1984 - Hit Them Where it Hurts Page 15

  I had no compassion for this derelict creature as I had for Josh Smedley. A mindless jerk who could make a profit selling heroin to kids deserved everything that came to him.

  I stood up, dropped the other one hundred-dollar bill on the bed beside him and joined Bill, waiting in the corridor. We made our way cautiously down the rotting staircase and into the fresh, humid air.

  As we walked to our car, Bill said, ‘I heard all that. I guess that takes care of Terry. The Thorsens certainly produced a couple of beautiful children.’

  I paused to unlock the car door.

  ‘It happens. The Thorsens weren’t exactly beautiful parents either.’

  We got in the car and sat for a long moment in silence, then Bill said, ‘OK. Hank is dead. Angie is locked away. Terry is dead. That leaves Minsky—right?’

  ‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘Up to now we have had it easy, but Minsky won’t be easy. In a couple of hours, I’ll be seeing Sandra. I want to hear what she has got lined up. Tonight is the night for action.’ I started the car engine. ‘Let’s go home.’

  Wally, the maître d of the Three Crab Restaurant welcomed me with his flashing smile.

  ‘Miss Willis is expecting you, Mr. Wallace. You know your way.’

  I nodded, climbed the stairs, knocked on the door and entered.

  Sandra was sitting at the table. Before her was a large cocktail shaker and a spare glass.

  ‘Hi, Dirk!’ she exclaimed. ‘Help yourself,’ and she waved to the cocktail shaker.

  I sat down, facing her.

  ‘Not right now,’ I said, regarding her.

  She was in white and her thick black hair fell to her sun-tanned shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled as she stared back at me. I decided she was the most sexy, evil looking woman I hope never to meet again.

  ‘And—so?’ She poured herself another Martini. ‘What have you to tell me?’

  ‘J.W. will be short ten thousand dollars on the pickup,’ I said.

  She stiffened.

  ‘How and why?’

  Briefly I told her about Angie Thorsen.

  ‘No more money,’ I concluded. ‘Your people can’t threaten a woman in a mental clinic.’

  She leaned back in her chair and released a hard, metallic laugh.

  ‘This will topple J.W. The organisation will fold him up and replace him.’

  ‘I don’t give a goddamn about J.W.,’ I said. ‘I’m only interested in Minsky.’

  ‘Yes.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ve been checking. He’s a rat who knows how to take care of himself. I wanted to get him to myself and kill him by inches to repay the death of my father, but this now is not possible. When he moves, he has bodyguards. There is only one way to fix Minsky. I have an automatic gun. I’m going to rip his filthy guts out with bullets. It’s the best I can do.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘No. I don’t like it. It is suicidal. You don’t imagine his bodyguards will let you get away with this. You kill him. OK, I can see you can take him by surprise, but the bodyguards are certain to kill you.’

  She gave me her evil looking smile.

  ‘No, Dirk. They won’t dare touch me. Every member of the organisation knows me or knows of me. They know I am J.W.’s right hand. J.W. is in New York. He will be returning tomorrow night. When he hears I have killed Minsky he will turn his thumb down, but by then I will be a long way out of his reach. I’ve already packed. As soon as I have fixed Minsky, I take off. I’ll get lost, and the organisation won’t find me. You don’t have to worry about me. If there is one thing I can do well, it is to look after myself.’

  Looking at her stone hard face and those ruthless eyes, I nodded agreement. If anyone could look after herself, it was Sandra Willis.

  ‘Dirk,’ she went on, ‘you said you too wanted to get even with Minsky. I want you to finger him for me. You’ve seen him. I haven’t. I don’t want to shoot the wrong man. All you have to do is point him out to me—that’s all.’

  I hesitated for a long moment. If I did this, it would make me an accessory to murder.

  Then I thought of Suzy. This brutal sonofabitch who had sprayed acid in her face had to be fixed.

  ‘No problem, Sandra,’ I said.

  ‘The new drop is now Fu Chang’s restaurant.’ Sandra said. ‘Minksy will be arriving to collect the loot around three in the morning. We’ll make sure of it. I’ll be in my car. I want you to be there. We’ll be there at two. So, OK, we will have a wait, but he just might be early. You finger him for me, and that’s all I want. I’ll handle the rest of it. OK?’

  I got to my feet.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ I said. ‘I only hope your thinking is right.’

  She picked up the cocktail shaker and poured herself another Martini.

