Hooligans

VOTE OF CONFIDENCE

I labored back up the hill toward the big cottage, lit now by the roving searchlights of a chopper that

hovered a few feet above the roof. There were a lot of red and blue lights flashing, by now standard

procedure every time the SOB‟ s showed up anyplace.

A small fire was burning in one of the rooms and I could hear the throaty blast from a fire

extinguisher. There was a lot of smoke and broken glass around the place. As I passed the kitchen

window I got a brief look at the inside of the house. I could see down the length of the five-room

cottage. I didn‟t stop to count bodies, I knew the score already.

The chopper swung away from the house and dropped down into a corner of the parking lot, throwing

shards of glass and dirt in little waves below it. Cowboy Lewis jumped out and dashed from under the

whirring blades.

I found Doe in the back, standing with Dutch. Her eyes were as round as quarters and she was

trembling. I‟m sure she was as confused as she was stunned by the sudden explosion of activity and

by the destruction. I walked straight over to her and an instant later she was huddled against me,

burrowing into my chest with her nose, like a puppy.

“What in hell happened?” Dutch asked as the rest of the group began to gather around us. He sounded

like he was in shock. I realized it was the first time I had seen all of the hooligans together at one

time. All but one.

“Nance lifted Mrs. Raines and me off the street in front of her townhouse,” I answered. “Stick hit the

place and got us out. Just that simple.”

I looked back down the hill.

“We need to get somebody down there,” I said. You could hardly hear my voice. “Stick‟s lying t the

bottom of the hill.”

“Is he dead?” Salvatore asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Aw, shit,” Cowboy Lewis said. “Aw, shit!”

He started down the hill and Dutch tried to stop him. “We got an ambulance on the way, Cowboy,” he

said gently.

“I‟m gonna get him. Fuck the ambulance.”

“I‟ll go along,” Charlie One Ear said, and followed him through the smoke.

Callahan strolled out of the wreckage looking startled, with Kite Lange behind him carrying the

extinguisher. “All dead in there,” he said incredulously. “Every last one of „em. I count ten. Biggest

total yet.”

“Why in hell would they kidnap you?” Salvatore said.

“Costello wanted to make a deal. He was willing to turn up Nance and Chevos and dump Sam

Donleavy and Charles Seaborn if I‟d get him off the hook.”

“Otherwise?”

“He was going to kill us.”

Dutch squinted his eyes and looked down his nose at me.

“How‟s that again?”

I had started another lie. I was getting pretty good at it by now.

“Let me give you the scenario, okay? Nance and Chevos were going to throw in with Bronicata and

Cohen, get rid of the rest of the family, and take over the town. Nance was the official shooter. I don‟t

know the reasons—what difference does it make anyhow? There‟s none of them left to disagree. Any

problems with that?”

Dutch humphed and shuffled his feet around a bit.

“How about Nance?” Mufalatta asked.

“He‟s floating around in the bay,” I said. “Stick‟s last official act.”

“We got the weapons? Any of that?” Dutch asked.

“They fell in the bay,” I said.

They all looked at each other, then back at Dutch, and then at me.

“How about the toot?” Zapata asked.

“In the mast of the sailboat that‟s burning down there,” I said. “By now it‟s either in the bay or turned

to charcoal.”

I looked at each of the hooligans in turn, waiting for comments. Only Dutch spoke up.

“It ain‟t gonna work,” he said. “There‟s holes in it.”

“Fuck the holes,” Salvatore said.

“It‟ll work,” I said.

“How about Titan? Chief?”

“I‟ll take care of that.”

“It‟s some story,” Dutch said, shaking his head.

“You got a better one?” I asked.

Cowboy came back up the hill with Stick over his shoulder. He laid him on the grass away from the

building and started to take off his Windbreaker.

“Don‟t do that,” I said. “Don‟t cover him up.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Whatever you say,” he replied.

“Anybody else got any problems with the story?” I asked.

“What story?” Cowboy asked. “I missed it.”

I repeated it for Cowboy and Charlie One Ear. Charlie One Ear raised his eyebrows and greeted the

outcome with a wry smile. But his answer was instantaneous.

“I don‟t see a problem,” he said. One by one they all chimed in. No problem, they agreed.

“I‟ve got to get the lady home,” I said. “Anybody got a car I can use?”

Half a dozen sets of car keys were offered. I took Dutch Morehead‟s sedan. It was the only one I was

sure was clean.

As we were walking away, the Mufalatta Kid said, “Hey, Kilmer?”

I turned around. “Yeah?”

“We‟re gonna need to replace Stick. You ought to think about that.”

“Thanks. I‟ll do that,” I said. And smiled for the first time in several hours.

77