Chapter 21
Life with the gypsies had just gotten interesting when something slapped my face. I ignored it because I had finally tackled one of the women and was just about to ensure the immortality of my line. But, a second slap forced my reluctant return to consciousness.
My eyes fluttered open and I realized I was back inside the mud-brick house—this time tied to a chair in the kitchen. Somebody had hauled away the bodies I had left in the living room. In their stead a nervous young man stood by the kitchen entrance holding a sawed off shotgun. He was watching me with wide eyes as Enrique Rodriguez loomed over me, grinning.
I tried to take a swing at fat Mexican, but the ropes had me pinned. I kicked him in the groin, instead. Enrique jumped back with a yelp, holding onto his crotch and groaning. As he bent over I saw a patch of blood-soaked gauze taped to the top of his skull. Tanya had done a good job with the bat. Just not good enough.
"I'll kill you, man." Enrique screamed.
The rattlesnake I had seen earlier stuck its head out of a mouse hole and flicked at the air with its red tongue. It was getting the same bad vibrations from Enrique as I was.
"I'm impressed, Enrique," I quipped, keeping an eye on the snake's head. "No matter what side of the garbage pile you crawl out of, you've got the same stink."
He cocked his arm and started toward me, but caught himself when the front door banged. A moment later Delaney waltzed into the kitchen. The big cop was sweating and red-faced except for the scars on his cheek. Those stood out like writhing white worms.
"Did the son-of-a-bitch talk?" Delaney roared at Enrique.
"Nice to see you're still with us, Delaney," I interrupted. "I've been keeping an eye on a relative of yours. He's hiding in that mouse hole below the stove. Cute little fellow—has fangs and a rattle."
"I just got started, man," Enrique told the big cop. "And then the son-of-a-bitch kicked my balls, man."
"Enrique's been telling me how he's cut his own deal with the Portellos. According to him, you've been dropped from the program."
Delaney looked from me to Enrique but said nothing.
"He's full of shit, man." Enrique retreated a step, scaring the snake back into it dark domain. The Mexican pointed a threatening finger at me. "I'm gonna' make you pay for that, man."
Delaney dragged a kitchen chair over, setting it so its back was toward me and I was staring at his ugly face. Then he straddled its seat resting his arms across the chair-back. "How we gonna' work this Old Son?"
"How about you untie me," I suggested. "And after I kick your ass around this dump a few times, I walk out of here?"
The big cop grinned and shook his head. "You always got a comeback, don't ya?"
"Let me work on him a little, man," Enrique pleaded. "I make the bastard talk. Big time."
"Just because I'm tied to this chair, Enrique?" I said. "Hell, I can whip your ass with my eyebrows!"
Delaney leaned forward. "Where's my stuff?"
"K-Mart bought the lot," I whispered back. "They needed something for their blue light special."
He slapped me.
I took it and grinned.
"You got but one chance outa' this, Old Son," Delaney warned as he stood up. "That's dead. How you die depends on how you cooperate. Now, where's my stuff?"
"Is that anyway to offer incentive, Delaney? "Give a guy a little hope, for Christ's sake. If I'm going to die, why should I give a shit how?"
Delaney gave me a backhanded left. "You'll care plenty by the time Enrique finishes."
"Yeah, man," Enrique chimed. "You care plenty, man. I gonna' kick your ass all round this place for killing my brother. And then I gonna get really pissed off with you about my blue balls."
"Think, again, you idiots. I die and so do you. The Portellos are not about to let you morons live after the loss of their cocaine!"
The big cop gave an unconcerned shrug. "Everybody has shrinkage."
"Not the Portellos."
Delaney leaned over me and said, "Then, you'd better help me out, Old Son."
I blew him a kiss. "Not when I can foresee you tied spread-eagle with Dominic putting a blowtorch to your Irish pride and joy."
"Maybe I do that to you, man!" Enrique chimed at me. Then he waved an arm toward the living room and told the kid with the shotgun, "Go find me a goddamn blowtorch."
The kid gave out a weak smile before asking "Qué en el infierno es una lámpara de soldar?"
"How do I know what the hell a blowtorch is? Just get it."
"Stay put," Delaney growled at the kid.
"When Dominic finishes with Delaney he'll start on you, Enrique. My survival's the only hope you yo-yos have of living out the week."
"I don't like what this son-of-a-bitch is sayin', man," Enrique shouted to Delaney. "You told me, fuck those Sicilians. You told me, we're gonna' be runnin' things from now on. You told me all kinds of shit man. Well, what're we runnin' with, man? That bastard's got the cocaine. He don't wanna' talk, we got shit and them Sicilian's are pissed."
The big cop studied Enrique. I could tell from the look on the Irishman's face he was not happy with his partner.
"You're beginning to worry me, Mex," Delaney growled.
"Fuck you, man." Enrique's rage was rising. "Even if that bastard talks, we still got trouble, man. I say we get the fuck out of town 'til this shit blows over."
"Good thinking, Enrique," I remarked. "Unfortunately, when you cross the Mafia there's no place to hide—ever. They never stop looking. The longer it takes them to find you, the meaner they get when it comes to reparations. I knew a guy who hid from the Portellos for almost twenty years. They caught up with in Rio. Gave that guy the dip treatment: took him nearly a week to die."
"Oh, yeah?" Enrique shouted at me. "Well, maybe I give you the dip treatment, man." He turned to Delaney. "What's the hell's the dip treatment, man?"
Delaney took out his sap and returned his attention to me. "I'm gonna' start off by breakin' your jaw." He kicked the chair he had been sitting on out of the way, stepped forward, and slapped-tapped leather-cloaked lead against my chin.
