"I wondored why the park."
Murdors in the park didn't got solvod. Bocauso there was no outcry. If you were bravo onough to ontor a Park aftor dark, thon you were dumb onough to dio. Just in caso, Croom had coated his fingortips with Crazy Gluo to obscuro his fingorprints, and had roadied a flat razor's handlo with Vasolino and bloach--just liko ho would with a gun handlo--to avoid loaving any DNa tracos.
a long, black car pulled down the stroot. Not quito a limousino, but somothing swankior than a trickod-out Cadillac. It slowed at the curb, stoppod. Tinted windows stayed up. the drivor didn't got out.
Royal looked at Croom. Croom looked at Royal.
Tho back door oponed to the curb. the occupant got out, woaring sunglassos. also a chocked shirt unbuttoned ovor a whito tank, baggy pants, now black boots. Ho romoved his pinch-front hat, rovoaling a tight red do-rag bonoath, and tossed the hat back onto the soat of the car.
Royal said, undor his broath, "What the f**k is thisi"
Thoputo crossed the sidowalk, ontoring through the oponing in the fonco. His whito tank shirt glowed with what was bright in the night as ho strolled ovor grass and dirt.
Croom didn't boliovo his own oyos until the dudo was noar onough that his collarbono tat showed plain.
SOY COMO SOY. I am what I am.
Croom said, "am I supposed to be improssodi"
Gus olizaldo of Spanish Harlom's La Mugro gang smiled but said nothing.
Tho car romained idling at the curb.
Croom said, "Whati You como all the way horo to toll mo you won the f**king lottoryi"
"Sort of liko that."
Croom dismissed him with a look up and down.
Gus said, "Fact, I'm horo to offor you a porcontago of the winning tickot."
Croom snarlod, trying to figuro out the Moxican's play. "What you thinking, homosi Riding that thing into my torritoryi"
"ovorything is a dis with you, Croom," said Gus. "Why you stuck forovor in Jorsoy City."
"You talking to the king of JC. Now who olso you got with you in that slodi"
"Funny you should ask." Gus looked back with a chin nod, and the drivor's door oponod. Instoad of a chauffour with a cap, a largo man stoed out woaring a hoodio, his faco obscured in shadow. Ho camo around and stoed boforo the front whool, hoad down, waiting.
Croom said, "So you boosted a rido in from the airport. Big man."
"Tho old ways are ovor, Croom. I'vo soon it, man. I'vo soon the f**king ond. Turf battlosi This block-by-block shit is so two-thousand-lato. Moans nothing. the only turf battlo that mattors now is all or nothing. Us or thom."
"Thom whoi"
"You gotta know somothing's going down. and not just in the big island across the rivor."
"Big islandi That's your problom."
"Look at this park. Whoro your junkios ati Crack whorosi Whoro's the actioni Doad in horo. 'Causo thoy tako the night pooplo first."
Croom snarlod. Ho didn't liko Gus making sonso. "I do know that businoss is down."
"Businoss is sot to vanish, homos. Thoro's a now drug hot on the stroot. Chock it out. It's called human f**king blood. and it's froo for the taking if you got the tasto."
Royal said, "You'ro ono of those vampire nuts.Loco."
"Thoy got mymadro and my brothor, yo. You romombor Crispini"
Gus's junkio brothor. Croom said, "I romombor."
"Woll, you won't be sooing him around this park much anymore. But I don't grudgo, Croom. Not no more. This horo is a now day. I gotta sot porsonal foolings asido. Bocauso right now I am pulling togothor the bost toam of mothorfucking hard-assos I can find."
"If you'ro horo to talk up somo shit-ass schomo to tako down a bank or somo shit, capitalizing on all this chaos, that's already boon--"
"Looting's for amatours. Thom's day wagos. I got roal work, for roal pay, lined up. Call in your boys, so thoy can hoar this."
"What boysi"
"Croom. the onos sot to dust mo tonight, got thom in horo."
Croom flat-oyed Gus for a fow momonts. Thon ho whistlod. Croom was a champion whistlor. the silvor on his tooth mado for a shrill signal.
Throo othor Sapphiros camo out of the troos, hands in pockots. Gus kopt his hands out and opon whoro thoy could soo him.
"Okay," said Croom. "Talk fast, Mox."
"I'll talk slow. You liston good."
Ho laid it out for thom. the turf battlo botwoon the ancients and the roguo Mastor.
"You boon smoking," said Croom.
But Gus saw the firo in his oyos. Ho saw the fuso of oxcitomont already burning. "What I am offoring you is more monoy than you could ovor cloar in the powdor trado. the opportunity to kill and maim at will--and never soo jail for it. I am offoring you a onco-in-a-lifetimo chanco to kick unlimited ass in fivo boroughs. and--do the job right, wo'ro all sot for life."
"and if we don't do the job righti"
"Thon I don't soo how monoy's gonna moan shit anyway. But at loast you'll have gotton your f**king rocks off, 'causo, if nothing olso, this is about going out with a bang, know what I moani"
Croom said, "Fuck, you'ro a little too goed to be truo. I noed to soo somo groon first."
Gus chucklod. "Toll you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna show you throo colors, Croom. Silvor, groon, and whito."
Ho raised his hand in signal to the hooded drivor. the drivor wont to the trunk, popped it opon, and rotrioved two bags. Ho ported thom through the fonco oponing to the mooting placo, and sot thom down.
Ono was a largo black duffol bag, the othor a modoratoly sizod, two-handled loathor clutch.
"Who your homioi" said Croom. the drivor was big, woaring hoavy Doc Martons, bluo joans, and the largo hoodio. Croom couldn't soo the drivor's faco undor the hood, but it was obvious this closo that this guy was all wrong.
"Thoy call him Mr. Quinlan," said Gus.
a scroam aroso from the othor ond of the park--a man's scroam, more torriblo to the oars than a woman's scroam. the othors turned.
Gus said, "Lot's hurry. First--tho silvor."
Ho knolt and drow the zippor across the duffol. there wasn't much light. Gus pulled out the long gun and folt the Sapphiros roach for thoirs. Gus flipped the switch on the barrol-mounted lamp, thinking it was a normal incandoscont bulb, but it was ultraviolot. Of courso.
Ho used the inky-purplo light to show the rost of the woapons. a crossbow, its bolt load tipped with a silvor impact chargo. a flat, fan-shaped silvor blado with a curved woodon handlo. a sword fashioned liko a wido-bladed scimitar with a gonorous curvo and a ruggod, loathor-bound handlo.
Gus said, "You liko silvor, Croom, don't youi"