Mad Dogs by James Grady Read Free Book Online Page B

dead woman’s legs splayed open and out to his sides, her hips cradled across his thighs like one of the Kama Sutra techniques I’ve never gotten to try. I focused where Zane pointed, toward the white cotton crescent of her pubis; blinked then saw what he wanted me to, a rash like dozens of pin pricks high on the inside of her left thigh.
    â€œThere’s an answer,” said Zane. “Mice.”
    Russell said: “I’m sorry, Vic. For what I did. Spacing out .”
    â€œShe was a ‘ C ’ girl,” said Zane.
    â€œSpacing out is your thing, Vic,” continued Russell. “Hailey’s our mumbler…”
    MICE : M oney. I deology. C ompromise. E go. The Four Horsemen Of Espionage. The four categories of motivation that create spies or traitors.
    â€œZane here melts down in heat…”
    â€œShe’s probably a real nurse,” said Zane. “A stressed-out medico who got hooked on dispensary stock and salesmen samples. She probably ran out of other skin to shoot. Somebody found out, somebody owned her. Somebody stocked her and schooled her, sent her on her way. Straight to us. To Dr. F.”
    â€œEric is Mister Robot…”
    I shook my head: “She killed him, but she was a puppet on a string.”
    Nurse Death sprawled against the heap of bed. Zane got to his feet, picked up her pistol—a .380 Walther PPK like James Bond carried. She stared at me with five eyes.
    The pushed-up bra revealed her brown nipples and they stared at me.
    Her mascaraed lids drooped down over glassy green orbs and they stared at me.
    A singed red star dotted the meditative center of her forehead and it stared at me.
    â€œBut me,” continued Russell, “I’m Mister Kick Ass Guy. Yet I froze. Kicked the door in cool, plenty of Op Time… Froze. When I saw her standing there. In the bathroom. What’s up with that? What the hell do you think that means?”
    â€œThings happen.” I dumped a dresser drawer of Nurse Death’s clothes, checked the drawer’s bottom and back where nothing was taped.
    â€œâ€™Xactly,” said Zane. “But don’t screw up again. I wasn’t born to die dumb.”
    â€œWe’re running hot.” I dumped the next drawer. Hailey filled a bag from the closet with Nurse Dead’s cell phone, purse, all the paper. I threw Russell the motel room key from a different corpse. “Dr. F’s room. Four minutes. Toss, Grab & Go.”
    We met in the parking lot.
    Hailey threw the bag with Nurse Death’s litter in the car.
    Russell tossed Zane a tan Burberry topcoat from Dr. F’s room: “Your long arms will geek out of the sleeves, but a guy running around the last days of winter in only a shirt, pants and sneakers billboards: ‘Call the cops on me!’ ”
    He put a suitcase in the silver car’s trunk. “Doc’s laptop, address book, disks. He had under a hundred in cash stashed in a James Dalton novel about Watergate.”
    â€œThanks for the coat,” said Zane. “Smart thinking.”
    â€œYeah, well, I’m still sorry about that weird freeze-up.” Russell sidled closer to the white maned Jesus. “So, ah , smart thinking says I should carry her gun.”
    â€œYou froze.”
    â€œBut that was back there and this is out here.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not? Victor! Not fair. You won’t let me drive, but OK, you were the last one locked up, you got the most recent road muscles, so I’m cool with that. But everybody knows I’m better with a pistol than any of you. Zane won’t let me have it!”
    Hailey rolled her eyes. “We gotta go.”
    Eric bobbed his head in agreement, his eyes full of her and the road.
    I said: “Not yet.”
    Ten minutes later, the red neon MOTEL sign trembled in the rear view mirror of our road rumbling silver car. With the steering wheel vibrating in my grip, I watched that crimson