Kelly turned left, proceeded west one block, then left again, heading south towards O’Donnell Street. His hands were sweating now. There were three of them, and he’d have to be very, very good. But he was good, and he had to finish the job, even if the job might finish him. He stopped the car a block away, getting out, locking it, and walking the rest of the way to the building. The other businesses here were closed down now – he’d counted three, up and operating throughout the day, totally unaware of what was happening … in one case just across the street. Well, you planned that one right, didn’t you?
Yeah, Johnnie-boy, but that was the easy part.
Thanks. He stood right there at the corner of the building, looking in all directions. Better from the other side … he walked to the corner with the phone and electrical service, using the same half-windowsill he’d used before, reaching for the parapet and doing his best to avoid the electrical wires.
Okay, now you just have to walk across the roof without making any noise.
On tar and gravel?
There was one alternative he hadn’t considered. Kelly stood on the parapet. It was at least eight inches wide, he told himself. It was also quiet as he walked the flat brick tightrope towards the opening in the roof, wondering if they might be using the phone.
Charon had to make his move soon. He stood, looking at the others, and stretched rather theatrically before heading in their direction. His coat was off, his tie loose, and his five-shot Smith was at his right hip. Just shoot the bastards and then talk to this Kelly character on the phone. Why not? They were hoods, weren’t they? Why should he die for what they did?
‘What are you doing, Mark?’ Henry asked, not seeing the danger, too focused on the window. Good.
‘Tired of sittin’.’ Charon pulled the handkerchief from his right hip pocket and wiped his face with it as he measured angles and distance, then back to the phone, where his only safety lay. He was sure of that. It was his only chance to get out of this.
Piaggi just didn’t like the look in his eyes. ‘Why not just sit back down and relax, okay? It’s going to get busy soon.’
Why is he looking at the phone? Why is he looking at us?
‘Back off, Tony, okay?’ Charon said in a challenging voice, reaching back to replace the handkerchief. He didn’t know that his eyes had given him away. His hand had barely touched the revolver when Tony aimed and fired one shot into his chest.
‘Real smart guy, huh?’ Tony said to the dying man. Then he noticed that the oblong rectangle of light from the roof door had a shadow in it. Piaggi was still looking at the shadow when it disappeared, replaced by a blur barely caught by his peripheral vision. Henry was looking at Charon’s body.
* * *
The shot startled him – the obvious thought was that it had been aimed at himself – but he was committed, and jumped into the square hole. It was like a parachute jump, keep your feet together, knees bent, back straight, roll when you hit.
He hit hard. It was a tile-over-concrete floor, but his legs took the worst of it. Kelly rolled at once, straightening his arm. The nearest one was Piaggi. Kelly brought the gun up, leveling the sights with his chest and firing twice, changing aim then and hitting the man under the chin.
Shift targets.
Kelly rolled again, trained to do so by some NVA he’d met. There he was. Time stopped in that moment. Henry had his own gun out and aimed, and their eyes met and for what seemed the longest time they simply looked, hunter and hunter, hunter and prey. Then Kelly remembered, first, what the sight picture was for. His finger depressed the trigger, delivering a finely aimed shot into Tucker’s chest. The Colt jumped in his hand, and his brain was running so fast now that he saw the slide dash backwards, electing the empty brass case, then dashing forward to feed another just as the tension in his wrist brought the gun back down, and that round, too, went into the man’s chest. Tucker was off-balance from turning. Either he slipped on the floor or the impact of the two slugs destroyed his balance, dropping him to the floor.
Mission accomplished, Kelly told himself. At least he’d gotten one job done after all the failures of this bleak summer. He got to his feet and walked to Henry Tucker, kicking the gun from his hand. He wanted to say something to the face that was still alive, but Kelly was out of words. Maybe Pam would rest easier now, but probably not. It didn’t work that way, did it? The dead were gone and didn’t know or care what they’d left behind. Probably. Kelly didn’t know how that worked, though he’d wondered about it often enough. If the dead still lived on the surface of this earth, then it was in the minds of those who remembered them, and for that memory he’d killed Henry Tucker and all the others. Perhaps Pam would not rest any more easily. But he would. Kelly saw that Tucker had departed this life while he’d been thinking, examining his thoughts and his conscience. No, there was no remorse for this man, none for the others. Kelly safed his pistol and looked around the room. Three dead men, and the best thing that could be said was that he wasn’t one of them. He walked to the door, and out of it. His car was a block away, and he still had an appointment to keep, and one more life to end.
Mission accomplished.
The boat was where he’d left it. Kelly parked his car, an hour later, taking out the suitcase. He locked the car with the keys inside, for that too was something he’d never need again. The drive through town and into the marina had been blissfully empty of thought, mechanical action only, maneuvering the car, stopping for some lights, proceeding through others, heading for the sea, or the Bay, one of the few places where he felt he belonged. He hefted the suitcase, walked out the dock to Springer, and hopped aboard. Everything looked okay, and in ten minutes he’d be away from everything he’d come to associate with the city. Kelly slid open the door to the main salon and stopped dead when he first smelled smoke, then heard a voice.
‘John Kelly, right?’
‘Who might you be?’
‘Emmet Ryan? You’ve met my partner, Tom Douglas.’
‘What can I do for you?’ Kelly set his suitcase down on the deck, remembering the Colt automatic at the small of his back, inside the unbuttoned bush jacket.
‘You can tell me why you’ve killed so many people,’ Ryan suggested.
‘If you think I’ve done it, then you know why.’
‘True. I’m looking for Henry Tucker at the moment.’
‘He’s not here, is he?’
‘Maybe you could help me, then?’
‘Corner of O’Donnell and Mermen might be a good place to look. He’s not going anywhere,’ Kelly told the defective.
‘What am I supposed to do about you?’
‘The three girls this morning, are they -‘
‘They’re safe. We’ll look after them. You and your friends did nicely with Pam Madden and Doris Brown. Not your fault it didn’t work out. Well, maybe a little.’ The officer paused. ‘I have to take you in, you know.’
‘What for?’ .
‘For murder, Mr Kelly.’
‘No.’ Kelly shook his head. ‘It’s only murder when innocent people die.’
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. He saw only the outline of the man, really, with the yellowing sky behind him. But he’d heard what he said, and part of him wanted to agree with it.
‘The law doesn’t say that.’
‘I’m not asking you to forgive me. I won’t be any more trouble to you, and I’m not going to any jail.’
‘I can’t let you go.’ But his weapon wasn’t out, Kelly saw. What did that mean? .
‘I gave you that Officer Monroe back.’
‘Thank you for that,’ Ryan acknowledged.
‘I don’t just kill people. I’ve been trained to do it, but there has to be a reason somewhere. I had a good enough reason.’
‘Maybe. Just what do you think you accomplished?’ Ryan asked. ‘This drug problem isn’t going away.’
‘Henry Tucker won’t kill any more girls. I accomplished that. I never expected to do any more, but I took that drug operation down.’ Kelly paused. There was something else this man needed to know. ‘There’s a cop at that building. I think he was dirty. Tucker and Piaggi shot him. Maybe he can come out of this a hero. There’s a load of stuff there. It won’t look too bad for your department that way.’ And thank God I didn’t have to kill a cop – even a bad one. ‘I’ll give you one more. I know how Tucker was getting his stuff in.’ Kelly elaborated briefly.