Final Stroke (32 page)

A few seconds later there was a loud banging on the driver’s win
dow that caused her to let go of the horn and look up.

A man used a gloved hand to wipe away mud from the outside of her window. He wore a knit cap. No beard, no hooded sweatshirt, not the man who had borrowed her phone, but his face looked famil
iar. Soon he’d explain it all. There would be a logical reason for this. They’d help her with her car and explain everything because, after all, she’d seen this face before. Somewhere. He’d been in a suit and tie. He’d been …

My God! It was the man Steve had pointed out at Marjorie Gia
netti’s funeral, the hood named Dino. He was not smiling and now she saw that the thing he had tapped on the window with was a gun!

“Open up!” he shouted.

She picked up the phone and held it up to the window. “I … I already called the police!”

Now he did smile. He put the gun away in one pocket, then reached into another pocket and took something out. He held a roll of tape close to the window so she could see it.

She held the phone closer to the window. “I called state police and sheriff’s police, and a bunch of local cops! They know! They’re on their way!” She turned to look back down the road as if she believed what she was saying, as if saying it would make it true.

But the hood named Dino simply smiled and pulled a long piece of black tape from the roll he held and ripped the piece off the roll and stuck it diagonally across her window.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to call your phone company, Mrs. Babe!” he shouted. “They’ll have to credit you for all the calls you made to the police!”

He pulled off another long piece of tape and applied that to her window on top of the other piece of tape, making an X.

“Isn’t it wonderful what a handy thing tape is, Mrs. Babe! Some of my friends find duct tape handier, but I find it a bit brutal for my tastes! Now, black tape, this is really handy! With black tape, you can do all sorts of things! You can tape something so it’s waterproof, or you can even tape electrical contacts on plugs and on battery packs so the electricity won’t flow!”

He pulled off more tape and put a horizontal piece across the X he’d made on the window.

“Or, you can use black tape to tape a safety glass window so that when you break it, it won’t make so much of a mess! But wait! I guess the duct tape would be faster for this!”

Shadows around her car in the gathering darkness. Rain beat ing on the roof of the car as they gathered and as both black tape and
duct tape began to completely cover the driver’s side window. She could see men through the windshield now. Two wore knit caps and leather jackets. And one of the men was the one who had borrowed her phone. She recognized his hooded sweatshirt and the sallow skin of his face framed by the black beard. She was about to scream when she saw a man approach from the front of the car with something long and shiny raised into the air. She had not even gotten the scream out when the driver’s side window exploded into the car and the taped safety glass fell in onto her shoulder.

Then the doors opened, her seat belt was taken off, and she was in the rain with them. At least five of them, faces averted, hung low in the rain as they shoved her about. Her arm felt as if it had been pulled from its socket, her head throbbed where it struck the roof of the car when they dragged her out. She was pushed against the back of the van, her hands taped behind her. Hands all over her, too many to re
sist. Heavy breathing as she tried to drop to the ground, but the hands held her up. One hand from behind, wrapped around her and at her crotch, copping a feel while other hands put more tape on her wrists.

Then, her face held sideways against the cold wet steel of the van, she felt one of them move close, hot breath at her ear.

“Where do we go next?” said the low voice.

She thought the voice was meant for someone else, one of them wondering where to take her, or where to go with this. But the voice repeated more loudly into her ear, “I said, where do we go next?”

She was pulled sideways, her face sliding along the cold metal of the van’s rear doors. When her face reached the corner of the van she heard a buzzing sound, and when she opened her eyes she saw a platform had emerged from the side of the van like a huge tongue and that someone in a wheelchair was emerging from the van onto the elevated platform.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, Legless,” said one of the men holding
her, his voice firm but calm as if giving a parental warning. “You’ll get those skinny wheels stuck in the mud and end up on your stumps.”

As the legless figure in the wheelchair sat on the platform, appar
ently considering what had just been said, the only sound besides the in and out of her breath was the gurgling of exhaust from the Audi as it sat idling in the deep puddle.

CHAPTER

NINETEE
N

The sky to the west was brilliant orange above the
Everglades. Not that he could see the Everglades from where he was. What he could see, from his apartment on the fifteenth floor, was mostly city, being that his building was near the ocean. At dusk, on a clear night like this, the orange sky and city lighting combined to create one hell of a view. It was almost enough to make a man forget about the past and imagine that his wife, her health intact—his wife of thirty years who had originally wanted an ocean view but acquiesced to his desire for a sunset view, his wife five years dead this past win-ter—awaits his return inside so she can be at his side.

