Drago #3. Art Spinella
spread of Kentucky Blue sat a cannon.
“You’re kidding.”
“It’s an FN Herstal medium remote weapon station,” Sal said.
“It’s a friggin’ anti-aircraft gun.”
“That, too.” He stood back, pulled from his Dos Equis and continued. “Totally remote controlled. And that’s an M3P machine gun my little Russian darling sent along. About 1,100 rounds per minute. .50 cal. The turret can angle from minus 42 degrees to plus 73 degrees.
“Cool, huh?”
I started to laugh. It was so outrageous, so over the top as a lawn ornament, so typical of Sal who always needed a new toy that it was the perfect gift from Tatiana.
“And how did she get it to you? You don’t ship that via UPS.”
“It came in a helicopter. And that’s all I’ll say about it.”
He walked to the M3P and put a meaty hand on its barrel. “Take a picture.” He tossed me his camera phone. Big grin and the sun reflecting off of the man’s twinkling blue eyes, the weapon the perfect backdrop if this were a Stallone movie, I clicked a couple of shots.
“Want to see it in action?” he said, like a kid with a new remote control airplane.
“You’re not gonna shoot it here, are you?”
“No, you dolt. I don’t have a backstop yet.”
He took back his smart phone, punched in http://www.fnherstal.com/index.php?id=658 and handed it back to me.
Indeed, the gun is remote controlled. I watched the video in absolute awe. The M3P rotated up, down, full circle, firing round-after-round of .50 caliber shells into an assortment of targets.
I clicked off the video and handed the phone back.
“You think Tatiana has another one of those kicking around?”
________________________________________________
Sal and I were sitting in the living room, a pizza box near empty on the foot stool, some lame game show as background on the television. We’d been dancing around the means of revenge for the killing of innocents during the Tree Man incident and possible government involvement.
“How close are we, Sal?”
“I’ve put out quiet feelers. Getting some feedback. We obviously touched a nerve. No one wants to talk and fewer have enough information to be of much use. It’s February. I’m looking for the end of August for launch. We have to be mighty careful, though.”
I nodded agreement. We were going to be dealing with folks who had the power. And all we had was Sal and me. Breaking the code of silence would take putting our respective morals in a deep, dark drawer.
A knock on the door gave me a start. It was 10:30 p.m. and usually I hear anything on the road driving up. Can actually sense a car or truck. Maybe it’s the hard pan sending vibrations through the ground. Whatever it is, rarely am I caught unaware.
I climbed from my chair and crossed the living room to the front door. Pulling it open, a short guy in a tan Harley Davidson dress shirt, black pants and loafers pushed past me, followed by a thick necked guy in a dark suit.
“Nick! Sal! God it’s good seeing you two guys!”
On his way through the living room, Artemus Thornson slid a piece of pizza from the box, coolly walked into the kitchen, yanked open the fridge and lifted a beer. Returning to the living room and falling onto the couch.
“How ya been!”
I looked at the thick necked guy.
“Sam, good seeing you.”
Thornson’s body guard smiled and nodded then sidled to the wall to keep an eye on the rest of us without being intrusive. The bulge of a holstered handgun – a big handgun – was as obvious today as it was when we had the “Shootout at Willow Weep” some months ago.
“Still packing the Desert Eagle, I see.”
“Yup.”
“You’re my man,” I said, returning to my lounge chair, lifting my feet to the coffee table and staring at Thornson. He had been ducking Sal and me and our inquiries about the Tree Man fall out. He saw my under current of fury at his intransigence.
He raised his hands in a defensive posture.
“Nick, I’m sorry about what happened. Really. The best I could do was warn you. The rest is way over my pay grade.”
The words were sincere and I wanted to believe him so I let it go for the time being.
“Good to see you, Artie.”
He winced at the reference, but smiled. He’d let me have that one. Tit for Tat.
“And you’re here, why?” Sal asked. He isn’t as forgiving as I am. He carries a grudge on his sleeve and never lets anyone forget it. Artemus had let him down big time and the loss of life that resulted almost made Sal come unglued.
Artemus knew he was in territory if not of the enemy, at least antagonists.
“You’ve been poking around Washington and Virginia, Sal. Need to know what you have in mind.”
Sal’s face clouded over, eyes going dark.
“None of your business, actually.”
“Actually, it is. In a roundabout way.” He leaned back in the chair and gazed at the ceiling. “Let’s just say that if you were planning to take actions against certain people for what happened with the Tree Man situation, we would be on opposite sides. Adversaries. And even though you have some pretty loyal old buds, I know who they are and have pretty loyal new buds. And you don’t know who they are.”
I stopped the conversation on the spot.
“Enough, Artie. You can get the hell out of here right now or I’ll throw you out.” A quick spin to Sam, “And you’ll have to use that Desert Eagle to stop me.”
Sam raised a hand, palm out, in defense. No words.
Back to Thornson, “You don’t come in my house and threaten anybody.” I could hear my voice rising. “Especially my friends.”
Thornson lowered his eyes to mine.
“I’m trying to keep you guys from spending a long, long time in a place no one knows exists with people who don’t speak English and think bread and water is tantamount to coddling a… guest.”
“Out,” hitching my thumb to the door. “Now.”
Artemus gave his head a shake, climbed from the chair, wiped pizza from his fingers and took a final swig of beer. Silently he crossed the living room and Sam opened the door for him.
Turning back toward us, “Think every move you make all the way through before doing anything. I like you guys. Truly do. Don’t become statistics – or less.”
With that he and Sam left, the big body guard closing the door quietly behind him.
Steam was coming out of my ears. “That son of a…”
Sal raised a hand and put a finger over his lips to be quiet. He stood and waved me to follow him into the kitchen. The big man forked two fingers to his eyes then pointed around the kitchen.
Once a spook, always a spook.
I looked under the counter as Sal peered behind the appliances.
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