“Yeah, yeah. You and your superhero theatrics are going to get my ass fried one of these days.”
When they were both inside and had turned up the thermostat, Bill said, “What’s the status of the rider?”
“It’s been drawn up, but the only copy is at the Savage’s house. She didn’t want it anywhere near her office or the floor of the Senate until the very last minute. If none of her colleagues ever sees it, or even hears about it, so much the better “.
Ted walked over to the wall separating them from Room 111. “Let’s see if pretty little Calli Salvio got her facts straight.” He could hear shit-kicking western music twanging away before he was within a couple of feet of the partition’s ugly blue and silver-striped paper. He put an ear to the wall and motioned Bill to do the same. Along with the music, they could hear voices, almost as clear as if they were in the same room.
* * *
“Stop flappin’ your lips, Jumbo, and deal the friggin’ cards. You’re into me for a bundle and I think you’re stalling’ to keep me from having’ time to get even.”
“You’re never gonna get even, Death. Don’t waste those puny brain cells worrying about it. And try to clean up your filthy mouth … it’s getting on my nerves.”
“Fuck you. Deal the cards.”
“I’ll deal the cards when I’m damn good and ready, cowboy.”
Death stood, walked to the small fridge, turned around, came back, and plopped into his chair. “Man, do it! Can’t you see I’m bored out of my freakin’ mind?”
“Is that why you couldn’t leave the package alone? Had to mess with her. Even had to cut her up, didn’t you?”
“She’s nothing’ but a friggin’ whore. And what’s it to you if I got a piece of ass out of it? Gonna finish her off after tonight anyways, right?”
“No way, man. We need her to get the rest of our bread. So until then we play it by the book. Now pour us another shot of that tequila. Make yourself useful while I deal.”
“It’s about friggin’ time, man.” Death set a brimming shot of the cheap booze in front of his partner. “Down the hatch, shit face.”
Jumbo jumped up, flung his chair against the wall, and grabbed Death by the shirtfront. “That’s one time too much, bub. I’ve had it with you and your slimy mouth. You and I are through. Get your ass out of here.”
Death swept the cards off the table, tore up the paper record of his losses, and said, “I ain’t goin’ nowhere without the rest of my money. Then I’m gonna kill that bitch ‘cause no mark walks away what’s seen my face, unnerstan?”
“You’re not going to kill anyone, loser. Now settle down or I’m going to plug you, you worthless asshole.”
Death tipped over the table with both hands, but before he could make another move, Jumbo had his pistol out and aimed. Death snarled, started forward, and was stopped by two quick rounds to the chest.
Both men watched the blood spread around the wounds until Death toppled over and hit the floor with a loud thud.
* * *
The flimsy door splintered under the impact of Bill’s boot and he was at Jumbo’s throat before the goon could figure out what was happening.
“Drop your weapon. Now!”
Jumbo held onto his gun as Bill continued to squeeze harder and harder. After what seemed like an eternity, the goon’s body went slack and the pistol dropped to the floor.
“On your knees,” Bill yelled. “Hands behind your back!” He pulled plasticuffs out of his pocket and yanked them tight around the man’s wrists.
Ted kneeled next to Death, felt for a carotid pulse. “He’s gone.”
Bill kicked Jumbo forward and stomped on his back. “Try anything and I’ll kill you right here.” All he got for a response was a groan.
Ted went to the closed bedroom door and pushed it open. There was no light, no sound.
“She in there?” Bill asked, crossing over to stand next to Ted.
Ted flipped the light switch. At first they didn’t see anything but the mussed bedspread. Then from behind the far edge of the bed they saw a pair of clawing fingers, then hair, and finally a face with dark, caked blood on one cheek, from eye to mouth; two black eyes stared back at them.
“Call the EMTs and I’ll get the Senator’s cop friend.”
* * *
“Senator, she needs medical care,” Ted said into his cell phone.
“What’s her condition?”
“She’s got a huge cut on her face and she’s been beaten to within an inch of her life,” he said, standing outside the hospital ER in Carson City. “The EMT guys said we barely got to her in time.”
A long moment passed before the Senator spoke, her voice shaky, “Bring her back to Washington. I’ll get her the best medical care available.”
“I will as soon as we can, but right now, she’s not fit for traveling.”
“Let me speak to her, please.”
“Can’t do it. She’s unconscious, hooked up to oxygen, and covered with all kinds of chest leads. They’ve had to shock her twice. Like I said, we didn’t get to her any too soon.”
“Listen to me carefully, Mr. Yost: I’ve spoken to Nathan Sorkin and told him if Joanne is not here, in Washington, before that Medicare appropriations bill goes to the Senate floor for a vote, I will add the rider.”
“But Senator—”
“I know that sounds unreasonable, but I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. There’s the rider, Medicare, Hygea, Wade Wilson, the upcoming election, end-of-life moral questions … all of it snarled and intertwined. And from my perspective, I can’t think about any of it until I have Joanne Paige here in my presence … not in a hospital in Carson City, not on a flight between there and here, but right here in D.C., where I can put my hand on her. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand. We’ve got Joanne, and you know we’ll get her to you as quickly as possible.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“But why, Senator?”
