The Ten-Ounce Siesta

TWO

Jack tossed the envelope onto his desk. Man, he couldn’t even get a break. His brief foray into action mode was over. The reaction express had just chugged back into town.

Only this time he didn’t know how to react. He figured he should make a phone call. But to whom? The corporate bigwigs at Skull Island. . or Freddy G. . or Caligula Tate. . or, hell, the Las Vegas cops?

No, he couldn’t call the cops. That was definitely out. There was too much back story that he couldn’t explain- the dognapped Chihuahua and the reason behind Jack’s run-in with Tony Katt, for starters. And if the cops talked him into a corner. . well, Angel had killed the redheaded dognapper at Dr. Newman’s office. Jack didn’t want her to end up as Court TV’s designated celebrity murder defendant of the season.

Jack’s hands weren’t exactly clean, either. After all, he had assassinated a rampaging Komodo dragon. According to some people, that made him Public Enemy Number One. Jesus, he didn’t want animal rights activists picketing outside his door.

A chill iced Jack’s spine. At least he hadn’t skinned anyone alive. Tony Katt, Jack’s only link to the gang, was learning some serious lessons about honor among thieves. Man, there were easier ways to get rid of a tattoo.

Hardball time, that’s what this was. The main event. The road to hell wasn’t paved with good intentions; it was paved with ten million bucks. In an effort to collect that kind of scratch, the dognappers had turned on one of their own.

Now they were Kattnappers.

Or Kattnapper, singular. That’s what the ransom note indicated. Still, Jack had a hard time believing that one person could pull off something like this.

Jack sat and stewed, playing it over and over in his mind. Who to call-

He glanced at his watch. First of all, he had to cancel his lunch date. He dialed the Casbah and the operator put him through to Angel Gemignani’s suite.

“Jack,” she said, “I was just going to call you, but I figured you’d be on your way over.”

“I kind of got sidetracked. Something pretty important. I’m going to have to take a rain check on our lunch.”

“No. You’ve got to come over here.”

“Sorry, Angel. I’m serious-”

“So am I.” She paused. “This is really important. Jack. See, we were sitting around, drinking champagne, doing the bachelorette party thing, and Evie-she’s the one who’s getting married-put on this porno video she bought at a shop near Fremont Street-”

“A porno movie? C’mon, Angel, I don’t have time for this. Someone has snatched Tony Katt. I think it’s the same bunch who kidnapped Spike. They sent me one of his tattoos in the mail. They want ten million dollars for the rest of him.”

“Jesus, Jack.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to call the bosses at Skull Island, or maybe Caligula Tate-”

“Settle down. Jack,” Angel said. “Grow some patience, huh?”

“I don’t have time for patience. Especially when it comes to porno movies. If you’ve got something to tell me, make it fast.”

“Okay. . I recognized one of the actresses in the movie-a redhead in black leather.”

“Oh shit. You’re kidding.”

“Jack, I couldn’t forget this woman if I tried,” Angel said. “Because the last time I saw her, I put a bullet in her head.”

The movie was called Little Bitches. A costume piece featuring three-way action, early American style. Louisa May Alcott was probably rotating in her grave.

“Recognize them with their clothes off?” Angel asked.

“I can make them out.” Jack sat on the bed, watching the screen. “Jo and Amy are definitely the two we ran into at the vet’s office. And the one with the wrist braces, Beth, she’s the one I knocked out when the gang grabbed Spike.”

Angel nodded. “So what are we going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” Jack looked at the video box, but the only address he found was a Las Vegas post office box. “I guess we could get in touch with the investigator Freddy was using. Maybe the guy could use the video to track them down.”

On screen, Jo and Amy and Beth were taking turns with Professor Bhaer.

Angel shook her head in disbelief. “I guess they left this part out of the Winona Ryder version.”

Jack grabbed the telephone. “I’ll give Freddy a call.”

“Wait a minute.” Angel snatched up the remote control and thumbed the rewind button. “There’s something else you need to see. Something I forgot about.”

Oh, man, Jack thought. Don’t tell me Grandma plays the mother. .

Angel restarted the tape. She fast-forwarded through several phone sex advertisements and hit the pause button when a notice from the producer appeared on screen:

WARNING! ADULTS ONLY!

Not to be sold to or viewed by minors.

This videocassette contains adult viewing material and is rated X.

All actors and actresses are 18 years of age or older.

Proof of age is on file at:

EVIL EYE PRODUCTIONS

36 Arroyo Blanco Drive

Las Vegas, NV 89030

Jack headed for the door. Angel followed him. “Where are you going?”

“Thirty-six Arroyo Blanco Drive,” Jack said.

“Don’t you think it would be smarter to let Grandpa handle this?”

Jack stopped short and turned to face her, his voice registering exasperation when he spoke. “I haven’t always been a Chihuahua baby-sitter, Angel. In fact, when your granddad has a problem of this nature. I’m the guy who usually handles it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Jack put a hand on her shoulder. “You got your dog back, Angel. This really doesn’t have anything to do with you or your granddad anymore. It has to do with me.”

“Wait a minute.” Angel turned off the television. “God knows I’d love to see you knock out Tony Katt. God knows I’d love to see you break his nose all over again. But to risk your life for him? That’s crazy, Jack.”

“Yeah. I guess it is.” Jack looked at her long and hard. “Almost as crazy as risking your life for a consumptive Chihuahua.”

“You’re really going to go through with this.”

“Yeah.” Jack sighed. “It’s hard to explain, Angel. I guess it comes down to who I am and who I want to be. I don’t want to be the guy who lost the boss’s granddaughter’s puppy. I want to be the heavyweight champion of the world. I’ve got my reasons. . and, well, they’re my reasons. I want to win that belt, and I can’t do that without Tony Katt.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m doing this alone.”

“No, you’re not. Like you said, you risked your life for a dog. My dog. I guess I can risk mine for your dream.”

“Forget it, Angel. You’re not coming with me.”

Her backbone turned to steel. “I guess that I should go ahead and call Grandpa Freddy, then. Maybe he’d like to know that Jack Baddalach is about to get his ass blown away.”

Angel shoved a brand new.45 into her purse. Her other gun-the one she’d used to kill the redhead-was now at the bottom of Lake Mead.

“Let’s go,” Jack said.

Angel opened the top dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of nylons. She tossed one of the stockings to Jack.

“What’s this for?” Jack asked.

“Trust me.” Angel laughed. “You’re gonna need it.”