Bronx Requiem(122)

Everything went black. Demarco blocked most of the next punch, he turned away from another punch, but Bondurant landed a fist that caught him on the side of his head. Another hit his left eye. Demarco cursed himself for throwing Bondurant around and taunting him instead of taking him out fast. He knew he was only one or two more punches away from Bondurant beating him to death.

*

Eric Jackson shoved the Range Rover into reverse.

Beck stepped out from behind the parked car and awkwardly ran toward Jackson as fast as he could. He had to catch him before he could back up enough to clear the parked car in front of him, but Beck already knew he didn’t have enough time to get to Jackson. It would be up to Ciro to block Jackson’s escape. And the only way to do that would be with a head-on crash.

And then Beck skidded to a stop.

In a move Beck hadn’t predicted, instead of backing up to get out of his parking space, Jackson made a Y-turn into the middle of the street toward Beck. He braked and reversed into Drive. Jackson wasn’t fleeing. He intended to drive over the sidewalk and mow a path through the crowd with the Range Rover to clear the way for Bondurant.

Desperate to stop him, Beck threw the fish bat toward the driver’s-side door. The nineteen-inch bat, weighted at the end, spun end over end and smashed into the window. Glass shattered. Jackson slammed on the brakes, turned, and saw Beck coming at him.

He put the Range Rover into Park and calmly stepped out into the street, pulling his gun.

Beck wanted him alive, but it was too late. Too late for his plan. He went down on one knee, raising his Browning into firing position as Jackson pointed his gun at Beck.

*

Bondurant was big. He was strong. He had the controlling position. He tried to shove aside Demarco’s arms, getting ready to deliver a final knockout punch.

Maybe it was the clarity that comes before death. Maybe it was because Demarco Jones knew if lost this fight Amelia and Esther would die, too. But mostly it was Bondurant making one mistake. He rose up so high trying to deliver a final, killing blow, that Demarco had enough time to free his left arm and block Bondurant’s downward fist with a sweeping block, followed by one ferocious right hook that hit Bondurant squarely on the temple.

The blow paralyzed Bondurant, not quite knocking him out, but gave Demarco a chance to land two hammer blows to Bondurant’s ribs and shove him off. Demarco scrambled to his feet. He staggered away from Bondurant, trying to clear his head from the damage he’d taken, shaking off the pain in his right hand.

Bondurant also made it onto his feet, wobbling and stepping back, trying to recover from Demarco’s punch that had sent his brain banging from one side to the other of his massive skull.

Both men circled each other. Both knew the fight wouldn’t last much longer. No more taunting. No more unmasking Whitey Bondurant in front of his men. And no more risking broken fists.

Bondurant edged forward. Demarco leapt forward, closing the space between them before Bondurant could react. He twisted from the hip and torqued the edged of his right wrist and arm into the vagus nerve and carotid artery on the side of Bondurant’s neck. The blow paralyzed Bondurant. Another twist of legs and hips whipped Demarco’s left elbow into the Bondurant’s jaw, cracking the right mandible. In almost the same move, Demarco brought his left fist up, around, and down, landing a hammer blow that broke Bondurant’s collarbone into two pieces, followed by a last twist, which brought Demarco’s knee slamming into Bondurant’s floating ribs, crushing his liver.

Demarco stepped back. Bondurant, already unconscious, dropped onto his knees, his eyes dead, his brain shut down, he fell forward and his face smacked into the concrete platform.

Four moves. Three seconds. Fight over.

The sound of Bondurant hitting the stage made Willie Reese turn for a second to confirm what he already knew. He turned back to the crowd struck silent at the sight of Whitey Bondurant down, out, maybe dead. Willie walked slowly backward, shotgun aimed at the crowd.

Demarco placed a hand on Willie’s shoulder, guiding him back toward the door held open for them by Amelia. Willie waited for the other three to step into the open doorway, shotgun still ready, and then he disappeared with the others behind the closing door.

Manny Guzman quickly made his way to Bondurant’s prone body. Behind him Bondurant’s men, shocked at having seen the feared assassin take such a beating, began leaving as police sirens filled the air.

Big Ben Woods, his deacons, and several of the residents remained on the steps, blocking the view of Bondurant, who had yet to move.

Manny rolled the still-unconscious albino onto his back, and pressed a gun into his lifeless hand. But this wasn’t the Colt 1911 Bondurant had come with. This was the Ruger 9-mm Amelia Johnson had used to shoot Derrick Watkins, Tyrell Williams, and Biggie Watkins, fully loaded with the ammunition Amelia had found in Tyrell’s laundry bag.

The first police cars appeared moving slowly through the crowd as they converged on the plaza. Woods and his deacons motioned for the cops to come to the stage. Manny pointed to Bondurant and yelled at the nearest cop, “Careful, he’s got a gun.”

The cop drew his own gun. Manny melted into the crowd.

*

Juju Jackson stood behind the Range Rover door, calm, aiming, not a hint of emotion in him. He knew the man in front of him had to be James Beck. He knew he had the drop on him. He almost smiled knowing he was going to put a bullet into Beck’s heart.