Free Stone Quarry by S.J. Rozan Page B

breeze was coming up. I was driving with the window open, as usual; I could smell the dampness in the air. Maybe rain, maybe snow. The road surface modulated from potholes to asphalt and I shifted gears, accelerating as the road curved. I reached for the radio dial.
    Suddenly I slammed on the brakes. The car rocked to a stop about six feet from a Chevy truck parked square across the road.
    The truck was big, black, and empty. It filled the shadowed road ditch to ditch. I threw the Acura into reverse, but not in time. Two figures leapt out from the darkness under the trees. They had guns, one each. They came up even with my front windows and stopped, on either side of the car. The one on my side spoke loud and fast.
    "Turn the car off!"
    I turned the car off.
    "Now throw out the keys."
    I tossed my keys in his direction. They rang as they hit the pavement.
    "Get out. Slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them. Watch him!" he called to the other.
    The second figure circled around the front of the car, his gun trained on me through the windshield. I opened the door and got out slowly, my hands open and far from my sides.
    "What's up?" I asked. The face in the shadows was vaguely familiar.
    "Turn around, spread your hands on the car. Search him, Ted."
    I put my hands on the top of the car. Ted went over me clumsily from behind. In my jacket he found my wallet; under my arm, my empty holster. He searched my pockets but there wasn't anything he wanted. He didn't look for an ankle rig. I wasn't wearing one, but he should have looked.
    "His holster's empty, Otis," Ted whined. "His gun ain't here." He backed away from me.
    "Where's your gun?" Otis barked.
    "State troopers, D Unit," I said over my shoulder. "Ask for Lieutenant MacGregor." I heard my keys jingle as Ted picked them up.
    "Funny," said Otis. "Look in the car, Ted."
    Ted tucked his gun in his belt and searched my car, crawling into the back, running his hand under the seats, snapping the glove compartment open and closed. In the well by the gearshift he found the roll of quarters I kept there. He pocketed them with a grin, climbed out of the car.
    "Nothin'," he told Otis, pointing his gun at me again.
    There was a Smith 8c Wesson .22 strapped up behind the dash, but it would have taken a better man than Ted to find it.
    "The Park View," I said suddenly. "You guys sat down the other end of the counter."
    "Free country," Otis said. "Fuck the gun. Let's go. You come with me. Ted'll bring your car."
    I turned slowly, stood facing him. His face was broad, doughy. The knuckles on the hand wrapped around the big automatic were hairy and thick. "Where?" I asked.
    "Guy I know wants to see you." He gestured in the direction of the black truck.
    "Who?"
    "What do you care?" The gun was black and mean- looking. He waved it around a little.
    "I guess I don't." I walked a few steps toward the truck, Otis walking behind, Ted back by my car. When I had space around me I turned again to face Otis, as slowly as before. My arms were still and loose at my sides, but my fingers and my spine were tingling.
    "No," I said.
    "What the hell do you mean, no? I'm supposed to bring you in, I'm goddamn gonna bring you in."
    "You won't shoot me. Whoever wants me probably wouldn't like it if you brought me in dead."
    "No." Otis smiled, showing thick brown teeth. "But he might not mind if you was hurt a little." We were standing no more than four feet apart. He lowered the big automatic, leveled it at my knee.
    "He might not," I said. "But I would."
    While I was still talking, while his eyes were on my eyes and his attention on my words, I whipped my left foot up, over, out, caught his gun hand on the inside of the wrist. His arm flew back and I dived after it, grabbed it, spun him around so he was between me and Ted. He swung at my jaw with his free hand but he was way off balance and couldn't put a lot behind if, when it landed it didn't matter much. I kicked him again, in the stomach this time, and he