CHAPTER 5--DDT

June 1997

I

spotted them, Queen, about three smokes later, about a hundred cars out, walking between rows of cars, holding hands, with Louie leading the way.

"Good work, my little friend," I muttered. Out of nowhere, a little Asian man appeared and started getting into the car I was facing. Didn't really it give much thought, Queen, at the time. And I wouldn't realize how fortuitous an event it would turn out to be until a few minutes later.

Louie and Ginny were now just 30 cars away, and picking up the pace, but not so fast as to make anything seem suspicious. And then, right then, was when I happened to notice something in my rear view mirror. Something black. An automobile. A certain kind of automobile. A BMW. A 328i to be exact. Late model. With dark, tinted windows. Blocking the way.

Something in my gut began to churn.

Hurry the fuck up, you two!

The back side door to van popped open and I heard Ginny declare, "Oh my God, did you guys see what happened in there? This guy started shoot..."

I cut her off. "We know what happened."

Louie opened the passenger door and took shotgun.

"How come Louie always gets to ride shotgun? And what happened? Were you there? I was taking a piss. And all of a sudden I heard gunshots and people screaming and ..."

"Ginny, shut up."

She cast me an evil eye through the rear view mirror.

"OK, can I have a cigarette? Please!"

"No, I only have one left. Can you move your head to side a little bit to the left?"

I couldn't see what was happening with the BMW.

"What are you looking at?" she said turning around. "That car?"

"None of your business."

"You know you guys are a couple of assholes, you know that? Here you drag me half way 'cross the country to Las Vegas, where I've never been, and to a casino, where I've never been as well. And you fucking leave me sleeping in the van."

"If I give you a cigarette, my last fucking one, will you shut up?"

"Deal."

As she smoked, I watched through the rear view mirror.

"Jack was the guy that killed the murderer in there," Louie explained to Ginny.

"Yeah, right," she said.

At that point in time I was on her side.

"Yeah, right."

"No, seriously, man, he did."

"Like he has a gun," she said flatly.

Behind the reflection of her bored face, it was still there, ominously blocking our way. I looked at the little Asian man. He was seated in his car, a green Hyundai, but he seemed to be fidgeting with his seat belt, or something. Anyway, he was taking freaking, fucking forever.

It occurred to me that I should honk, but then that would just draw attention to us. I mean, Queen, what could I really think at that point? The guy in the black Beamer was probably just waiting for a parking space to open up. Maybe ours. I eyed the car again. The dark window of the driver's side revealed no secrets.

And then ever so slowly, it did.

The dark glass descended smoothly, unmasking the mystery behind the tinted blackness. A cloud of smoke erupted from the mouth of the car's occupant and exited the vehicle, and as that smoke cleared, and I could see the person's face, I just about died. I'd recognize that profile anywhere. It was him. I could not fucking believe it.

It was Tony. Tony Domenico. DDT. Holy shit. No, make that holy fucking shit. I mean, of all the lousy fucking casinos in the world where I ended up having to play good guy and blow some psycho-suicidal maniac to kingdom come, how did it come to pass that my deadliest enemy was there at the same time, a man I hadn't seen in three decades, alive and breathing?

After all these fucking years.

And he was just sitting there. Smoking a long thin smoke. Staring straight ahead. It really seemed like he didn't know we were there. I didn't want to give him the chance to find out. Kept my head fixed straight. But then would he recognize me after all the years? For sure, I'd gone from being GI Joe to a long-haired freaked, and I'd aged.

Not only are these cats the worst drivers, Queen, BUT THEY TAKE FUCKING FOREVER! Now I honked. And honked again. The Asian man smiled politely and started up the Hyundai. He had trouble starting it. Eyed Tony via the rear view mirror again, and saw that he was still smoking his long thin cigarette. Just sitting there and smoking.

Thought maybe if I threw the thing in reverse and bashed him as he sat inside his Beamer, my DDT problem would be over. Then again that just might have been the beginning of a whole new set of problems. I'd already killed one man that day, and really didn't want to make it two. And maybe it wasn't him, I kidded myself. Maybe, I was hallucinating, Not really giving it much thought, I pulled the Glock out.

"Oh, my God, you do have a gun!” Ginny exclaimed.

