MOMENTS LATER
“He looked like he could use some fresh air,” Paul said, one hand resting on his still-holstered gun. “He probably doesn’t get out much. Given his condition and all.”
I took a step back and then lifted my right knee into Paul’s groin. He jolted over, gasping for air. In two swift moves, I leaned in and pulled his gun from his holster, then smashed my left knee against his exposed throat. The second blow sent him sprawling to the ground. He gagged, unable to speak and desperate to take in air. I turned to my left and jammed Paul’s gun against the chest of the third man. He had been standing there motionless.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” I said to him. “I know the other clowns in your little posse from when me and Pearl were on the job. But you’re an unknown.”
“Victor,” he said, his eyes as much on the gun jammed in the center of his chest as they were on me. “The name’s Victor.”
“You off the job like the rest?” I asked.
He nodded. “About two years now,” he said. “Worked out of the Bronx and Queens, mostly.”
“I was looking for a yes or no,” I said. “Not a résumé.”
“So, what happens now?” It was Jackie, still holding on to Pearl’s wheelchair, my partner’s gun only a few inches from his face.
I answered without turning away from Victor. “Glad you asked, Jackie,” I said. “We can play this any number of ways. I can have Carmine reach out to some old friends and have you and your buddies dropped off in a landfill on Randall’s Island before sunup. I’m sure Carmine’s bunch would love the chance to flex their muscles again.”
“Be a pleasure, no doubt about it,” Carmine said. He had both hands by his sides and was staring at the van’s driver, a nervous young man whose white T-shirt was stained with sweat.
“Or I can let Bruno here loose and see how many of you he can pound the shit out of before a punch gets tossed his way,” I said. “I’ve never seen him go one against five before, but he has a better-than-even chance of taking on the entire bunch and coming out whole.”
“Bet your pension on it,” Bruno said. He never went looking for a brawl but didn’t shy from one, either.
I took a quick glance at the street and sidewalk around us. A small crowd had gathered, curious to see what was about to happen. There are few cities in this world where a street fight can occur, even one with as many as nine brawlers, and not only would bystanders gather and watch but a handful would cheer us on. New York is one such city.
“You made your point, Tank,” Paul said. “We’ll get out of your hair. At least for now.”
I nodded. “You do that,” I said. “And while you’re at it, do one other thing.”
“What would that be?” Paul asked.
“Pass a message to your gatekeeper Kenwood,” I said. “He reached out and tried to touch someone close to me. That doesn’t sit well. Not one bit.”
“That it?”
“No, that’s not it,” I said. “Add this to the memo: I’m going to nail his ass for sending an innocent kid to jail. We’re going to find Rachel’s killer. Then I’m going to turn him over, make him pay for the other innocent kids he put away. By the time I’m done, he’ll be begging me to kill him just to keep his sorry ass out of a prison cell.”
“Tough talk, Tank,” Paul said. “I’ll be sure to pass it along. Just remember one thing, though. There’s more of us than there are of you.”
I turned to Pearl and smiled. “You hear that, Pearl?” I said. “It never changes, does it? We always seem to be outnumbered and outgunned.”
“Just the way we like it, partner,” Pearl said.