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THE GUYS I was with stopped and all heads turned down the alleyway toward Buddy. Their scents were mostly curiosity; although I did detect an element of suspicion and fear coming from Driver Dude, whose hand had shot inside his jacket, likely reaching for his gun. Bricky had tucked his gun behind the open flap of his suit jacket to keep it out of sight. I couldn't see Kern – not that I couldn't smell him. Even the essence of curiosity coming off of him carried with it that bitter, sour smell he exuded.
Buddy was still about thirty feet away, and strolling toward us, his chubby arms swinging as he moved. I was struck with the image of Lou Costello in a scene from one of those old Abbott and Costello movies, out for a Sunday stroll and whistling, either on his way to a date or perhaps had just been kissed by his girl.
I'd never realized it before, but Buddy did resemble Lou Costello in many ways. He was just a little over five feet tall and had a similar pudgy shape and a similar bulbous nose that, on Buddy, was often red from too much drink. His smile was infectious, and I loved seeing the large creases expand on either side of his mouth, pushing out his chubby cheeks even farther, like a chipmunk stuffing its face with peanuts.
I noticed how much he seemed to have aged since I saw him – eight months earlier. His eyes were dark shadows, at least in the light of the alley, but I also noticed how the shape of his face had changed.
His chin and jowls seemed to have shrunken, giving the lower half of his face a narrow, sunken-in look.
He appeared tired, but his heartbeat hadn't changed in rhythm since I last saw him, and I had trouble getting a real bead on his mood via his scent – it was as if he was with a cold or some nasty bout of the flu that was interfering with his regular odor.
None of the gangsters moved or said anything as he strolled right up to us. I waited for Buddy to work his word magic on them and perhaps allow me a chance to attack and disarm them.
"Speak of the devil," Buddy said. "I just left a message on your machine." He reached into his jacket pocket and I caught bursts of tension from Driver Dude and Bricky, but they relaxed when Buddy merely waved his cell phone in the air. "Couldn't have been more than five minutes ago I was listening to the voice on your answering machine.
"I got into town late last night, finished off both my morning meetings as well as my lunch date – oh man, Mikey, you should have seen the legs on the sweet thing I had lunch with. She had the sexiest legs I've seen in a long time. Legs right up to her eyeballs, if you know what I mean. The kind of legs you could suck on for a day."
Kern and Bricky laughed. I recognized it as one of the regular expressions he'd pulled from one of the slapstick Naked Gun movies with Leslie Nielsen.
"Ooooh, geez. I'll be lying awake tonight just dreamin' of those legs of hers, let me tell you."
There were more chuckles from the guys about this, and the sense of curiosity in them heightened. They stood there, smiling, and waiting for Buddy to say more. I remained in place, quietly trying to read their actions, waiting for the perfect moment of all three of them dropping their guard enough for me to make a move.
But most of all, I was wondering where the hell Buddy had come from, why he hadn’t asked about who these strangers with me were and what we were up to. My mind raced back to the number of times Buddy had shown up out of the blue at the oddest moments. Was there more to him than the bubbly and friendly persona he so powerfully projected?
"Yessiree, I'd just left you a message. I finished with my gammy friend, sealed another fine deal, and was hoping I'd be able to get ahold of you.
"It's been ages, hasn't it, Mikey? I mean, when was the last time it took me so damn long to get back to this little island? I know I travel a lot, but this is, by far, my favorite place to be. Where else but New York, huh?" And then he started quoting from that old Huey Lewis song. "New York, New York, there's no place that I'd rather be. Where else can you do a half a million things, all at a quarter to three?”
I kept trying to get a read on Buddy’s scent, but it was illusive, oddly muted, despite the fact his wild gestures should have pushed the scent out to me in strong waves. Sure, he was normally gregarious and friendly and verbose and animated when he spoke. But he seemed to be going a little over the top; and, though he was making eye contact and including them in the stream of verbal diarrhea he was releasing, he hadn’t verbally acknowledged the guys with me. I was confused.
"Ah yes, the big apple, the large fruit. So good to be back. And I have to admit, I am completely freaked out with the fact that I bumped into you.
"I mean, the lady with the gorgeous gams and I just finished our lunch down at that place off Pearl that I keep meaning to take you to. Best clams this side of Boston. Ah hell, the best clams I've had anywhere, let me tell you. The best clams, the best gams. Oooeee.
"Yeah, we finished eating, I sealed one of the sweetest deals in a long time. Ha! I sealed one of the sweetest deals with one sweet lady. Poetry in motion, let me tell you.
"And here you are, walking through the same alley I parked my car in not two hours ago.
"This alley here is one of the least patrolled by the flatfeet and green hornets. Damn parking rates in this city could bankrupt a guy, you know what I mean? Fancy that you and your friends should be strolling down this same alley though. Funny coincidence, isn't it?
