Hardbingers

5

An ambulance finally arrived and they all watched until it loaded the girl and roared away.

Now what? Cal thought.

The guy must have read his mind.

"Okay. We got 'er done. Now let's move this party up to Canal Street."

"What for?"

"That's where you're a-droppin' me off."

Dropping him off… Cal liked the sound of that.

They reached Canal, bustling despite the cold.

"This here looks good. Pull over and pop the tailgate."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then I step over some twitchin' bodies and go out a side door. Yer call."

Cal pulled over and popped the tailgate.

"I'll drop this bag o' guns off in a trash can about a block upstream. You can pick 'em up there."

As the guy turned to go, Miller swung an arm back and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket—just a few fingers' worth. In a blur of motion the guy had the muzzle of the Glock between Miller's eyes.

"Miller, no!"

"That's right, Miller. Y'all've played real nice up till now. Let's not go ruin it."

Cal tried to see his face but could make out only a few features in the darkness back there. His hand snaked toward the courtesy-light button, but he pulled it back. Not a good idea to startle the guy while he had a gun to Miller's head.

"Not ruining anything," Miller said softly. "Just want to know where I can get in touch with you, so we can, you know, grab a beer, get acquainted."

"You can't."

"Who are you?" Cal said. Not that he expected an answer.

"No one."

"Who're you working for?"

"Me."

And then the guy was out of the car and walking away with his shopping bag.

"After that son of a bitch!" Miller said.

Cal's sentiments exactly. But backing up on Canal was out of the question. So was a U-turn. Had to be on foot.

He jumped out of the car and hurried along the sidewalk, angling this way and that through the pedestrians. Miller started out behind but soon took the lead. Cal could tell by the bunch of his huge shoulders that he was in a barely contained rage, ready to grab and toss aside anyone who got in his way. People must have sensed that because they veered out of his path.

They collected stares, and why not. Three guys in black suits and hats and dark glasses barreling along the sidewalk.

"Hey!" said Zeklos from the rear. "I have found them!"

Cal turned and saw him by a trash can holding a Gristedes shopping bag. He reached Zeklos first and had the bag tucked under his arm by the time Miller arrived.

"Gimme mine," Miller said.

Cal shook his head. "Not here."

Miller's face reddened. "I want—"

Cal nodded toward the subway entrance on the corner.

"He's gone. We'll never catch him now."

Miller surprised him by smiling—a real smile lasting more than a nanosecond. "That's what you think. And that's what he thinks. But you're both wrong."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"You know those RF transponders we were gonna use to trace the creeps?"

"Yeah. So—?" And then he understood. "You stuck one on him?"

"Damn straight. When I grabbed his coat."

Cal had to smile. "Miller, sometimes you really surprise me."

"Not as surprised as this asshole when we show up at his front door."

Zeklos was rubbing his mouth.

"My teeth are not so bad as he say, yes?"