Double Jeopardy

40

9:45 A.M.

DONNY STROLLED INTO THE apartment parking lot, eyes twitching every which way at once. He didn’t see Kramer, but with a psychopath like him, it was best to exercise caution.

This was Donny’s big chance to prove himself to Mario. Kramer was on his way out; Donny would step forward as his replacement. A made man. A lieutenant. After he heard one of Kramer’s men had found Travis’s car, he never let Kramer out of his sight. He trailed him from a respectful distance; he was certain Kramer hadn’t spotted him.

He’d followed Kramer to the parking lot, then waited in his car for almost four hours until Kramer left. Fool. Kramer was probably planning some elaborate execution; Donny would nail Byrne before Kramer returned. It was simple, really. All he had to do was watch Byrne’s car, and when he returned to it, Donny would blow his face off. He patted the stolen gun in his coat pocket. Simple.

Donny tried the car door. To his surprise, it was unlocked. He crawled into the front seat and looked around. Nothing particularly unusual, except that it was a mess. Fast-food bags all over the floor, moldy french fries in the crevices of the seats. A briefcase, but nothing inside but the usual shyster paraphernalia. He looked for a car key but didn’t find one. Even Byrne was smart enough not to leave that lying around.

He crawled out of the car. As he emerged a yellow Dodge Omni whipped past him.

Whaaat? He crossed through the parked cars to catch another glimpse of the Omni as it passed down the other side. This time he saw him clearly. Travis Byrne was sitting in the passenger seat.

Damn! Some goddamn bimbo was driving; he must’ve hijacked a ride. Donny wanted to slap himself; he should’ve seen that coming. But there was no time for self-recrimination now. To salvage anything out of this mess, to prevent Mario from shipping him home to his mother, he was going to have to follow that car.

He had parked his own car a good distance away so it wouldn’t be seen. If he ran to it, he had no chance of catching Byrne. Instead he leaped back into Byrne’s car and started groping around under the steering wheel. Most of the technical aspects of criminal life eluded Donny, but the one thing he was able to do was hotwire a car. He’d been doing it since he was twelve. Most of his teenage income had derived from this lucrative pursuit.

He found the critical wires under the steering column, jerked the red wire free, and touched it to the green. The engine turned over like a dream.

Donny smiled. He hadn’t lost the old touch. He’d catch Byrne and the bitch before they passed through the entrance gate.

Still smiling, Donny thrust the automatic transmission into reverse, heard an odd clicking noise, and watched as the world turned into a haze of molten white. He never heard the explosion, and was spared the realization that he would never become a lieutenant.