  ‘My thinking is always right, Dirk,’ she said. ‘See you at two tonight. I’ll be in a Mercedes. I’ll be parked by the restaurant. All you have to do is tell me which is Minsky. OK?’

  ‘I read you,’ I said, and left her.

  I joined Bill in the car.

  ‘Fu Chang’s restaurant?’ I asked as I slid into the passenger’s seat.

  Bill snorted.

  ‘On its way out and fast. It’s a corner building on the east side of the waterfront. It started well, then Fu Chang, who must be shoving 90, lost his grip. Why the question?’

  ‘That’s the new drop.’ I went on to tell him of my talk with Sandra. ‘That’s the setup, Bill,’ I concluded. ‘At two o’clock this morning, we park as close as we can to Fu Chang’s joint. Sandra will be there in a Mercedes. I’ll join her. When Minsky arrives, I’ll finger him for her, then she blows him away. You stay put. If this works, she’ll take off, and we’ll go home, but if it doesn’t, we give her covering fire.’

  ‘If she kills Minsky and gets away, do you think we can go see the colonel and get our jobs back?’ Bill asked. ‘I mean, will you feel you have settled accounts for Suzy?’

  I thought for a long moment, then nodded.

  ‘I guess so. Once I’m sure Minsky is dead, then you and I will go back to work.’

  ‘Fine. Now, let’s go eat.’ He started the car engine and drove me to Lucino’s special lobster and steak dinner. We ate in silence. Both of us were absorbed in our thoughts. As we ordered coffee, Bill said, ‘Do you think this is going to work?’

  I lit a cigarette and pushed my pack to him.

  ‘This woman is very special. I think it will work, but if it doesn’t and she gets shot, then I am finishing the job. She says the bodyguards won’t dare to touch her. We’ll see. It depends on her. There’s still time for you to duck out, Bill. This isn’t your private war.’

  He looked at me, then finished his coffee.

  ‘Don’t talk crap, Dirk. Let’s go home. We have three hours before action stations. I could do with a nap.’

  As we drove along the waterfront, I spotted two young, tough looking cops, patrolling.

  Lepski had got some action. These two could make a dent in Walinski’s payoff.

  When we got home, Bill went at once to his bed. I spent the next hour cleaning and loading our revolvers, then I too, dozed in an armchair.

  At 01.45 I woke Bill, gave him his gun, and we drove back to the waterfront. Bill directed me.

  ‘That’s the dump,’ he said. ‘To your right.’

  Fu Chang’s restaurant had certainly seen better days. Now it looked almost derelict. A few dim lights showed through the dirty windows.

  There seemed no activity. Above the door to the entrance there was a bright light, shining on the road as if in hope someone would be tempted to have a meal in there.

  At this hour parking was easy. I pulled into a slot some thirty yards from the restaurant.

  ‘We could be in for a long wait, Bill,’ I said as I cut the engine.

  ‘That’s what we are good at, isn’t it?’ he returned and settled himself in the car’s seat.

  As we watched, shadowy figures began to appear out of the darkness and then entered the res
taurant: all kinds of people, mostly Cubans, some Chinese and a number of whites. They were in and out in seconds, and disappeared into the darkness. They were victims of the blackmail racket, paying their dues. There seemed a continuous stream of them.

  A few minutes after 02.00, a small Mercedes arrived.

  ‘Here she is,’ I said. ‘OK, Bill, we’ll give her covering fire if there’s trouble. You stay here. I’ll go to her.’

  ‘If there is trouble Dirk,’ Bill said as I slid out of the car. ‘Do we shoot to kill?’

  ‘If we don’t, we’ll get killed. This sonofabitch just has to be fixed.’

  I walked the few yards to where the Mercedes had parked. She was sitting at the wheel.

  In the darkness I could just make out her silhouette. I opened the car door and got in beside her.

  ‘Hi, Dirk!’ she said. ‘The big deal! I see the suckers are already arriving.’

  ‘Is this going to work, Sandra?’ I asked.

  ‘It will work.’ There was a note of finality in her voice. ‘Just relax, and we’ll wait.’

  So I sat by her side, inhaling her exotic perfume while we watched people going and coming out of the restaurant.

  We sat in silence for the next half hour. To me, she was a stone woman. I felt she didn’t want to talk. From time to time I fingered the butt of my gun. I had never killed anyone, but tonight I was ready to kill.

  I thought of Suzy. I thought of her last moments of life. Those terrible moments, blinded by acid and being crushed by that truck. If Sandra couldn’t finish the job, then I would!

  ‘Here they come,’ Sandra whispered.

