The gang leader pulled his chair over to the table, and the others noisily followed him. The distinguished-looking man waited until the four convicts were seated, and then he carefully inspected each of their faces, obviously passing judgment. Ellen noticed that there was something distinctively different about the man that made him contrast starkly with her abductors; and yet – in spite of his sophistication, there was also a sameness – a certain criminality. She watched as he set his brief case on the top of the table and began to shuffle through some papers. The man's gestures were those of an accomplished businessman who was accustomed to dealing at the highest levels of authority. He was no common criminal, and yet there was a slickness to his movements that somehow reminded Ellen of the suave gestures of the card shark or the professional gambler. No, these men were worlds apart in appearance and in thought; but something had drawn them together today that would change the course of the lives of all who were present in the warehouse… and perhaps would alter the direction of world events outside the narrow confines of the criminal mentality of her kidnappers.
Ellen noted a change in the way Billy had been acting, as the gang chief leaned toward the unidentified man sitting at the head of the table. He was no longer the snarling pack leader who asserted himself through violence and animal cunning, but he seemed as though he had consciously decided to keep his more aggressive stance in reserve until he had the new situation under his control. Yes, he definitely had changed, and there was a disturbing quality to the transformation, Ellen thought, as she watched Billy light a cigarette and lean back somewhat nervously in his chair. She sensed a slight strain between the two men that was quite different from the animal conflict between Billy and the three other escaped convicts over the possession of her body.
The adjustment that Billy, as well as the other convicts, had to make when confronted with the well-educated demeanor of the man sitting before them was obviously difficult, Ellen thought. She remembered how she and her sister Jennifer had discussed the condition of the penitentiary system, and how they had come to the conclusion that, for the most part, prison confinement only warped the minds of those it intended to reform and made them into more hardened criminals. A sociology course she had taken in college had also brought up the point that even those prisoners who were released after serving their sentences often mistrusted authority and instinctively rebelled against it. It was apparent that Billy was struggling with this problem right now, even though the man to whom he was talking was, in his own right, as much or more of a criminal than Billy himself.
Perhaps, she reasoned, it was this new breed of criminals who had grown through organized crime or through subversive political and business organizations that spelled out the end of the old era of the Al Capone type gangster. They were not only working against the law of the land, but had become adept at bending that law to suit their own corrupt interests. The likes of Billy and the other men would serve this new breed well, Ellen believed, as they were a handy weapon behind which the real culprits could hide and make their attack against the established order of society.
"Before we start, I think you should get rid of those not participating in our project," the mysterious man said, nodding his head toward Ellen.
"She ain't no problem," Billy said quietly, then he sighed, lowering to the suggestion. "Listen, baby, you get in the kitchen and help Sylvia make us somethin' to eat."
The tall brunette's eyes narrowed in anger and then she spun and slammed her way into the kitchen. Ellen immediately followed the girl, even though she was terrified at being left alone with Billy's ex-girlfriend. She could hear the men continue discussing their plan from the next room, but the voices were half-muffled by a sudden loud cloudburst of rain beating against the tin roof of the warehouse, and it was impossible to follow what they were saying.
The young blonde hostage looked toward Sylvia with dread, and abruptly she knew that her most bitter enemy was not Vito, but this female who would do anything to rid herself of competition from Ellen for the favors of the gang leader. Ellen had studied the tall brunette back in the living room and had instinctively known that the girl was insanely jealous of Billy's new relationship with her. There had been a moment in there when she had thought that Sylvia might get completely out of control, and there appeared to be no doubt that if the other girl were given the opportunity she would attempt to destroy her. Sylvia was no different than the convicts, except she would unhesitatingly kill Ellen in order to regain the privileged position of being the gang leader's girlfriend. Ellen had heard many frightening stories of fights between gang girls over possession of their men, and she shuddered as she remembered some of the more grisly details she had read about in various magazines.
"Whatcha doin' just standin' there," she heard Sylvia's strident voice ring out, bringing her back to reality for a moment. "You get these dishes cleaned up and quick."
Ellen bent quietly over the sink and began washing the filthy dishes and pans that lay on the sink – remnants of some meal eaten by someone else weeks or even months ago. Out of the corner of her eye she watched every one of the tall girl's movements as though her life depended on it. And it did! There was no way of getting around the fact that Sylvia intended to force a confrontation between Ellen and herself over Billy. In Ellen's mind, the other girl wanted her thrown to Vito, Pop, and Cash – to be repeatedly raped again and made an object of their violent, most beastly desires.
"Now get into the living room and pick up the rest of them dishes and glasses on the table," Sylvia commanded once more. "We want to fix up somethin' decent for Billy."
Ellen returned to the living room, feeling very much like she had been a slave to Sylvia's harsh command all of her entire life. She paused as she began placing the remaining plates in her hands, and caught bits and pieces of the discussion between Billy and the man seated at the head of the table.
"Remember, you will be seated behind the grandstands," the man pronounced clearly to Billy and Cash. "There should be no slip-ups if you follow the plan to the letter."
Ellen saw Billy lean forward onto the table, his jaw tightened as though he were under great stress. "And what happens if they see us? You ain't told us about any backup protection."
"That will all be taken care of in due time. Right now we want to concentrate on how the first steps will be accomplished."
Ellen moved from the table, slowing a bit as she approached the door in order to hear some more of their conversation. When the stranger glanced up in her direction, she immediately returned to the kitchen.
Sylvia didn't say a word to Ellen as the young hostage bent over the sink again and ran cold water over the remaining dirty dishes. For a moment Ellen almost felt like trying to talk with the gang girl, but when she looked into Sylvia's hate-filled eyes she knew it would be useless. There was an unfathomable gap between the two young women that was made more apparent by their very gestures and forms of speaking: Ellen was soft-spoken and slightly refined in her way of expressing herself, while Sylvia had a crude coarseness that bluntly branded her as coming from the lowest segment of society.
The dishes complete, the blonde hostage turned to help Sylvia who was slicing pieces of ham onto plates for the men in the next room, but she was stopped when the sharp tip of the knife was pressed against her breasts. "Ya keep your hands off the food, I'll take care of that; and you finish cleanin' up in here," Sylvia scolded, as though Ellen were a small child. "I'm gonna take this stuff out to them. Ya just stay put, and get your ass busy and clean up the rest of the mess."
Ellen felt a surge of relief race down the length of her spine when the other girl left the kitchen. Yes, she would just as soon remain here throughout eternity than be abused by the four convicts again. So much depended on how she handled herself during the next few hours; if she irritated Sylvia unnecessarily, or brought the conflict between Billy and Vito to a head by her presence, she would be the one who would ultimately suffer. Her best chance would be to remain as inconspicuous as possible, and wait until her chance arrived to run away again, if it ever did. It might not be too difficult, since their attention was diverted from her for the moment. But when the opportunity came, she must be successful this time. Their revenge would be vicious and complete, and she just couldn't risk pushing them to the point where they were forced to get rid of her for good… if they weren't already planning to kill her. No, she would wait until she was absolutely positive that her escape would be assured, and then she would make her attempt.
"Ya finished in here?" Sylvia suddenly said from the door.
Ellen turned and nodded limply, feeling a sudden surge of hate from the gang girl that she couldn't understand.
"Then get your ass in the next room quick. Billy don't wanta have ya sittin' here by yaself when he can't watch what you're doin'."
The ugly sound of her menacing voice sliced through Ellen, and she realized that the gang girl's first confused and jealous attitude toward her was turning into one of reviling contempt that was bound to burst into an open violence soon. What the girl was and who she was no longer had any importance to Ellen, as all she could feel was Sylvia's deep enmity coming from so deep within her that the brunette's strikingly pretty face was transformed into an expression of animal loathing.
The voluptuous young blonde paused in fear and confusion, not really wanting to go out, then walked a few steps from the sink. Suddenly a flash of pain struck her face and sent her head reeling. "Ya didn't hear what I said?" Sylvia gritted her teeth and slapped her open hand hard against Ellen's face once more. "Get it moving!"
The blow had brought Ellen to her senses, and for one split second she surveyed the gang girl with equal enmity. She forced herself to turn away from the girl and turned impassively to the door. As she tried to step into the next room Sylvia's taller frame moved out from the doorway and partially blocked her. She could feel the brunette's hot breath against her cheek and could sense electric shocks of hatred radiating out from her tensed body.
"You mess with Billy, and it's the last time ya mess with anything, do you hear me?" Sylvia said in a whisper so that the others couldn't understand. "I had him before ya even laid eyes on him, and I'll cut your tits off and shove 'em up your cunt if I have to to keep him," she hissed, inching past the girl and through the door.