"Not so funny, of course, if you all are in the know about the lack of tickets issued when parking here.
"Speaking of you all, I have to admire the impeccable, matching suits you have on. Most times you see a bunch of guys standing around wearing matching suits you think ‘mafia’ and walk the other way. But you guys look sharp in those. They're pretty exquisite, perfectly fitting each of you. They look like Logsdail’s work to me. Am I right?”
The thugs shared confused glances with one another; the looks on their faces matched the incredulous wonder their scents were exuding. They simply couldn’t believe this guy was real.
"Ah, but look at me! I can't believe how rude I'm being. Asking you questions about your tailor and I haven't even introduced myself." Buddy stuck the cell phone back in the pocket of his pale-blue business suit and thrust his chubby little hand out. "The name's Bernard J. Samuels. But you can call me Buddy."
Bricky was the closest to Buddy, and stuck the right hand he'd been hiding behind the flap of his jacket out as if in a gesture to shake hands with Buddy.
Buddy's hand froze mid-way to grasp Bricky's when he saw the piece in his hand. But there was an odd juxtaposition, because, despite the confused and fearful look on his face, Buddy didn’t exude a single ounce of fear from his smell. I detected a very muted sense of calm and control coming from him.
"Now wait a cotton-picking minute here . . ." Buddy started to say, but Bricky interrupted him.
"Pleased to meet you, Bernard." Bricky reached out, grabbed Buddy's right arm with his left hand and hauled him a foot closer. "Wrong place, wrong time, Buddy. You can come quietly with us, or I'll plug one in you right here. As you said, this is the least patrolled alley in lower Manhattan."
Buddy's chummy and friendly essence faded into confusion and worry. He looked at me, his eyes filled with fear, but not a single essence of fear in his scent.
"Mikey? What's going on? Who are these guys?"
Kern spoke before I could say anything. "We're a bunch of guys who just went from having to kill and dispose of one witness to three in the span of half an hour. So you can think of us as three pissed off guys with three times the amount of work to do thanks to you and your friend Mikey here. Fuck."
Driver Dude and Bricky snorted at that.
"Mikey, what have you gotten mixed up with here?"
My mouth was dry and I was disappointed at having missed a chance to use Buddy's distraction to make a move.
"These guys mean business, Buddy. Just do what they say."
"You don't talk much, but it's the first fuckin' thing you said all afternoon that makes sense," Kern said. "Now get walking."
"Thataway," Bricky said tipping his head to the right, toward a doorway about ten feet away.
We shuffled slowly toward the door and got within a couple of feet of it when Buddy suddenly stopped.
"What's the point of that?" Buddy said.
"What are you? Some kinda wiseass?" Kern said.
"You just admitted that you intend to kill us along with some other guy, whom I imagine is somewhere on the other side of this door."
"Yeah?"
"So why in hell should I make it easier for you?" Buddy said, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. "Why should Mikey and I make it as easy as shooting fish in a barrel for you? Why the hell shouldn't I just start running down the alley, and Mikey run in the opposite direction? You know, give you guys two different moving targets at the same time? Why should we walk into that building knowing that we're not going to be coming back out alive, and make this whole process easy? Much better to take our chances that you're bad shots at moving targets than walk into a sitting duck situation."
"You fuckin' kiddin' me?" Kern said, exuding a sense of complete bafflement. His two buddies were equally baffled. Truth be told, so was I. What the hell was Buddy up to?
"I'm a business man. A dealer. I just finished negotiating with a foxy lady who was as sexy as Manhattan nights are long and as cunning as she was beautiful. She hadn't intended on signing any contract with me. And if she did, you damn well know she'd been planning on using her sexuality to get the better part of the deal, particularly with a chubby old middle-aged man like me. But just like most men likely underestimate her intelligence because of her physical beauty, she underestimated my own resolve. She signed the contract under the terms I was offering, not the counter offer she had prepared. And do you know why? It's because I'm good at what I do.
"So there's no way you guys are simply going to herd us into this building here for slaughter, not without a bit of negotiating."
"Negotiate this!" Bricky said, stepped up behind Buddy and bringing the butt of his gun down on the back of Buddy's head.
In that split second as I saw Bricky's hand swing down, I almost made a move. But Kern's gun had been trained on me and Driver Dude had the other gun pointed at Buddy.
I could easily avoid or even handle being shot, but I couldn’t risk Buddy being shot; and Driver Dude’s nervousness leading to an itchy trigger finger made me hesitate.
There hadn't been much I could do.
I watched helplessly as Buddy's eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the alley floor.
But as I watched him fall, I thought that perhaps my old friend had given me exactly the kind of distraction I needed. And it made me wonder if perhaps he had planned it all along. Man, but hadn't Buddy been my good luck charm right from the moment he first walked into my life?
