The Sniper and the Wolf

72

Mariana lay on the bed utterly petrified, naked from the waist to her ankles, her hands bound painfully behind her back.

“What did Peterson say?” the big guy asked. He had an old 1911 pistol stuck in the front of his pants.

The smaller guy tucked the cellular into his back pocket. “He wants us to kill them both.”

The guy with the gun looked at Mariana lying helpless on the bed, his eyes coming to rest on her pubic mound. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

His partner glanced at Mariana and shook his head. “That’s not really my thing.”

“More for me, then.” The big man tossed him the pistol.

“You’d better make it fast.” His partner tucked the gun into the small of his back. “We’re on the clock, and that prick next door is bad news.”

“I won’t be long, bro.”

Mariana began to sob as the guy dropped his trousers and knee-walked across the bed, grabbing her knees in strong hands and forcing them apart, and then falling on her heavily as he maneuvered between them.

The other guy picked up the remote and turned on the TV to cover Mariana’s muffled cries. Then he went into the bathroom and stood peeing into the toilet. He finished and dropped the seat, pushing the button on top of the tank before stepping back into the room. After watching his partner on top of Mariana for a minute or so he decided, Why not? They were going to kill her anyhow. It wasn’t like she’d have to live very long with the trauma.

The door to the room burst inward, and he spun around just in time for Crosswhite to grab him behind the neck with both hands, holding him in a Muay Thai clinch and delivering him a vicious knee to the groin. The Cuban’s legs buckled beneath him, and Crosswhite snatched the gun from the back of his pants, kicking the door shut with his heel and thrusting the pistol before him as Mariana’s rapist was rolling off the bed.

“Freeze, motherfucker!”

The big guy stood beside the bed with his pants down around his ankles, his erection wilting rapidly.

Crosswhite stalked forward and buried the toe of his boot in the guy’s groin. The man let out a hideous squeal of pain and dropped to the floor, convulsing and vomiting onto the tile. Crosswhite kicked him in the face and stomped his skull with the heel of his boot. The little guy began get to up, and Crosswhite stalked back across the room to slug him in the side of the head with the pistol. Then he put the pistol under his shirt and grabbed the guy by the hair, giving his head a brutal twist and snapping the neck with a crunch.

He took a folding knife from his pocket and cut Mariana loose.

She leapt off the bed and shuffled into the bathroom with her pants still caught around her feet, slamming the door behind her and retching into the toilet. The shower came on a short time later.

Crosswhite was standing by the door when the big guy began to stir. He walked over and finished him off with a heavy heel to the back of the neck. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and took out his cellular to call Ernesto the doorman.

Ernesto knocked a few minutes later, and Crosswhite let him into the room.

Ernesto saw the bodies. “Santo Cielo! Do you leave dead men everywhere you go, señor?”

“Looks that way,” Crosswhite answered glumly, sitting back down on the bed and taking out his cigarettes.

Ernesto looked around for Mariana. “Is the señorita okay?”

Crosswhite shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you want me to call the doctor?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know yet.” He struck a match. “I don’t think she needs that kind of a doctor.”

Ernesto realized for the first time that one of the dead men’s pants was down around his ankles, and his face turned ashen. “Was she… was she violated?”

Crosswhite tossed the match onto the floor and breathed smoke from his nostrils. “Yeah.”

Ernesto stepped over and spit on the rapist’s corpse. “Coño!”

“Do you know somebody we can pay to get rid of these bodies, Ernie?”

“Yes, but I think it will be very expensive.”

“Expensive I can handle,” Crosswhite said. “Cops I can’t.”

“I’ll have Lupita bring her laundry cart. The cart is small, so it will take two trips, and she will want the money right away.”

“That’s fine. What happens after the laundry carts?”

“I can call my cousin. He has a fish truck. He can give the bodies to the men he buys the fish from, and they can dump the bodies in the ocean.”

“You’re sure they’ll help?”

Ernesto shrugged. “If you will pay, they will help. Money is the law here, señor.”

“Okay, Ernie. Better go find Lupita. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

Lupita was a small woman of forty. Her black hair was flecked with gray at the temples and pulled back into a ponytail. She crossed herself when she saw the bodies and then looked at the bathroom, where Mariana was still crying. “Qué pasó con ella?”

Ernesto gestured at the half-naked body. “Fue violada.”

Lupita crossed herself again, muttering, “Santa Magdalena.”

Crosswhite took $2,000 from the leather pouch and offered it to her.

She tucked the money away inside her shirt without counting to see how much he’d given her.

Crosswhite pulled up the guy’s pants, and Ernesto helped him put the body into the cart. Then Ernesto and Lupita rolled the cart away down the hall, returning for the second body fifteen minutes later.

“We’re going to need some more money,” Ernesto said awkwardly. “A woman in the laundry room saw us hiding the body.”

“How much?”

“Five hundred should do nicely, señor.”

Crosswhite gave it to him. “Call me when you know how much your cousin and the fishermen are gonna want.”

“Very well. I’ll call you in half an hour.”

Ernesto and Lupita were about to take the second body away when Crosswhite had an alarming thought. He grabbed Ernesto by the throat and shoved him up against the wall. “Why the fuck didn’t you warn me these guys were in the fucking building? You fuckin’ me in the ass without a reach-around, Ernie?”

“No, señor. I swear it! I’m not working today. After last night, I didn’t think to tell any—” Ernesto began to tremble, and then a look of shame fell over him. “You’ve made me… you’ve made me urinate in my pants, señor.”

Crosswhite let him go and stepped back, seeing that the man had indeed pissed himself. “Sorry about that,” he said. But he continued to eye Ernesto with suspicion. “If you’re not workin’ today, how’d you get here so fast?”

“I live upstairs, señor. I’m the head doorman.”

Lupita stood by the door, ready to escape, eyeing Crosswhite with disapproval.

“Okay, look,” Crosswhite said in Spanish. “I apologize. I had a bad night, and it’s been a very bad morning. I know money doesn’t fix everything, but I’ll make sure you’re both well taken care of when this is over.”

Lupita glanced at Ernesto and then said with a glint in her eye, “Money fixes many things, señor.”

Crosswhite nodded, putting his hand on Ernesto’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, amigo, I shit myself during my first firefight. That’s a lot worse.”

Ernesto smiled halfheartedly, still very embarrassed. “You’re the most frightening man I’ve ever met, señor. There’s no need to doubt my loyalty.”

“Listen, don’t get the wrong idea now.” Crosswhite held up a finger. “If some bastard puts a gun in your face, you tell him whatever he wants to know — understand? I don’t want you dying for me. But I don’t want you fuckin’ me, either. See the difference?”

Ernesto nodded. “I failed to protect you and the señorita, but it won’t happen again, señor. You have my word.”