at Fuselli."
Ernie and Toni arrived at Jacksonville airport some minutes after 11:00. They went immediately to Hertz Rent-a-car bureau and hired a Chevvy. While waiting for the car, Ernie asked the girl the best way to Jackson.
"Follow the freeway to your right," he was told. "No problem: Jackson is sign-posted: around thirty miles from here."
Ernie got in the passenger's seat. When he could avoid any form of work, he did so. After all, Toni was five years his junior, was his reasoning, so why the hell shouldn't he do the driving?
On the freeway, he said, "Let's get this organized, Toni. If we run into Johnny, you take care of him and Ill take care of Fuselli . . . right?"
Toni stiffened.
"Where do you get this I take care of Johnny crap?" Ernie hid a sly grin.
"That's what you want, isn't it? You've always said you could beat Johnny to a draw. Looks to me, we're heading for a show down. This is your chance to prove you're better and faster with a gun than he is."
Toni shifted uneasily. Johnny's past reputation had always hung over him like a dark cloud and was still hanging over him.
"Maybe both of us had better take care of him," he said. "That punk can shoot."
"So can you." Ernie relaxed. "Didn't you tell me only last week that Johnny was old and washed up? You take care of him. This Fuselli might be as fast as Johnny."
Toni felt sweat beads suddenly on his forehead.
"So that's fixed, huh?" Ernie said, enjoying himself. "We shoot first and talk after, huh?"
Toni didn't say anything. He was aware of a tight ball of fear in his guts. He drove in silence for ten miles, then aware that Ernie was dozing off, he said. "Do you think Johnny really took all that bread?"
"Why not?" Ernie shook himself awake and lit a cigarette. "Boy! Could I use money like that! You know something, Toni? Johnny has more guts than you or me."
"Maybe, but he can't get away with it. If we don't find him, the Big Man will. The bastard's stupid."
"Maybe, but he's tried and that's more than you and me would have done. There's always a chance he just might get away with it."
Toni glanced at his fat companion.
"You're nuts! No one has ever beaten the organization and no one ever will. If it takes years, they'll find him, if we don't."
"But think of what he could do with all that bread even if he lasted only two years."
"To hell with the money! I'd rather stay alive!"
"There's the sign post," Ernie said. "Jackson five miles."
"I can read," Toni said and the knot of fear in his guts tightened.
Jackson turned out to be a tiny fruit-growing town with a Main street, a number of fruit-canning factories and out-lying farms. Toni drove down the Main street, passing a small, clean-looking hotel, the Post Office, a general store, a movie house and a cafe.
"What a goddamn hole," he said as he pulled up outside the cafe. "Let's have a beer. Maybe we can get a lead on Fuselli."
They were aware that the people on the street, mostly old women and older men were staring curiously at them. They went into the cafe, crossed to the bar and hoisted themselves up on stools.
There were a few old men sitting at tables, nursing glasses of beer, who gaped at them as if they were something out of a zoo.
The barman, fat, balding, with a friendly red face, came to them.
"Mornin' gents. What's your pleasure?"
"Beers," Ernie said.
"Nice to see strangers in our town," the barman went on as he drew beers, "Harry Dukes is the name. Welcome, gents."
In spite of his friendliness, Ernie could see Dukes was looking at them curiously as if trying to decide who and what they were. Toni's black-and-pink-flowered kipper tie seemed to be bothering him.
They drank, then Ernie said, "Nice little town you have here."
He always did the talking while Toni watched, listened and kept his mouth shut.
"Not so bad, and thank you. A bit quiet, but it could be worse. Lots of old people here, but in the evenings it livens up when the boys and girls come in from picking."
"Yeah."
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley