Lethal People: A Donovan Creed Crime Novel (33 page)

I sighed. “Bring him and the wife, anyway. We’ll tease them both with the ADS beam until he remembers what I want to know.”

“You got the Hummer yet?” Quinn asked.

“I’ll have it by the time you get there.”

CHAPTER 44

D
arwin bellowed and blustered and raised nine kinds of hell when he heard what I was up to, but I believed he was secretly pleased I was planning to bring down Joe DeMeo. I decided to test the theory.

“I can kill him,” I said, “but I can’t take him alive without your help.”

“Why should I care if he’s dead or not?”

“If I take him alive, you can turn him over to the FBI for the hotel bombing, along with all the evidence we’ll find in his house.”

“There won’t be any evidence. Anyway, when the time comes, I’ll grab the other guy, the one who works the whores.”

“Grasso? He’s one of Joe’s guards. Lives in one of the cottages. Again, without your help, he’s not going to come out of this alive.”

“What about the whore?”

“Paige. Her name is Paige,” I said.

“Whatever.”

“Paige is probably dead by now.”

“Maybe not,” he said.

“I hope not. Even so, her testimony alone won’t be strong enough to put him away for the bombing.”

Darwin thought about it. “What do you want from me—and it better not be much.”

I knew whatever I told him would make him blow his stack, but really all I needed was a Pulsed Energy Projectile System (PEPS) weapon mounted on a Hummer.

“You’re insane!” he shouted.

“You can fly one to Edwards in a cargo plane,” I said. That’s just down the road from me.”

“I know where fucking Edwards is,” he said. “Didn’t you just fl y there with three ADS weapons?”

“Yeah, but I need the PEPS.”

“Let me guess: you want it by tomorrow.”

“Actually, I need it by six tonight.”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind.”

“Oh, c’mon, Darwin. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

“Except keep you on a leash.”

“Look, I know it’s not going to be easy and no one else in the country could do it—but you’re Darwin!”

“Fuck you!” he said. “It can’t be done. Period.”

“I’ll be there at six tonight,” I said. “Impress me.”

“Go to hell!” Darwin said.

CHAPTER 45

H
ugo and his army of little people had made their base camp six miles east of Highway 33, near an ancient forest ranger lookout stand. I brought the Hummer to a stop about thirty yards from their campground and waited for Quinn.

“The fuck is that?” Quinn said as he pulled up alongside the Hummer.

“These are circus people,” I said. “That’s one of their circus wagons.” To be completely honest, it was a bright red Winnebago covered from one end to the other with circus paintings.

“I thought you were kidding about them being a circus act.”

“Nope.”

He looked at me. “We going in or what?”

“Hugo’s a military man,” I said. “He’ll probably want to invite us into the camp.”

“Victor and Hugo and the circus people,” Quinn said.

“And us,” I said.

Some of the little people started milling about in the distance, staring at our strange-looking vehicle. They were wearing colorful shirts and baggy trousers. They were pointing and chattering as others joined them.

“What do you suppose they’re saying?” asked Quinn.

“Follow the yellow brick road,” I said.

Quinn stared in disbelief.

“Are you in fact telling me we’re going up against Joe DeMeo, twenty shooters, and eight dogs with this bunch of clowns?” Quinn asked.

We looked at each other. They were in fact clowns. We burst out laughing. I don’t know, maybe it was the stress, maybe we were just glad to be working together again on a major assignment.

“I can see it now,” Quinn said. “The little people put a big flower on their shirts. When the goons bend over to sni
ff
the flower, it’s really a squirt gun!”

I said, “When they shoot their pop guns, a big sign comes out that says BANG!”

“And Joe says, ‘Who are these clowns?’ and someone says, ‘The fuck do I know? Ringling Brothers?’”

I said, “Joe DeMeo, captured by midget circus clowns! Any chance they’ll make fun of him in prison?”

Hugo approached. “What the fuck is that thing?” he asked.

