by Stuart Woods
Teddy slipped him a fifty and said, “Thanks for watching my bags. I’ll be needing a cab.”
“Yes, sir. Where will you be wanting to go?”
“Several places. I’ll negotiate with the driver.”
“Yes, sir.” He waved over a cab.
The cabbie loaded Teddy’s bags and helped Teddy in. “Where to?”
“We’ll be making a couple of stops.”
“I have to put down a destination.”
“The New Desert Inn and Casino.”
“That’s here.”
“That’s where we’ll end up. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours.” Teddy handed him a couple of hundred-dollar bills. “If it does, you’ll be well compensated.”
“Sounds good.” The driver picked up his car phone. “Where to first?”
“Must you call it in?”
“That’s procedure.”
“Here’s the deal,” Teddy said. “My wife has detectives on my tail. They’re watching cabs and car services, so there’s no reason to be specific. You’ve got a tourist on a sightseeing trip. Whatever your company wants to charge me is fine, but this is between us.” Teddy slapped two more hundred-dollar bills in the cabbie’s hand.
“Works for me,” the cabbie said. “What unspecified location would you like to sightsee first?”
“Let’s swing by the airport.”
The cabbie took him out to the airport. Teddy called the pilot he’d left his plane with on the way. Then he dug into his luggage, selected a few essentials like bandages and adhesive tape and a left shoe, and slipped them into a shoulder bag.
The pilot met them at the gate. Teddy got out and leaned against the cab.
“You need a ride to the hangar?” the pilot said.
“No, I need you to take these bags and put them on my plane. I need to have the plane ready to go on a moment’s notice.”
“When?”
“This afternoon or tonight.”
“I go home at seven.”
“Not tonight you don’t.” Teddy slipped the pilot two hundred dollars. “You stay here so you can pick up more of these.”
The pilot smiled. “Yes, I do.”
“Where to now?” the cabbie said as they drove off.
“You know the Golden Grill?”
“Sure.”
“We’re going somewhere near it.”
“Near it?”
“Just drive by. I’ll tell you where to stop.”
They drove back to the main strip. Teddy kept his head down passing the New Desert Inn and Casino. It was silly to think anyone might see him, but just that sort of long shot had ruined more than one agent’s mission when he was with the CIA.
“Here we are,” the cabbie said. “It’s up ahead on the left.”
“Go on by and make a U-turn at the next corner, or go around the block—whatever you need to do to get back to that corner going the other way.”
The cabbie checked traffic and had no problem pulling a U-turn.
“Okay,” Teddy said. “Drive down the street and stop two driveways down from the restaurant.”
Two driveways down from the Golden Grill was an all-night diner.
“Pull in there.”
The driver pulled in the driveway and parked.
“Perfect,” Teddy said. “You’re going to be here for a while. You got something to read?”
“I got a paperback thriller.”
“Well, don’t believe a word of it. That type of stuff never happens. I probably won’t be back until after six, but don’t count on it. Go in, get yourself a sandwich to go, and eat it in the car. That way you’re a customer and they can’t bitch about you taking up the spot. If you need something else, get it, but get it to go and get it fast. I may have to leave in a hurry.”
“But probably not till after six?”
“That’s how it is.” Teddy handed him two more hundreds. “We good?”
“We’re good.”
Teddy pulled up his pant leg and took off his cast.
The cabbie’s mouth fell open.
“And you’re not reporting this,” Teddy said, and slapped another two hundred bucks in his hand.
Teddy took a pair of surgical gloves out of the bag and slipped them on. Out of sight of the driver, he took his gun out of his shoulder holster and replaced it with the gun that killed Ace Vargas, checking to be sure it was fully loaded.
When he was all set, he pulled the shoe out of the bag and slipped it on his bare foot. He left the cast, the crutches, and the bag of medical supplies on the floor of the backseat, got out, and hobbled behind the diner.
97
The stairs up from the basement of the Golden Grill had metal cellar doors that slanted from the ground a few feet up the back wall of the restaurant. They were locked, of course, but Teddy wasn’t going in. Instead, he scrambled up the incline. He pulled himself up and peered through the window.
It was just as he figured when he scouted it out. He had a clear view of the private dining room. He could see every seat at the table.
And he couldn’t be seen himself. The back of the Golden Grill was fenced off from its neighbors. It was a pain in the ass to get through, but Teddy had solved tougher problems, broken leg or not. It took him fewer than five minutes to break the bottom off enough slats to squirm through.
It was almost harder pulling himself up the slanted cellar door. He hadn’t climbed with only one leg before. It was doable, but it wasn’t fun. He got in position and checked his watch.
He was early—it was only a quarter to five—but he wouldn’t be going down and up again. He was there for the duration.
Sammy’s goons appeared at five. There were four of them, most likely mobsters from Jersey—tough, dangerous, and none too bright. It didn’t matter, as long as they were packing heat. They scouted out the room, checked the chairs and the sideboards. Teddy couldn’t imagine what they were looking for, but they did it.
