- Chapter 31






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Chapter 31
"Hold this for me, Fritz," Bostic said, handing his shotgun to one of the men behind him. That was Arthur Fritz, another con who went back with Luff a long ways.
He then shrugged off the heavy backpack he was carrying, as all of them were, and set it on the floor. His hands now free, Bostic pulled out the pistol in his waistband with his right hand and, from his back pocket, a flashlight in the other.
The beam of the flashlight played across the cubbyhole, settling quickly on Brown. Her eyes shut against the light. After this many days in near darkness, the flashlight must have seemed blinding.
"And will you look at this? One mystery solved, anyway. Boys, we've discovered the whereabouts of the missing Elaine Brown. You remember her, I'm sure. That little black honey made such a stir when she started working in the joint."
Elaine's lips tightened, along with her eyes. "You'd better stay away from me. I've got AIDS. Was diagnosed right after I started. They were planning to fire me."
Bostic smiled. "Nice try, girl. Relax. We didn't come down here looking for pussy."
One of the men behind him said: "Yeah, sure. But now that we found her, why not bring her along? A day into the woods, and pussy sounds real good to me. Especially that one."
By now, James was standing up. Since the flashlight was aimed at Elaine instead of him, he could see Bostic. A little wash of expressions went over the man's face at that suggestion. There was maybe a trace of lust there, but most of it seemed calculation.
James didn't really know Bostic. But he knew he had a reputation for being a cold-blooded bastard, even by the standards of a maximum security prison. He didn't think Bostic himself had the inclinations of a rapist. But if Bostic decided it was a good idea to haul Elaine along to provide his men some entertainment, he'd do it without thinking twice.
There was only one way to handle this. Straight ahead.
"You don't take the girl, Bostic. Just forget it."
Bostic's lip curled. "And what exactly are you going to do to stop me, Cook? What you got? A shiv? A sock full of batteries?"
He hefted the pistol. "Meet Mr. .40 caliber. Full clip. Not to mention our good Dukes Twelve Gauge standing right behind me."
"Fuck you, Bostic. We're at close quarters and there are twenty of us. Stop flapping your mouth if you want to start killing and do it. But we'll take down at least two or three of you. We all got shivs and they work just fine at six-inch range."
He jerked his head, indicating the floor above. "You aren't here on Luff's business, are you? No, you're looking to do the same thing we are. Get the hell out before the lunatic takes everybody down. Am I right?"
Bostic made no reply, but something in his face made the answer obvious.
"Thought so. Well, figure it out, then. It oughta be easy, unless you got the brains of a carrot. Even if you kill all of us and don't get a scratch yourselves, how many rounds will you have to fire? Twenty, rock bottom minimum. Be more like fifty or sixty. You think that won't draw attention?"
He waited, just long enough for that to sink in. "And then what? You gonna hold off Luff and his men with a few pistols and shotguns? Just having used up half your ammunition?"
He could sense their hesitation.
The same shithead who'd proposed taking Elaine spoke up again. "He's bluffing, Danny. They ain't got the guts."
That was the wrong thing to say. Really, really, really, the wrong thing to say. The truth was, James wasn't sure if he was bluffing or not. He had no idea what the other Boomers would do, if the shit hit the fan here.
But the one thing you didn't ever do with cons—sure as hell not anyone who made it into Boomer's good graces—was suggest he didn't have balls.
The flaming gay one, especially.
Kidd came to his feet, with a grin on his face that was really a snarl. "You're a dead man, Williams." A steel shank came into his hand from somewhere. "I guarantee I'll get to you."
All of the Boomers were shifting their stances, now. And Kidd's wasn't the only hand holding a blade. At least a dozen were.
"Hold it!" Bostic half-shouted. "Everybody. Just hold it."
He turned his head slightly, not taking his eyes from James. "Williams, if you say one more word, I'll kill you myself."
"Won't have to," muttered Fritz. He had his shotgun pointed more at Williams than at any of the Boomers, now. "Shut the fuck up, you stupid bastard. Shut. The. Fuck. Up."
Williams seemed to deflate like a balloon.
James and Bostic stared at each other.
