The Plantation - By Chris Kuzneski Page 0,48

dramatic. When my grandfather died, he left the family business to me.”

“Like a family restaurant or something?”

Payne shrugged, trying not to brag. “Something like that.”

Greene nodded his approval. “As I was saying, I didn’t have the expertise to take out the shooter, so I did the next best thing. I called the cops.”

“So, that was you!” Jones said, happy that Greene had come through for them. “The police said someone had reported the crime to 911, but they weren’t willing to give a name.”

“I told you, I don’t like dealing with the cops. Plus, I don’t want to read tomorrow’s newspaper and see my name linked to a bad part of town. That wouldn’t be good for my image.”

“Amen!” said Payne as he thought about the irony of Greene’s statement. “Now let’s go inside this strip club and bitch to the owner about the defective guns that you bought for us.”

DESPITE the approach of daylight, the Fishing Hole was still crawling with semiaroused men and naked women, a sight that surprised Payne and Jones. Neither man was a huge fan of the skin club scene, so they weren’t aware that most dancers usually did their best business just before closing time—due to the horniness and intoxication of their fans.

“Let me see if Terrell’s still here,” Greene stated. “It’s nearly four A.M., so there’s a good chance he’s already gone home for the night.”

“Should we go with you?” Jones wondered.

“Probably not. Terrell’s pretty skittish around new people. If the three of us go charging back there, he’s liable to get pissed. And trust me, you don’t want to see him pissed.”

Payne nodded while receiving a skeptical glance from Jones. Once Greene had entered the club’s back corridor, Jones spoke up. “What’s your gut say about Terrell Murray?”

“It’s undecided. Earlier tonight he seemed pretty hospitable, but it could’ve been an act. I find it pretty suspicious that he sold us defective weapons and recommended our visit to Sam’s shooting gallery within a twenty-four-hour period. That’s a pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?”

“But what would he gain from our deaths? Like you mentioned, if the kidnappers want your money, they need to keep you alive.”

“I know. That’s why my gut is undecided. I don’t know why he’d want to eliminate us. Shoot, maybe all of this was just a fluke.”

Jones pondered Murray’s role as he watched the Fishing Hole’s crowd. “You know, maybe he doesn’t want to kill us. Maybe he has to.”

“How so?”

“In a perfect world, the people who took Ariane would want to take your money, but maybe our presence in New Orleans has everyone spooked. Maybe the kidnappers figure it’s better to cut their losses before they get caught. You know, live to play another day.”

“Possibly,” Payne admitted. It was a thought that hadn’t crossed his mind. “But to be honest with you, I didn’t get the sense that Murray was surprised by our visit. If he is, in fact, the ringleader of this crime, you’d think that our appearance would’ve flustered him.”

“You’re right, but if Levon had mentioned our names when he purchased the guns earlier in the day, Murray would’ve had plenty of time to gather his senses. Right?”

“Right.”

“And get faulty weapons for us.”

“Yep.”

“And arrange our death.”

“I see what you’re saying. But for some reason that last part just doesn’t seem to click. If Murray wanted us dead and he knew that we had broken guns, then why didn’t he have someone walk into Sam’s shop and shoot us at close range?”

“That’s a good point. So where does that leave us?”

Payne shrugged. “Confused and very tired. I’m sure there’s something staring us in the face, but I can’t think of it.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” Greene said from behind. His approach had been so silent he startled both Payne and Jones. “Terrell’s not here, so I think our refund is going to have to wait.”

“That’s okay,” Jones muttered. “I think all of us could use some sleep before we face our next round of confrontations.”

Payne nodded. “Trust me, my gut tells me that there are some big ones headed our way.”

CHAPTER 26

WITH the help of several guards, Hakeem Ndjai ordered the captives out of their cabins at the first sign of daylight. He led the bruised and battered group across the dew-covered grass to the far end of the field. The walk was a brisk one, forcing the prisoners to maintain a pace that they were barely able to keep, but at no point were they tempted

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