Read Online Lone Wolf #9: Miami Marauder by Mike Barry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mike Barry
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they had apparently kidnapped her from San Francisco as an additional hold upon him. He had not said a word to her. He supposed that if he had wanted he could have gotten angry as hell about the fact of the kidnapping: wasn’t he sufficient hold upon Wulff? Did they have to involve the girl too, were there no limits to the ugliness of the games they played? but he was too weary for anger and he knew the answer; there
were
no limits to ugliness. In or out of the world, ugliness predominated.
“Two-handed poker is shit,” the guard said, “there’s no fun in two-handed poker.”
“What the hell,” Williams said, “head to head. Challenge match.”
“That’s just for the movies. In the movies two-handed poker is a good game. But it doesn’t work head to head.” The guard spat on the planks of the wooden floor, ran a hand through his hair, then got a pack of cigarettes off a bureau. “It’s all shit,” he said.
“I’ll go along with that.”
“How the fuck long are we going to stay here? It’s ridiculous; I’m going stir crazy.”
“There’s a way out of it,” Williams said.
“What’s that?”
“Why you can let me go. If I escaped on you then you wouldn’t have to guard me anymore. You’d be out of it. We could work out an escape attempt.”
The guard seemed to genuinely ponder this, cupping his chin in his hand. Both of them were contemplative types who seemed only marginally interested in their job. Maybe Calabrese had as much employment difficulty as any other small business. “No,” the guard said, his head finally retreating, “it wouldn’t work. It’s ridiculous. And besides,” he said, “Jack wouldn’t go along with it.” Jack was the other guard. “You couldn’t imagine how seriously he takes this kind of shit. If he learned that we were trying to work something out he’d report you right to Calabrese.”
“That’s too bad,” Williams said, “then we’ll have to settle for poker.”
“Jack will be back in a little while,” the guard said, “you could
ask
him. Personally I don’t give a damn; if you could think of a way to work it out I’d go along with you. I’m fed up to here with all of this crap, I really am. But I see no way at all.”
“Okay,” Williams said again, “I won’t force it. We’ll play poker, head to head.” He dug into a pocket, rattled a few pieces of change. “Nickel ante,” he said.
“Nah,” the guard said pondering this, “it wouldn’t work out, it just wouldn’t work out at all,” and shook his head, slumped into a chair, went into a deep, ponderous doze from which, at times, he would emerge, floundering, to blink an eye at Williams before retreating again. He was lolling, his hand resting on the point thirty-eight inside his jacket, nominally ready to blast Williams if Williams tried to move from the room but Williams knew that that was merely for show; he could, if he wanted, overpower, take the guard’s gun, charge from the room. A certain relationship of trust and inattention had been set up. It really would not have been difficult at all.
The point was simple though; why bother with it? Why embark on a risky and dangerous escape attempt when Calabrese, if he had any sense at all, undoubtedly had the house ringed with guards who would blow his sensibility from his purpose the moment that he came outside of this two-story dwelling? Calabrese was not a fool; the cemeteries and seas were littered with men who had made that mistake, taking him for a fool, and Williams would be in that category if he thought that these guards were the first and only line of defense: the old man would not do this. The old man who had been clever enough to have intercepted him in the middle of the country and abducted him to ransom out Wulff’s reappearance … he would not leave him to these two bored, indolent guards. If anything, Williams thought, there could only be direct purpose in Calabrese harnessing two guards like this to him:
were
no limits to ugliness. In or out of the world, ugliness predominated.
“Two-handed poker is shit,” the guard said, “there’s no fun in two-handed poker.”
“What the hell,” Williams said, “head to head. Challenge match.”
“That’s just for the movies. In the movies two-handed poker is a good game. But it doesn’t work head to head.” The guard spat on the planks of the wooden floor, ran a hand through his hair, then got a pack of cigarettes off a bureau. “It’s all shit,” he said.
“I’ll go along with that.”
“How the fuck long are we going to stay here? It’s ridiculous; I’m going stir crazy.”
“There’s a way out of it,” Williams said.
“What’s that?”
“Why you can let me go. If I escaped on you then you wouldn’t have to guard me anymore. You’d be out of it. We could work out an escape attempt.”
The guard seemed to genuinely ponder this, cupping his chin in his hand. Both of them were contemplative types who seemed only marginally interested in their job. Maybe Calabrese had as much employment difficulty as any other small business. “No,” the guard said, his head finally retreating, “it wouldn’t work. It’s ridiculous. And besides,” he said, “Jack wouldn’t go along with it.” Jack was the other guard. “You couldn’t imagine how seriously he takes this kind of shit. If he learned that we were trying to work something out he’d report you right to Calabrese.”
“That’s too bad,” Williams said, “then we’ll have to settle for poker.”
“Jack will be back in a little while,” the guard said, “you could
ask
him. Personally I don’t give a damn; if you could think of a way to work it out I’d go along with you. I’m fed up to here with all of this crap, I really am. But I see no way at all.”
“Okay,” Williams said again, “I won’t force it. We’ll play poker, head to head.” He dug into a pocket, rattled a few pieces of change. “Nickel ante,” he said.
“Nah,” the guard said pondering this, “it wouldn’t work out, it just wouldn’t work out at all,” and shook his head, slumped into a chair, went into a deep, ponderous doze from which, at times, he would emerge, floundering, to blink an eye at Williams before retreating again. He was lolling, his hand resting on the point thirty-eight inside his jacket, nominally ready to blast Williams if Williams tried to move from the room but Williams knew that that was merely for show; he could, if he wanted, overpower, take the guard’s gun, charge from the room. A certain relationship of trust and inattention had been set up. It really would not have been difficult at all.
The point was simple though; why bother with it? Why embark on a risky and dangerous escape attempt when Calabrese, if he had any sense at all, undoubtedly had the house ringed with guards who would blow his sensibility from his purpose the moment that he came outside of this two-story dwelling? Calabrese was not a fool; the cemeteries and seas were littered with men who had made that mistake, taking him for a fool, and Williams would be in that category if he thought that these guards were the first and only line of defense: the old man would not do this. The old man who had been clever enough to have intercepted him in the middle of the country and abducted him to ransom out Wulff’s reappearance … he would not leave him to these two bored, indolent guards. If anything, Williams thought, there could only be direct purpose in Calabrese harnessing two guards like this to him:
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