"It's your call, Bostic," he said. "I'll give you ten seconds to make it."
 
Danny knew he wasn't kidding. The Indian might well be bluffing, as far as what his men would do. Probably was, at least until Williams opened his fat mouth. But he wasn't bluffing about what he'd do. Cook hadn't bluffed since the day he walked through the gates.
Danny made a quick note to himself to get rid of Williams. He hadn't been sure about him to begin with. He was only along because he was the one who'd had access to the armory.
Concentrate, you idiot.
Three things made up his mind.
The first was that James Cook was just plain scary. It was that goddam wood Indian face of his. You never knew what the fucker was thinking. He'd be hell on wheels at a poker table, if he could keep track of the cards and knew the odds.
The second was that, on balance, he didn't think taking the girl was a good idea anyway. At first it would please his guys. But then what?
He'd sneered at Luff enough times, privately, because of the man's inability to think in the long run. So Danny had better not make the same mistake himself.
What happens to a group of five men—four, soon—with one hot-looking woman among them?
Nothing good, for sure. And there were plenty of other women out there. Indian women, from primitive tribes. Maybe they were scraggly looking and stank, but that could be fixed. A little soap and combs went a long way. Most things could be fixed, if you were running the show and weren't stupid.
Finally, and simplest, rape didn't appeal to him. Not at all. And that it would have to be rape, with Elaine Brown, was obvious. Even when he got his hands on a native woman, he wasn't planning to force her. In the long run, that was stupid, and he wouldn't enjoy it in the short run. He wanted his women willing. Better yet, eager. And, unlike Williams, he hadn't been in prison for so long that he'd forgotten how to manage that.
"Ease up, Cook," he said. "I'm not looking for a fight." He put the gun back into his waistband. "As you figured, we just want to get away from Luff."
He turned his head; again, keeping his eyes on Cook. "Boys, we're all just going to stay calm and peaceful while we wait it out here for nightfall. Keep your guns ready, but that's it. You understand?"
"Yeah," said Fritz. "We do. Don't we, guys?"
All of them murmured agreement. Including Williams.
"Okay, then," Danny said. He gave Brown a smile and a little salute with the flashlight. "Nice to see you again, lady. By the way—I'm just curious, that's all—who did kill Terry Collins?"
She cleared her throat. "Marie Keehn. She stayed behind, but her boyfr—ah, Lieutenant Hulbert—had her name crossed off the list so she wouldn't have any set post."
Danny laughed softly. That really was pretty funny. That asshole Terry Collins, Mr. Swagger and Strut—plugged by a woman who didn't stand more than five feet, two inches tall.
"Wish I'd seen it."
"It was pretty horrible," the girl said, wincing. "She shot him right in the head. At close range. One of his eyes came out."
She was telling the truth, then. Danny had heard about the popped-out eyeball, from one of the men who'd seen the body.
He grinned. "Still wish I'd seen it. I despised that prick."
 
While he and Elaine had that little exchange, James had been thinking quickly. An idea had come to him.
Risky, though. Not because it might not work. That was a given. But it was still a lot better chance than their existing plan of just rushing the gate after nightfall.
The real problem was what would happen if the idea did work. Afterward, they'd be at Bostic's mercy. There'd be no tight, confined space that partially neutralized the mismatch between guns and shanks.
"How smart are you, Bostic?" he asked abruptly. "Smart enough to make a deal and stick with it?"
Bostic looked at him. "Depends on whether I think it's a deal worth making. But, yeah, I am. 'Ain't no honor among thieves' is bullshit. Your word is all you got, when you're outside the law. If you cross a man, he ain't gonna run to find a cop or a lawyer. He'll come after you."
"He might not get you. You might kill him."
"Sure. That's why a lot of stupid crooks pull double crosses. Sometimes they even work—but now you got a reputation as a double-dealing shithead." He shook his head. "It's amazing how many idiots don't know the word 'tomorrow.' "
Bostic's curiosity was aroused now. "And why are you asking? Have you got a deal to propose?"
"Yeah, I do. I know a way we can all get out of here, if we work together. It's not fool-proof, but it's better than what we were planning. Or you, I'm figuring." Again, he nodded his head, indicating the floor above. "You're planning to try to bluff your way out, come nightfall, aren't you?"