I thought back to that first time we met, the night I'd been attacked by that wolf and how Buddy's car just happened along at exactly the right moment to save my life. And about how he nursed me, a wide-eyed Canadian boy from a small city into the heart of New York, and didn't let that city eat me alive.
Watching Buddy lying unconscious on the alley floor and thinking back to all of the ways in which he had mentored me, protected me and coached me reaffirmed my commitment to wanting to see these guys hurt in new ways. Most especially Bricky.
He had quite the smack down coming to him once I was able to make my move, which wouldn’t be long now.
"We're not going to get any trouble from you now, are we?" Bricky said, turning to glare at me.
I shook my head, trying hard to look petrified. "Uh, no. No trouble. Not from me." It was hard wiping the resolved look off my face, but I did my best.
My voice contained just the right amount of warbling fear in it I suppose, because he seemed and smelled satisfied with my response.
Bricky bent over and grabbed Buddy under the arms. "C'mon, Kern, take his legs wouldya?"
"Fuck," Kern said in a low voice and bent down to hold Buddy under the backs of his knees. He kept mumbling curses under his breath.
I looked at them, still stunned. Oh man, they must really have me pegged as a coward to leave themselves so vulnerable.
Of course, I hadn't given them any reason to believe otherwise, and that's just the way I liked it.
Driver Dude pointed his weapon at me. "Okay, you first. Open that door." He looked around the alley, checking for witnesses. "C'mon. Move it."
I reached forward, tried the door. It was stiff, but opened into a dark, narrow hallway with a single dim bulb halfway down the corridor. There were two doors across from each other right under the bulb. The exterior door I was holding was a weighted one that would slam closed if it wasn't held open. I gave a weak smile at Kern who was in the lead with Buddy's body.
"Er, after you." I said in a soft voice, stepping aside to let the two men pass ahead of me.
Kern and Bricky shuffled inside.
Driver Dude poked the gun at the back of my shoulder blade and nudged me forward into the hallway. "Move," he hissed, his lips just inches from my ear.
I stepped into the hallway, listening for movement or activity, and heard nothing other than the echo of footsteps and the rhythmic whoop whoop sound of ceiling fans in what must have been an adjacent warehouse space. The only other sound I caught was the raspy cough of a man, coming from the floor above.
The hallway was thick with the stale smells of these men, and Howard's distinctive body odor mingled with Old Spice.
Satisfied that the darkness of the hallway would properly handicap the vision of my friends at least for another twenty seconds or so until their eyes adjusted, I decided it was time for action.
I slammed the door, quickly ducked under the gun, lifting Driver Dude's wrist up with my left shoulder and simultaneously elbowing him in the gut. I twisted and grabbed his wrist, keeping the gun pointed at the ceiling and drove my right fist into his face, breaking his nose.
I followed that with a quick slam of the side of my hand into his neck, striking him perfectly in the carotid. He was unconscious immediately.
The whole thing took less than a second, and it wasn't until he collapsed to the floor that Kern had time to mutter, "fuck," before I rammed my fist into the small of his back. He dropped Buddy's legs and gasped.
"Fuck!" he yelled. But before he could turn, I kicked hard into the middle of his leg behind his knee and he folded to the floor.
As he was going down, I used the same carotid chop to quickly put him out.
Bricky let go of Buddy and I rushed forward to grab my friend before his head hit the floor.
"Waaa?" Buddy started to say, the sudden movement startling him closer to consciousness.
"Hang in there, Buddy. You'll be okay," I said in a soft voice, watching Bricky take a couple of steps back and reaching for his gun.
"Don't do it, Bricky," I said, slowly laying Buddy on the ground. "You saw what I did to your friends. I'll do the same to you."
He actually paused, as if considering. Then, the telltale jump of his heart indicated to me that he intended to draw and shoot.
I leapt over Buddy's body and was in front of Bricky before his hand even touched his weapon. I punched him in the side of the head, and he stumbled back, his eyes starting to roll back.
He teetered for a moment, rocking from foot to foot, still trying to reach for his gun.
I shook my head at him. "I told you, Bricky. Why didn't you just listen to me?"
I threw an upper cut under his chin and his lights went out as he crumpled like so much dirty laundry.
Buddy was beginning to stir, I could tell by the change in his breathing and heart rate.
I quickly stepped over to Kern, fished out his gun and tucked it into my belt. Then I picked Buddy up and carried him on one shoulder out the door. I walked about fifteen feet down the alley to a six-foot tall dumpster, laid Buddy's body down on a pile of cardboard stacked on the far side of it.
Then I fished the gun from the back of my belt and tossed it into the dumpster.
Buddy stirred, close to returning to consciousness, but I couldn't stick around to explain things to him. It sounded like Kern was actually coming to and I needed to get back inside before Kern woke and warned Monty or whoever else was inside with Howard.