By the time Tom and Mark followed them out the front door, the others were crammed into a small car and pulling away from the curb. Without thinking, Mark jumped into a Jeep at the curb which had its engine running. Tom hesitated then dove through the passenger window as Mark slammed it into gear and squealed the tires. They took off after the Suzuki and tried to blend in with the traffic. They followed them to a motel and waited for them to go in. They got lost on their way back to the airport, and ended up in a neighborhood much like the one they escaped. "Betcha the pizza delivery guy don't come here either, Mark."
"Betcha you're right. We gotta get out of here before someone shoots us or something."
They finally found the airport and parked the Jeep in a remote parking lot. They locked it and wiped it down. It wouldn't pay to be caught in a stolen car before they began their mission.
Tom was exhausted and really angry with the desk clerk from the car rental agency. Mark looked like he was just along for the ride. He wandered around, stared out the window, and left all the decision making to Tom. He seemed so laid back Tom almost throttled him when they were asking if they wanted luxury or fuel economy. Mark piped up for the first time all day and said, "Fuel economy," and Tom knew they would be brought a microscopic little car that would make that other car look like a freight train.
Tom wanted to give it back, but Mark convinced him that good gas economy and free miles was a good deal. The agent promised sporty, too, and when he drove up in the red hard top/convertible Cooper, Mark about flipped.
Tom said out of the side of his mouth, "We can't drive around in that thing; we'll stick out like a white guy in our old neighborhood."
The agent talked about the great the acceleration on the little Cooper, and how its maneuverability in traffic could spare them from an accident. Tom rolled his eyes.
Mark elbowed Tom. "See? It's a good get-away car too. You worry too much, little brother."
"I'm not your brother and according to my mother; you are only about five minutes older than me, so don't give me that fatherly advice crap."
Mark snatched the key from the rental agent and headed around to the driver's door. "Whatever, I'm drivin'."
Tom took off in pursuit. He dove into the driver's seat a split second before Mark got there. "No you ain't. I'm drivin'."
Mark grabbed Tom's T-shirt and tried to yank him out of the car. "Don't start with me, I'm the better driver,
and
I'm older. Besides, your mom likes me better, so move over or get out."
A scuffle ensued, but Mark succeeded in dragging Tom out of the driver's window. Tom calmly stood up. Brushing off his knees, he gathered himself up to his full height. "Okay, let's do this logically. You say you're the better driver?" Tom put his finger to his chin and rested on one hip. "Then let me see… It must have been someone else who knocked the mirror off the Jeep at the drive-up window at
Burger King,
stepped on the gas rather than the brake, jumped the curb, barely missing six pigeons and a little old lady, and ran over a garbage can?
"And it must have been someone else who drove into a ditch after we saw that girl wearing only a bra while jogging down the road."
"Yeah, good thing we stole a Jeep, huh? We would have been goners in that ditch, eh? I really thought she was Pamela Anderson; I only wanted an autograph."
"Pamela Anderson in po-dunk Wisconsin? You almost ran over your tongue."
"Yeah, well, uh…I–"
"And that poor cow in the road?"
"Okay, okay, you win. I forgot about the cow." Mark tossed the keys to Tom and stalked to the passenger's door. The rental agent staggered back into his office. He felt dizzy and plopped down into a chair. Putting his head between his knees to prevent himself from hyperventilating, he only prayed those two characters were kidding around.
Mark watched the rental agent through the window and raised a brow. He jerked his thumb toward the heaving man. "What's wrong with him, do you suppose?"
Tom slid behind the wheel and grinned. "Probably got a good look at your face,
amigo
."
Mark pointed to his chin. "This is your
mother's
face,
Amigo
." He jumped in the passenger's side and slid his ball cap around backward. "And I'll
amigo
your ass, bitch, get us out of here."
Tom spun the tires as he left the parking lot. The rental agent quietly passed out behind his desk.