The PEPS weapon—pulsed energy projectiles—like ADS, was originally developed for crowd control. Accurate up to a mile away, it fires directed bursts of pulsed energy to vaporize solid objects. If fired near a target, it heats the surrounding air until the target explodes. The resulting shock wave will knock down anyone in the vicinity and render them helpless for a minute or more.

After explaining this to Hugo, he said, “If we have that, why do we need the ADS weapons?”

I explained that while PEPS would knock down walls and disorient people, it wouldn’t necessarily disarm them or render them helpless.

“The ADS weapon is di
ff
erent,” I said. “It offers an instant, permanent solution to the problem of resistance.”

Hugo turned his attention to Quinn. “You are one ugly bastard,” he said. “No o
ff
ense,” he added.

Quinn said, “I got this way from eating shrimps. No o
ff
ense.”

Looks were exchanged between the two.

“You want a piece of me?” Hugo snarled.

“Looks like that’s all there is.”

“Hey,” I said, “we’re all on the same team here.”

Hugo noticed the architect and his wife tied up in the back seat of Quinn’s car. “Who are they?” he asked.

“They’re going to tell me two things: the layout of Joe’s house and how to breach his panic room.”

CHAPTER 46

I
’d completed my chat with the architect and his wife and just begun the final run-through with the circus army when Sal Bonadello called.

“Joe’s making a move on your wife and kid.”

I’d expected that. In a normal world, I would have had Callie take Janet and Kimberly to my headquarters for safekeeping, but this wasn’t a normal world; it was Janet’s world. I trusted Callie to protect them, but I feared Joe might firebomb the house from a distance.

So last night I’d placed a call to Kimberly and explained the situation. I told her to find a way to get her mom out of the house until I called. I told her wherever she went, she’d be safe because Callie would follow them.

“You got enough guys to handle the threat?” I asked Sal.

Besides getting me into Chris Unger’s o
ffi
ce, this was the part of the plan where I needed Sal’s help. I wanted his men guarding Janet’s house in case anything went wrong.

“DeMeo put a contract on you for a million bucks. Told all the families, then called me, said grab your family and hold them hostage.”

“You think he sent some of his guys anyway?”

“I do. It would be just like that rat bastard not to trust me.”

“You running that charity and all.”

“The Mothers of Sicily,” he said. “So, did you get your family somewhere safe?”

“I hope so.”

“Is your wife pissed at you?”

“Ex-wife. And yeah, she’s pissed. Like always.”

“Ain’t they all,” he said.

I finished briefing the circus performers. Quinn checked their equipment. Hugo and I called Victor and gave him an update.

Next, I called Kathleen.

“How’s it hanging, cowboy?” she asked.

“Boring stu
ff
, these Homeland conferences,” I lied.

“Anyone famous there?”

“Besides me? Not really.”

“You’re probably hanging out with one of those pretty high school girls who couldn’t get into the movies.”

“Like, that’s so totally random,” I said.

She laughed. “Don’t work too hard, lover boy. I’m expecting the full treatment when you come home.”

“And you’ll get it,” I said.

“Speaking of which …”

“Can’t say yet. Sometimes these things last a couple days, sometimes more.”

“Until then,” she said, and we hung up.

And so it was time.

CHAPTER 47

T
here was no getting around the noise. Between the Hummer and the Winnebago, we were screwed if we tried to drive within a mile of the chain link fence.

That’s why I needed the PEPS weapon.

Hugo, Quinn, and I were in the Hummer. The architect and his wife were in the trunk of Quinn’s rental car, and the little people were in the Winnebago. Quinn was a tight squeeze in any car, and tighter than normal in the Hummer.

“Try not to breathe on me,” Hugo said to Quinn.

“Why did you bring a Winnebago?” Quinn asked. “There are only ten of you. I thought you could get at least thirty in one of those little clown cars.”

“We could,” said Hugo, “but where would we fit the net and trampolines?”

“Good point,” Quinn said.

I drove slowly to the highway, the Winnebago close behind me. Then I headed south while the clowns sat tight. I drove past the dirt and gravel road that led to Joe DeMeo’s place, and Quinn caught a glint of something: a belt buckle, gun barrel, or cigarette butt. Whatever it was, there were probably two of them guarding the road.