Beware. Part 18

"If those cops were watching you, they might be showing up. Better watch the door. I'll dress our friend."

Scott left.

Dukane slid the brown trousers up the man's legs, tugging to get them over his b.u.t.tocks. They were a tight fit, but he managed to hook the waist shut. The bulky, silver privates still hung outside the fly. Dukane hesitated, reluctant to touch them. Holding his breath as if he were handling excrement, he tucked the s.c.r.o.t.u.m into the pants, then pushed the p.e.n.i.s inside. As he started to withdraw his hand, silver fingers grabbed it and pressed it to the soft flesh.

Dukane jerked his hand away.

The man chuckled.

Backing off, Dukane drew the automatic from his shoulder holster.

"You don't need that," said a quiet, raspy voice. "I'm going with you guys."

"Explain."

"I been listening. Don't know who you are, but you're not with The Group. You get me out of here, protect me, I won't give you no trouble. I'll do whatever you want. You name it. Just don't let the others take me."

"A deal," he said, but didn't lower the gun. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got the s.h.i.t kicked out of me. I been shot before, only not this bad."

"Those wounds should've killed you."

"Not me, man. I'm Sammy Hoffman, Wonder Man. Takes more than a few f.u.c.kin' bullets to switch me off."

"Can you sit up?"

Grimacing, he pushed himself off the floor. He raised his arms in front of his face, and turned them. "f.u.c.k, man, I look like the Tin Woodsman."

"Put on this shirt."

He took it. "Where's my pal, Lacey?"

"Waiting outside."

"She going with us?"

"Yes."

"Oh good." He drew the shirt taut across his chest and b.u.t.toned it. Dukane gave him the sport coat. "You guys gonna try and walk me out of here?"

"That's the idea." He found a pair of socks in Scott's suitcase, and tossed them to Hoffman.

"Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds from the Group'll give us trouble."

"We'll handle it."

"Man, you better. They want my a.s.s." He finished putting on the socks.

"Put your hands on top of your head."

"Hey, come on."

"Do it," Dukane said, and tugged handcuffs out of his rear pocket. He stepped behind Hoffman, pulled one arm down behind him, cuffed it, then brought down the other arm and snapped the second bracelet around its wrist.

He put the sungla.s.ses on Hoffman's face, concealing the empty eye sockets. Then he placed Scott's old fedora on the man's head. "Okay, on your feet."

Hoffman stood up.

Dukane led him to the door, where Scott was crouched and peering through the ax holes.

"Any sign of our friends?"

"Looks clear." Scott turned, glanced at Hoffman, and wrinkled his nose. "He doesn't look like much."

"It's the best I can do. He'll pa.s.s, as long as n.o.body gets a close look."

"Long as they're a mile off."

"Better leave your luggage here."

"Gotta bring my galleys. And recorder." He hurried away, and returned a few seconds later with his attache case.

They left the room, Dukane holding Hoffman's right arm, Scott his left. Dukane shoved open the fire door.

Two revolvers pointed at his chest. Two men grinned.

"Greetings," said the taller one. "Come in, come in. Don't just stand there."

They stepped onto the landing.

"Well Arthur, looks like the FBI got their man-our man. Tough rocks, Sammy. That is you, I take it."

"Go f.u.c.k yourself, Trankus."

"You're not an easy guy to catch. I must thank you fellows, and of course Miss Allen, for being of such invaluable a.s.sistance."

"Glad to help," Dukane said. He glanced at Scott. "Don't try anything."

Scott nodded.

Arthur frisked him, taking his knife. Then he took away Dukane's automatic and switchblade.

"Very good," said Trankus.

"Glad to cooperate with the police."

"Now, let me lay out our alternatives. Arthur and I are, of course, bona fide members of the Tucson Police Department. As such, we'll be able to walk you three gentlemen out of the hotel, no questions asked. We will then transport you to the destination of our choice."

"Not the police station, I a.s.sume."

"True. You're a bright fellow, probably not FBI at all."

"Just a regular guy."

"Valuable catches, all three of you. Wonderful bonuses for us, if we deliver you intact. On the other hand, Sammy is top priority. You two are quite expendable, whoever you are. Therefore, if you make any attempt to resist us, we shall cheerfully expend you. Right now, if you prefer."

"We won't resist," Dukane said.

"Excellent. You two hold onto Sammy, and precede us down the stairs. When we reach the lobby, we'll leave by the main door."

"What ever you say."

Keeping their grips on Hoffman, they started down the stairs.

"You f.u.c.kers aren't gonna let these guys have me?" he whispered.

"We don't have much choice."

"You're nuts. You don't know what they'll do to you. You never been questioned by The Group, man. They'll stick an electric wire up your d.i.c.k..."

"Knock it off," Trankus said.

"You guys are better off shot dead here on the stairs. I'm telling you..."

"Where there's life, there's hope," said Trankus.

"Not if they get you to the compound."

"Compound?" asked Dukane. "What's that?"

"Get me out of here, and I'll take you. A guided f.u.c.kin' tour."

"You always did have stupid ideas," Trankus said. "That's what got you into this mess. How could you have imagined you'd get away with it?"

"Done all right, till now."

"Certainly. Our people have been following your progress, Sammy. For an invisible man, you left a wonderfully visible trail. A word of advice, though it's a bit late-always conduct your affairs in such a way as to stay out of the news."

"Thanks."

They reached the door to the lobby. "Stop," Trankus said. He stepped past them, and pushed open the door.

They drew curious glances as they crossed the lobby. "Looters," Trankus explained. That seemed to satisfy the other cops.

In seconds, they were outside.

"What about Lacey?" Dukane asked.

"For Christsake!" Scott snapped.

"Oh, we wouldn't forget Miss Allen." When they reached the side street, Trankus said, "This way." Apparently, he knew just where to find the car.

They walked up the center of the deserted street.

As they neared the car, Dukane saw Lacey watching through a window. He raised a hand as if to scratch his belly, made a fist with his forefinger protruding and worked his thumb up and down.

They reached the car.

"Miss Allen, would you care to join us?" Trankus pressed the muzzle of his revolver against Dukane's ear.

Dukane nodded.

Lacey swung open the driver's door. She held Scott's automatic at her waist.

Dukane threw his arm up, knocking Trankus's pistol back. The blast deafened him, scorched the nape of his neck. A second blast, from the car, caught Trankus in the chest.

Arthur crouched and aimed at Lacey.

Hoffman started to run.

Scott swung his attache case, smashing aside Arthur's pistol.

Dukane tripped Hoffman. As the man tumbled to the street, Scott drove two fingers into Arthur's eyes, then chopped his throat. Grabbing Trankus's gun off the pavement, Dukane put a bullet into Arthur's head.

They retrieved the other weapons.

Then they dragged Hoffman to the car and flung him into the backseat. Dukane climbed in on top of him. Scott shoved Lacey into the pa.s.senger seat, and the car sped away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Lacey sat huddled against the pa.s.senger door, shaking as her mind replayed the kick of the pistol, the stunned look on the man's face when her bullet slammed into him, the way he flopped backward with his hands groping the air. She told herself it was necessary, she had to shoot him. That didn't help. She felt cold and sick.

At first, the car hurled up the street, skidded around a corner, then around another corner. Lacey held tightly to the door handle as the momentum tugged at her.

Then the car slowed to a moderate speed.