Authors: Elmore Leonard
"You come in here, I'm sound asleep--where i
s he?"
"He said he'd just as soon I didn't tell anybody."
"Well listen, I told him, he wants the money he'
d have to come get it," Mel said. "I'm not gonna ge t caught in the middle--those crazy nuts start shooting at each other. What is this, you work for him now? I thought you were on leave."
"I'm helping him out," Davis said.
"Yeah, well, have fun. You must be out of you
r mind."
"Instead of talking," Davis said, "why don'
t you give me the money and you can go back t o sleep."
"I told him if he wants it, he can come get it. Until I hand it to him personally, it still belongs to th e company. And if he doesn't pick it up, I take i t back."
"When's that?"
"I haven't decided." Mel was settled again, i
n control. "Let me ask you something. You seem t o be for hire. What if the guys who want Rosen pai d you more?"
"More than what?"
"More than Rosen's paying you."
"Where are they? I'll talk to them."
Mel was studying him, realizing something fo
r the first time. The Marine could put you on. He wa s low key and seemed to know what he was doing.
"Have they been back to see you?" Davis said.
Mel shook his head. "I don't have any ide
a where they are, but they're around. You realize,"
Mel said then, "you've got a very good chance o
f losing everything in this, and I mean your life.
These guys don't fuck around, man. They don't g
o by any rules of war. They're close now, and they'r e going to stay on him, and I don't see how Rosie'
s got one fucking chance of making it." Mel paused.
"Which leaves me with sort of a problem. A hundred and ninety-five thousand dollars. How do I get it home? I can find a way if I work on it, I'
m sure. But you're leaving in a couple of weeks, I t hink you said. And you're allowed to ship all you r personal gear?"
"Seventy-five hundred pounds," Davis said.
"Jesus Christ, what've you guys got?"
"In case you have a car, furniture, things lik
e that," Davis said. "You're asking, if somethin g happens to Mr. Rosen will I get the money hom e for you? Since I've been handling it, you migh t say?"
"It's an idea," Mel said.
"Deliver it in Detroit to Mr. Rosen's company?"
"Since he's not with the company anymore,"
Mel said, "you'd deliver it to my office."
"That's what I thought," Davis said.
"If there was about ten grand in it for you," Me
l said, "what difference would it make where yo u delivered it?"
"Why don't I take it now?"
"Why don't you think about it," Mel said, "an
d let me know. I'll be here. I'll be very interested t o see how it works out."
As he spoke, Tali appeared in the connectin
g doorway sticking her shirttail in her jeans, zippin g up. Davis glanced at her.
"Ready?"
She nodded and Mel said, "What is this? Wher
e you going?"
"If you're only gonna sit around and wait to se
e who wins," Davis said, "you don't need Tali, d o you?"
They came out of the hotel from the lighted entrance to early-morning darkness and walked along the aisles of parked cars looking for the gray Mercedes. She was worried about Mati again.
He had returned about eight o'clock and ha
d acted strange, Tali said, keeping inside himself an d saying very little about his trip to Jaffa with th e package. Yes, they had followed him. Yes, it ha d gone all right. Well, where have you been? Oh, wit h friends. She couldn't stand that air of indifference.
Then she had forgotten about Mati because Mr.
Rosen had called again, from Jerusalem, and spoken to Mr. Bandy for at least half an hour.
"He told you he was in Jerusalem?" Davis said.
"No, he didn't tell Mr. Bandy that," Tali said. "I
a ssume it. What he told Mr. Bandy was that he ha d lost his passport and that you were coming to pic k up the money. Then Mr. Bandy spoke for a lon g time."
"Why did he tell him about his passport?"
"I don't know," Tali said. "It was only one of th
e things. I could hear Mr. Rosen's voice speakin g loud at Mr. Bandy and Mr. Bandy would spea k loud back at him. Then, after that, Mr. Band y asked me questions about Mr. Rosen, about wher e he lived and spent his time. Then I look for Mat i and he was gone."
Mati was gone and so was the gray Mercedes.
She was tense, asking him about Mr. Rosen a
s they drove in Raymond Garcia's Camaro to he r apartment on Hamedina Square--to pack a fe w clothes--and didn't begin to relax until they ha d fixed coffee and were talking quietly on the terrace , Davis telling her Mr. Rosen was fine, giving her details about his meeting with Rosen and what had happened, where he was now, but not telling he r what they planned to do. Davis wasn't sure himsel f about that part. He had the beginning of an idea.
He could picture a controlled situation, a showdown, and could hope to steer them toward it. But he wasn't sure yet of Rosen, to what extent h e could count on him. It was strange, getting excite d about another man's problem as if it were his own.
He was aware of the darkness beyond the fifthfloor terrace, the dark sky and the dark shapes of buildings. The only lights were the streetlights, below, outlining Hamedina Square. He was aware of the girl also, and of another strange feeling--wanting to hold her and touch her face. He wasn't sure the feeling was sympathy.
"You and Mr. Rosen seem to get along prett
y well."
"Yes, I like very much working for him," Tal
i said. "He's not here, I feel short. Is that what yo u say? I miss him. He's a very nice person."
"Like a father?"
"Yes, in a way. But the relation is different. He'
s more fun than a father is."
"Fun in what way?" He felt as if he were pryin
g now.
"Fun because he says funny things. He doesn'
t laugh, but you know he's being funny. Do you understand?"
He understood. He had caught glimpses of it
, but hadn't met the all-out funny Rosen yet. Mayb e he never would.