"All right, what's goin' on?" Billy demanded as the two women entered the living room. When neither answered, he said, "Both of you – over there where I can keep an eye on you… and keep quiet."
Ellen brushed the tears of rage from her eyes and sat down on the bare mattress behind the table. She watched Sylvia cross the room and stand next to the window. She noticed that the girl's eyes still glowed with the reviling contempt that had sent her into the tantrum a moment before, and Ellen turned her head towards the men seated around the table.
"We got a little plan that's real interesting," Billy said, staring at Ellen, a half-grin of obvious pride on his face.
"I'd like to know what the girl has to do with the plan," the older man at the head of the table said sharply. "After all, there is a certain amount of risk involved in a venture of this nature. The greater number of participants only increases the probability of something going wrong."
"Ya keep your big words to yaself," Billy said. "She's here and she's going to be part of it."
Suddenly the large German Shepherd rose up from his prone position on the floor and came to attention next to his master's side as though he had sensed a note of urgency or danger. Billy ran his hand nervously down the animal's back, and shifted his eyes from Ellen back to the angry face of the man who pulled out some papers from his briefcase, setting them on the table before them.
"Alright, Billy," the man said condescendingly. "But let us keep in mind that you are putting yourself into a jeopardizing position. There are men higher up who won't appreciate your methods."
"Thanks for the advice fella," Billy said and slapped the dog affectionately on the rear. "But let's get on with it."
Ellen tried to appear disinterested in what was going on around her, but she found it difficult not to follow the discussion. It was obvious that the men were planning a murder that would effect the political and social life of the entire area, if not the whole country, but it was still impossible to discover the reason for the assassination or who was to be shot. Ellen almost didn't want to know, as she was aware that the very possession of such knowledge would make things increasingly hard for her. She also felt that Billy had little, if any, understanding of the implications of the horrible act he was about to commit, yet he appeared to rush headlong into the plot like a blindfolded animal being led to its slaughter.
"I want you and your friend here," the man said, pointing to Cash, "to be at the entrance to the rally before the parade begins. This will give you the opportunity to survey the area. Our men will be waiting at the first exit to pick you up after the job is completed. The senator should be the first speaker on the program, and you'll have a perfect vantage point to get a bead on him from behind his head."
"And what if they see us?" Cash asked. "There's gonna be a big crowd there and if they get a look at us, we're done for."
"There will be no problem. On the opposite side of the stadium there will be a fist fight planned – and some of our own men will be doing it – and just before you shoot, the crowd's attention will be deflected from Senator Jorgens."
Ellen suppressed a gasp of recognition on hearing the senator's name being spoken. She realized that the man they were about to assassinate had been an important figure in Florida politics for several years, and had developed several enemies in the underworld that centered around Miami because of his brave attack on organized crime. She recalled with a painful sense of irony that Senator Jorgens had been the very man who had been pushing hard for prison reform within the state, and along with his investigation of crime had been exposing the inequities of the penal system in Florida. Certainly the four criminals in their ignorance did not realize this – but if they did, the question was whether it would make any difference. Yes, Billy and the rest were truly being used as tools that would be discarded after their purpose had been served. There was no doubt in her mind that their death warrants had already been signed by the underworld lords. Ellen, herself, could see that as plain as daylight; but in their desperation and ignorance the escaped convicts were in no position to view the consequences of their acts.
"Yeah, but if any of them people get a glance at us, it still looks like it'll all be over," Billy answered after a moment of thought.
"We have prepared for that eventuality, Billy," the man said smoothly, talking to Billy as though he were a small child who just couldn't understand. "The moment you shoot him, another shot will ring out from behind our fist fight. It will actually be a firecracker, and there will be no weapon to be found. By the time the police get to our decoy, you and your friend will be out of the stadium."
"I don't like it," Pop said for the first time.
"What don't you like about it?" the man said, turning sharply to the new speaker.
"The part about gettin' out. That street is gonna be packed and there'll be cops to hell and back."
"Now we come to the next stage in our plan," the man said and leaned closer to Cash and Billy who sat on either side of him. "We've got to make the killing look as though it came from the protectors who've been making trouble recently. There will be a demonstration, as there always is, planned by us, and the student protectors will be uncomfortably close to our little fist fight. Now, knowing the temper of these times, who do you think is going to get fingered, you or the Students Alliance?"
