Detour to Apocalypse: A Rot Rods Serial, Part One by Michael Panush Page B

jackets and the knot of their ties as neat as possible. Their hair had been smoothed into place, each given the exact same part. They walked to the door and their leader held it open.
    Angel turned to Roscoe. “Trouble?”
    “Yeah.” Roscoe folded his arms as the bell in the door rang.
    The leader of the guys in black suits entered the store. “Is Miss Strang in?” he asked, his voice weary and calm. He had a lean look about him, like the flesh around his cheeks had been filed down. His face looked strangely pale, as if he had never been outside a day in his life, and his dark hair seemed stiff and dead. His sunglasses remained on, even inside. “I would like to talk to her for a minute.”
    “Who wants to know?” Roscoe asked. He didn’t move.
    “Agent Dodd.” He reached into his coat, snapped out a badge and flashed it at Roscoe, then hid it away in the same motion. Roscoe only got to look at the badge for half a second. “I’m with the government. Now, is Miss Strang in?”
    “I didn’t get a good look at the badge,” Roscoe said. “Want to show it to me again?”
    Dodd drew closer to Roscoe. He reached to his sunglasses and slid them down, slowly. He made a performance out of it, like a curtain parting. When the glasses reached the tip of his nose, he stopped. Roscoe could see his eyes―dead and white. Roscoe’s own eyes looked the same. “I don’t care to,” the agent said. “Not to greaser trash like you. Now leave.”
    “Miss Strang don’t want to be disturbed, man,” Angel said. “She’s busy right now. You better come around another time, or me and Roscoe gonna make your lives hard.”
    “Angel’s right,” Roscoe said. “Beat it.”
    Now Agent Dodd fixed his gaze on Angel. “I don’t know who you are. But I bet you’ve got a record. Both of you do. I can find it out very soon. I can look you up and ruin your lives.” He pointed to Angel. “How’d you like an extended stay in Quentin? How’d you like to visit a prison that doesn’t officially exist, where they don’t need to feed you? How’d you like to leave this place in the back of my trunk?”
    It was time to call this goon’s bluff. “You know a lot. You know the Captain? From La Cruz?”
    That made Dodd pause. “I’ve heard of him.”
    “He’s our employer,” Angel said. “And he’s got friends in the government. So how about you drive away? Your threats don’t mean a damn thing.”
    “Okay. That’s fine.” Agent Dodd stepped back and then spread his arms, letting his coat fall open. An automatic rested in a shoulder holster. “So you know the Captain. Well, what if the Captain never knew where you went? You didn’t come back from your mission. You just disappeared. I can arrange that. This gun has a silencer. Nobody would ever know. There wouldn’t be any bodies to find.”
    “You threatening me?” Roscoe asked.
    “I’m making a prediction, pal,” Dodd replied. “Care to test it?”
    “Maybe I do.” He had his sawed-off shotgun in his own coat, but didn’t want to get into a gunfight against four trained government agents. Even if he and Angel could take them, there would probably be fallout from murdering a couple men like Dodd. Besides, Roscoe hoped he could bluff his way out of this without violence. He pointed out the window. Wooster’s Packard rested on the street, opposite the fortuneteller’s store. “But if I get involved, my man Angel’s gonna draw on you too. And you see that Packard out there? Fellow in there has a tommy gun sitting in the passenger seat. He sees it going off in here, he’ll grab the chopper and spray. Right into the back of your men. I got a feeling that you don’t want that.”
    Agent Dodd shifted his gaze to the door. His fellow agents stood stiff, staring at Angel and Roscoe. He examined the Packard; Wooster sat inside, tobacco making his cheeks bulge as he chewed. As Agent Dodd watched, Wooster let a large stream of red spittle fly from his mouth and splash