M.I.A. Hunter: Miami War Zone (12 page)

Hog lay still, waiting to see if there was any reaction to his fall. Though his bulk was clearly outlined on the lawn, he knew that his
camos
would blend in somewhat. Motion would only give him away more quickly.

None of them could hear anything from the room. The window glass was thick. Hog didn't even turn his head to look in that direction.

Loughlin and Stone drew weapons from holsters, the .45 for Loughlin, the Beretta for Stone. Stone had wanted in to see the don, and he had wanted in quietly. If anyone saw Hog, the quiet would end.

Hog lay without moving for a full five minutes. He began to itch in inconvenient places; an ant crawled across his hand.

Finally, he drew himself up to his knees, then got swiftly into a running crouch and moved out.

"
Fuckin
' sprinkler head," he whispered hoarsely when he reached Stone. "I thought it rained all the time here. What does this bastard need with a sprinkler system?"

"Emergencies," Loughlin answered.

"Fuck emergencies." Then Hog thought about it. "I guess this is kind of an emergency, though. That damn sprinkler did a hell of a lot better job than those high-priced goons in there."

"Right," Stone said curtly, cutting him off. "Give me the grapple."

Loughlin unfolded the rubber-covered hooks of the collapsible grapple he had been carrying attached to coils of nylon rope that were looped over his shoulder. The rope had been dyed black.

Stone took the grapple and tossed it over the balcony railing. He pulled back gently on the rope, and the hooks grasped the rail.

There had been little noise, no more than a softball might make if it had been thrown gently onto the balcony. Nevertheless, the three men waited for a minute, pressed against the side of the house. Though there was a small bit of shadow, they all felt exposed.

When there was no investigation of the sound, Stone got ready to ascend the rope. "I'll go up first. That balcony is purely decorative, and there's not room for more than one of us at a time. That looks like a pair of French doors up there. I'll open them, and then you can come on up."

"If you don't set off any alarms," Hog reminded him.

"I don't think there'll be any alarms."

"Right. Nobody sets alarms on the second floor. You said that."

"Now we'll find out if I'm right." Stone grasped the rope, braced a foot on the wall, and started up.

If he had felt exposed on the ground, he felt doubly exposed here, like a fly on a piece of white paper. Still, he didn't hurry. Each move was careful and deliberate. There was no time for a slip or a fall. Either one could prove fatal.

He reached the balcony and pulled himself over the rail, crouching there for a minute before checking the doors. Then he looked through the glass panes.

The doors apparently opened onto an unused bedroom. Stone could see a bed, a dresser, and two chairs, or rather he could see their dim outlines.

There was no sign of an alarm.

No tapes, no wires, no infrared beams, no pressure plates. At least, not as far as Stone could tell.

He reached for the door handle and jiggled it. The door was locked, but Stone had expected that. Even if there was no alarm system on the second floor, everyone would take the elementary precaution of locking any door that led to the outside.

Unfortunately for the don, the lock was virtually useless. Who would worry about buying an expensive lock for a second-floor entrance?

Stone forced it easily with a piece of stiff plastic.

He stepped inside the room. It smelled of musty disuse. Probably no one had spent a night here for years.

There was a heavy carpet on the floor, and Stone padded softly to the door into the hallway, putting his ear against it to listen.

From downstairs he could hear the sound of voices as the security team laughed and joshed. He couldn't make out any distinct words. In fact, if he hadn't known that they were down there, he might not have heard them at all.

Which meant that they probably couldn't hear him, either. He continued to listen, to wait for any indication that he had set off some hidden alarm.

After several minutes, he went back to the balcony. He was convinced that he had been correct. There was no security for the second floor.

He wiggled the rope as a signal for his men to come up.

Hog came first, displaying again his unexpected agility. Stone wondered how he had happened to trip over the sprinkler head. Hog rarely made mistakes like that.

Loughlin came next, pulling the rope up after him as he crouched on the balcony in the shelter of the rail.

"We were afraid you'd found a woman in here and decided not to call us," Loughlin said.

"Just checking it out," Stone told him.

"What next, then?"

"We pay a little visit to the don."

D
on Vito
Lucci
was not thinking about the possibility of visitors.

He was not thinking about the security men watching television and drinking downstairs.

He was thinking about the redhead who was running her moist tongue over his withered thighs and working her way to a more certain source of pleasure for him.

He didn't mind that she was taking her time. At his age, he needed a little bit of extra time.

It helped if the girls were young.

It helped if they didn't mind being roughed up a little, too, though tonight he didn't think he would need that part of it.

He looked into the mirror above his bed and watched the girl's head move. He watched the way her ass wiggled just the tiniest bit as she got closer to his pubic area. It made her seem as if she were enjoying herself, and he didn't care if she was only doing it to fool him. He didn't mind being fooled.

He reached down a liver-spotted hand and put it on the back of her shining red hair to guide her to where he wanted her to go.

