Part 34 (1/2)
”Yes.”
”Go.”
Esperanza turned the ignition key, put the Olds in gear, and sped out into traffic. ”You look like h.e.l.l.”
”I wasn't dressed for the occasion.” Decker stared behind him to see if they were being followed. It didn't seem so.
”I wasn't sure when or if you'd come back,” Esperanza said.
”And I wasn't sure if you'd stay with the car. You did the right thing.”
”I'd make a good getaway driver. In fact, I was a good getaway driver.”
Decker looked at him.
”When I was sixteen,” Esperanza said. ”You've got the briefcase.”
”Yes.”
”What about Frank Giordano?”
Decker didn't answer.
”Then Beth Dwyer has one less problem.”
”It was self-defense,” Decker said.
”I didn't suggest otherwise.”
”I needed the briefcase.”
”A million dollars. With that kind of money, some men wouldn't think about saving anybody.”
”Without Beth, I wouldn't save myself.”
TEN.
1.
”Jesus, Decker, this is crazy. If you're not careful, you'll end up killing yourself,” Esperanza tensely murmured, lower than a whisper. ”Or else you're giving McKittrick the chance to do it for you.” But they had argued about Decker's intentions for the last hour, and Decker had made clear his determination. This was the way McKittrick expected the drop-off to happen, and by G.o.d, this was the way it was going to happen.
Decker felt Esperanza lean into the backseat of the Oldsmobile. He felt Esperanza grab his shoulders and tug him out into the rain. His instructions to Esperanza had been to avoid being gentle, to be as rough as someone would expect a hit man to be with the corpse of someone he had just killed.
Esperanza obeyed, making no attempt to ease the impact of Decker's body onto the ground. Pain jolted through him, but he didn't show it, just remained limp as Esperanza dragged him through a puddle. Although Decker kept his eyes shut, he imagined the scene: the battered Oldsmobile next to the refreshment building at the scenic lookout. A little before midnight, in the rain, it was very unlikely that any motorists would have stopped to admire the view from the Palisades. In good weather, the view from the lookout showed the lights of boats on the Hudson and the expansive glow of Hastings and Yonkers across the river, but in bad weather like this, it would show only gloom. On the off chance that a driver might pull in to rest for a few minutes, Esperanza had parked the Oldsmobile sideways toward the entrance to the lookout, preventing anyone on the interstate from seeing what appeared to be a corpse being dragged around to the back of the refreshment building.
Decker heard Esperanza grunt, then felt the squishy impact as Esperanza dropped him into a muddy puddle. Limp, he allowed his body to roll and ended on his left side in the puddle. Peering through half-open eyelids, he saw what appeared to be garbage cans in the darkness behind the building. He heard Esperanza run through the puddle back to the car and quickly return. He saw Esperanza set the briefcase against the rear of the building. Then Esperanza disappeared. In a moment, Decker heard car doors being shut, an engine revving, the splash of tires as Esperanza drove away. The engine became fainter. Then all Decker heard was the distant drone of traffic on the interstate and the pelt of rain on the clear plastic bag tied over his head.
”Giordano's deal with McKittrick was the money and my corpse,” Decker had insisted while he and Esperanza drove anxiously from town to town, worried about the time they were losing, desperate to find a convenience store. They had started their search at 10:30. Then the time was 11:00, then 11:15. ”We have to be there by midnight.” Twice, the stores they did find open had not had all the materials Decker needed. At 11:30, they had finally gotten what they needed. Esperanza had parked on a deserted country lane and done what was necessary.
”Why can't I leave the money along with a note, supposedly from Giordano, that says he won't kill you until McKittrick makes good on his promise?” Esperanza had tied clothesline rope around Decker's ankles.
”Because I don't want to do anything to make him suspicious. Be sure the knots are in plain view. It'll be dark behind that building. I want it to be obvious to him that I've been tied up.”
”But this way, if he isn't convinced you're dead, you won't have a chance to defend yourself.” Esperanza tied Decker's arms behind his back.
”That's what I'm hoping will convince him. He won't believe I willingly made myself completely vulnerable to him.”
”Does this knot hurt?”
”It doesn't matter whether it hurts. Make it real. Make it look as if I couldn't possibly be alive and not show any reaction to the way I've been tied. He has to believe I'm dead.”
”You might be dead by the time he gets to you. Decker, this plastic bag scares the h.e.l.l out of me.”
”That's the point. It might even scare him. I'm counting on it to be the finis.h.i.+ng touch. Mark me up. Hurry.”
Needing something that looked like blood, Decker had used what a pathologist once explained to him were the easiest-to-obtain materials to fake it-colorless corn syrup and red food dye.
”Make it look as if they really enjoyed beating me,” Decker insisted.
”They mashed your lips. They messed up your jaw.” Esperanza had applied the mixture.
”Hurry. We've got only fifteen minutes to get to the drop-off site.”
Esperanza quickly tied the bag around Decker's neck and then murmured a Spanish prayer as Decker inhaled and forced the bag to collapse around his head, the plastic clinging to his face, sticking to his skin, stuffing Decker's nostrils and his mouth. Immediately Esperanza poked a tiny hole in the plastic that filled Decker's mouth and hurriedly inserted a cutoff piece of a drinking straw, which Decker gripped between his teeth, allowing him to breathe without breaking the vacuum that made the plastic bag stick to his face.
”My G.o.d, Decker, does it work? Can you get enough air?”
Decker had managed to nod slightly.
”The way that bag sticks to your face, you look like a corpse.”
Good, Decker thought as he lay in the muddy puddle, in the dark, behind the refreshment building, listening to the rain pelt the plastic bag. Provided that he breathed shallowly, slowly, and calmly, the small amount of air he got through the straw was enough to allow him to remain alive. But with each slight inhalation, panic tried to force itself through his fierce resolve. With each imperceptible exhalation, his heart wanted to beat faster, demanding more oxygen. The cord that secured the bag around his neck was tight enough to dig into the skin-Decker had insisted on that, also. Everything absolutely had to look convincing. And feel so-the cold rain would lower Decker's exterior temperature, making his skin feel like that of a corpse losing body heat. If McKittrick for one moment doubted that Decker was a corpse, he would put a bullet through Decker's head and settle the matter.
The danger was that McKittrick would shoot him no matter what, but Decker was counting on the grotesque appearance of his face to make McKittrick decide that further violence wasn't necessary. If McKittrick felt for a pulse on Decker's wrists, he wouldn't find one, the tight ropes having sharply reduced the flow of blood. He could try to feel for a pulse along Decker's neck, but to do so, McKittrick would have to untie the cord that secured the plastic bag-time-consuming and disgusting. That left pressing a palm against the ribs over Decker's heart, but he wasn't likely to do that, either, because Decker had landed on his left side-to feel the ribs over Decker's heart, McKittrick would have to turn the body over and press his hand against the repulsive mud that adhered to Decker's clothes.
It was still a great risk. ”Insane,” as Esperanza had kept telling him. ”You're going to get yourself killed.” But what was the alternative? If the drop-off didn't occur exactly as McKittrick expected, if Decker's body wasn't there as promised, McKittrick might become suspicious enough not to take the money, fearing that the briefcase was b.o.o.by-trapped. But the money was what Decker's plan was all about, the money and the homing device that Decker had hidden with the money. If McKittrick didn't take the money, Decker would have no way to follow him to where Beth was being held captive. No matter how Decker a.n.a.lyzed it, there wasn't an alternative. McKittrick had to find Decker's corpse.