Authors: Paul Carr
La Salle, his long hair dripping with sweat, walked over and told Slick to wait outside. “So, the thief is brought to justice.” La Salle scanned the floor as he spoke, as if looking for something. Finally, he reached down, picked up a rubber band and gathered his hair into a pony tail.
Sam said nothing.
“Do you still have my money?”
“Some of it.”
La Salle smiled and shook his head.
“Not very smart, you know. And I can’t let you get away with it.”
La Salle towered over Sam by at least six inches.
“Yeah, I figured as much.”
La Salle wiped his forehead with his uniform sleeve.
“Where is the money now?”
“Sorry, you won’t get it back unless you let Candi go.”
“Candi?” La Salle said. “I don’t think you understand.”
“How’s that?”
La Salle turned and motioned for Sam to follow him.
They went to the far wall and La Salle drew back a heavy drape to reveal a wall of glass similar to that in the living room. A patio outside seemed to stand at the edge of the Caribbean.
“Have a look for yourself.”
Candi Moran lay on the patio in a lounge chair, face down, wearing a white bikini, the wound in her back almost healed.
“Come close. I want her to see you.”
Sam sidled up to the window. She certainly didn’t look like someone in distress. La Salle tapped on the glass a couple of times and Candi turned on her side and rose to an elbow. Her eyes looked sleepy. Looking straight at Sam, she made a face and waved her hand as if to say,
Leave me alone
. She turned and lay back down on the lounge chair.
Candi seemed to be there of her own free will. At least La Salle wanted Sam to believe that and had painted a pretty convincing picture. But the glass might be one-way, which Candi couldn’t see through.
La Salle had tried to kill her, and she had a bullet wound to show for it. She wouldn’t just let bygones be bygones and move in with him. But then, Sam wondered if he could be objective about a woman so attractive to him. And something in his head flashed red at the possibility that she might be harmed again.
Sam ran his fingers through his hair and turned to La Salle.
“I want to talk to her.”
La Salle smiled and seemed about to speak, but Sam noticed a narrowing of his eyes, a warning, and lunged away at the same instant La Salle threw his fist at Sam’s face. The fist still connected with his cheek. Sam shook his head, turned inside La Salle’s next punch and slammed his fist into La Salle’s nose. La Salle’s head rocked back, and a string of blood splattered the glass. He wiped his nose and grinned. Sam hit him in the stomach and it was like punching a sack of cement. The big man only flinched, apparently feeling little pain, so Sam kicked at La Salle’s midsection. La Salle blocked the kick, returning one of his own that doubled Sam over, then spun in the air, seeming as light as a feather, and delivered a roundhouse kick to Sam’s head. Sam felt a buzz behind his eyes and the room started to spin. He staggered back and shook his head. La Salle back-fisted him to the temple. Sam fell to the pad and lay still for what seemed like a long time, his head in a spin. He opened his eyes and saw La Salle prancing back and forth, flexing his fists, a wild look on his face.
He wondered if the next blow might finish him. Then the Sensei’s face flashed in his mind’s eye and he heard the words again.
You are the one
. It all became clear: the Sensei had meant that La Salle feared Sam. La Salle had kidney-punched the Sensei to demonstrate his cold blood, and he would kill Sam now, if he could. He would want Sam looking at him when he did it.
The spinning in his head finally subsided, and Sam struggled to his feet. La Salle padded toward Sam, grinning, making a big show of rolling his fingers into fists, and launched another kick to Sam’s face. Sam jerked out of range, rushed in, and slammed his fist into La Salle’s ribs. He felt something give, and La Salle staggered and gave him a sidelong glance. The look told him that he would have to do better than that, but Sam also read something else in it and knew this might be his only opportunity. La Salle blinked his eyes a fraction too long and Sam drove the heel of his right foot into the side of his opponent’s knee joint. The knee made a snapping sound similar to that of a fresh cob of corn being broken in half. La Salle’s eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth as if to scream, but nothing came out. He fell to the pad and Sam knew he wouldn’t be kicking anybody else for a long time. Dirty fighting, no doubt about it.
