Chapter 59 - CANNING

For all of Walker's casual manner, the tension on BALI was palpable. While Cyr and the cowboy went eyeball-to-eyeball with the angry little mobster, Caldwell waded through the chaos below, broken-hearted. Lantern chimneys shattered, books and charts and papers sodden, food mixed into a rank paste, bedding soaked and fouled, but the worst saved til last.

When Caldwell finally dug through the mess and got the floorboards up he saw immediately why BALI was leaking so badly. The knockdown had so shocked the mast and mast-step the planking beneath it had spewed more caulking and might even be dangerously loose. The old Concordia would have to come out of the water again, and soon. And it didn't look like there'd be any easy money to cover the costs.

"Ah doane see whah not," Walker was saying. "If da fishboys is willin, whah cain't we'all do the haulin?"

"Dey could blow da whistle any time," Rizzo pointed out.

"So y'all'd have to cut'em in," Walker shrugged. "An us too, fo da cartage."

"I could pay you by not shootin your asses," Chinetti snarled.

"Nawh, nawh, Mistah C," Walker cautioned. "They's too many these fishboys knows ah re-lationship nawh."

Chinetti sat with his arms folded and his face pinched. If he cut the fishermen in they'd have reason to keep quiet, even if he chose to shoot these preppy assholes. And he also knew there was some kind of bubble over Walker which protected him from any ultimate retribution. The question was how little could he offer them all and still break even with Mainardi? Getting the drugs to HIM was the important thing.

"Uncle Sam's Finest have already sniffed about our unmentionables,' Cyr volunteered.

"What?" Chinetti said. " Why doane you speak the fuckin language, Schnozzo?"

"The Guardia Coastale done searched ah sweet vessel fo contraband," Walker explained. "We'all could sail raght outa heah smelling laghk mamselle's boudoir."

Chinetti digested this information. Maybe these dipshits were right. They did look too phoney-baloney and incompetent to be smugglers.

They could hear SUZY's big diesel echoing back along the thoroughfare. Caldwell came up at the sound, and Sonny was soon back alongside.

"Made up your minds yet?" Sonny asked.

The sailors looked at Chinetti. "All right," he said. "what if these dumbfucks take the coke, like we had planned? They could get PAID on delivery," Rizzo stared narrowly at Walker as he emphasized the word. "Whaddaboud you? Whadda you want?" he asked Sonny.

"The same hunnerd thou we talked about," Sonny answered. "You pay half in the next 24 hours, and we don't call John Law. The rest after delivery, to keep us honest."

"Why should I pay the rest after?" Rizzo asked. This fish chaser was obviously no fool.

"We might do some business inna future, Mr. Chinetti. Once the hard feelins wayah off," Sonny suggested. "We showah could pick up highflyers a lot bettah than this crew."

Chinetti smiled for the first time since the shootings. These Smithport boys just wanted to get in on the action. "Holy Mother of God, these fishermen as as bad as mobsters," he thought.

"Awright," Rizzo nodded. "How do we do it? An whaddaboud dose two?" he pointed toward the bodies in SUZY-Q.

"That's easy," Sonny said. "We empty the drum into your hideout," Sonny looked at Caldwell, who nodded, "and can these two."

"Jesus," Cyr said involuntarily.

"Do it," Chinetti ordered.

Sonny broke out some wrenches and got the top of the barrel unsealed and opened, while Caldwell crawled into BALI's engine compartment and opened the end of the false tank. Using a couple of 5-gallon pails from SUZY's collection, they ferried the packets of cocaine from boat to boat.

When the barrel was empty Walker helped Sonny stuff the thugs into it. Their bodies were stiffening, of course, and Walker had to get up and jump on Bobo to drive him down below the top rim, getting his silver-trimmed boots a bit bloody.

Walker was surprised by his reaction. The glee of jumping up and down on a killer's dead body would have given him a real rush before, and the blood on his boots would have seemed ceremonial, but he found himself a bit sickened in his enthusiasm. Maybe this wasn't such a fun caper after all. He was glad when Sonny clamped on the top, and started hosing down the deck. The cowboy stuck his boots in the streaming hot water coming off SUZY's manifold.

"I'll drop this package off," Sonny said. "I suggest you make out through the thoroughfare," he pointed to the channel toward the great beach, and head offshore outside Halifax. You got a chart?" Sonny asked Caldwell.

"Yeh," Caldwell was more than a little queasy after watching them "can" the gunmen.

"You can take the whaylah and cut it adrift outside," Sonny went on.

"Whaddaboud me?" Chinetti asked.

"I'll give ya a ride ashowah, Mistah C. Seein's we're gonna be pahtners."

Sonny finished flushing SUZY's deck. "I wouldn't waste too much time gettin away," Sonny suggested. "I'll try an distrack the Coasties, if we see' em. But they'll get around to checkin heyah soon enough."

Caldwell nodded agreement. He wasn't real sure BALI was up for another outside passage, but at least they'd be running and reaching, instead of beating. She'd probably make it to Small Point, if they were careful. God knows what they'd meet with there, though. This whole deal had gone so sour, he'd have to scrub his mouth for a year. If they let him.

"Doane fuck up," Rizzo said menacingly, as he climbed over into SUZY. Sonny pointed his finger like a gun at Walker and pushed the boats apart.

"Y'all be kine to dah hosses," Walker shouted, as Sonny hit the throttle.