Free Ed McBain by Learning to Kill: Stories

I told him. "If you're not out of there in five minutes, I'm going to put a hole in your sweetie's head." I paused, wondering if he'd heard me. "You got that, Carrera? Five minutes."
    He waited again before answering.
    "You had better shoot her now,
señor.
You are not getting this money."
    The girl began laughing.
    "What's so damn funny?" I asked her.
    "You will never outwait Carrera," she said. Her voice was as low and as deep as her laugh. "Carrera is a very patient man."
    "I can be patient, too, sister," I said. "I patiently saved that ten thousand bucks for three years, and no tinhorn crook is going to step in and swipe it."
    "You underestimate Carrera," she said.
    "No, baby, I've got Carrera pegged to a tee. He's a small-time punk. Back in the States, he'd be shaking pennies out of gum machines. He probably steals tortillas from blind old ladies down here."
    "You underestimate him," she repeated.
    I shook my head. "This is Carrera's big killing—or so he thinks. That ten thousand is his key to the big time. Only it belongs to me, and it's coming back to me."
    "If you were smart," she said, "you would leave. You would pack up and go, my friend. And you wouldn't stop to look back."
    "I'm not smart."
    "I know. So you'll stay here, and Carrera will kill you. Or I will kill you. Either way, you will be dead, and your money will be gone, anyway." She paused. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "It is better that you lose only your money."
    I glanced at my watch.
    "Carrera has about two minutes, honey."
    "And after that?"
    "It's up to him," I said. As if to check, I shouted, "You like your girlfriends dead, Carrera?"
    "Ten thousand dollars will buy a lot of girlfriends," he called back.
    I looked down at her.
    "Did you hear your boyfriend?" I asked.
    "I heard."
    "He doesn't seem to give a damn whether I shoot you or not."
    She shrugged. "It is not that," she said. "He simply knows that you will not kill me."
    "Don't be too surprised, baby."
    The smile flitted across her face again, was gone almost before it started. "You will not kill me," she said.
    I didn't answer her. I kept looking at my watch until the time was up. Nothing came from Carrera. Not another word.
    "Now what?" she asked.
    "What's your name?"
    She didn't answer.
    I shrugged. "Suit yourself," I said.
    "My name is Linda," she said.
    "Make yourself comfortable, Linda," I told her. "We're going to be here for quite some time."

    I meant that. I still hadn't figured out how I was going to get my money from Carrera, but I knew damn well I was staying here until I
did
get it. Crossing the open dirt patch would have been suicide. But at the same time, Carrera couldn't cross it, either. Not unless he wanted a slug through his fat face. I thought of that, and I began to wish he would try to get across the clearing. Nothing would have pleased me more than to have his nose resting on the sight at the end of my gun muzzle.
    Ten thousand bucks! Ten thousand, hard-earned American dollars. How had Carrera found out about it? Had I talked too much? Hell, it was general knowledge that I was putting away a nest egg to take back to the States. Carrera had probably been watching me for a long time, planning his larceny from a distance, waiting until I was ready to shove off for home.
    "It's getting dark," Linda said.
    I lifted my eyes to the sky.
    The sun was dipping low over the horizon, splashing the sky with brilliant reds and oranges. The peaks of the mountains glowed brilliantly as the dying rays lingered in crevices and hollows. A crescent moon hung palely against the deepening wash of night, sharing the sky with the sinking sun.
    And suddenly it was black.
    There was no transition, no dusk, no violets or purples. The sun was simply swallowed up, and stars appeared against the blackness. A stiff breeze worked its way down from the caps of the mountains, spreading cold where there had once been intolerable heat.
    "You'd better get some sleep," I said.
    "And