Cool Heat (18 page)

The killer stared at him.

Thorp had to make the guy understand. Kora was important. She got men to do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. The best films, the best arm twisting came from her. Men fell in love, went nuts, did what they did, and paid the price. Thorp controlled himself. He was famous—and had been all his life—for his tantrum-like outbursts when frustrated. But not with this guy.

Thorp said, “She’s too valuable to me. Find out what you need to find out, old sport, but I need her. She’s a favorite of some very powerful people. She’s expected at my party.”

The guy waved him out.

This top professional in the business had gotten the shit kicked out of him by Marco Cruz. Thorp thought about that as he left, and it didn’t improve his mood. He wished Corbin was alive. He’d take the son of a bitch down into the tunnel and feed him to George.

Thorp stood for a moment looking at his lake. The black ring of mountains. His world. His family’s world. They had cleared the Indians out of here. Built the railroads. This was Thorp’s world on the verge of greatness, but now on the verge of destruction if things continued downhill. And he was about to expand that legacy, that birthright, to include the greatest vacation resort on this earth.

And on the verge of the biggest, most important weekend of my life—the Great Gatsby Gala—now this.

***

Leon took another pill. He waited. Finally, after long minutes, he felt some change. Some relief.

He checked the replacement gun, a Glock 23-40 with concealed clip holster and two 17 round mags. Nice weapon.

The hunt had taken a turn, and now it was war. He could get his face fixed later.

40

Sydney and Marco drove back into South Lake a little after ten that night, using back streets to keep off the main boulevard. They’d spent the afternoon and evening in the Range Rover thirty miles from Tahoe up in the mountains, seats back, trying to get some sleep. Marco didn’t know how Sydney was holding up. She kept saying she was fine, but he could tell that wasn’t exactly true. He’d taken some big shots from the guy he’d fought and was feeling the effects now, putting him in a grim mood.

Something seemed to be bothering Sydney.

“Maybe the guy who killed Shaun lived long enough to call whoever his contact is,” she said. “Maybe he told them about us, about Kora.”

“Not likely. I head his skull crack and I saw him drop. That boy survived long enough to make a call, would be something, especially since he left this behind.” Marco pulled out the cell phone. “Forgot in all the rushing around that I’d picked it up. So quit all this worrying.”

She nodded. Sydney had made contact with her reporter friend, and he’d called back and told her where to find Dutch Grimes. A watering hole called Pop’s, two blocks off the main drag. Sydney said she knew the place from having passed it many times but had never been inside.

“Been a long, strange day,” Sydney said as they drove into a back parking lot of Pop’s Place. “From Gatts to Corbin and now Dutch Grimes. I don’t know if we’re moving up the social ladder.”

Marco drained the coffee they’d stopped for, nodding to that. He put the cup in the holder and prepared to go get their target. She’d given him a description of Dutch. He got out and left her to watch for anybody coming into the parking lot they might not want to encounter.

He entered the bar through the rear door. He wore sunglasses and the wide-rim hat, an Airflow Tilley that he’d borrowed from Shaw.

The place was moody—no music, dark, one of those old joints that hadn’t gotten upgraded. A place where you expect to see sticky flypaper dangling from the ceiling. No Monday-evening crowd here, no dancing girls. No
Bada Bing.
A low-end joint for the pool players and serious drinkers.

In the center of the establishment stood two pool tables getting some action. Players, bottles, cigarettes, and a couple of over-the-hill girls still trying to get around the block a few more times, but with lesser dudes to choose from. The place had that end-of-time look and feel. The last hurrah.

Sydney had described Dutch as a geeky-looking guy, tall and skinny. Marco picked him out at one of the pool tables, then went to the far end of the bar. At a booth, three other guys silently worked on their drinks.

Marco, being a stranger in a local watering hole, was put on hold by the “busy-in-conversation” bartender, a guy who looked like he’d fallen off a prison bus, weighed down by excessive tattoos. Marco took the time to write a note in the small notebook he always carried, then ripped it out.

Finally having decided to wait on the big-hat stranger, the bartender ambled over, cleaning a glass as he did. “What can I do for you, partner?”

Marco handed him a note, told him it was important. “Give it to the tall dude playing pool. The one in the blue shirt. He needs to see this.”

