Doppelgangster Part 47

The gun jammed.

Buonarotti looked down at his weapon in appalled surprise, then back at Lucky.

Lucky grinned. "Didn't you know? I'm too lucky to die."

"But you were duplicated!" Buonarotti said. "You were cursed with death!"

"What, you think I paint my face like this because it's a good look for me?" Lucky dived for his own gun.

Buonarotti turned and fled the room.

25.

Lucky said to me, "That gun is jammed, not dead. You stay here until I tell you it's safe." He ran after Buonarotti.

I crossed the room to where Gabriel was bending down to retrieve his ax. I grabbed him before he could seize the weapon.

"Let's see how you do with someone who isn't tied up or lying on the floor half unconscious!" I said.

Gripping his black shirt, I bashed my forehead against his nose and stomped on his foot.

He shrieked like a girl, and his nose sprouted blood.

"Nelli!" Max called. "Your a.s.sistance, please!"

I punched Gabriel as hard as I could, really mad now. Somewhere else in the church, I heard shots fired.

Nelli hobbled across the room on three legs to join Max at the altar. He started chanting.

"Noooo!" Gabriel lunged toward them.

I tripped him, knocked him down, and kicked him in the ribs. He cried out and curled up in a fetal position.

"Get up!" I kicked him again. "Get up you evil evil, murdering, self-righteous lunatic!"

He rolled over and crawled away from me. Somewhere else in the building, there was a lengthy exchange of gunfire.

Nelli started destroying the remaining objects on the altar, knocking down the candles, tipping over the urns of dirt and pebbles, scattering the animal bones. She took the dead chicken between her jaws and started shaking it furiously as if it were a chew toy.

This was a little too much for me. "Nelli, give me that," I insisted. I took it away from her.

Hobbling along with her bad leg, she rose up to knock the human skulls off the altar, then did her best to destroy them.

"No, no, no!" Father Gabriel was practically weeping now.

I swung the dead, mangled chicken and walloped the priest with it as hard as I could. He cried out and backed away. Stomping toward him, I hit him with the deceased bird again.

"Do you know how terrified Charlie and Danny were when they died? Did you get a kick out of that, you malicious b.a.s.t.a.r.d?" I hit him again. "You were going to kill Elena? A woman? woman? Because she resisted being raped by your murdering, gloating, disgusting partner in crime?" I tossed the chicken aside and kneed Gabriel in the groin. He doubled over in pain. Because she resisted being raped by your murdering, gloating, disgusting partner in crime?" I tossed the chicken aside and kneed Gabriel in the groin. He doubled over in pain.

Max's chanting grew louder. I was sweating. I thought it was because of my rage and exertion. But it dawned on me that, actually, the room was suddenly hot. Very Very hot. Unnaturally so. hot. Unnaturally so.

"And you were going to have Buonarotti kill me? me?" I shouted. "ME? What did I ever do to you?"

Gabriel moaned pathetically. "You were going to find out. You were going to stop me."

"And you should should be stopped, you warped, twisted, pathetic, homicidal a.s.shole!" I grabbed him by the shirt shook him really hard. His head thudded against the wall. "You were be stopped, you warped, twisted, pathetic, homicidal a.s.shole!" I grabbed him by the shirt shook him really hard. His head thudded against the wall. "You were killing killing people! You were going to get lots more people killed! Even innocent people! People who aren't wiseguys! Like Lopez!" people! You were going to get lots more people killed! Even innocent people! People who aren't wiseguys! Like Lopez!"

I clamped my fingers around his jaw and squeezed until he made a strangled sound of pain. "And you nearly blew my audition for The Dirty Thirty! The Dirty Thirty! You You JERK! JERK!"

There was an explosion so strong it shook the whole room. I staggered backward, releasing my hold on the weeping, whining, disheveled priest. A blaze of fiery heat washed over my back. Nelli howled. I heard more gunshots somewhere in the belly of the church.