She said it so loud I thought DDT must have heard. Then the Hyundai started.

"Throw that cheap Japanese tin can into gear and get going," I whispered under my breath. Of course, Louie and Ginny are looking at me like, "What the fuck is your problem old man? Chill, man, chill. Don't make a scene."

"Louie, that's Tony in that black BMW," I informed him.

"Who?"

"Tony, the guy I told you about. You know."

"No shit!"

Louie started to turn his head.

"Are you sure?"

"No," I said. I lied.

"Don't act like you're looking at him."

Of course, Ginny had to turn and look. And just as she did, the BMW lurched forward and vanished with a screech of tires.

Ginny: "What was that all about?"

She didn't understand how much the man in that black car hated me, hated yours truly. For years, when it wasn't the Army that I was hiding from-who still hadn't closed the AWOL file on me completely-it was Double Down Tony and his pledge to get me back for what I did to him back in Vietnam.

Finally, fucking finally, my little friend from the East had backed out enough to almost allow me a window of opportunity. Want you to know, Queen, I had always hoped that if I was to ever come face to face with Tony, that it'd be me and him alone. His abrupt reappearance in my life made me scared for my young friends. Real scared. Felt irresponsible at that point just having friends.

God, it'd been so many years since I last heard of his whereabouts, I'd just forgotten about him. Oh, I heard stories five years back that he was doing solider-of-fortune, mercenary type work, or had done enough contract hits to pay for a kind retirement in South America or the Caribbean. All the war did for him was turn him into a fine killing machine. And I had hoped that he had-that was fine with me, as long as he'd forgotten about yours truly.

Yeah, right, Queen, like you can ever forget someone who shot you and left you for dead.

And something about how he just appeared out of nowhere made me nervous. And it occurred to me as well, as we jumped out onto the highway that, shit, this '88 Dodge 250 Ram was a good van. In fact, with the four-wheel drive conversion it came with, it was actually a very practical ride, but it was no match for a BMW on a smooth highway. How did he find us there?

It was time to be aware, very aware.

Finally, on the road north to Vegas, things calmed down. Well, I was still rattled. Mean I knew he lived in that region, but it was a big region.

"So, you did you really shoot that guy in there?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Can I hold it?"

"What?"

"The gun."

"No."

"I never get to have any fun."

"Handing you a loaded gun is not my idea of fun."

"Is it the gun you used to kill that guy?" she asked.

"I think I'm going to plead the Fifth."

"What kind is it?"

"It's a Glock 27."

"Is that good, I mean, is that, like, expensive?"

"Guns as good as this one cost thousands of dollars."

"Thousands?" Her mouth dropped.

Louie laughed.

"I don't like guns," she said, as though she just then decided.

"I don't either," Louie chipped in.

"Why?" I directed back at Gin.

"They're too expensive, and they kill people."

"Shit, they're too cheap, that’s the problem. Like the Saturday Night Special," Louie added.

"So you really don't like guns, Louie?" Ginny asked.

"I'd be a happy amigo today if the guy whose house I broke into chose instead to just kick my ass the old-fashioned way. Guns are for cowards."

"OK, Jack, it's two-to-one. We ditch the gun," Ginny said.

"You don't understand, this isn't a democracy. This is a dictatorship, and I'm the dictator, and so there."

"It's this guy, DDT, isn’t it?" Louie asked.

"Yeah, pretty much and that ever since 'Nam my gun is something I make sure I have with me always-just like your wallet, your keys, your smokes, your lighter. It's like I don't feel totally prepared unless I have everything on that checklist. And my gun is on that checklist."

"But, see, you used it to kill that guy."

"What the hell was I supposed to do? Die?"

"You could have just kicked him. You were right next to him."

"Louie, not everyone can kick like you."

Suddenly, in my rear view, I noticed it, a black car, approaching us. My stomach started to turn again. Between the fading light of sunset and the dirt I couldn't tell the make until it was almost on top of us. It turned out to be a Corvette. And as that black Corvette exercised its option to pass us, like any other lost tourist on the road to sin city, like we were nothing, I let out a laugh.

A nervous laugh.

"Hey Jack," Ginny blurted out, “maybe you should sell your gun and buy a faster car."