"I don't want nothin' to do with no Goddamn protest," Billy muttered, looking uncertain.
"My dear boy, don't you understand that the demonstrators will be your salvation? Who would suspect a couple of wanted men – actually appearing in public to kill a controversial senator, when a bunch of noisy college kids will be waving signs and shouting their usual obscenities. You've just got to understand the dynamics of mob behavior. A crowd has no individuality; it does not think, it just acts – and our three ingredients, the fight, the firecracker, and the demonstrators, will more than assure you of complete success and escape."
"I don't know whatcha talkin' about," Billy said morosely. "But I get the feeling that you haven't leveled with us about why you want this Goddamn senator ripped off so real bad."
"Yeah, what's in it for you?" Vito's nasal voice joined in.
"My motives are of no special importance to you," the man nodded seriously. "Knowing too much may, in fact, be disadvantageous. I am a careful man who works for careful men, and I do not think you need to attach much importance to what you are doing. Just remember that it is through my employers that you have been able to make your escape from prison. We did that for you. We're prepared to go the rest of the way and see you get to Mexico in safety."
"I don't like the way you're runnin' everything. I think we can make this thing go better'n you, seein' that we're professionals," Billy interjected, a forced skepticism in his voice. He didn't mind all the brain work being allotted to others, but he reacted violently to the fact that he was being forced to follow the methods of people he did not know and did not trust. A flicker of jealous concern raced through his mind when he realized that his position as gang leader was being usurped by this outsider. "We got the experience and the know-how in making a hit, anyway."
"And that is precisely why we have hired you. However, on other levels there are things you cannot do. You have no idea of the larger concerns that govern the operation," the man responded contemptuously and rose up stiffly in his chair. "The other aspects of this project should not concern you or your men."
"There ain't no other concerns right now but that we get our money. Look here, Mr. Big Businessman, you show us the stash of cash, right now, or there won't be no big operation," Billy spat out angrily, suddenly fed up with the stranger's slickness. He leapt to his feet, "Let's see the green stuff!"
The man sat motionless at the head of the table and gazed coolly across the floor past Billy to the rain splattered warehouse window. He seemed to catch everything in his calm gaze in that instant, passing his eyes from the dog sitting tensely at Billy's side to the convict at the table, and slowly flicking them past the two women.
"It's all here for you to look at," the man said and opened his briefcase, withdrawing a stack of one-hundred dollar bills. "One half now. You get the rest, my friend, after the killing."
"How do we know you won't cross us?" Pop suddenly demanded from the far end of the table.
"You don't know, do you?" the man said without raising his voice.
On command from Billy the dog jumped to its feet and moved like a shot towards the man. The man did not lose his composure, he merely said in a normal tone of voice, "Down, Rex!" The huge animal snarled in rebellion, but the stranger continued to stare directly at it. "Down," he repeated. The dog looked questioningly up at his master.
"I just wanted to give you an idea that we ain't foolin' with ya," Billy said nervously, then added, "Down, Rex." His fists were clenched as he glared at the table.
"I have no doubts about that," the would-be victim answered, smiling sarcastically. "But this is all very childish. Sit down so we can finish making our preparations."
Suddenly Billy looked cowed. All his attempts to intimidate the older man and to retain his own precarious power had failed, and he seemed almost defeated standing with his command all but gone and his pride smashed. It was obvious to Ellen that he was unable to understand the intricacies of the assassination plot, and that he was no more than a hired gunman… and not a very bright one at that. He and the rest of them were expendable items and had a limited usefulness, but none of them knew this.
Almost as if sensing his untenable position, the gang leader sat down. He stared, almost unseeingly, at the well-dressed man. All of his criminal instincts told him something was wrong, but there was nothing he could do about it; with a snap of his fingers the man with the briefcase could have him and the others back in prison where they would probably remain for most of their lives, living in a kind of twilight world of unfulfilled dreams and vain promises… if they weren't hit by the underworld within the walls as a lesson to others. His own men were probably more distrustful of him now than they had ever been, and this is what made things all the more painful. He couldn't stand being knocked down in front of the others as though he were just a piece of dirt. Irrationally, he thought about pulling his gun and killing the man opposite him, but one look at his own trembling hands told him he'd never pull it off.
