It would be more like four or five days before they’d pick him up if he was unsuccessful, but the cowboys didn’t think Wolf and Splinter needed to know that.
The looking was a waste of time. Big Pain had been drunk and coked to the gills in Miami Beach for three days, and at this very moment was sleeping it off while passing through Pensacola in the back of a Winnebago he and three other Melphs had rented for the trip.
They rolled into New Orleans about noon on the second of Wolf’s two days, and by 3:00 p.m. Big Pain knew Wolf had put out a criminal network all points bulletin for BP’s location.
That was fine with BP. He had a killer headache, and killing that asshole Wolf would make him feel better. So he went looking for Wolf.
Splinter was watching the ten o’clock news that night whe
