Broadway Bounty

Chapter Thirty-four

“The note doesn’t say where in Central Park,” Rose-wood said on the way. Decker was sitting on top of the cab with him instead of inside.

“I’ll just have to walk until he finds me.”

“With that big bulls-eye on your back?”

“There’s no other way.”

Rosewood drove Decker to the Central Park South entrance of the park.

“Why here?” Decker asked.

“It’s the closest to where we were,” Rosewood said. “First entrance we’d come to.”

“It’s as good as any,” Decker said. He dropped down to the ground and looked up at Rosewood. “Get lost, Billy.”

“Sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“He’s answering my challenge, Billy.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Thanks for everything, Billy,” Decker said. “Now get lost.”

Decker waited until Rosewood’s cab had turned down Eighth Avenue. Then he turned and walked into the park.

Inside the park, Armand Coles waited. Decker’s driver had taken him to the Bucket of Blood. That meant he knew the city. When Decker told him Central Park, Coles figured the driver would take him to the nearest entrance.

Now he watched Decker walk into the park and followed him a way—Decker on the path, Coles through the trees and brush. It would be easy to pick Decker off from here, but that wouldn’t be accepting the challenge.

Would it?

Decker heard Coles.

Armand Coles had been born and raised in the city. He knew nothing about moving silently through the brush. He was making more noise than a herd of five-year-old Indian boys.

Decker knew that challenging the man, bruising his pride, would work.

He would have him.

Suddenly, Decker was gone!

Just like that, as the path curved out of Coles’s view for a second, the man vanished.

Coles backtracked and tried to find him again, but it was no use. Had he changed his mind and run back out of the park? No, Coles thought, he would have heard him running.

“Damn it, Decker, where are you?” Coles yelled.

“Right here, Coles,” Decker said from behind him.

Coles froze.

“How—?”

“You should learn how to move through brush, Coles,” Decker said. “You picked the one place to meet in this city where you’d be at a disadvantage instead of me.”

“You son of a bitch,” Coles said. “You challenged me.”

“And you lost,” Decker said. He pressed the shotgun into the small of Coles’s back and said, “Just stand still.” He patted the man down and removed a Colt .45 from a shoulder rig.

“Isn’t this a little uncomfortable?”

“I usually carry something small.”

“This was for my benefit?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess I should be flattered,” Decker said. He moved back three steps and replaced the shotgun inside his coat and then switched the .45 to his right hand. “I should be, but I’m not.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Because I’m a little tired, a lot beat up and very angry and—” He stepped forward and brought the butt of the .45 down hard on the point of Coles’s shoulder.

“Oh, Jesus!” Coles shouted. Decker lifted his foot and drove the heel into the back of Coles’s left knee. The man staggered and went down, holding his shoulder.

“Where’s the girl?”

“Listen, Decker—”

Decker grabbed Coles’s left fist, twisted it behind him and brought the .45 down on it hard. The sound of the arm breaking was sharp and loud, and Coles screamed.

“Where’s the girl?”

“Jesus, my elbow—”

Decker grabbed the broken arm and pulled it back. Coles screamed again.

“You’ve got one broken arm, Coles,” Decker said. “You want to try for two?”

“I don’t know—”

Decker put the .45 next to Coles’s left ear and fired it. Coles screamed.

“Jesus, I’m deaf!”

“OK,” Decker said, “you got a broken left arm, a bad left knee, and you’re deaf in your left ear.” He grabbed Coles’s right arm, pulled it straight back and said, “Let’s start on the right side.”

“No, wait,” Coles said, gasping out the words. He was crying now. “Jesus, wait—”

“I’m not going to wait very long.”

“Let me…let me get my breath!”

“Uh-uh,” Decker said. “I let you get your breath, you might try to lie. Talk now, Coles.” Decker pulled tight on the arm. “Talk, or be a cripple for life.”

“OK, OK,” Coles said. Decker released his arm and stepped back. In that moment, Coles reached into his boot and came out with a knife and lunged at Decker. Decker squeezed the trigger of the .45 and blew off the top of Coles’s head.

“Shit!” Decker snapped.

He heard someone running, and he turned, holding the .45 out in front of him.

“Hey, wait—” Rosewood said, both hands held out in front of him. In his right hand he held the .32.

“Billy, I told you to—”

“I know, I know, get lost,” Rosewood said. He looked down. Coles’s left arm was lying at an odd angle, and the top of his head was missing.

“He killed himself,” Decker said, sticking the .45 in his belt.

“He killed himself?” Rosewood said. “How?”

“With stupidity,” Decker said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

When they came walking out of the park, Largo was standing there.

“Is Coles dead?” he asked.

“He’s dead,” Decker said.

“You’ve got a big rep in the West, Decker.”

“Do I?”

“I been thinking about going west. It would help if I went with a rep.”

“Mine?”

“I was thinking about that.”

“Well, don’t,” Decker said. “Not tonight, Largo. I’ve got other things to do.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Largo nodded.

“The girl.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“I know someone who does.”

“Who?”

“If I tell you,” Largo said, “will you meet me after? Just you and me?”

“Just you and me, Largo.”

Largo studied Decker for a few moments, then nodded.

“You know that little café you been eating in?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Your friend Ready eats there, too.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Largo said, laughing. “I’m surprised you fellas haven’t run into each other.”

“Is this for sure?”

“Oh, yes,” Largo said. “And I’ll tell you something else. He doesn’t just eat there.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Talk to a waitress with firm calves.”

“Most waitresses have firm calves.”

Largo grinned, turned to walk away and said, “Not like this one.”