Chapter 61 - WELCOMING COMMITTEE

Sonny ran SUZY out the side door and pointed her across the seas toward the reach. He looked over at the Eastern Bay, but couldn't see any sign of the Coasties.

"Just as well," Sonny thought. They wouldn't be drawn over to check in the Hole, by his departure. Sonny flipped on the sounder and the electronic graph began to squiggle up and down, echoing the submarine terrain. He knew there was a rockpile somewhere in the middle of the open passage which both lobstermen and draggers tried to stay clear of because of its tendency to swallow gear. It was in a deep spot in the passage. A fine spot to deposit some canned thugs.

When the depth dropped off, Sonny slowed SUZY-Q, watching for the peaks of the pile. As they began spiking up, he slipped her out of gear and let the boat drift side-to the seas. He worried a kid board out from under the pile of nets, and leaned it between the deck and the starboard rail to make a ramp. Then Sonny cut away the buoy line near to the drum, and lay the barrel on its side. He started rolling it up the ramp, using the gaff handle as a lever and brake. Each time time the rail rolled down, he rolled the barrel higher, braking it as SUZY rolled the other way.

Chinetti stood with his arms folded in the corner of the deckhouse, watching the fisherman silently. Never offering a hand.

When the drum was up on the rail, Sonny asked," Any last words?" Rizzo just shook his head. He didn't know what he'd tell Mainardi, but he had no sentimental notions about those two hard cases.

"Bomb's away," Sonny said, rolling the barrel overside. The splash slopped up onto SUZY's rail, and the gray drum disappeared.

Sonny ran round in a circle to see if there was any sign of it on the sounder. Not that he'd be able to do anything. But there wasn't, and the fisherman pointed his boat back toward Smithport and let her rip. He reached over and switched on the CB, turning the selector to channel 11.

"And there they go, folks. The World's Fastest Lobsterboats racin fowah this year's prizes. Slaughter Alley has the jump on Bernie's SILVER STREAK again, but she's gaining fast, then it's numbahs 16, 24, 15 and 3 in ordah. To you, RACE2," came out of the radio.

"Wanna make a wayjah?" Sonny asked Chinetti.

"Do dey dope da ponies," Chinetti asked in reply, and they both laughed.

SUZY-Q was closing on the midway buoy as the racers flew up to it. HONEYDEW had the inside slot rounding the buoy, but Bernie was stem-to-stem with him. As they slowed and heeled round the mark, Slaughter let HONEY drift just enough to force Bernie over, then gunned her to cut in front. He almost got the STREAK blocked, but not quite. Bernie'd won too many of these races to get boxed, and the two leaders screamed down the back course with the other competitors very close behind.

Sonny shoved SUZY's throttle wide open and rode in their wake.

"Might's well see the finish," he shouted over the engine roar. Chinetti hung on tight. The reach was all churned up, and all the boats were leaping and tossing wildly.

"...What's this," came the report over channel 11. "Looks like SUZY-Q has finally come back to join the race. And she's bringin up the rear, as usual." The announcer laughed. "Ovah to RACE3." Sonny switched off the CB.

At the very end of the course HONEYDEW and the STREAK were absolutely even, and it would have been a dead heat, if Bernie's new boat hadn't blown a valve 50 yards from the finish. The nasty snarling of his engine could be heard be every trained ear, and the slight loss of power was just enough for Slaughter to pull ahead by a couple yards. The other boats came flying through the finish, and they all swept under the bridge to a loud salute of fireworks and the massed blowing of horns. Spectators were laughing and slapping five and pummeling each other, as Sonny swung in to the Co-op float.

Chinetti might have hoped to slip ashore unnoticed in the grand finale, but there was a trio of crewcut men in suits and shiny shoes waiting at the top of the ramp. Sonny shut down SUZY's engine, and tied up to the dock. He helped the fat little gangster over the side. Rizzo's suit was soiled and wrinkled and his shoes were stained by the salt water. He didn't look too good either. But he put on a good show puffing up the ramp beside the loping blond fisherman.

"Mr. Rizzo Chinetti?" one of the waiting men asked.

"Yes. What can I do for ya?"

"Do you own a Lincoln town car license OPUS-1?"

"Yuh. Doane tell me it's been inna accident," he said, smiling.

"Mr. Chinetti, you are under arrest for possession with intent to distribute a scheduled drug. You have the right..."

"Whaddaya mean undah arrest?" Chinetti shouted. "What kine of a seddup is dis?"

"We found six kilos of cocaine in your glovebox, Mr Chinetti," another one of the policemen gloated. "Do you deny..?" But he was cut off by the first man who insisted on reading Chinetti his rights, while the third snapped handcuffs on the furious mobster.

Rizzo suddenly looked at Sonny, grinning beside him, and a flash of realization lit his eyes. "You bastard," he said to the fisherman.

Sonny pointed his finger at Chinetti like a gun, and flicked his thumb. "I hope this won't involve YOUR family," Sonny remarked. "Shame to get women and children involved," he winked at the little gangster.

The first policeman now turned to Sonny. "We would like to ask you some questions as well, sir. And ask permission to examine your boat."

"Showah thing, officah," Sonny replied cordially. "But I'm blockin traffic heyah. Would you like me to bring it ovah the Station?"

The agent thought for a moment. "OK.," he said. He turned to one of his partners. "You want accompany him, Louis?" The man nodded, and Sonny turned to go.

"I'll getcha," Rizzo shouted over his shoulder, as the two agents led him away.

"Why dja spose he's blamin me?" Sonny asked the other agent. "A drug dealah, huh. I thought he was a racin fan."