Chapter 16
L
A SALLE LAY on the floor, holding his damaged leg in both hands, grunting with pain. Sam seized his wrist and twisted until La Salle turned onto his side, then untied the black uniform belt with his free hand. Designed to encircle the waist twice, the belt unwound to more than six feet. He bound La Salle’s hands behind him with one end and gagged his mouth with the other.
Sam padded to the patio door and went out. Glancing back at the glass wall, he saw only his own reflection, confirming his suspicion that Candi had not seen him inside. Candi rolled onto her side and stared at him, her mouth open, eyes wide.
She stood up from the lounge chair and put her arms around him. “Sam! How did you find me?”
“Let’s go, I’ll tell you later. La Salle’s men might be on their way.”
“Where’s La Salle?”
“Don’t worry. He won’t be causing any trouble.”
Candi donned a terry robe and followed Sam back into the dojo. La Salle twisted his neck to look as they entered the room, his eyes narrow slits, sweat streaming down his face. He tried to speak, but the words were unintelligible inside the gag. They left him lying like a trussed animal at a rodeo. Sam put on his shoes and they stepped into the hallway.
Candi grabbed his arm. “You did that to him?” She seemed surprised, but pleased.
Before Sam could reply, Spike came around the corner with a can of cola in his hand. He stopped short, eyes wide, mouth open. Sam struck Spike on the cheek with the heel of his hand and slammed his head against the wall. He dropped to the carpet, unconscious, spilling cola on himself and the floor. Sam took Spike’s gun from his shoulder holster.
They stepped around him and eased down the hall toward the posh room with the elevator. As they rounded the corner, Slick stood waiting and stuck a gun to the side of Sam’s head. He halted, his pulse pounding in his ears.
“Gimme the piece or I’ll scatter your brains on the wall.”
Sam handed it over and Slick dropped it into his pocket.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Your boss got tied up, so we decided to leave,” Sam said.
“Yeah?” He looked around them down the hall. “I see you also decided to bust a hole in the wall with Jimmy’s face.”
Sam moved a couple of inches toward him and he stepped back.
“Come any closer and you’re a dead man,” Slick said, his lips tight against his teeth, his voice pitched high.
The elevator door opened and Frankie, the short man from Tommy Shoes’ house, stepped out. Frankie held a golf club about six feet long, the club head the size of a grapefruit. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see Slick holding the gun on Sam and Candi.
“Hey, Gino, let’s go drive some balls.”
Slick Gino gave Frankie a smirk. “Look, Bozo, can’t you see I’m a little busy here?”
Frankie glanced at Sam and Candi and said, “Yeah? How about Jimmy then?”
“Jimmy’s indisposed right now.”
“He’s what?”
“Hey, he’s passed out in the hall.”
Frankie took a couple of steps so he could see down the hall.
“What happened to him?”
Sam watched the tip of Gino’s gun, and wondered if he could take it away from him before he shot either of them.
“Mackenzie here just busted his head. Go check on the boss while I keep them here.”
“Aw, man, I wanted to drive some balls. I go talk to him and he’ll give me something to do.”
“Just go, Frankie.”
“Okay, let me show you something first.”
Maybe this is the time, while Frankie has Gino’s eye.
Frankie held his club in front of him as if addressing the ball, getting ready for a drive.
“I got this new grip I’m trying. Check this out.”
Sam eased in front of Candi, ready to lunge for Gino’s gun, but Frankie winked at him and he stopped.
Frankie drew the club backward, in a slow back-swing, keeping his head down, as if watching the imaginary ball.
“Hey, man.” Gino rolled his eyes and turned to look at the short man. “This is serious--”
Frankie swung the club as if going for the green on the par five. The club head struck Gino about an inch above his eyes with a flat thumping sound. Gino stumbled backward, fell against the wall, and his eyes snapped shut, his forehead beginning to swell. Sam pulled Gino’s gun from his fingers and retrieved the gun Gino had put in his pocket. He glanced at Candi and saw little reaction in her eyes.
Frankie reached down and fished something out of Gino’s pocket, then pressed the button on the elevator.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Frankie said.
The elevator door opened and the three of them went inside.
“What’s the deal, Frankie?” Sam said.
Frankie pressed the down button, grinned, and winked at Candi.
“You saw the way he talked to me. No respect at all.”
“Gino’ll be pretty mad when he wakes up.”
