San Diego Siege Read Online Free PDF

going back until tonight late."
    The pilot nodded. "You'll know where to find me."
    "Right."
    Simonetti was a "courier." He even looked like one, complete to the wrist-manacle attache case which was chained to his right hand.
    Two men in airport service-white moved out of the lengthening shadows of the terminal building and intercepted him halfway between plane and car.
    "Mr. Simonetti?" the thickset one pleasantly greeted him.
    The messenger frowned, but broke stride and replied, "Yeah?" — his eyes flicking toward the waiting vehicle.
    The tall man quietly informed him, "Trip ends right here, Sammy."
    The ominously-tipped black Beretta showed itself, the muzzle staring up into the courier's eyes.
    The other man reached inside of Simonetti's jacket, took his weapon, then nudged him on toward the LTD.
    "You guys out of your minds or something?" he asked them in a choked voice. "You know who you're hitting?"
    "We know," the tall one assured him. He opened a rear door and shoved the flustered man into the back seat.
    The other guy was sliding in from the opposite doorway. He grabbed Simonetti's hand and went to work on the wrist-lock with a small tool.
    The captive's eyes were showing panic. He groaned, "Hey, Jesus, don't do this to me. How'm I going to tell Mr. Lucasi about this? I can't go walking in there with a naked arm."
    "You'll think of something," the pleasant one replied.
    "Look, boys, no shit now. You want to make a score? I mean a
real
score? Look, leave it alone. There's nothing in here to do you any good. I can steer you to a
real
score. I mean, millions maybe."
    The icy one commanded, "Shut up, Sammy." "Look, you're never going to be able to enjoy it. You know what I mean. You can't just walk up and hit the combination this way. You're dead men the minute you walk away from here. Get smart, hell man. I can steer you — "
    The Beretta's silencer had steered itself right into Sammy Simonetti's hardworking mouth. He froze, then made a pleading sound around the new pacifier.
    The big guy gave him a moment to get the feel and taste of oral death, then he withdrew the weapon and told the shaken courier, "Not another word."
    Simonetti's eyes promised total silence and a moment later the other guy defeated the lock at his wrist.
    The guy chuckled and told him, "Count your blessings, buddy. I was about ready to take arm and all."
    The hard one placed the car keys in the courier's freed hand and told him, "Look in the trunk. But not right away. You wait awhile."
    Simonetti nodded his head in thoroughly cowed silence and the two men in white turned their backs on him and walked around the building and out of sight.
    He'd been on the ground less than a minute.
    Who would ever believe this?
    That slick and that easy, those guys had just clipped the combination for more than a hundred grand.
    Nobody would believe that ... especially not Ben Lucasi!
    The shaken messenger rattled the car keys in his hand, wondering vaguely what the guy had meant by, "Look in the trunk."
    What would he find in there? The remains of Chicano and the Schoolteacher?
    Simonetti shivered.
    Nobody would believe this.
    Then he became aware that something was mixed in with the keys in his hand — he'd thought it to be part of the key ring or something.
    But it was definitely not a part of the key ring.
    They didn't put marksman's medals on key rings.
    A chill ran the entire length of Simonetti's spine and his guts began to quake.
    Jesus!
    They'd believe it, all right.
    Goddammed right they'd believe it!

4
The track
    The San Diego territory had long been considered a tenderloin area for
La Cosa Nostra.
This "key" territory — bounded on one side by one of the world's ten greatest natural harbors and on another by the Mexican border — until recently had functioned as an "arm" of the DiGeorge Family, the Los Angeles mob which had already tasted the Executioner's war effort.
    With DiGeorge's death and the dissolution of that "family," the national