Davis made a swing north out of Tel Aviv, throug
h the empty, early-morning streets, to the Marin e House. Tali waited in the Camaro, engine rumbling, while he ran inside and up to his room. Davis didn't bother with lights. He reached into a drawe r and dug out the shoulder holster with the strap s wrapped around it and the Colt .38 automati c wedged snugly inside. Also a box of ammo. H
e then crept across the hall to the room of Willar d Mims, the 1st Force Recon Marine--over to th e footlocker in the walk-in closet--and was almos t out again when Willard opened his eyes and caugh t him at the door.
"Who's that?"
"It's just me, Willard. I didn't want to wake yo
u up."
"What've you got there?"
"I just want to borrow a couple of your claymores. I'll pay you back."
"You'll pay me back--how? I brought them al
l the way from Da Nang."
"Willard, you don't happen to have an
y grenades, do you?"
"Jesus Christ--" Willard yanked at the sheet t
o throw it aside.
"Hey, never mind. Trust me, buddy. Okay?"
He was down the stairs, out of there, taking of
f in the Camaro before Willard got his feet on th e floor.
Tali looked to see what he had thrown on th
e back seat: the holstered gun and the dull, heavylooking metal objects that were about an inch thick and the size and shape of curved license plates. Sh e thought she recognized them, but wasn't sure.
"Are those explosives?" Surprised.
"Claymore mines. All wired and ready to go."
"You have them at your house?"
"Not officially," Davis said. "This one boy
, Willard, keeps some in his closet. I think he's a littl e crazy." They were silent and he didn't add unti l some moments later, "But I'm glad he's on ou r side."
THEY CAME TO JERUSALEM in Rosen's gray Mercedes:
Rashad in front with his buddy Mati, who wa
s driving; Valenzuela and Teddy Cass in the bac k seat; Valenzuela with his map open; the Uzis , Berettas, and plastic C4 explosives in the trunk.
Rashad's idea: what'd they need to spend a grand
a week on a car for when Mati had the man's? Brin g Mati into the club along with the Mercedes. The y all had to smile at the idea of using Rosen's own car.
They hoped Rosen would have time to realize it.
At seven a
. M
. they topped the rise, coming up ou t of the switchbacks of the mountain road, an d coasted down into the city, the street narrowing an d curving, buildings of tan-rose Jerusalem ston e rising on both sides, through an old section of th e city, catching glimpses of modern high-rises in th e distance--clean in morning sunlight--Valenzuel a looking from the blue street signs on buildings to hi s map; then taking a curve off Yafo, the Jaffa Road , past the Hebrew Union College to the King David.
"There," Mati said, slowing down, creeping pas
t the plain, stone, squared-off structure that rose si x stories and was topped off by two additional , newer floors.
"That's it, huh?" Valenzuela said. "It looks like
a YMCA."
"The YMCA is across the street," Mati said,
a little surprised.
"The YMCA looks like what the King Davi
d should look like," Rashad said. "Where they kee p the cars?"
Mati pointed. "There."
"Turn in."
The Mercedes turned left into a side street an
d left again through the open gate of a chain-lin k fence, past a booth where the parking attendan t sat. There were no more than a dozen cars in th e lot, in two irregular rows, most of them at the fenc e toward the front, facing the street.
"You see his car?" Rashad said.
"That one," Mati said.
"Yeah, I remember it now," Rashad said. "It wa
s out in front of the apartment. Pull in next to it."
When they came to a stop parallel with the blac
k Mercedes, he said, "Who's going in?"
"I am," Valenzuela said. "And you and you
r friend. Teddy'll wait here."
Mati said, "It would be good, I go talk to hi
m first."
"It would be bad," Valenzuela said. "Teddy
, open the trunk."
From the porte cochere of the main entrance the
y passed single file through the revolving door an d went past rows of tour-group luggage being assembled opposite the registration desk, Valenzuela carrying a black vinyl briefcase, followed by Mat i and Rashad.
"What way?"
"To, that way," Mati pointed.
They turned right, went past the desk to the elevator.
On the seventh floor they turned right again an
d walked down the hall to 732. Next to it, on th e floor, was a tray on which sat two glasses, an empt y champagne bottle, and an ashtray heaped with cigarette butts. Valenzuela nodded. Mati approached the door, cleared his throat, and knocked lightly , twice.
"Hit it harder," Valenzuela said.
Mati knocked again, rapping quickly with hi
s knuckles. They waited.
"Once more," Valenzuela said.
Mati knocked several more times. Cautiously
, Rashad leaned in, pressing his head against the door.
He came away, looked at Valenzuela, and shrugged.
"Okay," Valenzuela said. Moving away, h
e looked down at the tray. "He was always neat, I remember that. Couple of times we visited him at his office, he was always getting up and emptying th e ashtrays."
In the elevator, Rashad said, "What do yo
u think?"
"I think somebody's in there with him," Valenzuela said. "I don't want to do it that way if I can avoid it. If I can't, if it's a broad, somebody like tha t who's gonna be with him, then it's too bad, ther e isn't anything I can do about it."
"Maybe it's the Marine," Rashad said.
"I hope so," Valenzuela said.
"Didn't you hear it?" Edie said.
"It's the maid," Rosen said. He opened the doo
r to the sitting room and listened a moment. "The y like to come in and make the bed while you're stil l in it."
"You're sure it's the maid?"
"Well, it isn't the guy I'm meeting, the one I mentioned to you. We've got a signal."
"Something's going on," Edie said. "I don't understand at all. Who are you trying to avoid?"