The rain drove in long sweeps across the parking lot outside the warehouse and beat against the windows of the ramshackle building in a mounting fury that seemed to match the violence of the discussion going on inside. Ellen felt the impact of the two forces merge inside her and her very body shuddered while the argument between the opposing figures of authority continued to build in intensity. She felt her heart go out to Billy and the other prisoners as she became more and more aware that they were no match against the real professional seated at the head of the table. Even the German Shepherd lying by the gang leader's side had been prevented from attacking the man, as though the animal itself were no match against the superior will of the stranger. Ellen likened the prison escapees to a bunch of children who had lost their way in a woods and had reverted back to their primal nature, searching and stumbling down blind paths that only made them more utterly lost while their base animal selves took over.
And now, despite the fact that they had raped her and run their coarse hands over and over her body as though she were nothing more than a slut off the streets, she felt pity mixed with fear for them: did they know what tragedy awaited them, or had they been reduced to mere sub-humans by their years of confinement… and unable to recognize that the superior cunning of the man with the briefcase was to be their own destruction?
"The money looks OK," Billy said grudgingly and counted the bills, laying them down on the table in front of the man. "When do we get the rest?"
"That, of course, comes after the killing," the man said coldly and looked down at the dog lying next to Billy.
"The boat's gonna be waiting? Ya know we'll be hot for about five years," the gang leader asked, looking at Cash and Pop almost as if he were seeking their support against this man.
"Your driver will have this map," the man said and drew out a folded chart from his briefcase. "This will show him the route marked to the private pier down the coast about ten miles. A boat will be waiting along with the balance of your payment. In a few days you'll be safe in Mexico."
"Mexico! Whooopeeee!" Vito suddenly shouted with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, clapping his hands gleefully. "Goddamn, I can't wait to get my hands on some of them senoritas!"
The stranger looked harshly across at the little convict, an expression of contempt on his face for a moment. "It is not necessarily going to be that easy. Once you get to the boat you should be relatively safe, but there still are some risks, even though we are taking all precautions at the stadium."
"What happens if them demonstrators don't raise a ruckus?" Billy asked.
"It will be impossible for them not to do so. We have our own plants in the crowd who will stir them up. I think we can assume that a few of the protectors will be injured by the police."
"That's no sweat off my back," Billy muttered. "Just as long as we get our dough and get out quick."
"You must remember to follow the agreed-upon plan. The higher ups in the organization know what they're doing. We're the only protection you have, and the protection will work only if you follow instructions."
Billy looked around the table at Cash, Pop, and Vito. They did not look back at him but kept their eyes lowered to the map on the table. There was no doubt which way they would go if he put the choice to them.
"Okay, fella, let's hear the rest of it," he said after a few minutes.
There were no other objections after Billy had had his say, and Ellen sat in stunned and helpless silence as the whole horrible plot was outlined before her eyes that would assassinate an important public figure and leave several bystanders dead or injured and would free the crime syndicate that was engineering the plot to operate without restraint.
The long day went on and on… interminably. Tempers grew short, and more than once, a snarling Billy was forced to back down. Time and time again, the men went over the plan, each one learning his part in the operation until it was committed to memory. It was late afternoon before the man folded his maps and packed them away in his briefcase. Billy had followed the complicated plan throughout the day while occasionally one or two of the others had to be nudged awake because of the humid, stupefying heat. Periodically, as the afternoon wore on, Ellen felt Pop's and Cash's eyes returning to view her half-naked young body in obvious remembrance of what they had done to her the night before. Sylvia slept – unmindful of the conversation going on around her. But the snake-like eyes of Vito didn't sleep; they followed Ellen's every movement and they plainly said what he would like to do to her later that night. The others had gotten theirs and with Sylvia on hand to complicate things it looked like he might have the opportunity to take advantage of her when the others became distracted with the final steps of the assassination plot, and he was left alone with the girl.
Finally, the well-dressed man and the gang leader moved toward the door. "Okay, it's all set to go," Billy said, standing at the stairway. It was then he seemed to relax a little and asked quizzically. "But one other thing. How come ya thought of hiring us to do the rip-off?"
The stranger smiled for the first time and raised his briefcase off the floor. "We look for experts and found them. We put no cost level on gunmen we hire, you ought to know that from the conversations you had in the Pen."
"Yeah, that's right," Billy shrugged, sounding only half-assured. He was still standing there, looking uncertain, when he closed the door behind him without even waiting for the stranger to leave the warehouse.