Valdez was out on the patio of his downtown Miami apartment when the phone rang. The wine that afternoon at the airport had made him hungry. He had grilled his dinner, a chicken breast and some vegetables, and had just put it on a platter. He shut off the grill and carried his dinner inside. As he put the platter down on the island he could tell, because of the light on the phone, that it was the secure line, which meant a call routed through the Miami office
communication center. He went around the island, sat on a barstool, and, while staring at his steaming platter, picked up the phone and heard George Skinner’s familiar voice.

“Valdez?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Sorry I’m calling so late.”

“That’s all right.”

“When we were young men we might have contacted one another over the air waves on an evening like this.”

“Yes, times have certainly changed. No more Morse Code, no more worrying about the atmospheric skip.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m just starting.”

“Well, go ahead and finish. But after you’re done, Hanley will be calling from the condo. It seems things have come to a head in Chi
cago. I’ll give Hanley the details, but I wanted you to know so you’ll be prepared to do whatever needs to be done.”

“So you’ve been contacting both of us all along?”

“Yes, but Hanley’s unaware of our relationship. As far as he’s con
cerned, I’m
his
contact at Langley. More importantly, my old friend, I called you first. You and I and Tom Christensen were old ham buddies together. After that we inherited certain obligations. You understand.”

“Yes.”

“Anyway, go ahead and finish eating so you’ll be ready when Han-ley calls. And Valdez?”

“Yes.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“It’s for the sake of future generations.”

“I agree.
”
“All right. You’ll both be wearing golf jackets with deep pockets
,

so be careful.” “I will.” “Then seventy-threes, my old friend, and take care.” “I’ll do that.”

At the condo, Hanley had Valdez wait in the living room while he finished dressing. Against the far wall, Valdez could see the two golf bags that had been sent over by the main office. Valdez stared down at his shoes. White sneakers, the only pair he owned. He felt odd wear
ing white sneakers as soon as he left his apartment, especially when he exited the elevator and headed through the lobby. He also felt odd wearing the “I’d rather be Golfing” cap he picked up on his way to the condo. The odd feeling that he’d stick out in a crowd didn’t leave even when he got back into his car after buying the cap and no one else could see him. The only time he’d worn the sneakers was the rare oc
casions when he went to the pool. The sneakers were part of his past, purchased when his wife was still alive. They’d gone to the Keys for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. It seemed so long ago. His wife rubbing aloe on his sunburn in the hotel room. If only she could be here again. If only she’d been able to share in this so-called retire
ment that was just around the corner.

Hanley glanced at his watch as he came out of the bedroom with his carryon bag. “We’ve got time,” he said. “They’ve got to file the flight plan and there’s no need to get there too early. I like your cap.”

Hanley was also wearing a golf cap, but his had a golf club logo on it and Valdez wished he had purchased a different cap.

Hanley placed his carryon bag on the floor next to the golf bags and joined Valdez on the sofa. “Thank God we’ll be able to sleep on the plane. It’s been a long day for both of us.”

“I guess we should thank God for something,” said Valdez, turn
ing to stare at Hanley. “And now, what is this all about?”

“The situation in Chicago has deteriorated,” said Hanley. “That’s why our friend at Langley called me directly. Our number one contact at the rehab facility has managed to get himself taken to the hospital, apparently having been confronted by one of Lamberti’s men. And the other contact …” Hanley smiled. “Maria. Well, she seems to have lost track of Mrs. Babe.”

“They’re sending two old men to Chicago because a couple of rookies couldn’t cut it?”

“Not exactly,” said Hanley. “We’re going to Chicago because Mrs. Babe may have stumbled onto something from the Gianetti past, and because Lamberti and his men are loose cannons. In the process of going after the money, they’ve managed, in a single day, to kill the son and his attorney, beat up one of our contacts, and throw the other contact off the track. We can’t allow this to go forward because of the possible ramifications.”

Valdez looked down at his sneakers. “And what exactly are those ramifications?”

“I thought I made it pretty clear in one of our earlier conversations.”

“Not exactly,” said Valdez, turning to Hanley. “All you said was that it was political and had to do with two past Presidents, Reagan and Carter. That wasn’t much to go on.”

Hanley smiled. “Yes, I guess, since we both have to go, it’s time to make it clearer.”

Valdez looked at his watch. “You want to talk here or on the plane? I’m not a very fast driver.”

Hanley looked at his watch. “All right, on the plane. It has to do with politics and political talk always has a way of becoming long-winded.”

Hanley and Valdez stood slowly and went to the door. Valdez was already wearing his golf jacket and watched as Hanley put his on. Golf jackets, thought Valdez, which meant jackets with deep pockets. Too bad it had to come to this.

When the two men hoisted their golf bags onto their shoulders, they both grimaced and looked at one another.

“Damn arthritis,” said Hanley.

“Damn arthritis,” repeated Valdez.

CHAPTER