Before the bartender could react one way or another, Marco placed a twenty on the note, turned, and walked out. The note he’d left was simple:
Message from Incline. Next week’s Gatsby Gala. Come out back. Now.

***

Sydney sat in the Range Rover fiddling with the .38 and watching everything and everyone who came near the parking lot. The bar was a couple blocks from the casinos.

This has to work out with Dutch or we have no chance,
Sydney thought. Marco would be out, and she would be on her way somewhere.

She wondered how long it would be before somebody found Corbin’s body. And what was Kora thinking, maybe doing? So many things could go wrong.

Finally, she saw Marco come out and walk back to the SUV. He leaned in the open window on the driver’s side. “He should be coming out.”

“You talk to him?” Marco looked on edge, as stressed out as she was.

“No. Left him a note he couldn’t turn down. He brings trouble, comes out with some friends, it won’t be good.”

“He’s coming out,” she said, her eyes shifting to the bar’s back door.

Dutch emerged, tucking in his blue, short-sleeved shirt and hitching up his pants over his skinny hips like maybe it was Thorp himself he was going to meet. Dutch stopped, looked around. Didn’t look like a guy who thought his enemies were closing in on him. More like a man who thought he had life by the balls, and it was about to get better.

“Over here.” Marco said.

Dutch looked his way. “What’s up?” he asked, glancing left and right.

“I got something for you from the man. Something he wants you to do.”

Marco held up the small pocket notebook and held it out.

“What’s that?”

“Read it and celebrate your next gig. It’s a Mexican subpoena,” Marco said with a smile.

“A what?”

Dutch, curiosity getting the best of caution, reached for the notebook. As his hand closed on the notebook, Marco, apparently in no mood for pleasantries, came up under it with a short, quick left hook powered by a strong push off his left foot. Got his whole body into the punch, the fist deep and hard into Dutch Grimes’ unprotected liver. It took the air out of the man’s lungs and dropped him like he’d been shot with a heavy-caliber bullet.

The man looked really hurt. He got slowly to a sitting position. Marco ran a quick weapon’s check and found none. He retrieved the notebook, then helped Dutch to his feet.

“You’re alive,” Marco said, standing over the guy, looking around to make sure they were still alone. “Stay that way.”

Marco opened the car door, pushed him into the back seat, and climbed in with him, a gun stuck in Dutch’s ribs. He then tapped the boy lightly on the head, enough to keep his attention. “Relax. We’re not here to kill you.”

Sydney pulled out. “I know your address,” she said. “Show me the easiest way.”

“Take Ski Run to Needle Park and go left.” He was having a hard time adjusting to the pain. He hesitated a moment, then said, “Needle to Keller and go right to Regina. Couple blocks on the right.”

“Now that we’ve been properly introduced,” Marco said, “let’s have a conversation. Here’s how it goes. You play it my way, you’ll benefit. And there’s no other way.”

Recovering slowly, the security expert looked past Marco. His eyes lit up with shock when he finally realized who was driving.

“What,” Sydney said glancing in the rearview mirror, “you thought I was dead?”

He didn’t reply.

“How are you, Dutch?” Sydney smiled. Then she said, “I’d answer all this man’s questions if I were you. He’s a really nasty mother when he’s not angry. Right now, he’s angry, and that just makes him crazy mean.”

Dutch’s eyes shifted from one to the other. He looked sick. “What is this? What do you want?”

Marco nudged him with the gun barrel. “
No me jodas
. Which, translated, means don’t fuck with me. Don’t ask questions. Just provide answers to the ones you’re asked. Got that?”

Dutch stared at him and nodded.

Marco said, “You didn’t answer me. I hate killing people who don’t need killing, but I get over it. Are we communicating?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Whatever testosterone the guy had went underground with the liver shot, Sydney thought.

“Give up a name,” Sydney said. “You don’t, he’ll take your balls. You know how these half-Italian, half-Mexican killers are. They like to cut. You should know the difference between a civilian and a
condottiere.
”

Marco gave her a smile. Bad cop, worse cop.

“Who’s at home?” Marco asked.

“Just my mother. She’ll be asleep. Uses heavy sleeping pills. She won’t wake up.”

He sounded very cooperative.

Dutch’s small, neat house stood in the pine trees on Regina Street below the Heavenly Valley ski area.