“I don’t trust W. W. Wilson,” her voice came in gasps. “I still think he’ll find a way to hurt her.”
“What more can he do, Senator?”
“She’s still alive, Mr. Yost. Need I say more?”
“Senator, I’ll do my best to explain that to the doctors but—”
“But in the meantime, I’ll arrange to have a medevac plane ready and waiting at the Carson City airport.”
“There could be a problem with the local police,” Ted said. “They’ve already interviewed Bill and me once.”
“You won’t be bothered by them again.”
Chapter 43
W.W. lay in bed on his back, eyes wide open.
3:00 … 3:05 … 3:10.
He’d gone to bed early, had been trying to sleep for hours. At this point, he didn’t dare take a sleeping pill or his mind would be like mush the rest of the day. And if ever there was a time he needed to stay focused, this was it. What happened today was crucial to his future. He either stayed on top or he would be down for the count.
He stared at the 50-inch television monitor on the opposite wall and realized he’d had on an old John Wayne western, with the sound on mute. He picked up the remote and clicked it off.
3:20.
Just as his eyes began to droop, the phone rang. He grabbed the cell from the bedside table.
“Wade?”
He recognized the voice but for a moment he couldn’t connect it with a name—his mind refused to focus. Who? Then it came to him just before the silence became awkward.
“What’s going on, Levi? Why the early call? Good news, I hope.” When the line remained silent for a long moment, he knew it was going to be bad, really bad. Levi Black was the kind of man who took care of things, quiet and efficient. No fuss, no muss. If he was calling at this hour, it had to mean trouble, trouble with a capital T.
“The guys who lifted the broad messed up. Messed up bad.”
“What do you mean they messed up? The girl’
s all right, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, the whore’s alive, but just barely. The big problem is that one of our men is dead.” There was another long pause. “The other’s being held in the Carson City jail.”
“The woman?”
“Word is, on a medevac plane bound for Washington.”
“Shit!”
“Yeah, that pretty well describes it.”
“I hope you’ve covered our asses. I don’t want any of this landing on my doorstep.” Wilson’s hands were shaking; he couldn’t get them to stop. “I put out damn good money and made it very, very clear how I wanted this to go down. Now look what’s happened. Keerist!”
“It is what it is. If you’re blaming me, forget it. It got away from us. Either face up to that, or run.”
“Hell! I’m not running. And if it sounded like I was trying to dump this on you, I’m sorry. Thing is, I’m drowning here and I need your help, Levi. Do you think the jailbird will talk?”
“Sure he’ll talk,” Black said. “He’ll do anything to save his friggin’ neck. Wouldn’t you?”
“But he doesn’t even know me.”
Black roared with a laughter that made W. W. shiver. “It’s like dominoes, Wade—if they get back to me, who do you think’ll be next on the list?”
W. W. could barely recognize his own voice. “Is there any way we can make this go away? Can you make the jailbird … disappear?”
The silence that followed stretched out longer and longer until Wilson thought they had been disconnected. He was about to hang up when he heard a long breath at the other end.
“It can be handled,” Black said. “But it’s going to take a bundle of hard cash to grease all the wheels, and get the right dude to make it happen.”
“How much?”
“My guess would be somewhere in the neighborhood of a quarter mill. Certainly no less.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No, I’m serious. Not only that, once this is over and done with, you and me are finished. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. Ever! That’s the deal, Wade. And no dickering.”
Wilson gave it about two seconds. “Done!”
“You’ll get a message in the usual way.”
W. W. clicked off the phone and slowly put it back on the bedside table. The sheet beneath him was soaked in sweat; he couldn’t remember ever being this scared.
He forced himself up, walked out the bedroom, down the hallway, and across the living room to the wet bar. With shaking hands he poured a couple of inches of Maker’s Mark into a cut-crystal tumbler and tossed it straight down. His stomach turned into fire, threatened to reject the liquor.
Wilson grabbed the edge of the bar to steady himself, fought back a painful spasm, then turned and ran for the bathroom.
Chapter 44
“Senator, we’re about an hour out,” Ted said into his cell phone. “The doctor says she’s holding her own, doing better than expected.”
“What about her heart?”
“They think it was mostly dehydration and shock that pushed her into cardiac arrest. The on-board doc says she appears to be physically strong.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, but her emotional status is iffy. I won’t minimize the situation—the wound to her face was deep and destructive. Your friend has been through the wars, and she looks it.”
“I can’t get my head around it,” Angelle Savage said, her voice catching. “But now you know why I wanted Joanne here. Wade Wilson’s an animal. He’s responsible for all of this.”
“Maybe not. My take: it was more an impulsive act of sadistic pleasure.”
“Those bastards are going to suffer.”
“Save your energy, Senator. One was dead when we got there, the other one hanged himself in his cell before we left Carson City.”
“Good riddance! Saves the tax payers a fist full of money.”
“Spoken like a true Nevadan.”
“That’s exactly who I am, Mr. Yost.”