“Yeah, well, he burned Tommy and he’s lucky I didn’t whack him. Besides, he’s the one gave me the black eye.” He paused for a second. “There’s a hidden camera in the dojo. After you wiped up the floor with La Salle, I knew Gino would head up there to help his boss. I thought it would be a good time to settle the score.”
“What about the guy who came here with me?”
“He’s in the money room. I got the key from Gino.” He held up a card for them to see.
The elevator door opened and they took a left down the hall past a room the size of a football field.
“That’s supposed to be the casino,” Frankie said with a snort, as if choking back a laugh.
“You sound doubtful.”
“Yeah, well, La Salle’s a high roller, and I think he’ll run out of money before he’s finished with this place.”
“He must have already spent a fortune. Where is the money coming from?”
“Beats me. He’s real close-mouthed about it. He thinks I’m going to pitch in with him, but I know a sinking ship when I see it, and I’m getting off.”
They strode through a metal door at the end of the hall. The room inside looked like a long jail cell with bars from floor to ceiling. A walk-in vault filled the wall behind the bars and J.T. sat next to it on the floor. He stood up when they came into the room and looked from Sam to Frankie and back.
“This is Frankie,” Sam said. “He’s going to get us out of here.”
“Yeah, that’s cool. I knew you’d work something out. Is this Candi?”
J.T. had a funny smile on his face and looked as if he might drool onto his shirt. Candi hugged herself and mumbled something about the air conditioning. Sam saw goose bumps on her legs below the terry robe.
“Yeah, I’m Candi,” she said, answering for Sam. “You’re the computer geek, right?”
J.T. winced and glanced at Sam.
“I suppose some people might call me that.”
“Hey, not me, pal,” Sam said.
Frankie stuck the card key into the lock and opened the cell door.
J.T. nodded toward the vault and said, “You know how to open this thing?”
Frankie shook his head. “They don’t trust me that much yet.”
J.T. made a face. “Too bad. They had a wooden crate on the floor when that big dude brought me in here. He called two other guys and they put it in the vault and locked it up. It looked heavy.”
“So, what’s the big deal?” Sam asked.
“They almost dropped it and the lid fell off. I saw gold inside.”
“Gold? You mean, like, gold coins.”
“No, it looked like art pieces. Masks and figurines, things like that.”
J.T.’s eyes had that glow, and Sam knew it would be a problem. He looked at Frankie and Candi. “Either of you know anything about any gold?”
They shook their heads, but Sam saw something in Candi’s eyes. He held her gaze for a couple of seconds and she looked away.
Frankie looked at his watch and said, “Okay, let’s get out of here. Randy said he’d have the plane ready for takeoff in fifteen minutes, and it’s already been that long. I want to be back in Miami by the time Gino wakes up.”
Frankie opened the door and stood there. J.T. looked at Sam and Sam knew he wouldn’t leave.
“Who knows how to open this vault?” J.T. said.
Frankie rolled his eyes. “There’s no way you’re going to get into that vault. You better forget that.”
J.T. raised his eyebrows and smiled, as if to say,
Oh yeah? Just watch
.
Frankie sighed. “Okay, you going or not?”
J.T. shook his head. Sam looked at Candi.
“I think I’ll hang around, too,” Candi said.
Sam ran his fingers through his hair.
“Okay, thanks for your help, Frankie. We’re staying here. If the subject comes up, tell them we left on the plane with you.”
Frankie grinned and shook his head. “You guys are crazy. You’ll never get that gold, and they’ll kill every one of you.” He shook his head again, rested the golf club on his shoulder like a sentry, and went out the door.
Sam told J.T. what had happened in the dojo, handed him one of the guns, and glanced at Candi. “Do you know your way around this place?”
Candi shrugged and said, “A little, I guess. La Salle gave me a tour.”
“You have a key to the penthouse?”
She shook her head.
Sam could have asked Frankie for the card key he’d taken from Gino, but didn’t think about it at the time. Too bad; one of the men up there might have the combination for the safe. He remembered what Frankie had said about the hidden camera in the dojo.
“Are there any cameras in here?”
“I believe the only place they’ve put them so far is around La Salle’s suite for his protection. They’re not too worried about anyone stealing anything yet. Nobody’s on the island except us.”