Chapter 97
Ill tell you what, Rome said. Somebody has a serious f.u.c.king hankering for McDonalds.
Theyd been watching an ATM on Mack Avenue, looking for an easy mark. This guy had walked up on foot and taken out money. Looked like a lot of money. Rome and Jamall then watched him go into McDonalds. Five minutes later hed walked out with the two big bags. The man turned south on Orleans and had been walking for fifteen minutes straight. Rome even drove a block past Orleans, to St. Aubin, then several blocks south to get ahead of the man, then cut back on Lafayette and finally up the other side of Orleans. Here the street was barren, a parking lot on one side, the long stretch of trees on the other. Hed parked and theyd waited, seeing if the man was stupid enough to keep walking down such a deserted area.
He was.
It just didnt get any easier than this. And that made Rome nervous. Am I missing something? he asked after the man had gone a half block past the Delta 88. For real, this guy is alone?
Hes just going straight, Jamall said. Not even enough sense to walk on a main road. Dude must be in a hurry.
No one here, Rome said.
Jamall nodded. No one. You said you wanted a sure thing, man. It dont get more sure than this. We gonna do this, we gotta move. Lets go get paid.
Jamall and Rome got out of the car and left the doors slightly open. That wouldnt give them away, because the dome light didnt work. They pulled their guns, Rome a simple.38 revolver, Jamall his fancier Glock. They ran across the empty street and came up on the man from behind.
He heard them, because he turnedand when he did, he found two guns pointing at his face.
Gimme your wallet! Rome said. He held the.38 in his right hand. His left he held out, palm up.
The man just stared at him.
Jamall made a show of pulling back the Glocks slide, then pointed it at the mans face again. You give my man that wallet, or its your a.s.s. And put them bags downwere takin those, too.
The man turned to stare at Jamall. White as a sheet, big red beardhe couldnt possibly look more out of place. Had to be a tourist or something like that. Or maybe a r.e.t.a.r.d, because he didnt look scared. Not even a little bit.
No,
Fury crossed over Jamalls face. Rome got nervous. Jamall didnt like it when people told him no. Especially white people. Rome chanced a quick look up and down the street. No one there, but this was already taking too long.
Im only gonna tell you one more time, Jamall said. Put down those bags and give my boy your wallet. If theres enough money in it, I wont kill you.
No, the man said. I cant. I still have to get ice cream bars. Chelsea will be mad if I dont come back with ice cream bars.
Jamall took two steps forward and put the barrel of the gun on the mans forehead.
I dont give a f.u.c.k about your ice cream bars, Jamall said. Put down the motherf.u.c.king bags.
The man knelt a little and set the bags on the snow-covered gra.s.s, then stood. He still didnt look scared. Rome didnt like this s.h.i.+t, not at all. Usually people c.r.a.pped their drawers when you pulled a gun on them. This guy looked like hed had a gun to his face so many times it bored him. f.u.c.k the money, Rome wanted out of there.
The man reached back with his right hand.
Thats it, Jamall said. Real slow, gimme that wallet.
The mans expression didnt change. He reached up with his left hand, grabbed Jamalls gun and lifted it until the barrel pointed into the air. It wasnt a fast move, but it wasnt slow, either: just smooth. No hesitation. Jamall seemed to freeze for a second, almost in disbelief that someone could be so stupid as to f.u.c.k with him, and then he tried to pull the gun free.
It was only then that Rome saw the mans other hand coming out from behind his back, coming out with that same speed, that same confident smoothnessand holding a gun.
The man put the barrel against Jamalls stomach and pulled the trigger.
The sound was like a cap gun. It didnt sound real. Jamalls face twitched, more in surprise than in pain.
Smooth as before, the man raised his gun up under Jamalls chin and pulled the trigger twice.
Then the mans throat started spraying blood. At first Rome thought Jamalls blood was spraying on the man, but Jamall wasnt bleeding that muchhe just wobbled for a second, then fell.
The fat man dropped the gun and put both hands to his throat. His expression didnt change. The guy still looked bored, even as blood seeped between his fingers.
The man turned to face Rome.
Rome had fired his.38. Thats what had happened. Smoke curled from the stubby barrel. He hadnt even known hed fired, but he must have. Hed shot the man right in the throat.
The man blinked a few times, then knelt, one knee on the ground. He reached back with his hands and eased into a sitting position. Blood continued to pour out of his throat, some of it splattering on the white McDonalds bags. The blood stained his collar and his s.h.i.+rt, dripping from his red beard.
I wish, the man said quietly, I wish you could know the love.
Then he lay down on his side and stopped moving.
The blood slowed to a soft pulsing.
Rome saw the mans wallet in his back pocket. He looked at it for a second, then his common sense returned in a flash of panic. Hed just killed that man. Armed robbery, that made it murder one. He looked at Jamall. Jamall was dead. f.u.c.k! Jamall? How could Jamall be dead?
There were no sirens. There wouldnt be. No one called the cops around here for a few gunshots.
Romes heart hammered away. His breath came fast and deep. This was so f.u.c.ked up.