When he reached the nearest buttress he flattened himself against the concrete and threw a quick glance around the corner. The junkyard was still and quiet. Smoke from the chimney was the only thing moving. The rat had disappeared. The thrum of traffic sounded dull and distant overhead. After a final check he came around the side of a concrete support and made his way to the next. Still moving quietly. Still watching for movement. Still listening for a warning shout.
What he heard was music.
He stopped at the edge of the clearing and checked both from where he was standing. The tractors on shredded tires were to his right. The carnival floats were on his left. He listened to the music coming from the cabin and thought he recognized the tune, but it was so muffled all he could hear was the bass. He checked the cabin and the workshop. Nobody came out to challenge him. After one last glance around, he moved left toward the carnival floats.
The dinosaur was huge up close, even without its head. The spaceship looked less impressive, more like a crash-landing than an interstellar traveler. The space in between them was broad and long and about the same size as the other two floats. It was obvious that the junkyard had a pecking order, the rusting hulks organized by vehicle type. Regular cars were on the other side. McNulty wasn’t interested in the regular cars.
The drag marks were wide apart and deep, probably the main wheels but with flat tires. The depth indicated weight and the width bulk. Decaying relics only began to weigh less when they’d rotted down to the chassis. Whatever had been here hadn’t rotted down to its chassis, so it was perfectly feasible it could have been restored and brought up to standard for the parade.
That was all there was to look at here. He turned to the cabin. It was time to put up or shut up. He’d delayed it long enough. As he crossed the turnaround the music became clearer, a familiar thudding beat with the main theme playing over the bass. It had been a long time since he’d heard the soundtrack to Escape From New York. He went up the porch steps using the edges to prevent them from creaking and looked through the window. The table was set for dinner. A music system played in the corner. Four men moved around the room.
The steps creaked behind him and McNulty spun around. Billy Bob stood on the porch blocking the stairs. McNulty nodded toward the music. “Escape From New York.” He put a hand over one eye. “Maybe I should have worn an eye patch.”
Whatever they were cooking, it smelled good when McNulty stepped into the room. Billy Bob came in behind him and closed the door. The other four men stood around the table and turned toward the door. The thumping bass of Escape From New York faded out and after a brief pause the next track started, another bass-heavy John Carpenter theme from Assault on Precinct Thirteen. McNulty tapped his foot in time with the beat.
“John Carpenter.” He nodded his approval. “Wrote some classics, but I prefer Jerry Goldsmith.”
The tall skinny guy who’d done all the talking last time went over to the sound system and turned it down. The bass was still there but now it was just a pulse in the background. “You know your movie scores.”
McNulty walked over to the table, turned a chair to face the men and sat down. “I work in the movies.” He leaned back and crossed his legs to show he was relaxed. It was just a show because he didn’t feel relaxed. “And let me tell you, no matter how much shit gets churned out, everybody working in the movies loves the movies. They don’t make shit on purpose.”
He nodded toward the sound system. “Carpenter and Goldsmith didn’t churn out shit.”
The skinny guy pulled up a chair and sat facing McNulty to show that he could play it cool as well. He didn’t cross his legs though. McNulty waved at the movie poster for Heat on the wall.
“Michael Mann doesn’t make shit either.” He looked the skinny guy in the eye. “Most quoted line from that movie is, ‘Don’t get attached to anything you’re not willing to walk out on in thirty seconds flat if you feel the heat coming round the corner.’ But you know what my favorite is?”
It was a rhetorical question. Nobody asked so McNulty told them. “‘It rains, you get wet.’” His expression turned sad, as if he didn’t want this to happen. “I think you guys are going to get wet.”
The skinny guy didn’t bite. He sat for a moment, then changed the subject. “You come to get my brother in the movies again?”
McNulty smiled. “I didn’t come for your brother last time.”
The other three men and Billy Bob stood behind their spokesman, showing solidarity and bulk. Five against one. Not good odds if it came to a fight. McNulty didn’t want this to become a fight. Best way to avoid that was to keep talking, keep it light, and smile a lot. People rarely punched somebody who was smiling at them.
“I didn’t come about a dent in the roof either.” McNulty rested one arm on the table. This was the tricky part. “I’ve come to talk about your new friends.”
“What new friends?”
McNulty’s tone hardened. “The ones who are going to bring the rain.”
FORTY-THREE
The classic interview technique of good cop bad cop is so true that it’s become a cliché. The theory is that the good cop shows empathy with the interviewee and therefore elicits information because the subject wants to please him after being battered by the bad cop. The trouble here was that McNulty didn’t have a bad cop to play off of so he’d have to hope the good cop would be enough. John Carpenter started playing something else, these were obviously his greatest hits, but nobody was listening.
McNulty empathized. “I’ll say this up front.” It was time to make the Cloverleaf Boys seem less like the villains. “I don’t think you’re in on all of this.” He let that sink in for a second. “You’ve got to live here after. No matter how much they offered you, this is your home. You might upgrade but you’re staying put.”
Nobody spoke. The men stood firm behind their spokesman. The spokesman didn’t speak, he simply watched McNulty with fierce eyes. McNulty turned up the good cop by adding a smile. “Maybe get rid of the rat pit, but…” He shrugged. “You’re not going anywhere.”
