You’re coming in at the end of the story, if you need to catch up on what’s gone before, look Here. “Everybody keep your cards and hands on the table.” I stepped into the small
You’re coming in at the end of the story, if you need to catch up on what’s gone before, look Here.
“Everybody keep your cards and hands on the table.” I stepped into the small backroom of the Italian restaurant with my gun raised.
All five heads swiveled to face me. One of the closer players reached for something on his belt.
I jerked my gun over to face him fully. “None of that. Give me what I came for and you can get back to your game in peace.”
“Do you have any idea what game you’re robbing?” An older, red-faced man sat with his palms pressed against the table.
The restaurant owner?
“I’m not here for your money. I want Goldinson.” I used my free hand to point at my brother.
He’d been sitting very still—as if hoping I somehow wouldn’t recognize him just because he was sporting a few months worth of beard—but when I named his alias, he visibly relaxed. “What is the meaning of this?” He asked in thick Russian accent.
“You and I are long overdo for a serious discussion.” I glared at him.
“And what makes you think you can bust in here and make off with one of our colleagues without repercussions?” The red-faced man asked.
“To compensate you gentlemen for the interruption and disturbance, feel free to split whatever winnings he has left between you. He won’t be needing them anymore.”
All eyes turned to the hefty stack of chips and cash between my brother’s arms.
“Now, wait a minute, comrades…” he looked to each of the players in turn, but apparently there was no honor among thieves.
After a moment to be certain of their decision, I stepped around the table and grabbed my brother by the collar. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.”
Ray made a show of struggling against me as I dragged him out. Or maybe he really was upset about leaving his money on the table. I didn’t care. All that mattered was getting him out of the room, my city, heck leaving the country was probably a good idea. Neither of us spoke until we were on the far side of the empty kitchen.
“Ow, come on, Angola, just ’cause I didn’t tell you I was in town is no reason to rip my head off.” His Russian accent was nowhere to be found.
He tried to brush my hand aside, but I kept my grip firm.
“That’s not what this is about. You’ve gone too far this time.”
Ray shrugged. “What are you going to do? You’re not FBI anymore, sis.”
“You think this is about me arresting you? Ray, there’s a hitman out there with your name on his list.”
“What? What did I do?”
I glared at him as I pulled open the door to the alley. “Ask Orville Orlon. You’re just lucky his wife is the jealous type.”
“Who?”
The kid had abandoned his post at the door. Apparently he’d made enough money for one night.
“The banker you scammed. Turns out he took you ruining his life personally.”
“Angola, I haven’t scammed any bankers. You think I’d be in a dump like this playing for pocket change if I’d pulled off a score like that?”
“I—” A sound from deeper in the alley derailed my train of thought.
A man in thick coat stood up from behind a dumpster. “Looks like you’ve found him.”
I recognized the voice. “Orlon? I thought I told you to stay home.”
Something in the back of my mind screamed at me. This isn’t right.
“This guy?” Ray said from slightly behind me. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
“I was so hoping to find the two of you together.” Orlon took another step toward me. His hands were deep in his coat pockets. “It makes my life so much easier.”
“Get down!” I shoved Ray back toward the restaurant door.
A sharp crack bounced through the alley as Orlon fired at us. Pain ripped across my shoulder in the wake of his bullet, but I didn’t have time to think about that yet.
My shot answered with a full blown roar. But I failed to hit more than the fringe of his coat before diving after Ray. We tumbled together through the door and into the abandoned kitchen. The commotion drew the attention of the four gamblers—though I doubted the gunshots had much to do with it.
“Get down!” I scrambled behind the closest counter, putting the stainless steel construction between me and Orlon. Ray was already there.
But the gamblers were too slow to catch on to what was happening. Two more sharp cracks from the doorway. The restaurant owner and the trigger-happy thug were both splayed out on the ground.
A few shots answered from the remaining gamblers, but they seemed to be firing wildly. More than one ricocheted dangerously close to our hiding spot.
Orlon patiently waited until the barrage paused before taking two more quick shots. One man howled in pain. The other was deathly silent.
I swore quietly to myself.
So much for the local thugs.
“You got some brilliant plan, sis?” Ray’s breath carried the words directly to my ear.
“Yeah, call the cops.” I shifted my position to get a quick look at the open doorway. Orlon hadn’t stepped in, but I doubted he’d gone anywhere else.
“I don’t have a phone.” Ray whispered.
I shoved my purse at him. “Use mine.”
A brief, uncharitable thought flashed through my mind despite the danger we were in. At least I don’t have any more cash.
“It’s no use, Ms. LaGrange.” Orlon called from outside. “There are only three exits from that kitchen, and I can see them all from here. Why drag this out?”