One of them looked out the window. Teddy had to cling to the sill with his fingertips, his body hanging off the side of the cellar door.
He didn’t open the window. Had the goon been in his employ, Teddy would have fired him for such negligence. In this case, he blessed him for it instead.
Sammy Candelosi showed up at a quarter to six, accompanied by his henchman, Slythe. Teddy recognized him immediately as the substitute prop man. To a pro like Teddy, the rudimentary disguise of tucking his hair into a baseball cap was incredibly feeble.
Sammy spoke to his men, assigning seats at the table. Teddy suppressed a laugh. He couldn’t help thinking of a hostess arranging place cards at a dinner party.
It wasn’t complicated. Sammy would be seated at the head of the table with Slythe seated to his right, and Mason and Gerard to his left. The other goons would fill in the sides.
Ironing that out took longer than it should have. By the time they were finished, it was almost six. The stage was set, the curtain was about to go up.
It was time for Mason and Gerard’s entrance.
98
The phone rang in Mason and Gerard’s suite. Mason picked it up. “Yes?”
“Your limousine is downstairs.”
Mason hung up. “Our limo’s here.”
“Excellent,” Gerard said. He checked the gun in his shoulder holster.
Mason sighed. “I don’t like you wearing a gun.”
“It’ll be fine,” Gerard said, and pushed him toward the door.
The concierge guided them out front where a stretch limo was waiting. The driver stood holding the door.
“Good evening, gentlemen. I’ll be taking you to the Golden Grill. It’s a five-minute ride, but there is champagne and caviar if you would like.”
The limo let them out right in front of the Golden Grill. The maître
d’ met them at the door. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Kimble and Cardigan. We’re dining with Mr. Candelosi.”
“Ah, yes, you’re in the private dining room. Right this way, please.”
The maître d’ took them himself, part of the VIP treatment.
They went in and immediately found their way blocked by two large goons. Sammy Candelosi stood behind them.
“Gentlemen. Do come in. I hope you don’t mind the imposition, but my boys need to pat you down.”
Mason felt a cold chill in the pit of his stomach. This was exactly what he’d dreaded. The goons would find Gerard’s gun and take it away from him and shoot him.
Gerard’s reaction was just the opposite. He took a step back from the two goons and said calmly, “Then this meeting is over. My friend doesn’t have a gun, but I do, and so do all your men. If you expect me to sit unarmed in a room where everyone else has a weapon, I cannot believe you’d make a deal with that kind of schmuck. I’ll show you my gun. It’s in a shoulder holster.” He flipped his jacket open and displayed the weapon. “You’re not going to shoot me at the dinner table, and I’m not about to shoot you. So do you want to have dinner, or should we go?”
Sammy Candelosi chuckled. He wished Gerard worked for him. He was sorry he had to kill him. “Fine, keep your gun. I can’t wait to find out what this is all about.”
Mason had recovered his poise. “You’re the one who wanted the meeting.”
A waiter appeared and took their drink orders. When he left there was an awkward silence, each group expecting the other to initiate the business conversation. Since there was no proposal to discuss, nothing happened.
Sammy was amused by the situation. He wondered when the boys planned to make their move. He prolonged the suspense by passing out cigars.
The waiter came back with their drinks. He served everyone and went out.
Sammy raised his drink. “Cheers,” he said.
His eyes twinkled.
99
Teddy was pleased to see everyone had guns, and that Sammy had let Gerard keep his. He wondered what would have happened if he had tried to take it away. Gerard wouldn’t have stood for it.
Mason Kimble was another story. He looked freaked out by the situation, which was actually perceptive on his part. Sammy Candelosi was not acting like a man who was taking a meeting, no matter how much he smiled and offered drinks. The conversation was stilted at best. Neither party had a business deal to discuss. Of course, Sammy knew there was no business deal, but Mason Kimble didn’t, and per Teddy’s instructions he was waiting for Sammy to bring it up.
The silence was excruciating.
Teddy figured it was time to get the party started. He took out the Ace Vargas gun, aimed it through the windowpane, and shot Slythe right between the eyes.
Pandemonium erupted.
As Slythe slumped to the table, everyone went for their guns. Gerard actually got off a shot before a hail of bullets cut him down. His gun spun away from him across the room.
Sammy Candelosi, late on the draw, pumped a round into Gerard as he fell. Mason’s lifeless body had already hit the floor, but Sammy and his goons were still firing at the corpses.
Under cover of the noise of their gunfire, Teddy smashed the glass in the window and shot Sammy Candelosi in the heart.
When the gunfire stopped, one goon realized his boss was down, and his yell alerted the others. They beat a quick exit, leaving the room empty but for the bodies.
Teddy tossed the Ace Vargas gun onto the floor between Mason Kimble and Gerard Cardigan.
100
The taxi driver was all keyed up when Teddy got back.
“I heard gunshots.”
“I heard them, too,” Teddy said. “Is that what that was?”
“They came from over there.”
“I doubt it. I was over there.”
“It sounded like they were in the restaurant.”
“Well, that’s it, then,” Teddy said. “I wasn’t in the restaurant.”
