From last time ...
Sarah settled back into her seat and let the warm glow of the alcohol slowly seep through her chest and into her stomach.
She had no idea that this would be the last plane ride for a long time.
And now ...
Pedro stood in front of Giamatti's desk, watching him stare out the window, mumbling to himself.
"Yes? Oh, Pedro. I didn't hear you come in. Is the building secure?"
"Si, Señor. Everything ees all lock up nice, Jefe. The night crew es aqui and all set up."
"Good, Pedro. Go home and get some sleep. 8 O'Clock, okay?"
"Si, 8 O'Clock, Señor. You want I should bring some tamales for you? Rosa made some today ..."
"No, that's okay. I'll get breakfast in the morning. You tell Rosa, 'Thanks', though, okay. You tell her how much I like her tamales. Maybe next time."
Pedro turned and headed for the door. He wondered what Señor Giamatti was so worried about.
Come on, bitch. Come on. I know you're still out there, somewhere. If the fucking Kid had done as he was told, you'd be dead a long time ago - instead, you got all my guys. The 'good' guys. The one's that knew what the fuck they were doing. You sent me bullets with their names on them - just so you could show me there was no hiding from you. So why are you hiding from me?
Where are you?
Giamatti turned away from the window and went to his desk. He sat down in his chair and opened the worn folder on his desk and read through, again, perhaps for the hundredth time, the report from Detective Juronski about Sarah Pierce. He still couldn't believe that some woman picked off all those men. He still couldn't believe that even though he knew who she was, he couldn't find her. The report detailed information about Jake Bertrett. There was information about Thelma Gleason and some guy called Mackey that was obviously military at one time.
All the money I spent and this shit is all I know - and I can't find her. And I know I HAVE to find her, before she finds me.
He reached over and pressed the button on the intercom.
"Send somebody up with the tally sheets for today, will you?"
"Sure, boss. Say, there's a box down here that must have been delivered today. Do you want I should send that up, too?"
"Box?" Giamatti felt a cold finger run down his back. "What kind of box?"
"I dunno, boss. Looks kinda Chinese, to me. Red. Shiny Red with brass hinges. Looks kinda fancy, if you ask me."
"Don't send it up. I'll be right down."
Giamatti left his office and went to the freight elevator at the end of the hall, got in, and pressed the button that would have him wind up in the basement garage. In an agonizing few moments, he was in the basement.
Rico was walking toward him. He saw ... and he knew ... the box in his hands. He knew what was IN the box in Rico's hands.
Rico handed him the box. He stared down at it for almost a full minute.
"No sleeping down here, tonight, Rico. Make sure everyone is armed and stays armed. Stay awake. Stay alert. There's someone out there that wants to kill me and she's back in town, I guess."
"Yes, Rico. She."