Apaches by Lorenzo Carcaterra Read Free Book Online Page A

apartment two stories below.
    It was well into the middle of the night.
    Dead-Eye’s wife, Grace, was sound asleep in the bedroom next door. Dead-Eye moved away from his son’s crib and sat on the floor, legs folded, taking in the creaksand moans of the quiet house. All that he loved took breath between its walls. Memories, pleasant and sad, lived within the curves, nooks, and cracks of a house built five years before the start of the First World War. There was no violence in this house, only love.
    In there, the price of a gun had no history and a life had meaning and respect. If death did arrive, it came by way of disease or destiny, not in the form of late-night bullets. If only Dead-Eye could seal the contents of this house and keep everyone inside it safe and warm.
    But he knew that was a dream.
    Reality was waiting for Dead-Eye on the streets of Brooklyn. He had a meeting with Magoo in less than two hours, and one of them would die.
    Dead-Eye looked over at his son, asleep in this safe house of peace, and prayed that his guns would not betray him on this night.
    •    •    •
    D EAD -E YE KNEW IT was a setup the minute he stepped out of his car.
    Four men stood around Magoo, each wearing a long leather coat, standard designer wear for the heavily armed.
    The Spanish man was behind Magoo, nodding his head as Dead-Eye approached.
    “Hello, my friend,” he said. “You are here.”
    “I’m here,” Dead-Eye answered, looking over at Magoo.
    “Now we can do business,” the man told Dead-Eye. “Enough of this silly talk between us. We have to trust each other. You can’t do business without trust. And I trust you. It’s what I told Magoo. If you are a cop, then I am a cop. Then we are all cops.”
    “Chatty motherfucker, ain’t he?” Magoo said, smiling over at Dead-Eye.
    “Too chatty to be a cop,” Dead-Eye said.
    “It’s cold out here,” Magoo said. “Let’s take it upstairs. I think better when my teeth ain’t chatterin’.”
    They walked around the corner in a group, past graffitistrewn walls, Magoo holding the middle, the Spanish man next to him, four leather coats filling out the huddle. Dead-Eye stayed in step behind Magoo.
    “Lips here tells me you pretty good with a gun,” Magoo said, looking over his shoulder. “Took out one of his boys before he could even blink. That true?”
    “Pays to advertise,” Dead-Eye said.
    Magoo stopped, bringing the entire caravan to a halt. He turned to face Dead-Eye.
    “I ain’t too bad myself,” Magoo said. “In case you was wonderin’.”
    “I wasn’t,” Dead-Eye said.
    They stood before the entrance to a large housing complex. The benches around them were filled with sleeping homeless and users eyeing their next score. The few patches of grass at their feet were littered with bottles, used condoms, and split needles.
    “What sort of piece you carryin’?” Magoo asked Dead-Eye.
    “Askin’ to buy?” Dead-Eye answered with a smile. “If you are, it’s gonna cost you.”
    “I ain’t askin’,” Magoo said.
    Dead-Eye heard one of the leather coats to his left click a chamber into a semi. He looked over at the Spanish man, who smiled back at him and shrugged his shoulders.
    Dead-Eye unzipped his pea-green army surplus and reached into a side pocket. Magoo put a hand on top of his arm.
    “Do it slow,” Magoo said.
    Dead-Eye nodded and pulled out a semiautomatic, showing it to Magoo.
    “Release the clip,” Magoo said, looking at Dead-Eye and not the gun.
    “You ever do anything for yourself?” Dead-Eye asked,staring back, letting the silver cylinder slide from the gun to his cupped palm.
    “Only what I need to,” Magoo said, turning away.
    •    •    •
    T HEY MOVED AS one, past a flurry of curious eyes. One of the leather coats held the heavy green door to unit number six open with one hand. The other stayed in his pocket, cradling a cocked gun.
    Dead-Eye walked with his head bowed, mind racing. He had just made