As they sped down the expressway, Mark pressed buttons and pulled levers. He opened the glove compartment and put his window down and up several times. He fiddled with the radio. When booming bass blasted from the speakers, Mark crossed his arms over his chest and nodded his head in time with the music. "Now
that's
what I'm talking 'bout. All I need is a little blink and I'll be irresistible."
Tom hit the off button. "That's
bling,
you moron. You are such a waste of skin."
Mark lifted his hands away from his body, hands hanging, fingers pointed downward, and said, "What? What?" He put his fingers under his armpits and cocked his head. "You dissin' me dawg?"
"Knock it off, Marco, you ain't nobody's dog. Hell, you aren't even an American. You watch too much television. Americans aren't really like that anyway, so just shut up, will you?"
Mark slumped in his seat and pouted. Tom drove toward White Bass Lake as they'd been instructed and stopped at a small motel for the night. They found a local tavern and still felt the effects the next morning.
Mark sucked his coffee down and shook his head. Tom was in a little better shape and began to pack. "What a disguise we have. Most of those people thought we were Mexicans. Hey, did you dig that bar last night? 'Polka Music' they called it."
"I thought the Chicken Dance was fun."
"Those people are insane, but they got good food. What the hell was in that giant cauldron outside? You ate it and you're still alive."
Mark smiled and leaned his head back. "Fish boil, my brother. Fish boil, and everyone ate it but you. They have one every Wednesday. They cook it over a fire, man. I am not going to miss another one! They invited us back Friday for what they call a fish fry. An all-you-can-eat fish fry. Boy will they be sorry after I eat."
"Hey,
stupido
! We can't be regulars at a bar. When people start dropping like flies, they'll look at the two new guys. We have to remain in the background. Blend in. Chameleons, remember?"
"Not me, I'm family. I had fish boil and
The Beer that Made Milwaukee Famous
, and I danced the Chicken Dance." Mark smiled and closed his eyes, flapping his arms like some demented chicken. "They want to adopt me."
Tom fumbled with his cell phone. "Well they can have you, but first we work. We need to get settled in White Bass Lake and find our marks."
Mark just smiled and flapped. "
Bawk
,
Bawk
."
About forty-five minutes later, sporting a mustache and a Milwaukee Brewers ball cap, Tom check into a chain motel near the Interstate under the name of Jose Gonzalez from Mexico City. He gave them cash in advance and the girl behind the counter didn't blink an eye. He took his key and she picked up her cell phone and began pushing buttons at the speed of light.
Good,
just perfect
.
They drove around the building and parked. They brought all their supplies they picked up at the airport locker into the room. Mark spent the afternoon putting together a car bomb, and Tom logged the laptop they'd retrieved onto the motel Internet.
He clicked on
My Documents
and revealed a few files. One had names, pictures, and descriptions of their targets, where they were staying, background on their friends, and information about the town.
Deciding they were starving, Mark drove them down to the local diner in White Bass Lake so they could scope out the locals. Tom brought the laptop along and went over the other files while they ate. Mark made a choking sound and Tom jerked up his head in time to see the two morons they were suppose to hit, heading their direction.
Tom tried not to panic and looked at Mark. He had sweat pouring down his face and began reciting the Rosary. Tom kicked him hard and he almost had to peel Mark off the ceiling. As it was, Mark's chair flew backward into the path of the two morons.
Luis and Alfredo pulled up short as a chair scraped across the floor into their path. Startled, Luis said the first thing that came to mind. "Hello, may I help you?"
"Uh, no. I mean Yes." Mark looked around the diner frantically. "My uh, brother and I wanted to ask if you would like to join us." Tom shot him a murderous look and Mark frantically pulled words out of the air. "It's so crowded in here you could be uh, crushed to death by the crowd. Tom kicked him again and Mark winced. "You never know how long you got to live so you might as well make new friends for the short time you're still alive. Tom kicked him again and Mark jumped. The Gallegos brothers eyed him oddly.
