“How long will it take you to get the money together?”
“It’s ready now.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. I’ve been doing well since you last saw me.”
“Good for you.”
“The stash is in some lockers, nice and secure. I need to go back to my pad to pick up the keys.”
“Shall we meet in an hour? Will that give you enough time?”
“Sure thing. We're off to Burbank Airport.”
“That still going?”
“Yeah, for cargo now, which is why I like it. No screaming kids but plenty of traffic.”
“An hour then.”
“You get outa here first. I’ll go five minutes later once you’re safely away.”
Frank and Mary Lou crunched to the edge of the tree line and waited until two men had sent their golf balls flying down the fairway. Then they boosted a car in the parking lot and headed straight back to the Clements.
39
FRANK PARKED FOUR blocks away from the Clements and they walked back to the hotel. Through the lobby and up to their room. He pulled out their fake ID from the their nightstand drawer while Mary Lou grabbed the two black bags from their hiding places and dropped them onto the coffee table. She went into the bedroom to find out what was taking Frank so long.
She found him sat on the bed, head in his hands, fake driving license and passports lying next to him. Mary Lou knelt in front of him, her body between his knees.
“What’s the matter, hon’?”
She wiped a tear off his cheek. He’d never behaved like this before and a fear was gripping the middle of her stomach.
“Nothing, babe. After all this time, I can’t believe this is coming together. That’s all.”
Mary Lou's shoulders relaxed and she kissed him, holding the sides of his face in her hands.
“We'll be okay. The only thing to think about is getting the money today. Nothing else matters.”
“I know. We'll figure everything else out later on. It’s Mark we need to focus on now.”
“You bet. In a year or two we can come back to California.”
“To be honest, babe, for me it’s never been about California. It wasn't where we were going that counted: it was about leaving. It was about living a new life. Baltimore was killing me and it would have killed the pair of us if it had the chance.”
“That’s thousands of miles away.”
“I know. Good, isn’t it?”
Frank kissed Mary Lou again and let one hand slide down her spine and reach her ass. She put a hand on his groin and separated their lips. In a whisper:
“We can fuck ourselves to oblivion later. Now is the time for money.”
He squeezed her cheek and sneaked a finger in between her thighs making a single tingle race up her back and reach the nape of her neck. She kissed his hand and placed it on his lap.
“Let’s go, hon’.”
“You bet.”
As ever, they took one bag each, holding hands while they waited for the elevator. In the lobby, Tom stood near the concierge. He walked toward them as soon as he noticed their arrival.
“Mister, I got news for you.”
“What’s happening?”
“There’s been men asking after you and I thought you should know.”
“How many?”
“Two pairs. All in suits.”
“Four in total?”
“Yessir. I heard them ask the receptionist about you. The first turned up an hour past. You almost bumped into the second set. They were here five, ten minutes ago.”
“They in the lobby now?”
Tom searched round but shook his head.
“You done good.”
Frank planted another five spot on the bellboy.
“We’re off out again but keep your eyes peeled and your ears open. We’ll be back later and you can give us an update. Okay?”
“Sure thing, mister.”
Mary Lou and Frank scurried out the lobby. Before they left the confines of the building, he checked up and down the road but nothing appeared suspicious. At a brisk pace, they hurried along the four blocks to their boosted ride.
Bags on the back seat, Frank sat behind the wheel. They both pulled out their guns and each counted six slugs in the chamber. Mary Lou looked up and down the sidewalks trying to find the two sets of men. One pair must be Uncle Frankie’s goons and the other from the East Coast, she reckoned. The knot of fear in her stomach returned but for a different reason than before. She was more confident because she’d handled dangerous fellas all her life but she couldn't handle things if Frank could not cope.
“See anything?”
“No.”
“Me neither, babe.”
“We better get to Mark then.”
Frank played with the wiring under the steering block until the engine fired up. He looked over to her and winked. She smiled back: there was something magical in starting a car without the use of a key. And the magic rubbed off on the conjuror who performed the feat.
AS THEY ARRIVED at Hollywood-Burbank Airport, Mary Lou studied the L-shaped building that straddled two sides of the rectangular parking area. The short side was at the far end by the arrivals, whereas the long edge ran the full length of the lot and was designated for departures.
Frank parked the car near the arrivals end. They had driven for five minutes before they found any space at all, but the place only coped with two hundred vehicles, so they shouldn’t have been that surprised. The advantage of driving round in circles was that it gave them a chance to spot anyone who’d previously visited the Clements Fitzrovia but there were no obvious candidates.
“Keep one hand on your gun, okay?”
“Got it, hon’.”
They walked through the parked vehicles until they reached the far end of the departures. With most planes picking and dropping cargo, there were only two gates for passengers left open nowadays. In the previous five years, several major airlines had moved to LAX and Burbank was heading for a decline. A perfect rendezvous location and a great place to hide money in plain sight. Mark was a clever cookie.
Once inside, Mary Lou’s and Frank’s eyes followed the long corridor that made up the main building. There was a fair buzz of people despite the lack of passenger flights. Mark had failed to mention the number of private jets that still called Burbank home. A series of concession stands broke up their line of sight.
