18
Jack gave Cordova enough time to travel half a block, then stepped out onto the sidewalk. As expected, Fatso was heading for the subway station, waddling along and playing it cool with the envelope tucked casually under his arm, like it held nothing more valuable than a home remodeling contract.
Jack stayed close behind, looking for an opportunity. He was going to have to take him before or after his ride home. Too much light on the train itself. Jack didn't want to show his face.
Only scattered pedestrians out and about at the moment, fair amount of traffic to the right, locked-up storefronts to the left. This wasn't looking good.
He realized he was still wearing latex gloves and carrying the hot plate. He was about to dump both in a trash can coming up on his right when he spotted the dark slit of an alley ahead.
Jack's heartbeat kicked up its tempo as he decided to give this a shot. He broke into a trot and intercepted Cordova just as he came abreast of the alley mouth. He gave the big man a hard shove into the darkness, then clocked him once, twice on the back of his head with the hot plate.
Cordova stumbled and landed on his belly with a whoosh of breath. Jack tossed the hot plate to the side and pounced on his back. Had to be quick now. He grabbed the hair at the base of his neck to hold his head in place. He didn't want Cordova to get a look at him, even in the dark.
"Gimme your wallet, Fatso," he hissed as he pawed at the man's hip.
Cordova seemed dazed, his coarse breaths rumbling in and out.
Jack took the wallet, then felt around front for a gun. When he didn't find one, he grabbed the envelope. Cordova came alert then and fought for it.
"No!"
"Shut up!" Jack shoved his face against the pavement. Hard. "Whatta ya got there? Jewelry, huh?"
"There's cash," Cordova grunted. "Take it. Go ahead, take it all, just leave me the computer disk."
"Yeah, right." Jack wrestled the envelope free. "Like I'm gonna sit here and play games."
He gave Cordova another face slam, then he was up and out of the alley, fast-walking to the first cross street where he turned and broke into a run.
As he opened the padded envelope he noticed the blood on his gloves. Looked like he'd laid open Cordova's scalp with that hot plate. At least he'd found some use for it.
Inside the envelope he found the cash—looked like even more than last night—and a CD jewel box. He snatched it out and stopped under a light. He scanned its gold surface for a label. Nothing beyond Sony CD-R. But this had to be it.
Yes! And though Cordova might suspect that he'd been set up, he'd never know for sure. And he'd never know by whom.
Jack went through Cordova's wallet, transferring the cash and credit cards to the envelope, then he tossed it in the gutter. He inverted his bloody gloves as he pulled them off and stuffed them into another pocket.
He remembered a subway stop on 174th Street, just a few blocks down. He'd catch the next 2 or 5 train and get the hell out of the Bronx.
But the game wasn't over. Not until Jack was sure Cordova didn't have another backup. If he did, it meant extra innings.