The girl was fooling, of course. She was only nineteen, and she would much rather have been with a young, wellhung stud about her own age, someone who could give her a thrill or two. There wasn't much of a thrill in trying to help some old guy get it up and then trying to help him keep it up for more than a few seconds.

She had been in Don Vito's bedroom before, and she knew that he had a problem in that area. That was when he got mean. If he couldn't keep it up, it was never his fault. It was always the girl's.

Sure, he was moaning in pleasure right now, but that could change. And when it did, he could turn ugly. It had happened before, so she did her best to keep him happy, twitching her bottom, which she knew he was watching in the big mirror, and faking excitement.

She hoped he'd be able to finish soon. She was tired and wanted to go home.

S
tone and his men crept quietly, swiftly, down the carpeted hall. Loughlin stopped at the top of the stairway to keep watch, while the other two proceeded toward a door from beneath which a thin line of light seeped into the hall.

Stone reached the door and palmed the knob. He didn't really expect it to turn, and it didn't. He got out his plastic.

The thing that worried him was the light. Apparently the don was a man accustomed to staying up much later than most people. Well, they would just have to be extra careful, get the lock sprung silently, and move in so quickly that he didn't have time to sound any alarm.

Stone worked the door cautiously, making less noise than a spider weaving a web. As he worked, he could hear the chatter from downstairs. A fine bunch of bodyguards they were! If all went well, they would be looking for new jobs soon, or they would be shark bait on some charter boat. Stone thought he might bet on the shark bait.

The lock clicked, and Stone turned the knob, pushing the door at the same time. He and Hog burst into the room, guns drawn.

They needn't have worried about attracting Don Vito's attention by making too much noise at the door. His mind was not on such matters as his own safety at the moment.

In fact, he did not even know that two armed men had entered his room.

The girl knew. She was looking straight at them, her eyes round with fear and surprise.

She couldn't scream, however. Her mouth was full.

Stone gestured at her with his pistol barrel, indicating that she should just continue. Why not let the don be completely relaxed for their interview?

Don Vito was oblivious to the byplay. He lay supine, his face red, his heartbeat racing, his spine beginning to stiffen.

Hog quietly closed the door behind him, staring at the girl. It was hard to believe, but he thought he knew her.

L
oughlin stood at the top of the stairs, listening. A voice broke through the general rumble of talk.

"Ain't it about time for the boss to be through with that bitch?"

"What
d'you
care, Al? It ain't your turn to take her home is it?"

"You're damn right it is," Al answered. "I get pretty fucking tired of it, too."

Getting out the car and taking the girl home for the night was a job that Don Vito's men didn't like. The girls were always in a bad mood, and sometimes they'd been roughed up a little bit. They were good-looking, but there was never any chance of striking up a conversation and maybe working something up. By the time they left Don Vito, they didn't want to have anything to do with men for a while.

"You just don't
wanta
miss the start of
Young Lady Chatterley
," the first voice said, referring to an X-rated movie that was to begin shortly on one of the satellite channels.

"Stick this in your ear," Al said. "I'm going upstairs to get the bimbo."

"Maybe you'll get invited in," someone called out.

"
Har
har
har
," Al said.

Loughlin drew back into the shadows at the end of the hallway.

T
he instant that Don Vito was finished, the girl leaped off the bed and stood beside it, her hands attempting to cover her nakedness.

"Get back down there, bitch," Don Vito ordered. "I didn't tell you to stop."

"Maybe she doesn't like to eat in front of company," Hog suggested.

Don Vito sat up rapidly, pulling the covers up over the lower part of his body. "What the fuck?"

"Maybe we ought to be asking you that question," Stone grated.

Don Vito opened his mouth.

Stone waved the Beretta. "Make one sound louder than a whisper, and you're a dead man."

Don Vito shut his mouth.

"Take care of the woman, Hog."

Hog ambled over to the redhead. "What's a bad girl like you
doin
' in a nice place like this?" he asked. "You
shoulda
stuck to
strippin
'."

Stone cut a glance in the woman's direction. "What?"

"The Black Pussy Cat," Hog informed him. "The stripper that was at the table with Castillo and Rodriguez."

"Well, put her out."

The redhead was too scared to move. She had given up trying to cover herself. Hog had seen it all before.

"I really hate to have to do this to a pretty little thing like you, miss," Hog apologized, "but I don't think you want to watch this."

He clipped the redhead on the point of the chin. "Sorry, ma'am," he said, catching her as she collapsed.

"I don't know who you two fuckers are, or how you got in here, but you're dead meat," the old don spat. "My boys will carve you up and feed you to the dogs."

"Your boys are too busy watching TV to do much of anything right now," Stone told him. "And the dogs are taking a nap." He stepped to the bedside. "Now then. I have a few questions to ask you."

"Fuck you," the don hissed, his thin chest heaving with emotion. "I don't talk to assholes."