John Carpenter was just a whisper in the background.
“What these guys have got planned, thousand umbrellas won’t keep you dry.”
The skinny guy shifted in his chair but kept quiet. No admissions. No denials. McNulty decided to throw some facts at him. “Let me describe them for you. So you know what I’m talking about. Solid looking guys. Military haircuts. Black fatigues. Utility belts and handguns. Sound familiar?”
The spokesman still didn’t speak. McNulty continued. “They wanted you to restore the carnival float and pack it with explosives. Probably told you it’s for the distraction while they hit the armored truck. Blow the float up somewhere away from the route to draw the cops. Give you a percentage after the heist. Something like that?”
Still no admission. Still no denial.
“But it’s not going down like that. Because here’s what you don’t know.” McNulty uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “Solid looking guy. Military haircut. Black fatigues. That’s the guy shot five people on a movie set just to get the police looking the wrong way.”
He fixed his eyes on the skinny guy’s. “How many d’you think they’re gonna kill for a million-dollar getaway?”
That was the good cop throwing in a little bad. The cabin became quiet apart from John Carpenter whispering The Thing, which wasn’t really John Carpenter, in the background. Nervous glances were exchanged among the four men standing. The spokesman didn’t take his eyes off McNulty.
“That’s bold talk for a one-eyed fat man.”
McNulty laughed, the smile borderline genuine. “Robert Duval to John Wayne in True Grit.” He put one hand over his eye again. “I like the way you did that. Transferring the eye patch from Snake Plissken to Rooster Cogburn.” He nodded his approval. “You know your movies, too.”
The skinny guy shifted in his seat. “Point being, that’s a big acc
usation for a lone man against five.”
“Who said I’m alone?”
That provoked more uneasy glances. Two of the men went to the window and looked out across the turnaround. One of them split off and looked out the side window over the rat pit.
McNulty raised his hands. “Just kidding. I am alone. But that’s not an accusation, it’s a fact. And forensic examination will prove it after the event. Me. I want to stop the event before it happens because this is going to be worse than shooting five people.”
He lowered his hands. “And the only percentage you’re going to get is one-hundred percent of the blame. All of it.”
The two men at the windows kept watch in case McNulty hadn’t been joking. The other two stood behind their leader. McNulty could almost see the cogs turning behind the skinny guy’s eyes as he thought it through before sitting up straight and sticking his chest out. “We repair cars.”
McNulty gave him a smirk that said, “Yeah, right. Cars that are stolen to order and altered, resprayed and renumbered.” He threw in a half-lie for good measure. “Waltham P-D know all about you. Told me I was a fool for coming down here the last time. Said you boys were unstable.”
The skinny man leaned forward. “If they meant volatile, they got that right. Makes you more of a fool for coming down here a second time.”
McNulty waved a finger. “Except, if they knew I was here before, they know where I am now. Where do you think’s the first place they’re gonna look if I disappear?”
The skinny guy glanced toward the side window.
McNulty shook his head. “They know about the rat pit. Won’t eat me fast enough that they won’t find the body. Then forensic swabs for explosives and, bang, you’re up in smoke for multiple homicide and no cut of the heist.”
He nodded toward Billy Bob. “Only play you’ve got to keep your family together is to get out front of this thing. Stop it from happening.” He raised his eyebrows. “Who knows? You might be the heroes of this story. Get a reward.”
That got Billy Bob’s attention. “Reward?”
McNulty smiled at the idiot brother. “If you stop a million dollars from getting robbed and save a hundred lives? Damn right there’d be a reward for that, don’t you think?”
“Except we put the explosives in the Mickey Mouse float.”
The skinny guy elbowed Billy Bob in the groin.
McNulty shook his head. “That’s not how you play it. You renovated the float. The other guys used your cabin for the explosives but you didn’t know about that until now. Good citizen thing. You came forward as soon as you realized what was going on.”
The skinny guy looked at McNulty. “When they catch them fellas, you think they won’t roll over on us?”
McNulty softened his eyes. “The military guys armed to the teeth? Do you really think they’re going to come quietly? Those types don’t surrender. They go down fighting. Only people left to tell this story is us.”
Billy Bob looked nervous. The other men didn’t look much better. The skinny guy glanced at his brother and knew this was the only way out. He closed his eyes while he considered his options. The music stopped, leaving an uneasy silence. The cabin creaked and ticked and settled. McNulty looked at each man individually. This was taking too long. He softened his tone. “You like your movies. How about this? Conspiracy thriller based on the JFK assassination. The Parallax View?”
The skinny guy opened his eyes. This was one he didn’t know. “What?”
McNulty laid it out for him. “Warren Beatty. This corporation sets up guys with an unstable background to be present when an assassination takes place. Cops find him trying to get away and shoot him. Inquiry afterward rules that he was a lone gunman.”
He sat up and focused on the skinny guy. “Like Kennedy and Lee Harvey Oswald. All caught on the Zapruder film.” He let out a sigh. “Well, I’ve got the Zapruder film. And these guys are on it. Not you. But the heist? The explosion? There won’t be any film of that. And they’ve already set up the lone gunman. You.” He tapped the table for emphasis. “You’re Lee Harvey Oswald. And they didn’t leave Oswald alive.”