“It's going to be hard to walk down this building without getting spotted.”
Mary Lou nodded as she was thinking the selfsame thing. Then she froze, legs unable to move from their position.
“Three hundred feet ahead. By the coffee concession. Two guys. You see them?”
“Got ‘em.”
“Recognize them?”
“No.”
“Might have seen one of them before. On the strip in Vegas. When we hid in the lingerie store.”
They both watched Ted Goodwin talking with Phil McNamara, each holding a mug with steam pouring out. Conversation and sips for five, ten minutes while Mary Lou and Frank remained where they were.
“They’re not moving any time soon.
Has he recognized us?”
“If he’s any kind of cop, he should make both of us.”
“Let’s go.”
Mary Lou followed Frank out the building. They stood by the entrance in case of trouble but nothing came. So they padded down the sidewalk until they reached the next door. The wall of the terminal was pure glass, which meant they could see they’d passed by Goodwin and McNamara. If Goodwin made either of them then he knew where they were standing too.
When they walked inside, they were still amid the gates and concessions, only this time the nearest ones were sealed up, unused. The airport authorities had made a clear separation between the departure area past Goodwin and McNamara and the arrivals section, which Mary Lou and Frank had yet to reach.
They strode away from Goodwin, following th
e overhead signs for lost luggage. As they walked, both sets of eyes were flitting from one group of people to another. Mary Lou figured that if the FBI were here then the mob or Frankie’s men couldn’t be far behind. What she couldn’t understand is how they knew to be at this airport at all. An hour ago, she and Frank had zero clue they would end up here before lunchtime, so how could the FBI know? Either they’re covering all airports and train stations or Mark dropped a dime on them after he left the golf course. Frank nudged her side as he stared straight ahead.
“Looks like we have more company. Anthony and the guy from the Chinese Theater.”
Mary Lou scanned the end of the cavernous room which Frank was facing until she spotted Three-Piece. She gulped.
“What now, hon’?”
“Time to find Mark and get outa Dodge.”
“Okay.”
They skipped back outside and carried on further along the sidewalk. Anthony and Three-Piece were so busy checking out everyone in the building, they didn't bother to keep an eye on anyone on the other side of the glass wall. Frankie only ever hired the cheapest; never the brightest.
Mary Lou and Frank reached a door with an enormous Arrivals sign above the entrance. Inside there was an arrow for lost luggage.
They walked past the two carousels for baggage collection and sauntered, as casually as possible, round the corner to reach three rows of lockers. In the middle of the second row stood Mark whistling to himself as he leaned against the metal containers. When they approached him, he half-saluted and took his hands out his pockets.
“The place is crawling with fellas. Let’s make this quick.”
MARK NODDED AND wasted no time as he hurried to the far end of the row and pulled out a bunch of keys from his jacket. Mary Lou and Frank sidled up next to him, both facing away from his activities to keep an eagle eye on anyone who might be intent on getting their money. She heard various clunks, slams and twists of metal. Brown holdalls appeared at Mark’s feet.
“Do those bags hold the loot?”
Frank nodded and passed his over to Mark who threw it into a locker and slammed it shut. Mary Lou did the same.
“I trust you not to have to count it.”
“If when you open it there’s just cut-up bits of newspaper, find me and shoot me where I stand.”
“I will, my friend. And your missus too.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Mary Lou added.
Mark smiled and picked up the two holdalls he’d retrieved.
“One has a hundred grand, the other forty. Count it if you need to.”
“We don’t. If it’s shreds of newspaper, you know where to find us.”
“Standing over my cold, dark grave.”
“You said it, muchachos.”
Then from the far end of the row of lockers:
“Put the bags down, place your hands over your heads and no-one will get hurt.”
Goodwin and McNamara trained guns on the three of them and Mary Lou's stomach clenched in knotty fear.
40
MARY LOU AND Frank looked at each other and stared at McNamara. He was the older of the two and had been the one to issue the warning. They clung to the holdalls, gripping tighter than before.
“I said to put the bags down.”
“Hands on your heads!”
McNamara’s voice contained authority and he was attempting to sound reasonable. Goodwin barked an order at them. Mary Lou watched as McNamara winced at Goodwin’s instruction.
The two men edged along the row of lockers, which was a hundred feet long. They were only seventy feet away and McNamara’s gun remained pointing at Frank all that time. Goodwin’s barrel flitted from Mary Lou to Mark and back again. Behind the three was the glass wall of the terminal building so they had to get out of this metal alley. Whichever other aisle they chose - even if they split up - the cops could pick them off from the other end. The only place to go was nowhere.
A single shot rang out and the three dropped to the ground. Mary Lou and Frank pulled their guns out and Mark fumbled in his pants trying to yank out his piece. She looked around to see red gushing from Goodwin’s chest. McNamara had his back to them and was firing off into the distance. Anthony and Three-Piece had made their move - but too early.
Frank, Mark and Mary Lou scurried towards McNamara and crouched down, pressed against the same side of the lockers. McNamara got to one knee and carried on shooting. This gave them time to reach him without catching stray shrapnel.
