The Usual Santas by Peter Lovesey

Author:Peter Lovesey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime Fiction
Publisher: Soho Press
Published: 2017-09-01T19:35:07+00:00

patrol

Wearing the latex gloves, he approached Pell Street carrying the zippered bag like a knapsack. It was just before six p.m. and he waited until the work crew came out and went toward Mott. Doe Jai was among them as they trooped into Wong Kee’s Famous Pork Chop King.

Mak figured give them a couple of hours, plenty of time to patrol the streets around Mechanics Alley and see what things looked like.

Along East Broadway the foot traffic was thinning out as the evening turned black and ominous. He found a spot near where Market Street became Division. A place where he could observe from a distance anyone walking from the far Mott Street end. If Doe Jai wasn’t alone when he entered the alley, the attack would have to be postponed. Mak had twenty years of patience and was prepared to abort the mission today if necessary.

Above him the subway trains shrieked.

The street lamps were spaced far apart. A few were broken and the rest threw a sickly yellow glow over the tenements. Allen Street led north to Canal. He’d wanted to circle away from the alley in that direction. The sidewalks would be lined with stacked garbage bags from the restaurants, awaiting morning pick up. When he was done, he’d shove his tools into one of the bags and no one would be the wiser.

He planned to use one of the payphones along Canal Street.

His patrol led him past the dark car twice. He had to decide which stone bridge column to hide behind. One that provided a clear view of the car. There he’d roll down the ski mask and be good to go, everything ready.

Several men came down East Broadway, but none of them resembled Doe Jai. It was early.

A little after ten, two men came down East Broadway from Mott. As they got closer, Mak could make out that one of them was Doe Jai, carrying a tool bag.

Mak backed away from the corner, retreating to his spot at the rear of the alley, where barbed wire fencing joined the graffiti-tagged stone column. From his view a few steps behind the car, he saw the two men part ways at the opening to the alley. He took several deep boxer’s breaths and unzipped the black sack.

Doe Jai came down the alley throwing a look over his shoulder. He coughed and spat out a clot of phlegm. He passed the front of the car, opened the trunk and dropped the tool bag in. Doe Jai slammed the trunk shut, but all Mak could hear was the thunder of the subways above.

Mak rolled down his ski mask and drew the stun gun from the sack. A blue spark jumped between the prongs when he juiced it up.

Doe Jai had his key in the driver’s side door when Mak made his move. The door popped open. Mak barreled into him. Doe Jai managed to yell, “Dew! . . . Fuck!” but his cry was drowned out.

He threw his arms up and Mak jabbed him with the stun gun where his jacket rose.

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