"I–I mean life is short and we are on vacation
amigo
, would you care to join us?"
Luis and Alfredo looked at each other and Tom rolled his eyes. "What my
brother
is trying so clumsily to say is that we are new in town and we're wondering about the local attractions. Would you like to join us and tell us about the area?"
Luis laughed and jabbed Alfredo with his elbow. "To tell you the truth, my brother and I are also new to the town, but I think we would like to join you and get acquainted. What a coincidence that we should meet two brothers from our home country right here in White Bass Lake, eh, Alfredo?"
Mark murmured, "So much for Mexico City," and Tom blasted him again. Mark sent him a killer look, but Alfredo had already pulled up a chair. Mark rubbed his sweaty palms along his pant legs and shook Alfredo's hand. Tom addressed the Gallegos brothers and began the conversation. "So what brings you so far from home?"
"Well," Alfredo began, "My brother and I are the assistants to a wonderful scientist, Dr. Evo Castillo, and he discovered this small lagoon in Venezuela…"
Tom quietly clicked the laptop closed and slipped it back into its case as the Gallegos brothers spilled the entire story, including the doomed shopping excursion and the party at Fred Miller's.
Tom and Mark paid close attention to the details of where the scientists were staying, and made mental notes to check out the territory.
Lunch came and went with the usual fanfare at Sal's Diner, with many speculative glances thrown their way. Mark looked as if he might doze off, and Tom nudged him under the table to keep him awake.
"So, what kind of plans do you have for your vacation?" Tom eyed the brothers.
Giggling like schoolboys, Luis told them he and his brother planned to visit Great America. "Say, why do you not join us? You are on vacation, and I cannot wait to ride a rollercoaster."
Having read the brochure at the motel, Tom said, "Sure. Oh, wait! We have to visit a sick relative first, so you go on ahead, and maybe we can get together another time."
"Oh?" Alfredo looked puzzled. "I thought you had no family here?"
"
Hah
. Did I say that? Well uh, she is not really family, but just like family. She's a friend of our mother's, and we have not seen her since we were small boys. Poor Juanita."
Mark chimed in, "And her husband Carlos, who has cancer, poor fellow."
Tom gave Mark the stink-eye, but the Gallegos brothers bought the story, and Tom secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Luis told Mark and Tom that the invitation still stood, and if their visit ran short, they could meet them at Great America tomorrow before five. The party broke up after that, and Mark wished Luis and Alfredo a long life before he climbed into the Cooper.
Tom was livid. "What were you trying to prove in there, you idiot?"
"What do you mean, like when you kicked me again and again?"
"I kicked you to try to shut you up. And what was that wishing you good health and a long life bit? What kind of a smart-ass are you?"
Mark yawned large. "Oh, lighten up, Tom. I was just being polite. I don't know what happened. When we talked about the job back home it sounded like a great idea. Don't get mad at me, but I think this hit man stuff ain't all it's cracked up to be."
Tom sighed. "Don't feel bad. I figured that out back in Lima. So what are we going to do?"
Mark scratched his belly. "Don't know. Let's sleep on it and we'll figure things out in the morning."
They made the rest of the trip to the motel in silence. Once in their room, Tom flopped into the only chair and saw Mark slide into his swim trunks. Tom furrowed his brow and asked, "
Now
what are you doing?"
"I'm taking a dip. Did you see all those beautiful women down by the pool? I'm gonna get me some-o'-that!"
"Like hell you are! You're going to stay right here and help me plan."
"Not now, little brother, I am going trolling. Maybe I'll get the catch of the week." He slipped out the door before Tom could grab him.
Tom sighed and pulled out the laptop. He hooked up to the Internet again and began to surf. He Googled some of the names mentioned by Luis and Alfredo. "Hmm," he said out loud. "Great America. The two morons–geez, I can't even call them that anymore." Angrily he punched more keys.