“You’ll have an ambulance waiting at the airport when we arrive?”
“When they open the door of the medevac plane, the ambulance and I will be waiting.” She paused for a beat. “And Mr. Yost, I’ll owe you one for this. Words can never express how much I appreciate all you and your friend have done.”
“I’m glad we have a happy ending here.” Ted clicked off and looked over at Joanne, who was awake and listening to Bill. He was trying to distract her with complaints about having to fly back to Washington in another small jet. He was pretty funny.
Joanne’s eyes were even blacker than before. She looked like a raccoon with a large dressing covering half of its face. She wasn’t a pretty sight. The suture job had been tricky—the ragged cut was deep and wide and she would require plastic surgery in the near future.
Ted continued to listen to Bill complain and allowed himself a small chuckle. As far as he was concerned, it was one of the cushiest rides he’d ever had. The interior of the plane was plush—the nurse and doctor were relaxing in first class-style leather seats, sipping soft drinks. Probably one of the easiest assignments they’d ever signed on for.
* * *
Joanne tried to escape in sleep. The meds they put in her IV helped, but when she was awake, she couldn’t stop crying.
The mirror she’d insisted upon had only revealed what she already knew: her face had been sliced open. Sewing her up would never take away the ugliness. How would she survive looking like this? She was ruined.
They’d loaded her onto the plane when she was asleep or she would never have allowed them to take her to Washington. To Angelle.
She could still see the look on Angelle’s face when they’d met accidentally years ago. Angelle was embarrassed to be seen with her.
And who could blame her? The past was the past and the love they’d shared in Virginia City no longer existed.
Angelle was a Senator now, a big shot. Why would she want to have anything to do with a mutt from her past? And a whore, to boot?
No, she wouldn’t see Angelle Savage when they got to Washington, or ever again.
* * *
Angelle and Gabe stood side by side, watching the jet land smoothly on the runway and taxi to where they were waiting with an ambulance.
She thought about Joanne and what had happened to her.
I should have been a better friend. Should never allowed her to just slip away. How many others have I hurt because of my ambition and drive?
She looked up at Gabe, took his hand, and squeezed it. “I know I have no right to ask, but when this is over, Gabe, please stay, please don’t leave me again.”
He turned his attention away from the arriving plane and looked into her eyes. “Do you really think I want to go?”
“Then don’t.”
“Angelle, I can’t be with you and live the way we were before. As selfish as it sounds, I need to know I’m more important to you than anything else.”
“But you are, you always have been,” she said. “We can make it work. We can! Please.” They looked into each other’s eyes, both afraid, both wanting, wanting so much. She pulled him to her, squeezing, kissing, crying, laughing. Holding on for dear life.
* * *.
“Take me back!” Joanne screamed. She twisted against the straps that held her to the gurney. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to see her.”
“Come on, Joanne,” Ted said, “without her you’d be dead, buried somewhere in the Nevada desert.”
She smashed at the dressing on her face, pressed down harder, used the pain to try to erase the memory of what she’s seen in the mirror. Tears gushed down across her cheeks. “I’d rather be dead.”
The hatch opened and Angelle came rushing toward her, a man following close behind her. She covered her eyes with her hands, her sobs tearing her apart. Angelle sat next to her and gently uncovered her face. Joanne still wouldn’t look at her.
“Can you ever forgive me, Joanne?”
> “You don’t owe me nothing, Angelle. What happened was a long time ago, in another place.” She finally opened her eyes to look back at Angelle. “I don’t want to talk about it”
“You’re right. We won’t talk about it … now.” Angelle placed a hand on her arm and pointed to the man who had come with her. “This is my husband, Gabe. He knows all about us, knows everything.” She reached over and gently pushed a lock of hair away from Joanne’s forehead. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Gabe smiled, crouched down beside the gurney, and took her hand. “Things will get better. I promise”
“Let’s go home,” Angelle said. “We’ve got lots of time to talk, to figure things out after you’re settled in your room.”
Joanne covered her face. When she spoke her words were muffled. “I’m so happy to see you again.”
“Me, too.”
* * *
Ted and Bill stood next to the ambulance, waved goodbye to Angelle, Gabe, and Joanne.
“Maybe there is such a thing as a happy ending,” Ted said.
Bill laughed. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
“Well, I think something good could come out of this whole business.”
Suddenly the departing vehicle stopped, Angelle Savage got out, and trotted back to them.
“I have a something for you, Ted,” she said. “It’s for you, too, Bill. I think you’ll both enjoy it very much.” She handed Ted a copy of the Washington News-Sentinel early edition, opened to the front page. The banner headline read:
RUMOR MEDICARE FUNDING BILL
MIGHT CARRY EUTHANASIA RIDER
“And by the way, Ted,” she said, “as a small thank you, I’m giving you an exclusive interview concerning everything that’s happened, from the very beginning. That should give your blog some buzz, right?”
“Oh, no doubt about that.”
“If we do it right, I’m hoping we can topple W. Wade Wilson right out of that catbird seat of his.”
“But it might topple you, too.”
The Killing Vote Page 26