"Real smart, Delaney. Broken jaw and I can't talk even if I wanted to. Did you vote him boss, Enrique? Or were you gone the day the dummies cast their ballots?"
"Shuttup," Delaney shouted. He thumped my shoulder with the sap. It hurt enough to puddle my eyes. But my bones held together.
"Delaney's going to get you killed, Enrique," I gritted. "And, if you think the Portellos can't touch you here, think again. They've got contacts all over the world."
Delaney hit me again. I let out a groan this time, which pleased him no end.
"I'll take you to the shipment, Enrique," I continued. "After that, I'll even help you work out an arrangement with the Portellos that'll keep you in new Chinos and silk for the rest of your days. All you gotta' do is shoot Delaney."
Again, the sap hit my shoulder. Again, I groaned.
Enrique began to pace. "I don't like that dip thing, man," he told Delaney. "And what about that shrinkage? We better get the hell out of here before they're all over us like stink on a dead chicken. That Portello bastard was down here, man. He knows all about this place. He knows about me."
Delaney pointed to me as he glared over at Enrique, "You just worry about getting this piece of shit to talk."
"I thought you cross-dressing black-leggers were tougher, Delaney," I quipped without too much of a whimper. "Let's switch places and I'll show you how it should be done."
The Mexican jabbed the air in my direction before shouting to Delaney, "I want him as dead as anybody, man. He killed my goddamn brother. But, I ain't gonna' screw over them Mafias, man. I say we hand him over to them. Let them get their own shit back."
"Another good plan, Enrique," I chided. "Only trouble is, the Portellos won't believe I've got the coke. And I sure as hell won't help out by admitting it. You better go home and kiss your momma goodbye—for the l
ast time."
Delaney grabbed Enrique by the throat. "You gutless son-of-a-bitch. You do as I say or you won't have to worry about the Portellos. I'll kill you for them!" Then he shoved the Mexican across the room before whirling back toward me, the sap raised. "This time I break your collar bone, Old Son."
Delaney's cell phone rang before he could make good on his threat. He checked the calling-number display and then with a worried curse, hurried outside. Enrique moved back over in front of me looking scared.
"Is shrinkage like when you go swimming in cold water?" he asked. "'Cause I don't want them Portellos shrinking my head, man."
"More or less. Only a little less personal."
"Then what's this dip treatment, man?"
"Sulfuric acid in a barrel. Dominic's a real enthusiast, especially if he's dealing with a guy who's got family."
Enrique wagged his head in disgust. "He makes the family watch, man? ¡Qué un pedazo de basura!"
I shook my head. "No, he puts them through it first. That way the clown who crossed him knows the suffering of his loved ones before it's his turn."
Enrique swallowed hard. "I kill him he tries that with my mother, man."
"You won't get the chance, Enrique. You keep kissing Delaney's ass and mommy'll be dangling from a rope with her toes tap-dancing on the acid before the week is out."
"Nobody messes with my mother, man," he screamed at me. "Now where's the goddamn stuff?"
"I'm dead, remember? There's no reason to talk. I'll be in my grave listening to your momma begging for help."
Enrique grabbed for my throat. I managed to tip the chair sideways, ducked his pass and in the process tripped him. He tumbled hard, landing on one wrist. I heard it snap, then his bellowed agony. Delaney rushed in cursing, gun drawn. The young guard shifted from one foot to the other, waving the shotgun, wall-eyed with fear and confusion. I was sideways on the floor grinning.
"What the hell's going on?" the big cop demanded.
"Enrique doesn't like me anymore, Delaney," I told him. "Tell him he's a bad boy."
"He broke my fuckin' wrist, man," Enrique screamed from the floor.
"I warned you about my eyebrows, Enrique. Next time you'll take me seriously."
Delaney looked from Enrique to me before muttering, "How in the hell"
All the shouting must have worried the snake. It lunged from the mouse hole and tried to slither past Enrique's fat backside. The kid with the gun let go a scream and then fired at the serpent. The blast missed the creature but sent several pellets into Enrique's fat backside. He let out another bellow and rolled in pain, sending a spray of blood in all directions.
Delaney jerked my chair upright, then dragged Enrique to his feet, and checked him out quickly. "Get him to a goddamn doctor, you idiot," he roared at the kid with the gun.
"I'm gonna' chop you up with an axe, man," Enrique whimpered, as he hobbled past me towards the door, the seat of his chinos soaked in blood. "And then I'm gonna' make you eat yourself."
I grinned at Delaney. "Looks like your plans are falling apart."
"Always on top, ain't ya?" Delaney grunted.
"My life expectancy's a bit longer than yours, anyway."
He smirked. "That was your pal Dominic on the horn. Salvatore just arrived in town to pay his respects on Eli's passing. And for reasons I have yet to discover, they already know about the missing coke. Now, how could that be, Old Son?"
"I told you Enrique'd cut a side deal."
"That's as may be. Or not. But they're looking at me for answers. And they want them tonight—in McAllen. That buys you about fourteen hours, Old Son. Because, tomorrow I'll be back. And if you haven't talked, I'm gonna' drag your sorry ass out to a fire ant mound and stake you down. Those little bastards may be small but they do like fresh meat."
"Six, two and even I'll be the only of us still alive tomorrow night, Delaney."
He roared and hit my left collarbone with the sap.
It was not enough to break it, but close. I pretended to faint from the pain. Through squinted eyes, I watched him back away. After a moment, he yelled and two young Mexicans rushed in waving pistols. In pidgin Spanish, the big cop told them to lock me in the explosive's shed, chair and all. I let my eyelids slip closed and smiled to myself.