He was right—about the exits, not giving up.
“I’m not the one on a clock, Orlon.” I shouted back. “Even in this part of town, gunshots should draw more attention than you want. You might have a silencer—” I fired once into the wall above the open door. I wanted to make a point, not give away my position. “—but I don’t.”
“Even if I do have to leave, would you really be happy looking over your shoulder the rest of your life?”
“Beats the alternative. Or you could come in and get us.”
“And let you blow my head off? I don’t think so.”
I glanced over at Ray. My crack about folks noticing the gunshots was a bluff, as rough as the clientele of the restaurant was, I was surprised we hadn’t already heard unrelated gunfire from the surrounding blocks. But if my brother could get through to the cops, that would be different.
Hopefully.
He swore softly as he took the phone away from his ear to look at the screen.
“What?” I whispered.
He held it up for me to see. It was blank except for my reflection.
“Did you get through?”
Ray shrugged. “Maybe for a second or two. Not long enough to give an address.”
I swore. “Guess it’s up to us again.”
“I’m not going out there to get shot.”
“No one’s asking you to.” I glanced around at our side of the kitchen, looking for anything that might get us out of the stalemate.
We were on the dishes side, rather than the food prep side, so there was a large sink and all manner of cooking utensils.
How long would I have to bang pots together before someone called the police to complain about the noise? Too long if the gunshots didn’t do the trick.
But then my gaze fell on an old hotplate. It looked like some of the staff used it for their own food while the main kitchen was busy. But it gave me an idea.
“Ray, see if you can find any sugar.”
“Is this really the time?”
“Just do it.”
I slipped over to the hotplate and fired it up as hot as it would go. It would take a few moments to reach temperature, by which time, hopefully my brother would have found the only ingredient I needed.
When he returned, ray had a jar of white granules in one hand and a large knife in the other. “It’s sugar, salt, or cocaine. Under the circumstances, I opted not to test it.”
I took the container with a sigh.
This is no time for jokes.
“What good do you expect to get from that?” I gestured to his new knife as I dumped the whole jar of sugar onto the hotplate.
“More than your sugar if it comes to a fight.”
“You’re seriously bringing a knife to a gunfight?” I ducked back down behind the cover of the counter. It would take a minute to know if I’d just saved our lives or made things worse.
“Well, they don’t keep guns in the kitchen. I’m working with what was available.”
I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down beside me. “You don’t want to be up there if that explodes.”
“Explodes? What kind of MacGyver…” his words trailed off as thick plumes of smoke began rolling off the hotplate. “What are you an arsonist now? I’m supposed to be the criminal, remember?”
“Assuming it doesn’t explode, that sugar’s not going to spread any fire. The hotplate might be a goner, but that’s it.” I smiled. “But it’ll smoke for a good long time.”
“You think that’ll be enough cover to get past Mister Murder out there?”
“That or it’ll draw the fire department. Folks may not respond to gunshots, but they’ll call in a fire.”
“And find four dead bodies.”
“Better that than six.”
“Fair enough.”
Orlon swore from the other side of the open door—which smoke had already started to spill out of. “Are you really willing to burn, Miss LaGrange? A bullet is much faster.”
“I’ll take my chances. How are you with answering first responder’s questions? They’ll be here before long.”
As if on cue, the faint sound of sirens drifted through the doorway.
“What’s going to be, Orlon? Stay and talk to the cops, or run for the hills?”
He didn’t answer.
“Orville?”
Ray gave me an exasperated look. “Guy’s name is Orville Orlon, and you didn’t pick up that he was a killer? What choice does a kid with that name have?”
“Wait here.” I cautiously slipped around to the open doorway.
The firetrucks were close enough I could see the reflection of flashing lights on the tile floor. I stayed low as I ducked around the corner, gun first.
Orlon was gone.
I slipped into the alley and checked both directions to be sure before calling back to Ray. “It’s clear, get out here.”
“Coming!” He emerged not from behind the counter, but from the small back room where the poker game had been. As he walked he stuffed wads of cash into his pockets.
I glared at him.
“What? They didn’t need it anymore.”
I sighed and pointed down the alley away from the approaching firefighters. “You should get out of here.”
“Really?” He stepped in that direction. “You’re not going to turn me in?”
“Not today. But you should leave town. I don’t know how long it’ll take the cops to catch Orlon and you’re still the top name on his list.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, sis. I bet you’re up there too.”
“Just what I need, another madman with a vendetta. Now go before it’s too late.”
“Thanks, Angola.” He flashed me a smile before running down the alley.
“And, Ray,” I called after him, “next time you’re in town, give me a heads up.”
His voice oozed charm as he called back. “You know I can’t make you any promises!”
The End.