physic? I'm suppose to know a bus is coming around
the corner!" He rolled his eyes as if he could be seen through the
phone.

"Alright, alright," Matte said. "But listen you
dumb shit, you got to finish the job." Sullivan had to admit, he
liked the sound of that. Not finishing the job so much as the fact
that Genetassio didn't threaten to kill him or ship his ass back to
the joint. "And just how am I gonna do that?"

"I don't know, just make her go away, you know.
There's not a lot of time, gotta be like this week, next week
max."

Please get greedy,
Matte was thinking. There wasn't going be a next
week for Ronald Sullivan.

Sullivan was thinking: That could work. Grab
her, take her out and whack her. Chain a piece of rail to her, hack
a hole in the ice down the end of the lake, slide her in, maybe
knock me off a piece before I do her. "I don't know, man. That's
pretty risky."

"Well, if you want to talk risky. You leave me
hangin' on this and you better never show your face in civilization
again, motherfucker."

That's the truth, Ronald told himself. "Okay.
But listen. Fifteen was alright when I was just fixing her car. But
now, you know, I got to grab her and do her and hide
her?"

Matte smiled to himself. "Let me see if I
understand you, Ronald. You want to try to gaff me over here? I
need your help and you want to put the boots to me, is that
it?"

''No, no, no, Jesus, man. I just, you know, I'm
gonna have to go away myself here. See what I mean? I got to have
some movin' and hidin' money."

Matte sat in silence on the other end of the
line, just for effect. Let Sullivan think he was

thinking about it. "How much?" He finally
asked.

Sullivan licked his lips, then he said.
"Another ten, so, you know twenty-five all told."

"I'll go five."

"Seven, man, and I want it up front - the
seven, not the other ten. You can still give me that at the end,
just like we said."

"Why that's real big of you, Ronald, no shit."
Matte almost laughed into the phone.

"That's fair, man. You know it is, come
on."

"Alright. You home alone?"

"Yeah. She's workin'."

"Okay. But its got to be this week."

"I can do that."

"I'll get your money and I'll see you in an
hour or so. But Ronald, if you fuck me ... "

''No, no, no, I'll take care of it. Thanks,
man."

Matte hit end on the cell. He looked out his
office window at the snow blowing in the street lamps. The storm
was getting some legs. Good, he thought.

*****

WALTER WATCHED THE MIRRORS.
He hadn't seen Madigan's car in a couple of days.
Nothing back there now that he could see. A plow. Two or three
SUV's. Some kid in a beat up Toyota sliding around on bald tires.
He was going to meet Skid's at Tweed's on Grove Street. Have a few
drinks and a bite. He thought it might not be a bad idea to have
Skids tail Ellen Whorley. See what she does. Nobody knew Skids, and
he was a pretty good shadow. The Whorley broad would never spot
him.

He went down Bell Hill, crossed over Rt. 290
and turned right at the bottom. He veered left away from Lincoln
and then turned right onto Grove. Just as he was passing the
Juvenile Court the blue lights went on inside a black SUV behind
him and he got two burps from its siren.

Ought-oh, Walter thought. He pulled to the side
of the road. He watched in his side view mirror as the cop's dark
silhouette approached. He put his window down and felt the snow
blow into the car. Then he looked up into the blinding glare of a
mag-light in his eyes. There was the barrel of a pistol next to
it.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step out of the
vehicle," the cop's voice said.

"Yeah?" Walter said. "What for?"

"This vehicle has been reported stolen. I ran
the plates when I noticed you driving erratically. "

"No shit? Well lick me front and rear, Officer
Dickweed. What is this Genetassio's idea of a roust? Pretty lame,
if you ask me."

The cop put the gun right up against Walter's
head. "Sir, put both of your hands out the window where I can see
them. Do it right now!"

"Alright, don't get yourself all worked up
there boy," Walter said. "If you're a nigger, I apologize for that
remark, I know you people don't like to be called boy. It's just
that I can't see you with that flare in my eyes." He stretched his
hands out through the window, still staring into the
light.

In one quick, practiced motion the cop
holstered his firearm and snapped handcuffs onto Walter's wrists,
holding the mag-light in his armpit. "Now step out of the vehicle,
Sir."

Walter pulled the door handle and swung the
door open as the cop stepped to the side.

Then he hoisted himself out onto the sidewalk
and allowed the cop to walk him back to the Explorer. It was only
when the mag-light went out and the dome lights went on as Walter
was pushed in behind the cage in the back seat that he recognized
him. "Madigan?" He said. "You prick, so it is a roust."

"Yeah, it's a roust alright, pecker-head.
You're gonna love it."

Madigan pulled off the curb and went to the end
of Grove and turned north. They took Goldstar Blvd. out past the
car dealerships and then took the ramp up onto Rt. 190. The snow
was coming at a steady pace now, and the wipers were working to
keep the windshield clear. It was warm in the car. Madigan took
exit two off of Rt. 190, went through a set of lights then turned
left at the end of the ramp toward Holden.

"We going for a ride in the country?" Walter
asked him.

"You bet."

This can't be good, Walter thought.

*****

MATTE GENETASSIO PULLED
on a pair of surgical gloves. He took a 9mm
Ruger, a full magazine and muzzle suppressor out of a brown paper
bag and laid them on the sack. He checked the load on the clip with
his thumb then slipped it into the base of the grip until it
clacked into place. He pulled the slide back and snicked a round
into place, then he set the safety and screwed the silencer onto
the muzzle. He put the gun into the right hand pocket of his heavy
winter car-coat. He wore it for the hood. He picked up the other
bag, which was full of cash, and put that into the other pocket. He
pulled on a pair of black leather driving gloves, over the surgical
ones, and put the hood up over his head and climbed out of the
car.

Sullivan lived on the first floor of a run-down
three-decker on Canterbury Street across from St. John's Cemetery.
Matte went up the rickety stairs that already had an inch of snow
on them and knocked on the door. He looked up and down the roadway
- it was empty. Everyone was hunkering down out of the storm.
Canterbury Street was bathed in a dull yellow light from the street
lamps and the snow was blowing in it, gusting off the roofs and
drifting down. The porch light went on and Sullivan pushed open the
door to let him in. Matte stamped the snow off his feet in the
hallway and followed him inside. Sullivan had on a white
wife-beater, tufts of hair standing up on his shoulders like wire,
blue-jeans frayed at the knees, no belt, and moccasin looking
slippers. The landlord must have been paying for the heat because
it was about eighty degrees in the apartment.

Matte took the money bag out of his pocket and
slapped it into Sullivan's stomach and walked by him into the
kitchen. "Anyone here?"

Sullivan sat down at the end of a sofa so worn
that it shined, and opened the bag in his lap. "No, I told you,
she's workin'. Don't get out 'till eleven."

Matte peeked into the bedroom up the hall and
into the bathroom, taking off his driving gloves. "Good, good. Now
listen you got to get this done right away." He reached into his
pocket and pulled out the Ruger and flicked the safety
off.

"I know," Sullivan was saying, "couple of
days."

Sullivan's back was to Matte as he came out of
the hall and back into the living room. He was reaching into the
bag like he was counting.

"Don't you trust me?" Matte said and put the
gun to Sullivan's temple and pulled the trigger.

The report from the weapon was like a cough.
Sullivan's whole body jerked up and then slumped sideways across
the sofa and his torso twisted so he was half lying on his back.
Blood and brain matter splattered the wall. His chin was down on
his chest and blood was running out of the corners of his mouth and
his nose. His eyes were closed. He did not look comfortable.
"Surprise!" Matte said softly.