“That your car?” I gestured to the far side of the street. A Lincoln Town Car was parked by the curb. It was black. It looked like the one the three guys had driven away from the morgue.
He craned his neck around to see what I was pointing at, then nodded.
“Where’s the key?”
He pointed at the body lying next to him.
“Get it.”
“No way.” All the color drained out of the guy’s face. “He’s dead. I’m not touching him.”
“If you won’t get the key, you’re no use to me.” I jabbed him in the ear again, a little harder. “Want to wind up like him?”
The guy didn’t reply. He just rolled onto all fours, stretched across his buddy’s body, pulled the keys out of his pants pocket, and held them up for me to see.
“Good. Now pick up the body. Put it in the trunk.”
“No way. I’m not carrying him.”
“His body’s going in the trunk. Either you put it in there, or you join it in there. Your choice.”
The guy shook his head, scrambled to his feet, and trudged down the steps. He grabbed his buddy’s hands and pulled. He made it to the sidewalk and a gun rattled free. He tried to pounce on it. But he was too slow. I pinned the gun down with one foot. And kicked him in the head with the other. Not too hard. Just a warning. Which worked. He went back to dragging the body. It left a trail of dark, congealing blood across the street. I waited until he was halfway to the car then scooped up the gun and added it to the stuff in the backpack.
The guy popped the trunk. He struggled to lift the body. It was heavy. Its head and limbs were flopping around all over the place. Eventually the guy hauled it into a sitting position. Propped its shoulder against the fender. Moved in close behind it. Wrapped his arms around its chest. Heaved it up. And posted it in headfirst. He slammed the trunk immediately, as if that would prevent him being pushed in, too, and spun around. His eyes were wide. He was breathing hard. His forearms were smudged with blood.
I said, “Unlock the doors.”
The guy prodded a button on the remote. I heard four almost simultaneous clunks as the mechanisms responded.
“Put the keys on the trunk.”
The guy did as he was told.
“Get in. Driver’s seat.”
I collected the keys, followed him, and moved in close so he couldn’t close the door. I took a zip tie from my pocket and dropped it in his lap. “Secure your right hand to the wheel.”
He hesitated, then looped the tie around the rim. Fed the tail through the tie’s mouth. Pulled until the first of the teeth started to engage. Slid his wrist through the gap. And tightened the tie halfway.
I said, “Tighter.”
He took up half the remaining slack.
I leaned across, took hold of the loose end, and pulled it hard. The plastic bit into his wrist. He grunted.
I said, “Left hand on the wheel.”
He rested it at the ten o’clock position. I took another tie and fastened it. I grabbed his elbow and tugged. He grunted again. His hand wouldn’t slip through. I figured it was secure enough. So I closed the door and climbed into the seat behind him.
I said, “Where’s Dendoncker?”
The guy didn’t answer.
I pulled the guy’s mask over my head and made a show of adjusting the straps. Then I placed the canister of gas on the armrest between the front seats.
“DS gas, your friend said. Before he died. Like CS gas on steroids. Am I getting that right?”
The guy nodded.
“I don’t believe him. I think this is a dummy. A prop. I think you guys were trying to bluff me. I think I should pull the pin. See what happens.”
The guy started thrashing around in his seat, sticking his elbow out, trying to knock the canister out of my reach. “No!” he said. “Please. It’s real. Don’t set it off.”
“Then answer my question.”
“I can’t. You don’t get it. Dendoncker—you don’t cross him. Nothing’s worth doing that.”
Chapter 30
I tapped the gas canister. “This stuff makes you blind, right? Keeping your eyesight—that sounds worth it.”
The guy shook his head. “I had a friend. We worked together for five years. For Dendoncker. My friend used to go to Walmart, once a month. The nearest one’s like a hundred miles away. They have some special drink he liked. Chai, he called it. From India. Dendoncker thought that was suspicious. He had my friend tailed. The guy following him saw someone in the store at the same time who looked like he might have been a Fed.”