Fool's Gold (14 page)

“No, no, I don't have a weapon,” I gasped as I put my hands up. “I have something for you. Can I get it?” It wasn't a weapon. It was more like a shield I could hide behind.

“Slowly,” Dom said.

I opened the bag and pulled out a bar of gold. It was real, hard and smooth and heavy in my hands.

I could see Dom's eyes widen. He reached out and took it from me.

“Beautiful,” Dom said as he held it up.

It
was
beautiful.

“The other twenty bars are in the truck,” I said.

“Twenty? Don't you mean twenty-two?” he asked.

“I guess so … I really don't know … they're all in the truck.”

“There'd better be twenty-two more bars. You got away with twenty-three bars, I know that, so don't try and cheat me!”

That was the response I was supposed to remember. Dom thought that twenty-
three,
not twenty-
one,
bars were stolen.

“Nobody is trying to cheat you. Everything we took is yours. You can ask Red. He's wounded pretty bad, but he's there. Moose was shot and we couldn't get him out. I don't know if he's okay or if … if … if he's …”

“He's in the hospital,” Dom said.

“How do you know that?”

“I know lots of things. Now, all I need to know is what you want before you take me to my gold.”

“I need to know my mother is okay.”

“She's okay.”

“I want to see her.”

“Isn't my word good enough for you?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Until I see her you don't see the gold.”

“How'd you find me, anyway?” he asked. “How'd you get here?”

“What?”

“How'd you get here? Did you walk?”

“Part of the way, after I was dropped off.”

“You telling me that Red is part of this scheme?” he demanded.

“I'm telling you that Red isn't in any shape to be part of anything. He's hurt, wounded, and if you don't do something fast he's probably going to
die
.”

He shrugged. “Not my concern. What's to stop me from just putting a bullet in your head, sending out my men, searching the neighbourhood and finding that truck?”

“There's nothing to stop you from shooting me, I guess, but if Jack doesn't see me walk out of here in the next couple of minutes, then he'll run back to that truck, get in, drive away and the only gold you see will be on the badges of the cops he goes to get.”

“I don't think he'd do that.”

“You're wrong. Maybe you don't care about Moose or Red or any of these guys,” I said, gesturing to the men standing around us, “but we're
really
family. If I don't come back he'll know Mom and I are dead, and he'll make sure you pay for it.”

“You bluffing me, kid?”

“You want to risk finding out?” I asked back.

He laughed, and that caught me off guard. He looked over his shoulder. “Go and get the kids' mother.” Two men disappeared down a corridor.

“You got guts, kid,” he said.

And my plan is to keep them inside of me,
I thought, but I kept my mouth closed.

I heard the sound of somebody coming down the hall and I looked up. It was Mom! I started to rush toward her when Dom held out a hand and stopped me.

“George! You're hurt!” she screamed out, a look of terror on her face.

“No,” I said, shaking my head, “I'm fine.” Then I realized why she thought that. The blood—Moose's blood—had left a large red stain on the front of my shirt.

“It's not mine. It's from one of the mobsters. Are you okay?”

“Doesn't she look fine?” Dom answered for her. “Now that you see she's alive, you need to keep your end of the bargain. You need to bring the gold here.”

“I was thinking I'd bring
you
to
it,
” I said.

“Nope, it isn't going to happen that way. I stay here, with your mother, and you bring the gold to me.”

That wasn't how we had it planned. I was supposed to bring him and his men out of the house and then, once they were in the open, they could be easily captured. I had to think fast.

“I'm going to need some help,” I said. “Moose is gone and Red can't even carry himself. I need some of your men to come and carry the gold—it's heavy.”

He was still holding the gold bar in his hand. “I can see that.” He turned to face his men. “You, you and you, go with the kid.”

I turned to start out the door but he grabbed me by the arm. “And remember, no tricks. Your mother's still in here with me.”

“No tricks from us,” I said. “And just so you know, we're ready for any tricks you might have planned … like killing us all after you get the gold.”

“Come on, kid, I wouldn't do that. You have my word.”

“Your word isn't good enough. Before we drove here we got Red to tell us everything, including your name. We stopped, wrote a letter and mailed it to one of our relatives.”

“You did
what
?” he exclaimed.

“The letter is addressed to us. If we walk out of here we go and get the letter and rip it up. If we don't
walk out, if nobody ever sees us again, then she'll open that letter and turn it over to the authorities.”

“You're bluffing.”

“Not bluffing. Just taking care of things.”

“Even if we did kill all of you, do you really think that letter would mean anything? Even with that letter there still isn't proof I was involved. The police won't be able to do anything to us. No court can convict us without proof,” he snorted.

“It isn't the police you should be worried about. Those guys at Camp X, they don't need proof and they don't need a court. They'll just come and kill you. Here, there, wherever you go. You'll be a rich guy waiting to be a
dead
rich guy. I know because I know them. You kill us now, you're just killing yourself later.”

He wasn't laughing. He wasn't smiling. He was believing what I was saying.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I WALKED SLOWLY
, deliberately, making sure that my feet dragged enough to warn of our arrival. My whole body was shaking, and it had nothing to do with the damp night air. Two of Dom's men flanked me and a third was a few steps behind. I kept looking back over my shoulder, past him, to see if anybody else was coming. I didn't want anything, or anybody, to be a surprise.

“How far we gotta walk?” the man on my left asked.

“Not far.”

“You figure they're still there?” the man on the other side asked.

“Of course.”

“You sure? I'm guessing
my
brother would sell
me
out for a fortune in gold,” one of the mobsters said.

The other two laughed.

“Maybe your brother, but not mine. We weren't raised that way,” I said, and again the other two laughed—this time at me.