  A big Cadillac came out of the darkness with only parking lights. It stopped outside the restaurant.

  Four men spilled out: big, tall, each with a gun in his hand. It was like watching Cagney’s old gangster movies. The men spread out, looking to right and left. I already had my gun in my hand. Then Minsky appeared. He looked almost a dwarf against his bodyguards.

  ‘That’s him,’ I said. ‘The little punk.’

  ‘Thanks, Dirk.’ She got out of the car, slamming the door.

  The sound made the four bodyguards look in her direction. Without hesitation, she walked to where Minsky and his guards stood, staring towards her.

  ‘Minsky?’ Her voice was clear and sharp. ‘I am Sandra. I have a special message for you from J.W.’

  Then she appeared in the hard, overhead light.

  What a performance! No hesitation and her looks! I’ve never seen a woman look so glamorous. She was wearing a scarlet and beige dress that clung to her. Her glossy black hair lay on her naked shoulders. She looked as if she had walked out of a Vogue photograph.

  The four bodyguards lowered their guns and gaped at her.

  I slid out of her car, keeping in the darkness.

  I looked across to my right and saw Bill was also out of my car.

  The bodyguards moved back and Minsky stood there under the hard overhead light. He was staring at Sandra then his ape-like face lit up.

  ‘You Sandra?’ he said. ‘What’s biting J.W.?’

  ‘He has a special message for you,’ she said.

  In the stillness of the humid night, I could hear her hard metallic voice.

  ‘So, OK, babe. What’s the message?’

  She was carrying a big evening handbag. She was now within six feet of him.

  ‘I have it here.’

  The bodyguards had moved further back as Sandra zipped open the handbag. Her movements were so professional and fast, Minsky didn’t stand a chance.

  While Minsky was leering at her the gun was in her hand and she was shooting. At that range, Minsky got four bullets in his guts blowing him apart.

  The four bodyguards just stood motionless.

  I lifted my gun, ready to give her covering fire, but she continued to handle the situation.

  ‘OK, boys,’ she said. ‘J.W. wants him off the scene. Get rid of him before the cops arrive.’

  One of them, less thick in the head, said, ‘If you say so, Miss Sandra.’

  She paused for a few seconds to look down at Minsky as he lay, bleeding and dead. Then turning, and without hurrying, she walked back to her car.

  It was a cold blooded, beautifully staged performance.

  I opened the door of her Mercedes and she got into the driving seat.

  ‘You see, Dirk? My thinking is always right. You get the hell out of this before the cops come.’ She looked searchingly at me through the open car window. ‘This evens the score, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  She started the car engine.

  ‘You’ve seen the last of me.’

  ‘Watch out, Sandra. The Mafia has a long arm.’

  She gave me her evil little grin.

  ‘And I have long legs. Bye.’ She shot the car away and went fast from the waterfront.

  In the distance, I could hear police sirens.

  I paused long enough to see the four bodyguards snatch up Minsky’s body and throw it into the trunk of the Cadillac, then I ran to my car where Bill was sitting at the wheel. As I scrambled in, he took off, cut down a dark alley that brought us to the highway. He reduced speed and drove towards my home.

  He said nothing.

  Angie, Hank and now Minsky had been taken care of, I thought. There was nothing more I could do to level the score, but I knew for years I would think of Suzy, once so full of life and zest and fun, now so terribly dead.

  Nothing I had done would bring her back.

  Nobody would ever take her place.

  It wasn’t until we had walked into my living room and shut and locked the front door that Bill said, ‘Quite a woman! That scene was highly professional. Let’s go to bed.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The job’s finished. Thanks, Bill.’

  He looked at his watch.

  ‘It’s after five,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a damn good sleep, and a damn good brunch, then we’ll see the colonel and get our jobs back.’

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  He regarded me for a long moment, then he said, ‘Dirk, you have to forget it. No one should live in the past. It’s the future that matters. Tomorrow is a new day. Come on, let’s go to bed.’

  In the big double bed, with the dawn light coming through the curtains, I thought back.

  Revenge?

  Hank gone, Angie locked away, Minsky gone.

  I put out my hand and caressed the pillow by my side where so often Suzy’s lovely head had rested.

  I didn’t sleep. I lay there watching the sun slowly rise, flooding the room with golden light.

  Bill was right. I could not live in the past.

  I thought of what he had said, ‘Tomorrow is a new day.’

  With that thought in my mind, with my hand still on the empty pillow by my side, I did eventually fall asleep.