Everybody turned to face McNulty. No one was looking out the windows. There was a long awkward moment, then the skinny guy took a deep breath and got ready to speak. He didn’t get a chance. The first gunshot smashed the front window and took the man standing there square in the back.
FORTY-FOUR
Three more shots put the window man down forever. Solid grouping. Center mass. No risky headshots. Everybody hit the floor at the same time. Two shots thudded into the wall right behind where the other window man had been standing. A third hit the grandfather clock, setting off musical chimes as the bullet ricocheted around the pendulum.
The shots stopped as quickly as they’d started. This wasn’t a Die Hard shootout. There wasn’t a fusillade of gunfire smashing everything in sight but not hitting anyone. This was targeted shooting. As if to prove McNulty wrong, three shots shattered the rest of the front window and three more took out the glass from the side window. This kept everyone’s heads down, not giving them time to stand up and return fire.
The skinny guy crawled to the fallen man and checked the pulse in his neck. It was a natural reaction, but all it did was confirm the obvious. Four holes had punched through the chest and had already stopped bleeding. The heart wasn’t pumping anything out. The leader lowered his head and blew out his cheeks. He looked back at his brother and jerked his head toward the metal cabinet. The gun locker. Billy Bob nodded and scrambled across the floor.
Two more gunshots sounded outside. Bullets punched through metal, followed by a hissing noise. Two additional shots took out the second car. There’d be no speedy getaway unless it was in the car in the workshop. McNulty looked at the skinny guy. “Is the car on the ramp driveable?”
The leader moved to the middle of the room. “Yeah. Bodywork’s finished. Engine’s fine.”
McNulty thought about camera angles and making a miss look like a hit. Fooling the eye by making the viewer look the wrong way. “Can you get to it from here?”
The skinny guy nodded toward the bedroom. “Back door. Against the overpass wall. Access door into the workshop.”
McNulty kept low beside the dining table. “You’ll need a distraction.”
The skinny brother let out a sigh. “Like Mickey Mouse?” He turned sad eyes on McNulty. “You were right. I fucked up. It’s for me to un-fuck it.”
McNulty raised himself on one elbow. “I’m as fucked as you are. This is a team effort now.”
The leader shook his head. “You’re not on our team.”
His brother opened the firearms cabinet, which hadn’t been locked. The rifles in their cradles weren’t chained or padlocked. Billy Bob pulled out three target rifles and a pump-action shotgun. He tossed a rifle each to the other two men then held up the last rifle and the shotgun. The skinny guy pointed at the shotgun and Billy Bob lobbed it over the settee. McNulty held his hands out. The skinny guy looked at him. “You firearms trained?”
McNulty knew the basics but hadn’t specialized. Back in England, uniformed patrol officers were unarmed so his only training had been in Savage, Maryland. The Savage PD training had been minimal. McNulty shrugged. “I know which is the dangerous end.”
The leader pointed at the targets pinned around the walls. “Well we can shoot. So leave this to us.”
McNulty looked at the targets. Some of the groupings were terrible. “Not all of you, according to that one.”
The skinny guy nodded at Billy Bob. “My brother can take out a rat’s eye at a hundred paces. Traffic cameras at a thousand.” He indicated the other two men. “Them too.” He raised his eyebrows. “Me. I can’t shoot for shit.”
He patted the shotgun. “Can’t miss with this baby. If I get close.” He nodded toward the front door. “Them guys out there. They’re gonna want to come in sooner or later. They’ll be close enough then.”
McNulty glanced around the room at the ragtag army that was planning to go up against the military professionals. He looked at the leader. “You’ll need somebody to drive then.”
The skinny guy checked his load then looked at McNulty. His eyes carried the weight of the world as he shook his head. “You know as well as I do, the minute that car comes off the ramp they’re gonna blast it to smithereens. There ain’t no getting out of this. Some movies don’t have happy endings.”
They both knew what movies he was talking about and McNulty realized what he was going to do. The suicidal dash. The long walk into a hail of gunfire. If he was lucky he might take one of the gunmen with him but they were too good for him to get two. Targeted shooting. Center mass. Those guys were going to close down the Cloverleaf Boys and it was all McNulty’s fault. He’d forced their hands by coming here. The plan had changed. Instead of killing them afterward, they couldn’t risk them talking to McNulty, so they had to go now. McNulty as well. His shoulders sagged.
“I brought them here, didn’t I?”
The skinny guy got to his knees. “No. I brought them here. You just speeded things up.” He nodded to Billy Bob. “Drive straight.”
Billy Bob came over to his brother. “No.”
He waved at the other two and tossed them the car keys. Nobody spoke. There was nothing else to say. They exchanged parting glances and went through the bedroom to the back door. Billy Bob knelt beside the front window. His elder brother moved to the front door. He looked over his shoulder at McNulty. “It’s all gonna happen here and the workshop. Go out the back and turn right. We’ll keep ‘em busy. You stop Mickey Mouse.”
Tracking Shot Page 15