“Funny, kid. We'll see if you're still laughing at the end of the night.”

That was a threat, plain and simple. I knew that they were all armed and dangerous. I would have been a lot more scared if it hadn't been for the fact that I knew I had a few guys with guns on my side.

We kept walking. I was beginning to worry. It seemed to me I hadn't walked that far to get to the house. I thought the truck should have been closer. They wouldn't have moved it … would they? For a split second I had the irrational fear that Jack
had
taken off with the gold, before I remembered that there really wasn't any gold, and Bill and Little Bill were with him, and finally, Jack just wouldn't do that.

“There's the truck,” I said, pointing ahead, relieved that I'd found it.

“I don't see nothing,” one of the men said.

“It's there, just off to the side of the road.”

Really, I could only make out a vague outline. It was so dark and so well hidden in the shadows that if I hadn't known it was there we would have walked right past it.

I looked to my left. The mobster had pulled out his gun. So had the guy to my right. I didn't need to look back to know the third was doing the same.

“You think Red is going to shoot one of you?” I asked.

“No sense in taking any chances.”

“How about if we take no chances,” I said. “You three just stay behind and let me tip them off that it's you. That way, if Red takes a shot at anybody it'll be me.”

The one gunman shrugged. “Sure, kid, your funeral.”

They hung back while I walked toward the van. “It's me, George!” I yelled out. “There's nothing to worry about.” I kept walking. “I've brought help …
three
people … three of Dom's men … but not Dom, he stayed at the house.”

I wanted them to know the numbers but also to know that Dom was really at the house—back at the house with our mother. That meant that nobody would be firing any shots. We were close enough to the house that they'd be able to hear gunfire, and then there was no telling what might happen.

I walked over to the driver's side window. Somebody was in the driver's seat, his head down almost on the steering wheel and his arms up to hide his face. Red's hat was on his head, and along with his coat it made for a perfect disguise. Jack sat in the passenger seat.

“Tell them that Red is almost dead,” Jack said quietly to me.

“Come quick,” I shouted back to the men. “Red is hardly breathing. He's almost dead.”

Two of the men rushed toward the passenger side, while the other pushed me out of the way and leaned in the driver's window.

“Red, are you—?”

It was Little Bill under the hat, and he sat up and aimed his pistol square at the man's face. At the same instant Bill burst out of the side door, and the three agents appeared out of nowhere and took the other two men prisoner. All three stood there, hands up, shocked looks on their faces. Somehow the whole scene struck me as funny. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud.

“All three of you, put your hands on top of your heads,” Bill said.

They did as they were ordered.

“Now I have a few questions,” Little Bill began.

“We're not talking,” one of them snarled.

“And do you speak for the group?” Little Bill asked.

“We don't talk to nobody.”

“Fine, then I won't waste time asking you anything further.” Little Bill reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, dark piece of metal. He started to screw it onto the barrel of his pistol.

“This is a silencer,” he said, his voice quiet and calm. “Its purpose is to make a gunshot so muffled that it can't be heard more than a few feet away. So, for example, if I were to shoot this gun right here they most certainly wouldn't hear it back at the house.”

He took the gun and pushed it into the face of the man who had said they weren't going to talk.

“Since you will not talk, you are of no value to me except as an example to the other two of what happens to somebody who doesn't cooperate. I'm going to kill you.”

“You can't do that!” he said, his voice quavering.

“Of course I can. I can do whatever I want. I am not required to arrest you or follow any of the laws of this land. I am above the laws of this country. I am fully authorized to simply kill anybody who represents a threat to our country. You, sir, are a threat, so I will shoot you.”

He then looked at the second man. “And after I have shot him I will ask you to talk. And if you refuse I will shoot you in a similar manner and then ask the third man,” he said, pointing at the last thug. “And if all three of you refuse to talk you will certainly have gained my utmost respect for being men of honour who would give up your lives rather than give up information. I will salute you, but you will most certainly, nevertheless, be dead.”

His voice was so calm, so matter-of-fact, I had no doubt that what he was saying was the truth. He would kill them.

“Jack, George, perhaps it is best that you go to the other side of the truck for this.”

I started to walk away but Jack grabbed my arm.
“We're not going anywhere,” he said.

I wanted to go but I had no choice now.

“These guys are part of the gang that kidnapped our mother. I want to see them get what they deserve.”

Jack sounded so convincing that I didn't know if he was just playing along or if he was serious.

“As you wish,” Little Bill said. He turned back to face the first man. “Now that you fully understand my position, I want to give you the opportunity to change your mind. Are you willing to answer my questions?”

“I'll answer!” he blurted out. “What do you want to know?”

“Excellent.” He removed the gun from the man's face. “I need to know how many more of Dom's men are in the house.”

“Five, he has five men,” he said.

“Are you lying?” Little Bill asked.

“No, that's the God's honest truth! Honest!”

“So including Dom, there are six men. And do they simply have sidearms or do they have access to other weapons, such as rifles or shotguns?”

“He's got everything in the house,” he said. “Twelve-gauge shotguns, some Enfield rifles.”

“He even has some hand grenades,” the second man volunteered.

“And some dynamite,” the third added.

It seemed like everybody was willing to talk now.

“Quite the arsenal,” Little Bill said. “I guess we should be grateful that he doesn't have a bazooka. He doesn't have a bazooka in there, does he?”

“Um … no,” the man answered.

“That was my attempt at a little levity, a little humour. Next question: how many exits are there?”

“Three, I guess,” the first man said.

“No, four,” the second corrected him.

The first shook his head. “You're wrong, there are only three. Front and back doors, and a door at the far side.”