I turned around and raised an arm to shield my eyes from the intense glow emanating from the sacked altar. Squinting and looking through my fingers, I could see that Nelli and Max were enveloped in a bright golden light. Max was on his knees now, his arms raised overhead and spread wide, as Gabriel's had been when we first entered this room. Nelli sat next to him, her muzzle turned skyward as she continued howling. Max was bellowing words I didn't understand, and the intensity of light and heat increased until flames were rippling all around him and his familiar.

"Max!" I cried, afraid they wouldn't survive. "Nelli!"

Shapes started developing in the glowing flames, struggling to coalesce into coherent forms within the undulating white fire that consumed the whole altar. I thought I saw arms, legs, faces . . . Something huge and rotund emerged from the tangled fray of writhing, twisting, hideously suggestive shapes in the fire. It looked like . . .

"Charlie?" I said.

The figure resembling Chubby Charlie Chiccante seemed to fold into itself, tumbling over into more molten white heat and fire, and then another figure emerged, then another.

I saw the graceful curves of Elena Giacalona's figure moving through the flames, as well as Lopez's clean profile and taut body, Danny Dapezzo's tidy form, and Johnny Be Good's disturbingly Elvis-like image. Something that looked like Lucky floated through the flames and then dissolved, followed by a writhing ent.i.ty that looked like my own perfect double, glowing in the liquid heat of this mystical cleansing. As the flames began receding and the glow faded, one final shape pa.s.sed through my vision. I frowned, thinking I must be wrong about who it was.

And then the heat faded, dissipating almost as quickly as it had gathered. The flames vanished, leaving just one feeble candle on the altar to illuminate this old, forgotten room.

Breathing hard, Max slumped and started to keel over sideways.

"Max!" I rushed toward him and caught him before he hit the floor.

He was damp with sweat and panting with exhaustion. Nelli rose, staggering as she discovered that her foot was too tender to hold any weight, and hobbled a couple of steps closer to investigate Max's condition, her black nose wiggling as she sniffed his head. I saw that the intense heat had melted the wax in the painted symbols on both their faces, so that they were now covered with runny, rust-colored streaks and splotches.

I petted Nelli with one hand as I held Max in my arms. "Good work. Very good work."

Her tail wagged wearily.

"Max? Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just a little . . . fatigued."

We heard another gunshot.

I stiffened. "Lucky!"

"We must a.s.sist him," Max said faintly. "Help me up."

"He said to stay here until he told us it was safe to come out."

"We can't, Esther. There's one more doppelgangster."

"I thought so." I looked over my shoulder to demand the priest tell us who it was, even though I thought I knew.

But Gabriel had escaped while Max was destroying the altar where the priest had cursed his victims with certain death.

"He's gone," I said in dismay. "I didn't beat him up enough."

"But you certainly gave it your best effort." Max stumbled toward the door. "We must go to Lucky's aid." I followed him as he added, "He will be outnumbered and taken by surprise."

Nelli was limping heavily behind me. Max turned in the dark doorway and said to me, "Oh, bring the candle."

Nelli suddenly growled. I turned away from Max to look at her. I heard a dull thud behind me and whirled around. Buonarotti was standing in the doorway holding the gun with which he had just pistol-whipped Max. Max fell to the floor, unconscious. Buonarotti seized my throat, pulled me against him, and pressed the gun to my cheek. Holding me between himself and Nelli, who was snarling and barking, he backed out of the room, ordering me, "Shut the door."

I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't shake my head. I hung by my throat from Buonarotti's squeezing fingers. His fingernails dug into my skin. The pain was mind-fogging. I thought I would pa.s.s out in another second.

"Shut the door," he repeated, "or I'll shoot the dog. Now Now."

My hand fumbled for the door handle. I found it and pulled. Max's body was in the way. Buonarotti kicked Max with his foot, rolling him over. My eyes watering with pain and my vision blackening, I pulled the door shut.

