the Red Zone (1998) by Tim Green

Author:Tim Green [Green, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-15T21:14:55.734000+00:00

Chapter 27

Martin Wilburn drove through the middle of West Palm Beach, past the Royal Palm hotel, and headed south on the intracoastal highway. After a while he made a sharp U-turn and pulled over to the ocean side of the road. A pay phone mounted on a concrete post faced the water. Wilburn got out of his new Jaguar and puffed warm air into his hands. The breeze coming in off the water made him chilly. He pulled his chocolate-colored suede coat close and scanned the area. He was just about right on time. He was three steps away from the phone when it started to ring.

"Hello," he said, picking it up.

"This is the wolf," said the voice on the other end.

"This is the panther," Wilburn said quietly. His mouth was twisted disdainfully at the ridiculous pseudonyms. Suddenly, though, he froze. There was a lumpy form on the bench that he hadn't noticed until now.

"Hang on," he said, setting the phone down on the dull chrome ledge of the box and walking around to the other side of the bench to get a better look. It was a bum wrapped in blankets. Only his tattered Converse sneakers, stuffed with newspapers, protruded from the nappy blankets that covered him. Wilburn brought his Bally loafer up off the sidewalk and nudged the bum with his toe until he stirred.

"Hey," he said, extracting a twenty from his wallet and waving it in the toothless grimy face that appeared between the folds of the blankets. "Let me have this bench to myself and go get yourself a good bottle."

The bums weepy bloodshot eyes widened at the size of the bill. A dirt-stained hand shot out from the blankets, and he hustled to his feet and tottered off mumbling incoherently

"I'm back," Wilburn said into the phone.

"What the hell was that about?"

"Nothing. A bum. He's gone."

There was silence, and then coldly, "We may have a problem."

Wilburns blood raced. There had been so much careful planning. Things were going so well that bad news was almost inevitable.

"What?"

"I think your boy has lost control," the wolf said.

"Hes not my boy," Wilburn protested. "Why?"

"We got a call from the sheriff in Canal Point near Lake Okeechobee. It seems they found three heads on three poles at a campsite near the fishing cabin."

"Holy shit," Wilburn muttered, his eyes squinting in disbelief. "Heads?"

"Yeah."

"That fucking psycho," Wilburn said, shuddering from a chill. "I said he was no good."

"I warned you," the wolf added.

"It wasn't my call, man! Shit!" Wilburn slipped ever so slightly into his street dialect. He did that whenever he was on edge.

"Chase is dead," Wilburn reminded them both. "That's the important thing."

"Whats important now is that this whole thing doesn't blow up."

"It won't," Wilburn said with a confidence he didn't feel.

"Anything could happen with him."

"Hey, man," Wilburn protested, his voice approaching the pitch of a whine, "this ain't my fault!"

The wolf let that ride a moment before he said, "You got him out."

"I got him out," Wilburn said in disgust.

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