Everybody Pays (41 page)

“But . . .”

“But fucking
what
? You’re the one who met him, you’re the one who’s gotta—”

“But if I do this, we are entitled to an extra share, no?”

A young black man in his twenties stepped from the back door of the abandoned building. He was about six feet tall, with a motley splattering of white on his hands and face, wearing a Rajaz jacket. Another man stood about thirty yards away, hands open at his sides. Looked almost like an Indian, but hard to tell at this distance. What the fuck, dope was dope, business was business.

The Rajaz gave the other man a hard look, then waved him closer. The top of the Rajaz’s head disappeared. He never heard the blast of the double-barreled shotgun, the triggers wired together to release both barrels at once. But men inside the building did. Two charged out the door, both going down immediately from rifle fire by the Indian, who was now on one knee in a rifleman’s stance. The shark car pulled into the mouth of the alley. Ace jumped lightly from his second-story perch on the fire escape. Rhino heaved a firebomb into the door opening. The shark car vanished.

The cops and newspapers agreed: gang-related.

“He didn’t worry about anything after he would be gone,” Rhino said, softly. “There was no estate planning, nothing. All to her, in trust until she becomes thirty-five, then she takes it. She doesn’t survive him, various charities and stuff. Some endowments. A chair in his name at the university. A few other—”

“Bottom line?” Cross interrupted.

“She takes eight figures. Maybe high eights.”

“It was all done with sincerity,” the snakehead assured So Long. “I
did
have a shipment coming. And I
did
require the services of—”

“Liar,” So Long hissed at him. “I am not here to listen, I am here to speak.
You
listen,” she said, and then spoke as if reading a cue card: “You will pay me one hundred thousand dollars in cash. In small bills, no larger than fifties.
Used
bills, without sequential serial numbers. You will pay this in three days. If you do not pay, you will die. This is a specific threat of death, designed to extort money. I am speaking to you on federal property”—indicating with a wave of one heavily ringed hand that they were standing at the back of the main post office in downtown Chicago. “This is a federal crime. You should report it to the FBI. Please do so. You will notice that they will do nothing. Cross will not be stopped by the federal government. Once you understand this, payment will be easy. For you. Or your death will be easy. For Cross. The exchange of money will take place here. On federal property. I trust you understand this. You made a mistake. In business, there are no free mistakes.”

“I did not—”

But So Long was already on her way out the door.

“We bring him. You do it,” Cross told her.

“Why are you saying this in front of me?” Doc asked.

“Had to persuade the others you’d never talk, Doc. You know how they can be . . .”

“You bastard.”

“Sure,” Cross said. He turned to the girl: “This isn’t about anything you think it is. You think I don’t know anything about you, what you went through, all that. You’re right. I don’t. But I know this much, and I know it good. It’s you or him. I could probably get a million for your head.”

“If I disclose first . . . on TV or something . . . it would be too late for—”

“—him to have you declared insane as a result of the torture you suffered in prison in Quitasol? Buy some doctors who’ll say you’ve got things all scrambled in your brain? Get you civilly committed? Get them to do a fucking lobotomy? Think so? Ask Doc.”

She turned to the husky man, eyes pleading. He nodded, sadly.

“Tell him we got her.”

“You got her out? I don’t fucking believe—”

“Watch the tape,” Cross said, hitting the remote button.

“Who is this . . . mercenary to dictate to me?”

“Nobody, I guess, sir. Want me to tell him that?”

“No, you fucking idiot. I understand, he wants the rest of his money. Fair enough. Why can’t you just make the exchange?”

“He says—”

“I
know
what he says. And even
you
can’t come with me? I have to go alone?”

“I can drive you to the drop point, sir. And wait for you there. That’s all.”

“I . . .”

“He said you had—”

“Let’s go.”

“You are completely insane,” the immaculately dressed man told his daughter. “I spent a fortune to rescue you, and I find out you’re a raving lunatic.”

“Relax, ‘Father,’” she sneered at him. “I know I can’t prove anything.”

“Of course you can’t. It never happened.”

The girl started to cry.

The man looked at Cross and Doc, his face indicating helplessness at the young woman’s obvious insanity.

She looked up. “I thought you would—I don’t know—apologize. Say you were sorry. Say you were . . . drunk. Anything. I don’t know what. Something. You hired these people to kill me, I know that now. I even thought that was what the pills they made me swallow were. And I didn’t care. I . . .
loved
you. Even when you were doing that to me, I loved you. You’re my father.”

“You’re not my daughter,” the man said, fully in control. “You’re too crazy to be—”

The woman brought the pistol from her lap. “I’m not crazy,” she said. “And you’re right. I’m not your daughter. I never was. But the law said I was. And you, you said it too. In your will.”

“Don’t! I can—”

The woman fired until the pistol was empty.

“We have it all on tape,” Cross told her three days later.

“Why are you telling me such a thing?”

“I thought you might want it.”

“Want it? A tape of me killing my own—”

“Sure. In fact, I thought it would be worth a lot of money to you. Part of a package. A nice package. We take you down south. You stagger across the border a few days later. You say the heroic Quitasolan rebels hid you out and rehabbed you. You read a statement they’ll give you. Fair trade. While you were gone, your father was assassinated. Probably in retaliation, because the head of the Quitasol government—you know, the one that’s fled the country—knew your father had financed the extraction. His body will have been riddled with bullets from a single pistol. Take a few years, but you’ll get all his money. It’s your money, anyway. Then you pay us.”