Hondo said, “Prove it.”
Carl grinned and came at him. Hondo hit him so hard Carl’s feet came off the ground and he hit on his back, but was up in a second.
“Grin some more,” Hondo said.
Carl wasn’t grinning now. He was mad clear through. I reached them and ran to attack Carl from the left and he snapped the fastest side-kick at my head that I’d ever seen. I partially dodged it, but enough connected that I went down in a floppy heap, still conscious and able to see and hear, but motor functions were short-circuited. I saw Hondo come at him and Carl focused his blows on Hondo’s chest and back. He grappled with Hondo and used his knees like a Thai boxer, driving devastating pneumatic thrusts of knee and thigh into Hondo’s chest and sides as he held him.
Hondo broke free and staggered back. Blood stained his shirtfront and back, and a thin red trickle from his mouth that looked way too bright. I tried to stand up on noodle legs and felt like my head was floating on a stick body two inches wide and ten feet tall.
Rakes closed in for the kill and Hondo waited until Carl swung his right hand, then Hondo grasped Carl’s arm at the wrist and elbow and used the Russian’s own momentum to take them both over. Hondo continued in a roll that brought him up first, with one knee centered on the forearm between his two hands.
He broke Carl’s forearm like you would break a stick. I staggered toward them as Carl screamed from the pain and drove his left fist into the red spot on Hondo’s shirt.
Hondo went over backward and didn’t move. Carl rolled to his feet and cradled the right arm to his stomach. He picked up the green bag and turned to go.
I tackled him around the shoulders and held on as he ran toward the Americas. He stopped long enough to elbow me loose and followed with a hard kick that sent me backpedalling until Bond caught me. Cuarenta and another Maravilla stood between Carl and the drifting yacht, but they might as wel
l have been children trying to stop a lion. Two swift, savage kicks left them both unconscious on the dock. Carl never even put down the gym bag.
I tried to pull away from Bond but she held me tight and said, “No, he’ll kill you.”
The Americas was sideways to the dock, but twenty feet away and moving farther every few seconds. I saw Frank regain his feet on the yacht and look around. Carl looked at the Americas and tossed the gym bag underhanded so that it landed on the deck. Carl then backed up about fifteen steps, stuck his broken arm in his shirt and ran forward.
Rakes leaped at the edge of the dock and sailed high through the air to land in a stumbling fall on the deck that knocked him and Frank down. I heard Carl yelling and cursing in pain. You didn’t need to translate Russian to know that fall hurt.
Chato had Hondo’s arm over his shoulder as they walked over to stand beside me. Bond stepped away and looked at the yacht. Carl stood up, then Frank, who still looked woozy. Carl held up the bag and said, “I vin, the chew-els vill cause me riches!”
Frank’s voice wavered, “Bond....”
I glanced at her and saw she was looking at the bag. She said in a soft, tired voice, “He doesn’t have them, does he.” She said it like a statement.
“Nope.”
“How did you know who he would ask to hold the bag?”
“I didn’t. The fake one was on the forklift, the side you couldn’t see. It went back and forth in front of everyone, so it didn’t matter who was picked, they would have time to exchange the bags.”
Bond nodded, “Clever.”
“World’s Most Clever Detective.”
She smiled a sad smile and we both looked at the boat.
Carl laughed and waved the bag, then he put it on the overturned forklift and reached inside.
His laughter stopped as he drew out a coffee can full of sand with the lid duct taped on and dozens of Happy Face stickers stuck on the can. Carl reached in again and drew out one of those black globe fortune telling eight-balls you give kids who then ask it questions and turn it over to read the messages that floated up like: Ask again later, or Outcome Doubtful. He looked desperate as he reached inside the bag. He lifted out two pink bubblegum cigars taped together to form a cross. I’d also glued colored M&M’s to it. His eyes widened, like he couldn’t believe it. He reached in a last time and pulled out a rubber chicken.
I yelled, “Spend it wisely!” We could hear sirens in the distance. Pretty Boy came up with the other Maravillas behind him and handed me the real gym bag. I held it up and let Rakes see it.
Carl’s face twisted and he began to look around on the boat, disappearing from sight as he went below deck. Frank cried and looked at us, holding his hand out to Bond. When Rakes appeared again, he had a Bery pistol in his hand. He raised it to fire and yelled, “I burn you, Baca!”
Frank yelled, “No!” and pulled Carl’s arm down as the Russian fired. The two struggled as tongues of flame and black oily smoke spread in the burning diesel around the forklift. The last thing I saw was Carl pulling Frank in front of him and backing away from the fire.
The yacht exploded in a gigantic ball of flame and noise. The concussion was so strong it knocked all of us off our feet. Debris and burning ash rained down on us and I heard the different pitched metallic wangs and bonks as various sized pieces hit the roof of the Borax warehouse behind us. There were also horn honks and faint yells and whistles and applause coming from the bridge. They thought we were making a movie. Only in LA.
Pretty Boy stood up and looked where the Americas had been. There was a little fire on the water and bubbles and ash, but nothing else. He said, “Man, you guys know how to take care of trouble.”
Bond stood beside him and said, “My husband was on that boat.”