She glanced at him in the mirror. “You have a problem gambling? That why they have such a good hold on you?”

He seemed unsurprised.

“Yes.”

They parked and went inside, greeted by two cats.

Marco, a gun in the man’s back, said quietly, “You’re going to show us everything you have on the electronic security system Thorp’s lawyer uses at his place. All that high-tech stuff. You were the principle installer, if my information is right. What company?”

He didn’t like looking at Marco. He looked down and off to the side. “I worked with a company from San Francisco. Secure Systems International. SSI. I did the installation for a lot of high-end homes.”

“I want the layout of the lawyer’s house. You can provide me with that?”

“Yes.”

Once Dutch got into this thing, he was very thorough. He explained in detail how it all worked and how it could be taken down. He was a man proud of what he could do with security systems.

“You’re being helpful,” Sydney said. She showed him the recording she had of his cooperation.

He didn’t like that. “You’re going to get me killed.”

“Not if this never happened.”

“They’ll know.”

“They might not be in a position to do anything to anybody,” she said. “Just hope we’re successful. If we are, your debt problems will vanish. I’ll put this with a good friend of mind. He’ll know to destroy it when I tell him to. In the meantime, best stay sober. You get talking, you might not like the consequences.”

Marco studied the laptop file with the security info. He had Dutch show him how to deal with the iControl System Interrupter and the code sequencer. Strangely, Dutch began to show some enthusiasm, more than just his pride in a job well done. He was gaining some interest in the caper. He displayed no great love for Rouse or Thorp.

“Sorry about hitting you hard like that,” Marco said. “I thought you’d be more resistant.”

“I think I’ll survive it,” Dutch said.

Sydney said, “This works out the way we anticipate, we’ll have what we want and a hell of a lot of cash. You have gambling debts? House debts?”

“I do.”

“Maybe a few hundred thousand will help you out?”

“Do more’n help me out. My mother needs some medical stuff done. It’ll help her out as well.”

“We get what we’re after, well make sure you get reimbursed for your help. You won’t have to worry about anybody finding out or being able to do anything. You just have to handle the money with some discretion.”

“I’ll do that.”

He gave them night binoculars, meters, and a commo set so they could walkie-talkie each other without using the cell phones all the time. For the torch work he added welding glasses and a powerful torch kit.

He dug out printed Google shots, then made a few notes with some suggestions how he would approach it. He gave them the control system, putting it all in a large work bag he used when out on a job. Twice he wondered out loud if Marco was some kind of ex-soldier or agent or something, given all he seemed to know. He didn’t get an answer but he seemed intrigued by the idea.

After assurances and warnings, they thanked Dutch for his cooperation and left.

41

When they pulled away from Dutch’s place well after midnight, Marco now behind the wheel, Sydney said, “I never saw a man go down so fast from a single body shot like that. You do some fighting?”

“You don’t fight, you don’t live long in a Mexican prison. I’m sorry I did it now—he was really helpful. Nothing humbles a man and commands his attention like a liver shot,” Marco said. “Dutch wasn’t in any kind of shape to take a punch. It hurts bad, closes the lungs, cripples the will. That was the shot Bernard Hopkins used to take out Golden Boy, De La Hoya, out in the ninth at the MGM in Vegas. Another great body-shot-maker was Ricky Hatton. A jaw shot can knock a man out, but a liver shot cuts a man down.”

They headed up the eastern side of the lake on 50. Marco had said he wanted to drive past the Thorp and Rouse estates, see what they would be dealing with.

“How are you doing?” Marco asked.

“I could use a bath, a massage, and a glass of wine.”

“I think we can handle that.”

Sydney felt worse than she was letting on. The fight at Shaun Corbin’s had aggravated the wounds.

Even with Marco with her, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being vulnerable. The windows of the SUV were lightly tinted and at night they were invisible, which helped. But she figured Thorp would bring in all kinds of security and who knew what else. And she didn’t like his relationship with the police and sheriffs, especially on the Nevada side—where they were now. Marco wanted to see if access was feasible by land. If not, they’d have to go in by boat, which was definitely Sydney’s preference. She wouldn’t have security to deal with on the lake. And the noise of the party, and the lights, would provide cover out on the dark lake.