“This bunch your men?” commanded McNamara.
“Nope.”
A bullet whizzed past, missing McNamara’s ear by a hair’s breadth and Mark spun round and fell to the ground. Blood poured out his neck. Mary Lou screamed and Frank grabbed Mark’s gun. He gritted his teeth and fired back at Anthony and Mickey. The only way to escape those two was to kill them.
The cover offered by Frank gave McNamara the opportunity he needed and he ran to the end of the lockers and burst past the corner to get a better line on the snipers.
Frank kicked his holdall forwards. He and Mary Lou perched at the corner of the lockers and watched as McNamara put a bullet straight through Mickey’s heart. Clean shot. Then he reloaded his pistol as they gave him cover. Anthony was staying his ground: he knew he was so close to the money, he could almost taste it.
Alarms were spitting out high volume bells by now and the citizenry were running left and right behind Anthony, desperately trying to avoid the gunfire but too scared to think straight and run in the opposite direction and outside.
With fresh slugs in his handgun, McNamara took aim at Anthony, who raised up on his haunches to get a better chance of a hit. Slugs rained out of his piece and McNamara ducked. Then he knelt back up and sent two bullets into Anthony: one in the gut and the other in his chest. Anthony’s body hurled itself in the air and came to rest five feet further away. He screamed in agony, grabbing his torso. McNamara stood up to deal with the felon.
Mary Lou put her hand to her forehead to wipe off the sweat. When she took it away, her fingers were red. Strange, she felt no pain. Then she looked down and gazed at the bullet hole in Frank’s upper body and realized his blood had ricocheted onto her, plastering her face with his vital fluid.
WITH A SCREAM of agony, Mary Lou let go her holdall and knelt down to hold Frank in her arms. Tears lashing down her cheeks, she kissed him on the forehead, kissed him on the mouth and sat with his body hauled on her lap.
Tears, air bubbles of mucus and spit fell down onto his lifeless torso, mixing with the blood puddling out his corpse. Mary Lou sobbed and wailed, crying for the only man in her life who had ever shown her even a hint of kindness. She was alone in this godforsaken world and her honey was dead in her arms.
The alarms carried on ringing and she continued to cry, not caring what happened next. One of Frank’s feet twitched slightly in his death throes. The knot in Mary Lou's stomach ceased to ache as the overarching pain of her situation engulfed her completely. Her world reduced itself to her throbbing head and the man she’d loved in her arms. And the pool of blood coalescing around her.
41
FRANK SENIOR WAS spending the last vestiges of the night pleasuring himself in the Kitkatt Club with a girl called May. He had plied her with vodka and fucked her in every available orifice. She hurt across the entirety of her body but knew better than to stop him. The receiving end of Frankie’s ire was not a good place to be.
So she sat astride the moneylender, letting his half-erect penis flop near her bush. He was tired enough to be dozing and she was almost unconscious too.
Arnold Roach had received his instructions from Mary Lou by phone around lunchtime on Monday, June 16. The plan was simple and clear. Half the money arrived as requested prior to his task and she would send the rest on its completion.
Roach walked into the Kitkatt and ordered a drink at the bar. He kept his sunglasses on and the lapels of his coat pointed upwards, hiding part of his face. He leant on the ba
r and watched the show on stage. Nothing special, just the relentless sight of semi-naked teenagers revealing their bodies in the hope of a Jackson in their G-strings.
He finished his watered down drink and left a dollar tip for the barman. Sauntered around the back edge of the seating area and arrived outside the private rooms. Arnold nipped into the first one but it was empty. Then into the second and closed the door behind himself.
Walked up to the bed where May had flopped on top of Frankie. Roach grabbed a pillow lying on the floor and pushed the sleeping girl off the moneylender. Pillow over his head before the guy could wake and react - and squeezed the trigger. Feathers flew into the air in a ball. Frankie’s face was welded to the back of his skull.
May woke as she landed on the floor only to see white fluff. Before she could call out, Arnold stuffed the pillow over her mouth and pulled the trigger again. He didn't wait to check if she was alive because she hadn’t seen his face either way. He walked out the room and out the Kitkatt. He got into his car and drove off, knowing the second payment from Mary Lou was only days away.
HER PAIN WAS undiminished, but Mary Lou couldn't stay with Frank for an eternity. She pushed him gently off her lap and looked down at her bloody clothes, arms and legs. She wouldn’t get far looking like that. This thought forced her to think about the world beyond herself and she saw the blood, the lockers, the terminal building and McNamara walking toward her, gun in hand.
If he got back to her then there’d be handcuffs on her in less than ten seconds. She picked up one of the guns lying on the floor and took aim. A crack rang out and McNamara fell to the ground. She smiled as she hit her mark: the right leg. She might ache with the loss of Frank but she was thinking clearly enough not to kill a cop.
She stuffed the gun into her waistband, grabbed both holdalls and exited out the nearest door. Mary Lou zigzagged in between the parked cars until she spotted a set of keys in the ignition of a green sedan. She jumped into the driver’s seat and threw the bags next to her.
The Lagotti Family Series Page 45