"Good." Buonarotti pressed up against me in the pitch dark hallway. "Now tell me where he is."

I made a strangling sound.

"Huh? Oh." He loosened his grip enough to let me talk. "Where is he? Tell me, b.i.t.c.h, or I'll blow your head off."

"Where's who?" I choked out.

"Gabriel."

"I don't know."

He slapped me so hard I reeled away, then he yanked my hair to pull me close again. No wonder Elena had called him an animal.

"He ran off," I gasped out.

"Why?"

"He's a coward."

"What the h.e.l.l is going on here?"

"Huh?" And then the truth dawned on me. This This Buonarotti's face wasn't bloodied. "Oh, my G.o.d. It Buonarotti's face wasn't bloodied. "Oh, my G.o.d. It was was you." you."

Another gunshot rang out. Then two more. My captor stiffened. "Who is that?"

"You don't know?" I rasped.

I was right about the final figure I had seen in the dying flames of the altar.

Buonarotti's doppelgangster grabbed my throat again. "You and I are getting out of here."

Well, Gabriel had said said his partner was proving to be more trouble than he was worth. Apparently the priest had decided it was time to help him shuffle off this mortal coil. Once Buonarotti came face to face with his own perfect double, he'd be easy pickings. Perhaps the priest intended to bring about the three-way war by giving up Don Michael to the other two families now that he was vulnerable. his partner was proving to be more trouble than he was worth. Apparently the priest had decided it was time to help him shuffle off this mortal coil. Once Buonarotti came face to face with his own perfect double, he'd be easy pickings. Perhaps the priest intended to bring about the three-way war by giving up Don Michael to the other two families now that he was vulnerable.

Holding me by the throat, his gun pressed to my head, the doppelgangster hauled me down the pitch dark hallway. We paused at the doorway leading to the choir gallery, and my captor leaned against it, listening. We heard voices shouting on the other side of it.

"No, not that way," he muttered.

"There's another way?"

"Stairway to the courtyard." He dragged me to the end of the hall. "It's how I came up."

"No, those stairs aren't safe," I protested as he dragged me toward them.

"That's just what he tells people to keep them out of here," Buonarotti said dismissively.

He took his hand off my neck long enough to open a door. Despite his comment, I was still anxious about descending a staircase in complete darkness with a gun pressed to my head. I was equally anxious about going anywhere with a murderous doppelgangster.

So it was a relief when I heard a man's voice coming from somewhere beyond the bottom of the stairs.

Buonarotti went still and covered my mouth with his hand, pressing the gun harder against my head. Along with the voice, we heard a gurgling electrical noise, like someone switching channels on a radio. This was followed by a metallic sounding voice. I couldn't make out the words, but I gave a reflexive start when I realized what the sound was: a walkie-talkie.

And then I realized what the voices were talking about. I could make out a man saying, "Shots fired," and giving this address.

Someone was talking on a police radio. There was a cop at the other end of these stairs!

I tried to cry out. Buonarotti squeezed my throat so hard I nearly blacked out. He shut the door and then dragged me back to the other door, the one that led to the choir gallery.

"One sound," he whispered, "and I'll kill you."

I was coughing helplessly from the abuse to my throat, so this seemed like a pretty stupid threat. He opened the door a crack and listened.

We both heard Gabriel whispering, "No, there's a cop in the courtyard! We need to leave this this way." way."

Buonarotti-the real one-whispered back, "How do you think we're gonna get past Lucky? He's between us and the door."

The doppelgangster's body, which was pressed up against mine, stiffened. "Who the f.u.c.k is that?" When I didn't respond, he prodded, "Who's with Gabriel?"

"You are," I said.

"Huh?" He made an irritated sound. "Dumb broad." He opened the door and dragged me through it.

The gallery was pitch dark, too. Buonarotti and Gabriel weren't giving Lucky a target by illuminating themselves.