Chapter 18

“So, when are we gettin' started?” Sully said, turning to Ruiz.

            “Yeah, what's the plan?” Guapo peeled himself off the wall and stood up straight.

            Ruiz knocked back a sip from his flask. “You got your guns?”

            Each man, in turn, produced a handgun from one holster or another. Herbert pulled out his revolver.

            “Jesus, look at that thing.” Pete's eyes somehow grew wider. “What museum did you steal that from?”

            Herbert smiled. “I've had this thing for a long time.”

            “That's some musket you got there.” Sully shook his head. “How long does it take to reload?”

            “That ain't no gun. This is a gun.” Ruiz said, leveling his own handgun at Herbert and eying down the sights.

            Herbert was chilled at the sight. His stomach dropped as he realized where he had seen Ruiz before. He remembered the man sitting at his table leveling a gun at him, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, peering over the barrel with the blackest eyes Herbert had ever seen. Then there was the thunderclap and the blood pouring from the hole in the man's neck. Herbert remembered wrapping the body in the sheet, those dark sightless eyes staring up at him.

            “That shit ain't gonna work.” Ruiz said, apparently not noticing how pale Herbert had become. “Sully, go help him find a spare.”

            “Sure,” Sully nodded and led Herbert toward the door.

            Still shaken, Herbert followed in silence, allowing himself to be guided down the aisles of shelving.

            Sully stopped at one of the boxes and tore it open. It was filled with packing peanuts. “There should be something in here for you.”

            Herbert dug through the packing material until he touched the cold black metal of a Beretta. He found a clip after some more digging.

            “There you go. Bringing you into this century.” Sully gave Herbert a slap on the back. “That clip holds thirty shots.”

            “Thanks,” Hebert looked down at the gun. He looked back up at Sully's craggy face. “Hey, lemme ask you somethin'.”

            “All right.” Sully crossed his arms.

            “Who's Blanco? Ruiz keeps talking about him.”

            “Oh,” A pained expression crossed Sully's face and for a moment his beady eyes showed some humanity. “Blanco is Rico's son. He went out on this job a couple of nights ago and hasn't turned up. It ain't lookin' good.”

            Herbert shook his head. He felt like he was going to throw up. He closed his eyes and shook his head, knowing exactly what happened to Blanco Ruiz. “Do you guys know anything about the job he was sent on?”

            Sully shrugged. “I dunno. I think all we had was an address. I mean, this wouldn't be the first time he's disappeared for a few days. Sometimes he goes on a bender and turns up in a cat house. But Rico ain't too happy about it. He worries whenever Blanco goes out on his own, hits the liquor pretty hard. Harder than usual, anyways.” Sully smirked. “That kid can handle himself though, even though he's a shit shot.”

            Herbert sniffed and glanced at his arm. He had wrapped it up with an ace bandage, but the wound was superficial. He didn't even need stitches. Another image of the body slumped at his table flashed before his eyes.

            “You ready?” Sully said, turning to look back at the office.

            “Yeah.” Herbert swallowed, overtaken by a sudden thirst.

            The two men walked back to the office, their footfalls echoing through the darkened warehouse.

            They returned to find the group in a heated argument.

            “I'm telling you, it was an inside job.” Pete's wild eyes darted from face to face.

            “Why? What makes you think it was an inside job?” Guapo's voice rose as he failed to contain his fury.

            “There's proof everywhere! Haven't you ever seen any of the footage?”

            Ruiz leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the two argue.

            “Christ, this again?” Sully rolled his eyes as they entered.

            “He all loaded up?” Ruiz came forward, quieting the other two.

            Herbert held up the new gun.

            Ruiz leaned over and inspected it. “Looking good. Better than that antique you rolled in here with.” He reached into his jacket for his flask. “We about ready?”

            “What's the plan?”

            Four sets of eyes whipped toward Herbert. They regarded him as if he had just suggested they strip down and have an orgy.

            “We're gonna kill what's-his-name.” Ruiz answered slowly.

            “Chase Hathaway.” Herbert replied.

            There was a flicker of light in the blackness of Ruiz's stare. He did not look away as he sucked liquor from his flask. “Okay. We're gonna kill Chase Hathaway.”

            “How? Are we just gonna walk through his front door and put a bullet in his head? What's the plan?”

            “Plan.” Ruiz spat. “The plan is to go in and kill anyone who gets in our way.”

            “You know there's gonna be security. Professionals. We need a plan. Unless any of you guys are trying to get shot.”

            A pause filled the office. Ruiz glared at Herbert. There was something wild in his eyes, savage fury whose reins were being chipped away with every gulp. Shame washed over Herbert. He was looking into the past.

            “What's your plan?” Ruiz's voice was hoarse.

            Herbert scratched the back of his head. “Well...”

            “You said we need a plan. What's your plan?” Ruiz's voice remained quiet, but Herbert heard the danger of that hush. He remembered it in his own voice, the distant rumble of thunder before a downpour.

             “We need to get in. This guy lives in the North, right? Well, I'm willing to bet they're not gonna just let anyone in.” He motioned to Guapo. “Especially not people lookin' like us.”

            Guapo opened his mouth to protest, but Herbert continued.

            “I got a van with some spare jumpsuits in the back. We go to his house and pretend to be carpet cleaners. That's our ticket in.”

            “Do you think they're fuckin' stupid? Who would have cleaners come at night?” Sully creased his brow.

            “We don't need to have them let us in. All we need is to get the drop on these guys. We just need them to open the door without shooting at us. Then...well...we kill them all, I guess.”

            Six eyes swiveled from Herbert to Ruiz. He rubbed his chin and stared at Herbert. Something left the black pits in his skull as he nodded. “Yeah, all right, that sounds good.”

            Herbert was surprised to feel something like relief come over him. His lips bent into a smile as he nodded at Ruiz. It was better to have the drunk lunatic on your side than working against you. He thought about Blanco and wondered if Ruiz knew. Parents had a sixth sense for that kind of thing. Herbert clenched his jaw, his smile disappearing as he remembered waking up in the hospital after the crash. Some deep-rooted instinct told him his family was dead. The doctors and police officers only confirmed it. He stared at Ruiz's face, searching for sadness in his gaunt features. There was only inebriation.