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We set things up just right. BadGoodDeb got in behind a big bush with a bunch of knives set about her body. I really would hate to run into her in a bad mood. KindleKitten, a dame that had been introduced as "the firepower" got in the back of a pickup after depositing enough firepower to bring down a tinpot dictator. I stood in the middle of the road and wished that I had picked up the smoking habit so I could look a bit more noir waiting there.
We had lost the seaplane around Holywood when they had stopped off for an audition. I wasn't sure if Pshrynk Studios was the best choice. I'd seen some of their work. Pure hacking.
Some lights appeared in the distance and soon became headlights of a Caddy. Harry liked the big and fancy cars. They pulled up and got out. Red was with them, holding on to something I couldn't quite make out. The men standing around him looked nervous. Harry looked over at me and said, "Well? When did youse plan on springing the trap?"
Getting a sinking feeling that someone hadn't read the same script as me, I replied, "Trap, Harry? What kind of trap would I want to spring on a swell fellow like you?"
He held up a piece that looked like you could park the flivver in the barrel and have room to dance a waltz. Have I mentioned I hate guns? Especially those that are being pointed at me. "Quit the clowning, Lobster! I know youse got a little party planned and I aim to be the chief pooper."
With a loud clang the gun flew out of his hand. A knife skittered away in another direction.
Harry whipped around and screamed at Red, "You didn't say that BadGoodDeb was in on this!"
"You didn't ask, Harry!"
"You know what? To Hell with the grenade! Waste him boys! We'll deal with the mess later!"
In the next few seconds only two sounds were heard. That of a bunch of clicks that just might have come from about ten guns, and me saying, "You got a grenade?"
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