"Yeah." Bostic said. "It oughta work. I'm one of Luff's big men and everybody knows it. Me and my guys walk up to the gate right after sundown, tell the guards that Luff's sending us out on an errand, they won't argue the point."
"Won't they? What's the errand? Why would Luff be sending you out after dark?" He paused, for a second. "And now that I think about it, why are going to wait until dark anyway? Why not just do it now, while everything's still confused?"
Again, he nodded above. "The gunfire's dying down a lot. It'll be killing from now on, not a fight. I'm willing to bet the yard's almost empty. So just walk out now."
"What I said earlier," Williams muttered.
Bostic swiveled his head, glaring at him. "Yeah, I know you did. That's why I'm the leader and you ain't. Right now, everybody up there is jumpy as hell. Can you say 'trigger-happy,' you dumb son of a bitch? I'm not taking the risk. There aren't enough of us to scare the guards at the gate. By now, Luff will have a dozen of them standing watch there. Come nightfall, we got a better chance of talking our way through."
"I know a way you can scare away the guards at the gate," James said. "And do it right now. Twelve or two hundred. It doesn't matter. They'll scatter like rabbits."
Bostic sneered. "Forget it, Cook. No way I'm giving any of you some of our guns. And it wouldn't work, anyhow. Even if twenty-five of us charged the gate instead of five, it's too dangerous. Some of us would make it, but too many of us would get killed. I'm not taking the risk. My plan might have some holes in it, but that one's Swiss cheese."
James gave him a smile. The thin one he'd perfected by now, that never reached the eyes and was never a tell. "Do I look stupid? Of course that wouldn't work. But my plan will."
He explained what it was. After he was done, Bostic scratched his jaw for a few seconds, thinking it over.
While he did, Boyne brought up the obvious objection. "Boss, if it works"—he jabbed his shank in the direction of Bostic and his men—"we'll be easy meat for these guys. They could just shoot us down."
Bostic's hand came down. "Fuck that," he said. "If I agree to this, we'll keep the deal. And why wouldn't we? Some of you would make it into the woods before we could get you—and then I'm looking at sleeping in the woods having to keep an eye out for a con slipping up to cut my throat as well as dinosaurs."
He shook his head. "No, once we get out—if I agree, which I haven't yet—we'll keep our end of the deal. The only thing you've got that we'd want anyway is the girl and"—he looked over and gave Elaine a jaunty grin—"meaning no offense, Ms. Brown—she's not that good-looking. No woman is."
He gave Williams another glare. "You hear that, Williams? You want pussy, I told you I'd get it for you. But we do it my way, not yours. And if that takes a while—if it takes a year or two years or three years—then that's the way it is. You'll survive. You been in here for years. You know how to jack off."
By the time he turned back to James, he was grinning again. That same jaunty grin he'd given Elaine.
"All right, Cook. I'll hand it to you. It's a good plan. We'll do it. But there's one condition."
"What's that?"
He pointed to Elaine. "You go with her. Not with your guys. We'll wrap the two of you up together."
James frowned. He'd be completely helpless, then, which he didn't like at all. "Why?"
"Don't be so modest. By now, Cook, whether you know it or not, you're too well-known. You make too many guys twitchy. They see you in the group, some of them will start thinking. They probably still wouldn't do anything, on their own, but there's a good chance somebody would insist on checking with Luff. That's the one big weakness in your plan. If Luff gets involved, it goes up like smoke."
He nodded at Boyne. "Whereas if he looks to be in charge of the detail—meaning no offense again, John—it won't be a problem. Nobody disrespects Boyne, but he doesn't make people jumpy, either."
"He's probably right, boss," said Boyne.
James still hesitated. There was nothing in the world he hated more—even more than rats—than feeling helpless.
A soft voice came from the pallet. "I'd feel a lot better if you were with me, James," said Elaine. "I really, really would."
Bostic's grin seemed fixed in place, damn the bastard. "How can you resist a plea like that, Cook?"
Well. He couldn't.
"Okay, Danny. We'll do it your way."
 
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