The wail of police sirens approached.
“I guess it was gunshots,” Teddy said. “What do you say we take off? I’d hate to be questioned as a witness, especially when I didn’t see anything.”
“I didn’t see anything, but I heard the shots.”
“Big deal, everyone on the block heard the shots. Come on, I gotta go.”
“Where?”
“Back to the airport.”
The cabbie gave Teddy a look. Teddy slapped money in his hand. “Get me to the airport on time and there’ll be more.”
The cab pulled out of the driveway just as police cars were stopping two doors down.
Teddy called the pilot to meet him at the gate. He got out his medical supplies and taped the cast back on his leg. He finished up just as they got there. Teddy slapped five hundred dollars into the cabbie’s hand.
“That’s for a job well done. You’ll recall we toured the casinos. I didn’t stay that long at any of them, but it took all day. And I was a lousy fare, just a cranky pain in the ass.”
“The worst,” the cabbie said with a grin.
Teddy took his crutches and his shoulder bag and got out. The pilot drove him to the hangar, where his plane was set to go. He tipped the pilot five hundred, got in his plane, and flew to Santa Monica.
Teddy set down on the runway and taxied up to Peter’s hangar. The pilot came out to meet him.
“Good trip, Mr. Barnett?”
“Couldn’t be better, but it’s not quite over. Could you throw my bags in the car before you put the plane away?”
“Sure thing. Let me get it.”
The pilot drove the car out of the hangar and tossed in the bags. Teddy thanked him, and sped into L.A.
He had one last thing to do.
101
The guests at Billy Barnett’s housewarming party congregated on the terrace, attracted by the full-service bar, the climate-controlled swimming pool, and the charcoal grill serving burgers and barbecue ribs.
Teddy was holding forth at a table by the pool. He wasn’t conducting any tours of the house, just letting people browse as they pleased. The only room he locked up was the study—he figured the huge safe Mike Freeman had installed might cause comment—but the other rooms were fair game. They included a movie theater/screening room that could seat fifty, a billiard room with a full-size pool table, an indoor lap pool should the weather prove inclement, a wine cellar, a bowling lane, a putting green, a four-car garage, and a workshop.
It also featured an elevator, a luxury for a three-story house, but a godsend for a man recovering from a broken leg.
Teddy had just gotten back. He’d finally gone on Billy Barnett’s well-advertised but never actually realized vacation, excellent cover for a man who needed rehab.
While there he had called Sergeant O’Reilly as CIA agent Jonathan Foster, to let him know the Ace Vargas gun was no longer of interest in the agency investigation, and learned the case was almost closed. It appeared that movie producers Gerard Cardigan and Mason Kimble were killed in Las Vegas, in a shoot-out that also left a mobster and a couple of his henchmen dead. The gun that killed the mobster, and one of his henchmen, proved to be the Vargas gun, and the police investigation had discovered a link between Kimble and Cardigan and the deceased detective.
Teddy was relieved to hear it. He was glad he wouldn’t have to point out the connection.
Ben Bacchetti and Mike Freeman came walking up.
Teddy grinned. “Ben. Where the hell’d you find him?”
“He was hanging around outside looking lonely.”
“I didn’t get an invitation,” Mike said, “but I thought I’d crash.”
“You didn’t get an invitation because you’re in New York. It’s a long commute for a housewarming.”
“
You guys catch up,” Ben said. “I’m getting ribs.”
“I was just asking Ben about the hostile takeover,” Mike said. “I understand it’s over.”
“The guys behind it got involved with mobsters and wound up dead.” Teddy shrugged. “I don’t know who their heirs are, but I doubt if they want to run a motion picture studio. We’ll probably just buy back their stock. Anyway, the board meeting’s canceled, thank God. Those things are a waste of time.”
“Glad to hear it. So, how’s your new security system?”
“Well, no one’s burned the house down yet.”
“What’s the verdict on your old house?”
“Arson by person or persons unknown. That’s cop-speak for we haven’t got a clue. The insurance company’s taking it to mean they don’t have enough evidence to indict the guilty homeowner.”
“Will you fight them?”
“Herbie Fisher offered to do it pro bono. It’s the type of thing he’s good at.”
“The money’s as good as yours.” Mike lowered his voice. “Did you hear? Nigel Hightower’s resurfaced.”
“Really?” Teddy said.
“Yes. It’s a load off my mind. Now the police will stop bugging me for information I don’t have.”
“Is he here in L.A.?”
“Chicago. He popped up on social media. According to Facebook, he has no intention of coming here.”
Peter and Tessa showed up late. They’d been taping a radio interview to promote the movie.
Tessa came flying across the terrace. “Billy! How are you? Can I hug you, or are you still too sore?”
“It’s nothing,” Teddy said. “I slipped in the shower,” he added, for the benefit of guests who didn’t know he was Mark Weldon. “I’m fine now.”
“Can you walk around?”
“Would you like a demonstration?” Teddy offered her his arm. “What can I show you?”
“Someplace quiet?”
