Hardcase

CHAPTER 7

Kurtz drove about three miles before deciding that whoever was behind the wheel of the Honda was a fucking idiot. The driver hung so far back that several times Kurtz had to slow down after stoplights or turns to let him catch up.

Kurtz drove away from the lights, down a county road he remembered from the old days. The urban sprawl hadn't stretched this far and the road was empty of traffic. Kurtz accelerated until the sports car had to rush to keep up and was only forty or fifty feet behind him, and then he swerved off on a paved turnout, braking hard, swinging the protesting Buick into a clean 180-degree skidding turn. His headlights illuminated the S2000 as it came to a stop twenty feet away. Only the driver's head was visible.

Kurtz scrambled out, crouched behind the driver's-side door of the Buick, and pulled out the.45 Kimber.

A huge man stepped out of the sports car. His hands were empty.

"Kurtz, you asshole. Come out of there, goddamn you."

Kurtz sighed, slid the.45 into its holster, and stepped out into the headlights' glare. "You don't want to do this, Carl."

"The fuck I don't," said the big Farino-family bodyguard.

"Who sent you?"

"Nobody sent me, asshole."

"Then you're dumber than you look," said Kurtz. "If that's possible."

Carl stepped closer. He was wearing the same tight pants and polo shirt as before, without the blazer, showing his pecs despite the chilly night air. "I'm not packing heat, cocksucker," he said.

"Okay," said Kurtz.

"Let's settle this—" said the bodybuilder.

"Settle what?"

"— man to man," said Carl, finishing his thought.

"We're one man short," said Kurtz. He glanced at his watch. The road remained empty.

"Huh?" Carl frowned.

"One thing before going mano a mano," said Kurtz. "How'd you find me?"

"Followed you when you left Mr. Farino's."

Christ, I'm slipping! thought Kurtz with the first alarm he had felt since identifying the hulking bodyguard in the sports car.

Carl took another step closer. "No one calls me a bitch," he said, extending the muscles in his powerful forearms and flexing his huge hands.

"Really?" said Kurtz. "I thought you'd be used to it."

Carl lunged.

Kurtz sidestepped him and sapped him over his left ear. Carl went face first onto the Buick bumper and then again onto the asphalt. Kurtz heard teeth snapping off on both impacts. Kurtz walked over and kicked him in the ass. Carl did not stir.

Kurtz went back to the Buick to switch off its lights, then did the same with the sports car, shutting off its engine, locking the doors, and tossing the keys into the woods. Grunting slightly, he dragged Carl around to the left rear of the Buick and kicked his legs into line just in front of the left rear wheel.

Then Kurtz got back in Arlene's car, made sure no one was coming, tuned the radio to an all-night blues station, and drove away, switching on the lights once he was on the highway, heading back to the Motel 6 to check out.